22

Harry approached Athena's temple at a normal pace, taking the time to look around and just smile at being back. There was nothing like a week of near-starvation in the Gobi Desert to make someone realize the importance of the little things, to simply be grateful for what one had.

He checked the time. He'd hurried a bit, and so he stopped right outside the temple that was his destination and waited for a minute or two. He knew Athena was a stickler for minutiae, and she would comment if he were early.

Precisely on time, he pushed the doors to Athena's temple open, announcing himself as he did so.

"Good morning, Miss Athena. It's Harry," he said as he let the massive door close behind him.

From one moment to the next, the Goddess of Wisdom, in her full three-meter-tall godly form, appeared before him.

For a few long seconds, she studied him with a deepening frown on her forehead. "You are recovering from mild starvation," she announced. "Possibly because you have been in a desert, most likely the Gobi Desert, for an extended period of time." The massive goddess leaned in, studying him closer.

"Yes," she repeated. "The Gobi Desert, no doubt about it. Please explain."

Harry offered a shaky smile, and explained how his survival test had indeed been in the Gobi, and how he'd been able to find water, fire, and shelter, but had failed at finding food. He also told her how he'd been determined to tough it out, considering people could survive for long periods of time without food.

Athena dipped her head once. "While the human body is indeed capable of surviving without food, the impact this has on your body is not acceptable. I will draft a recovery schedule as well as a food plan to bring you back into shape. I will also have a chat with Artemis. I have put too much time and effort into crafting your body to let it go to waste."

Harry swallowed again. It was so like Athena to only care about the wasted effort on her part instead of caring about his well-being.

The Goddess of Wisdom held out two scrolls. "The first is your training schedule. I expect you to keep to it. The second is your nutritional plan, detailing the nutritional requirements to bring you back into shape. Hand it to Aunt Hestia, she will be able to determine what meals will be most suited for you."

Harry grinned; he loved parchment scrolls. He unrolled the nutritional plan first, and reading the requirements caused various meals to pop into his head that would suit fine. Already, he was modifying recipes to include ambrosia. While the godly food could work miracles on healing injuries or illness, this was systemic damage and so would be of less help.

Less help was still better than no help at all, however. Harry nodded to the goddess in front of him. "No need, Miss Athena, I've got it," he said.

Athena looked at him skeptically. "I do not recall you learning about nutrition," she said. "Explain your confidence."

Harry smiled faintly. "When I brought the Athena Parthenos to camp, I did so by bringing it through the fire. But it turned out that the statue was too big to move through the fire, so Hestia had to boost my boon with her own energy in order to get it through and not kill me."

Athena nodded. "The personnel-carrier state of Fire Travel wouldn't allow for large objects, and since you were already in motion it wasn't possible for Aunt Hestia to open a large conduit. Supplying additional energy to the in-progress state would have been the best option," she stated calmly, as if she weren't discussing him nearly dying.

"Hestia said it may have unintended consequences," Harry explained further.

Athena nodded again, interrupting him. "The sudden influx of divine energy could have an impact on your current state," she said. "Please continue."

The young boy nodded. "I found out on my survival test that I can conjure food now. And when I looked at your list, the various dishes that would most closely match the nutritional requirements you listed just popped into my head."

Athena rubbed her chin as she thought. "Interesting effect," she finally said. "We shall have to investigate. We shall do so later. First, we must get your body back into shape. As you are still recovering from the malnutrition, we shall only have a light work-out, followed by some book learning to make sure your mind does not get lazy."

"Yes, Miss Athena," Harry said. Athena just gave him a curt nod, turned, and walked away. Harry trotted after her, doing his best to keep up with her godly strides.

0000

Harry winced slightly when he left Athena's temple. Her 'light workout' had involved a plethora of gym equipment, and now his muscles felt tight. Following said session up with some book-learning had given him just enough sit-down time to feel his muscles tighten up.

He took the time to cross the market and inspect the goods on sale. The walk would do him good, loosen up his muscles again.

Suddenly, a huge hand dropped on his right shoulder. "Hiya, Brat!"

