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If children are innocent, then Lucas is not a child. He has not been a child for a very long time. Children live in dreams and fantasies, and while Lucas is surrounded by the stuff of fantasies, his life is the farthest from a dream come true. Powers are good and all until they draw trouble—the kind of trouble that gets people like him killed.

When Lucas was seven, he ran away from home. He had his brother, Luke, and even developed a small family with Thalia and Annabeth, but it didn’t last. Why would it? Lucas knows better by now. Make friends, but don’t expect them to stay. Most of the time, a monster will come swooping in and take them from you. 

That doesn’t mean it’s not worth making friends. It doesn’t mean that it’s not worth falling in love. A lifetime alone is a terrible thing, akin to a curse. It’s the beauty of being a mortal, to cherish the time you have with the people that you love and that you want to be in your life. Time will always run out, and that’s the beauty of it; to accept that, and make the most of it.

Lucas remembers a fleeting crush, once. A trip to an admittedly romantic and pretty garden. Sure, the stupid dragon kind of killed the mood, but it was alright!

Until she died, that is. That’s on him. Luke may have asked Lucas to go with him, but Lucas was the one to invite Brynn. All for a crush that may not have even been real. He never wants to go on a quest ever again.

How fitting it must be, that he’s issued one a little less than a year later.

(Somewhere, the Fates must be laughing at him.)

^^^

The day is going well, so far. The sky is blue, the sun is bright, and for once, Lucas hasn’t woken up to people screaming in his ear. That’s never a pleasant thing to wake up to. He’s had a nice breakfast, too, and no one was eaten overnight by the harpies. Lucas hates it when campers—namely, cabin 11 campers—are eaten by the harpies. And he gets some alone time, which is always a bonus. Sometimes the company of others gets tiring, y’know?

The lava wall, on the other hand, is making it really hard for Lucas to have a nice day. Then again, the lava wall is never pleasant, especially if your luck is really bad and you end up scorching yourself. Or even just… Dying. Dying isn’t fun, kids! Or nearly dying. Thalia would probably have a lot to say about the dying bit. Lucas just has a lot of knowledge about nearly dying. Anyway, the point is that no one likes the lava wall.

(Unless your name is Grover Underwood and you have freaky goat-climbing powers, but whatever.)

But hey! You never know; maybe Tyche will be on Lucas’s side today. It could happen. Is it unlikely? Yes, but the point is that it could happen. So Lucas braces himself, running towards the lava wall and using the momentum to hit the wall and launch himself up, grabbing and handholds and pushing off footholds. He doesn’t look down. There’s no point, and it will only slow him down.

Lucas almost makes it. He could have made it. But Tyche is definitely not on his side today, and Lucas decides that she must have been getting him to lower his guard so she could surprise him now. As Lucas nears the top, his foot slips, and he grasps at the ledge, dangling there. The lava rises, closer and closer.

If he falls, it’s over. No more Lucas Castellan. He might not even have a body. So, Lucas tightens his grip on the ledge even more, his feet pushing at the rock as he gets higher and higher.

He makes it.

Sure his shoes are a little burnt—and they were good shoes—but he’s unscathed and uninjured. His hands might be a little sore, but that’s about it. Lucas carefully goes down again, staring at the lava wall. It’s impossible. It’s not like he can fly. Does any demigod have the ability to fly?

Hmmm. He may have to ask around.

“Not bad,” a voice says from behind him.

Lucas flinches, drawing his gun and pointing it at the intruder. She’s tall, swathed in folds of white cloth (chiffon, maybe?) and marked with silver runic designs. Her pale face is framed by long, dark hair flowing down her back, well past her shoulders. They look like strands of shadows, and almost seem to cast a shadow on her face, while her green eyes gleam. Lucas knows those eyes. He’s seen it on Lou Ellen, before.

“Lady Hecate?” he guesses, loosening his stance.

“In the flesh.” Hecate smiles. It’s cold and unsettling in the way that a statue is. Lifelike, but removed. It sends shivers down Lucas’s spine.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Then, he winces. Antagonizing a goddess? Not the smartest move. “Sorry,” he adds.

Hecate ignores him. “I am here,” she begins, “To offer you a proposal. Would you like a chance to make up for your mistakes?”

What mistakes? Lucas’s only mistake was inviting a friend with him. His only mistake was thinking himself untouchable, that no one would be able to bring him down. That he would be able to return as the youngest demigod to ever complete (or rather, help complete) a quest.

Would this really absolve him of the guilt? Lucas doubts it. Br… She is dead, and nothing Lucas does will bring her back. She’s dead. There’s nothing he can change to make her come back. He can’t raise the dead, he can’t march into the Underworld and drag her back. She’s dead.

He should be okay with that. Lucas should’ve come to terms with it a long time ago. Demigods die young—that’s just the way it is. Most don’t make it past twelve. That she didn’t die young shouldn’t be a surprise. Demigods have died younger. Demigods have died while still in their toddler years. 

It doesn’t make him feel better.

But is this really better? Sitting here, doing the same thing every day and hoping to survive? Not to live, but to just survive? Waiting for his eventual death? There has to be more to life than this. Survival isn’t living. 

Lucas holsters the pistol.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks her.

Hecate smiles. It’s just as menacing as her previous smiles. “You’re going to help me keep a treasured mortal of mine alive,” she announces. From the folds of her clothing, she manifests an envelope of slightly yellowed paper, with a seal stamped on it, in the pattern of a crest divided into four.