Harry tightened. Of all the gods he could have run into, it had to be Ares.

"Hi, Mister Ares," Harry greeted politely. "Long time no see."

Ares' customary bloodthirsty grin dropped somewhat. "Piece of advice, Brat. Don't make Aunt Hestia angry. You won't like her when she's angry. Had to lay low for a while, you know how it goes."

Harry frowned. "Hestia's the kindest, sweetest goddess ever," he protested. "She doesn't get angry."

"Often," Ares corrected. "She doesn't get angry often. Again, don't make her angry, Brat. Anyway, heard some interesting rumors. Something about a giant statue and a scuffle with a certain eight-legged weaver."

"Arachne was just misunderstood, and Miss Athena was happy to have her statue back," Harry said.

The God of War burst out laughing. "Only you could downplay beating a two thousand year old enemy who plagued and killed Athena's brats for sport and call her 'misunderstood', Brat!" Ares chortled. "Anyway, it's been a while so I thought I'd come find ya and go a few rounds."

Harry grimaced. "I've… ah… just had a bit of issue, Mister Ares. I got dropped in the Gobi Desert and ended up without food for a while."

"I think I hear whining," Ares said, his bloodthirsty grin widening.

"No whining!" Harry protested hurriedly, swallowing deeply. Ares was still scary without even trying. "Miss Athena was put out and gave me a recovery schedule," he added. "So I may not be in the best shape..."

Ares seemed to study the boy for the first time. "You do look scrawnier than usual," he said. "A good fight will put some meat back on your bones! Come along, Brat!"

"Yes, Mister Ares," Harry sighed. He knew it wouldn't be that easy to get out of this. Worst of all, he'd actually missed the god somewhat. Sometimes, Ares was hilarious. And Harry had to admit, he did learn a lot from the God of War when it came to brawling. And ignoring pain of all kinds.

"It's not another tentacle demon, is it?" he asked, tentatively, when he followed.

Ares burst out laughing again. "You're still calling the Hydra that?" he chortled. "That name's going to stick if you keep it up!"

Harry grimaced.

"No, not another Hydra, Brat," Ares said. "Just a brawl or two or three. Dozen. Nothing works better than a good fight to get the blood pumping again. Come alone, Brat!" he set a jog, and Harry had to push to keep up.

"I'm not in the best shape," Harry muttered, half to himself and half to Ares, as he huffed deeply to keep up. Athena was right, the five day fast had really screwed over his physical condition.

"I hear more whining!" Ares declared.

Harry shivered. "Not whining!" he said back, hoping that it would deter the crazy god.

The God of War just grinned, stopped, and grabbed Harry by the back of his neck. The next moment, they stepped through into a wide open field that was definitely nowhere on Mount Olympus.

"Let's get going, Brat," the battle-happy god crowed, raising his fists. The next moment, a flurry of blows was aimed Harry's way which the nine-year-old barely managed to dodge.

"Huh, you slowed down," Ares declared. "Come on, brat. Take it up a notch!"

"Eep!" Harry managed to utter, right before Ares' huge fist landed itself in his stomach.

"Tisk, tisk," Ares said, over-the-top disappointed. "You're really out of it, aren't you?"

Harry labored to draw in a deep breath, while sitting on his knees and his arms wrapped around his tender midsection. He was just glad he hadn't thrown up. That would be embarrassing. And Ares would make fun of him.

The young boy just managed to drag himself to his feet, despite still gasping for breath.

Ares' grin widened. "There is the brat that doesn't give up!" the god shouted, jumping forward with one fist raised.

Harry managed to emerge his shield and hide behind it. The deep gong sound of Ares' fist striking the godly item made him happy that he did. The godly shield managed to dissipate most of the strike into sound, diverting the rest around the boy. The impact he felt on his arm was barely more than a push.

"Cheater," Ares said, on a level tone.

"Only cheating if the other guy does it," Harry breathed, the pain in his midsection finally subsiding.

Ares grinned. "Glad you didn't forget the important lessons!" Ares screamed again, materializing a sword.

"Eep!" Harry managed again, emerging his bracers just in time for Ares' divine weapon to clash against his hurriedly-raised Shield of Athena. He angled the shield to deflect the strike to one side, which usually would have left him wide open. This time, however, he was able to strike his bracers together, dumping all their stored energy into a blast wave that took Ares and flung him away.

The God of War, surprised, regained his senses impressively quick. He rolled in mid-air, aimed his feet, and planted them firmly on the ground as he landed. He looked, for all intents and purposes, as if he'd completely meant to do that.

Harry pouted at the lack of results, and barely managed to get the shield up again to block the next strike of Ares' sword. And the next. And the next. Harry curled in on himself, as if hiding his entire body behind the shield, hoping to weather the onslaught.

After Athena's training, and the mild starvation of the week before, he was incredibly weak and his energy levels were extremely low. Hiding behind his shield was the only thing he could do, more or less.

Ares disengaged. "That's disappointing, Brat. Aren't you going to fight back?" He added some clucking noises. "You chicken?" He added some more chicken noises.

Harry lifted his head from behind his shield, ready to duck back down should the War God take advantage of his trust. "I'm still recovering, Mister Ares," he said. "This is about the best I can do until I find an opening for a cheap shot."

Ares boomed another laugh. "Cheap shot, eh?" he asked, continuing his laughter. "At least you didn't give up," he said, finally calming down, and staring at Harry for a bit. "Fine. You're in no shape for a fight. Let's have some fun instead."

He took the key fob from his pocket and clicked it. Five seconds later, Harry dismissed his shield and bracers, and he was getting a bad feeling about things when the four fiery horses pulling Ares' chariot descended from the sky.

"Again?" the God of War wondered, clicking the fob again. The chariot turned into the red convertible. "Get in, Brat."

Harry nodded nervously, and got in the car after swallowing deeply. The last time Ares had taken him somewhere like this, they'd ended up at some bar fight.

Ares raced off, Harry pretending he wasn't afraid while simultaneously clenching the armrest in a death-grip. He remained quiet, not wanting to upset the god.

It took ten minutes, before Ares pulled into a parking lot. The god jumped out and gave Harry the 'come with' arm-wave as he strode to the entrance of the long, flat building.

Two minutes later, they were standing inside the building, without having seen a soul, facing paper targets in the shape of human bodies. "Let's give you some life lessons," Ares said, grinning widely.

Harry swallowed again.

"This here, is a gun," Ares said, pulling a rifle off a rack and tossing it to the demigod. Harry yelped, demigod reflexes being the only thing allowing him to catch the heavy weapon.

"This thing is almost as big as I am!" the boy complained, gingerly cradling the rifle as if it were a baby, afraid of having it go off and kill somebody.

"It's an AK-47, nine out of ten child soldiers will highly recommend it," Ares said, his grin well beyond 'bloodthirsty' and into full-blown 'blood fury'.

Harry wasn't amused and just stared at the god. Finally, Ares sighed, taking the weapon out of the boy's arms and putting it back on the weapons rack. "Fine. You're no fun," he grouched, taking a sidearm instead.

Somehow, Harry had the impression that Ares had just been kidding and had never intended for Harry to use that rifle.

"Since Aunt Hestia would kill me if I didn't give you some safety lessons first, this is how you properly treat a gun," Ares said, holding up the pistol he'd selected.

"This is a Browning Buck Mark, .22 caliber handgun. It's lightweight, has low recoil, and has a small handle for those delicate little baby hands of yours," the God of War teased. Harry pulled a face, making his big teacher laugh. "Now, in most cases, you shoot someone with this, you're just going to hurt them. It'll make them stop, but in most cases it won't kill them."

Harry felt relieved at hearing that.

The god then pointed to the end of the barrel. "Now. Safety lessons, or Aunt Hestia will be angry with me again." The god let out a shudder, then firmed up and pointed. "That's the barrel. The bullet comes out there." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You never, ever point this bit at someone unless you intend to kill them. Bloodshed is always good in my book, but Aunt Hestia would kill me if you killed the wrong person with one of these."