Lucas takes the envelope carefully. “What is this?” he asks.

“So, as you very well know, I am the goddess of magic,” Hecate explains. “Magic is my domain. It is more physical than you think. 

“It was before the worship of the gods was constricted to just the demigods,” Hecate continues. “I had a little problem on my end, and these four mortals helped me. They were Godric Gryffindor, the brave, Salazar Slytherin, the cunning, Rowena Ravenclaw, the intelligent and Helga Hufflepuff, the loyal. After they had helped me, I was incredibly grateful, and repaid them by granting them the ability to use magic, and scattered the ability in the general population for good measure. But there was a catch. They could only perform magic through a wand—at least, most of them. The truly powerful ones found loopholes around it, of course.”

“So, they were witches and wizards,” Lucas concludes.

“Exactly.” Hecate gives Lucas a look. It looks like she’s staring into his very soul, though it’s no different than the looks that Lucas has gotten from teachers over the years. “These four were the first to realize their gifts. And they were best friends, for they found that teamwork was better than rivalries, and they shared gifts that not many mortals had. They soon discovered that their magic was limited, but that didn't dampen their spirits. They sought help from my daughter Circe, who taught them wandlore, and they made the first four wands in history. But they sought to share their gifts with the other mortals, and so they built a school, where every generation of witches and wizards could learn the art of magic. They opened it up, but then came dissonance on who should be allowed to attend.

“Salazar believed that only the students from well-off families should be allowed to attend. And over time, that warped to students from only magical families. If a student had a single drop of non-magic blood, they would be barred from attending. However, the others disagreed. They got into an argument, which turned into an argument about who should be admitted. The school split, having four houses each named after the founders, and the next day Salazar packed his bags and left, never to be seen again.”

“Well, that isn’t depressing at all,” Lucas comments. He waves the letter in the air. “So, is this, like, an enrollment letter, or something?”

“It is,” Hecate replies. “Your mother May Castellan was a muggle-born witch, which is what they call someone who can perform magic but comes from a non-magical family." She sighs, shaking her head. "Ridiculous. The ability to produce magic is a gene. Sometimes it skips generations." 

Lucas unfolds the letter, gently peeling off the seal. How much would it cost, if he sold it? The letter is in cursive, but Lucas isn’t dyslexic, so it wasn’t too bad. It went something like this:

Mr. L. Castellan
Cabin #11
Camp Half-Blood 3.141
Farm Road
New York

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Castellan,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Uniform

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (grade 1) By Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic By Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory By Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration By Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi By Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions By Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them By Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide To Self-Protection By Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may bring an owl OR a cat Or a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

“It’s very stereotypically magical,” Lucas comments.

Hecate scowls. “Yes, well, they had to come from somewhere ,” she points out. “You must know by now that there’s truth in every story.”

“Of course,” Lucas replies. “The same as the myths, I guess. But who is this person you want me to protect?”

“Ah.” Hecate glances to the side. “As I told you, one of Hogwarts’s houses is Slytherin. It has produced many brilliant wizards and witches, but there is a particular boy that I am speaking of. His name is Tom Riddle.

“Now, Tom Riddle. Where to begin? He was a brilliant and handsome boy. He could've done anything he wanted, but he threw everything away and dabbled in the Dark Arts, just because he was afraid of death." She sniffs. "Ridiculous. Death is death. You can't change that. Eventually, everyone dies, even Gods. We just don't go to the Underworld. Anyway, after he graduated from Hogwarts, he dabbled in the Dark Arts and created a new name for himself. I'll say it once, don't ask me to repeat it. Lord Voldemort. And whatever you do, don't say it. Names have power. 

“Riddle succeeded in making himself immortal. Naturally, this created a huge problem for Hades, and he wants him dead. But that’s not your problem. Your problem is this: ten years ago, Riddle attacked a wizard, who would be your age by now. This wizard’s name is Harry Potter. Now Harry was nearly killed by the Killing Curse, which is used to kill people quickly and painlessly. He survived, but Riddle’s body was destroyed, and now Riddle’s soul is still out there, craving for revenge. It is your job to protect Harry—if you agree, of course.”

“I already did,” Lucas points out.

“You could have changed your mind,” Hecate dismisses. “But since you’re so eager to help, I will give you another identity to make your job easier.”

Secret identities don’t sound easier, but what does Lucas know?

“Your name will be Draco Malfoy,” Hecate continues. “The Malfoys are an extremely wealthy family, and Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater, which is the name for Riddle's followers. That way you'll be one of the first to know when Riddle comes back to a corporeal form. I'll make Dumbledore believe that he sent the letter to your cover, not you, and the Malfoys will believe you're their son.”

“Okay,” Lucas says. “Is there anything I have to prepare for?”

“No. I will visit again in some time to bring you to your destination and start your quest, but that’s about it. I would, however, prefer if you didn’t tell anyone about the details of this quest. These two worlds are better off separated.”

As she finishes speaking, Hecate disappears, leaving Lucas alone, with no one but the lava wall. Lucas gets the hidden message: Don’t tell your brother. Lucas has never kept a secret from Luke, but surely it will be fine if he does so, just this once? Besides, it’s not as if it’s his fault if a god orders him to keep something a secret.

It’ll be fine. He hopes.