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, suddenly recalling Ares saying 'won't kill in most cases'. "Good," Ares went on. "This part here, is the trigger. Your finger does not touch this part unless you're pointing the barrel at something you want dead. Ever. Got that, Brat?"

Harry nodded obediently once more. Never touch the trigger unless you're aiming at a target, never point the barrel at anything you didn't want to kill. He got it.

"Good. Last safety lesson. This is the safety. The safety stays on at all times. You only take the safety off when you're pointing the gun at something you want to kill. Got that?"

Harry swallowed and nodded again. "Good," Ares said, negligently tossing the gun to the boy, who squeaked at the once more surprising action, once more managing to catch a tossed weapon, and ended up holding it between two fingers by the handle.

"It isn't gonna kill you," Ares snorted. "Grab the handle. Keep your finger outside the trigger guard."

Harry slowly shifted the weapon so he was holding it more or less correctly, his fingers as far away from the trigger as he could.

Ares sighed. "Firm hold, brat."

Harry's grip tightened.

"Fine," the God of War muttered. "Now, to shoot." He grabbed Harry and positioned him, facing one of the paper targets, which was about three or four meters away. "Spread your feet. You need to be stable. This isn't the movies, recoil's a thing, even with a tiny little twenty-two, so hold it firmly. Good. Lower your grip a bit. That slide at the top will come back and grab the next bullet when you fire, you want your hand to be away from that bit while you shoot."

Harry shifted his grip. "Good," Ares continued. "Two hands." He sighed. "No, like this," he said, adjusting the boy's grip. "That's called the Weaver stance. Now, remember what I told you, and shoot at the targets."

Harry swallowed, nodded nervously, and aimed down the sights at the target in front of him.

"Oh, wait," Ares said, interrupting him. Suddenly, Harry found himself wearing a set of over-ear headphones that clamped on his head really firmly and a set of safety goggles. Harry balefully looked at his teacher, who said something.

The boy lifted one cup off his ear. "Sorry, what was that, Mister Ares?" he asked.

"Indoors, those things are loud, so you need to wear crap like that," Ares said. "Aunt Hestia would be upset if I brought you back with tinnitus from shooting."

The boy just nodded, accepting the explanation, and dropped the cup back over his ear. He aimed again, something he was used to doing from his practice aiming a bow.

Now that he was aiming at the target, he slowly shifted his finger to the trigger. He pulled. The trigger did not budge.

Oh. Right. Safety. He moved the safety lever, adjusted his grip, pointed the gun downrange again, and aimed at the heart of the target. He brought his finger to the trigger, and squeezed.

The noise was loud, even with the headphones, making him jump and the gun jerk in his hands.

"Good!" Ares crowed with a mad grin, somehow audible over the headphones now. "You shot him in the neck, so a good chance he's gonna die even with that small bullet! Nice shot for your first time, Brat!"

"Eep," Harry managed, the very idea of shooting someone in the throat causing a flashback to when he killed the man trying to kidnap Annabeth. He'd stabbed that man in the throat. He imagined shooting someone there would be more or less the same.

He felt bile rise, and swallowed.

Ares laughed. "You look sick, Brat," he chortled, obviously amused at the demigod's distress.

Harry swallowed the rising bile again. "Just remembering that guy I stabbed in the throat," he said.

The God of War immediately turned sober, and nodded. "Yeah, that can happen. It was him or you, Kid. Just remember that he would have done worse to you and Athena's brat."

The young boy nodded shakily. He knew that. Sometimes it just jumped up, that's all.

Ares' coal-shovel-sized hand landed on the boy's shoulder, which was about as supportive as the God of War ever got. "Have a few more shots, Kid. Trust me, nothing makes you feel better than shooting something up. Well – other than beating something up, but you're hardly in a form to do that."

Harry just nodded. Anything to stop thinking about that man. He aimed again, adjusted his stance, made sure the safety was off, then fired.

This time, he was ready for it and didn't jump. He tried to keep the gun stable, but the jerk of the small caliber round was still substantial for a nine-year-old boy who had just spent close to a week starving in a desert. The weapon jerked as it fired, and the bullet hit right of the target.

"You missed," Ares said, disappointingly. He clicked his fingers, and two more magazines appeared. "Keep shooting, Kid," he told the demigod. "You'll get the hang of it soon."

Harry reset his stance and fired again. And again. And again. Until the weapon in his hands made a strange clicking noise and stayed open. Frowning, the boy turned it to look at it.

"BANG!" Ares yelled, startling a noise out of the boy while making him jump and almost drop the gun. "I told you to never point that thing at something unless you want to kill it, didn't I, Brat!?" the God of War demanded of Harry, who was able to hear the angry god perfectly despite still wearing the headphones.

The young boy nodded nervously.

"Then why, for the sake of Tartarus, were you pointing it at me?"

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly bad. Dropping his shoulders, he stared at the ground. "Sorry, Mister Ares."

"Bah, that pop-gun isn't going to kill me anyways, but you need to be careful, Brat. You kill somebody, and Aunt Hestia will kill me. Now, this is how you release the empty magazine, and this is how you reload," he went on as if nothing had happened.

Harry was glad that, for all his faults, Ares was a pretty decent teacher for things like these.

0000

The young demigod stumbled out of the fire and into Helios' temple, his wrists and arms hurting. Scratch the tightness in his muscles from Athena's workout; Ares' firing practice hurt his arms and hands much worse. Especially as the maniacal god insisted on him emptying magazine after magazine.

He sunk down at the table in the kitchen, and literally didn't have the energy left to cook. Drawing a breath, he closed his eyes, focused on a plate of Mac'n'Cheese, and brought his hands together.

A plate of the desired dish appeared before him; he could feel this special ability take a little bit of his reserves to tap into Hestia's larger power and conjure up the food. If only he had known about this ability earlier in his survival test, he would have been able to conjure food while he was still in good shape. Then he wouldn't have passed out, then Hestia wouldn't have been angry at Zoë.

Harry ate mechanically, despite having craved the comfort food since he had gotten home. The idea of Hestia being angry at Artie and Zoë upset him, and he desperately wanted some way to fix it.

He deftly ignored Ares' continued statements about Hestia being scary when she was angry. While he respected Ares, and sometimes even liked him, Harry was also aware that Ares had dumped him in front of a monster and told him to fight for his life. Ares deserved Hestia being mad at him, in Harry's opinion.

Before, he'd practically begged Hestia not to be mad at Hephaestus, and she'd complied, but somehow it felt different this time. Hestia had seemed more upset this time, especially after putting Zoë in a corner of his improvised shelter like a naughty child. He didn't think simply asking Hestia to forgive Artie and Zoë would work this time, and he didn't want to push too hard and risk having her get mad at him, too.

In the living area, the hearth flashed, pinging against his awareness. To Harry, it felt something of a cross between an audible ping and a visual flash, and he suddenly understood what Marduk had tried to explain about describing a sensation from a sense that wasn't known to humans and had no words describing it.

"Hello, Harry," Hestia said, entering the kitchen and pulling him from his rumination on the correct way to describe his new sensitivity to Fire Travel. She was smiling gently, and Harry preferred her this way.

"Hi Hestia!" the tired demigod greeted, offering his favorite goddess an exhausted smile. He pushed himself to his legs and gave her a hug; luxuriating in the sensation of heat and home and eased the fatigue of his muscles.

Said goddess frowned slightly. "You seem very tired," she finally said as they broke the hug and Harry sunk down on his chair. "I thought you only had lessons with Athena this morning?"

Harry nodded, his smile wider now that he'd gotten a hug from her. He always felt better after a hug from Hestia. "Mister Ares grabbed me," he explained. "When he found out I wasn't much good in a fight, he took me somewhere and taught me to shoot a gun."

Hestia's frown deepened. "Did he now?" she asked, softly.

The young boy nodded. "He taught me a lot of safety rules, too. He said you'd ki… er… you'd be very upset with him if he didn't."

The Goddess of Home and Hearth offered a tiny smile. "Well, he's probably right about that. I'm glad that he's learning to be more responsible. Even if it is after I had to have a chat with him. I'm proud he's doing his best to improve."

Harry kept quiet, once more trying not to think about Ares' sudden fear of Hestia.

"I actually came over because I felt you pulling on my domain to conjure some food," the kind goddess said, changing the subject entirely. "I received a note from Athena asking me to make sure you follow the balanced meal plan she had worked out for you. Instead, I find you eating macaroni and cheese."

Harry tried a tentative smile. "I've wanted some ever since I conjured some during my survival test."

Hestia looked displeased again at the reminder, looking away as she recalled recent events. "As long as it it is just one meal, I don't see the harm," she said, softly, looking back at him and returning to the here and now.

Harry took another bite, but his heart wasn't in it. "About what happened–" he started to say, only to stop when Hestia raised a hand.

"I'm glad you're back safely," she said. "That's all that needs to be said."

"Oh," Harry muttered, looking down.

Hestia sighed softly. "But I see you still have something on your mind," she continued with a soft smile. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Harry looked up at her, suddenly hesitating. Gathering his courage, he pushed on. "Are you really mad at Artie and Miss Zoë?"

Hestia remained silent for a few moments, thinking her answer through. "Mad? In a way, yes," she finally confirmed. "Though, I'm more disappointed and upset than angry. When I let you go with Artie and her Lieutenant, it was understood that no harm was to come to you."

Harry hesitated again for a few moments, not wanting to directly contradict the goddess that had done so much for him. He didn't want to push too hard and risk upsetting her, or angering her, and making him lose what he'd found or gained since meeting her. At the same time, he didn't want to abandon Artie or Zoë, either. He considered them friends, and he didn't want to be one of those people who abandoned their friends when things got tough.

"But… no harm came to me," he finally said. "I've been hungry before, I mean. And if I hadn't somehow discovered that strange ability to conjure food and passed out, nothing else would have happened. It was just a few more days."

"Starvation is not harmless," Hestia stated with conviction.

Harry nodded. "I know, Hestia," he said, still softly, still afraid of upsetting her. "But it's not permanent, I mean."

She could see how upset Harry was, just as she could see that he was trying not to upset her. Feeling for the young boy, she drew a breath to calm herself down. She didn't want to run the risk of shutting him down too harshly. "You shouldn't have been in that position in the first place," the goddess continued, putting a lid on her temper. The last thing she wanted was to get angry and scare him.

Harry wanted to reply, opened his mouth, then reconsidered and closed it again. Shaking his head, as if saying to himself 'it's not important', he looked at the half-eaten plate of macaroni and cheese.

"What were you going to say?" Hestia asked, in a friendly tone. She wanted him comfortable with her again, and she wanted him to speak him mind.

"Miss Zoë was right, though," Harry muttered under his breath, as if he were speaking to himself rather than her. Fortunately – or unfortunately – she had the ears of a goddess, and was therefore able to understand him perfectly fine.

"Oh?" Hestia asked, encouraging him, despite her personal misgivings.

Harry nodded, and resumed speaking out loud. "I mean, I would have been able to survive in that desert without an issue. I had shelter, I had water, and I had fire. If I hadn't had the bad luck of having one of the rarest bears on the planet eat all the food first, I would have been fine. It's not Miss Zoë's fault that stupid bear was there."

"And yet, you were to go to a forest in Canada," Hestia stated.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what Artie told Miss Zoë," he said. "But Miss Zoë usually has a lot of freedom in how she trains Hunters. And she only trains Hunters, and has been doing that for 2000 years or so, so maybe she forgot again that I'm not a Hunter."

"Again?" Hestia asked.

Harry nodded. "She forgets sometimes, during training and stuff. Artie had to remind her. Miss Zoë was so embarrassed about that. Maybe it happened again."

Hestia sighed. "I am still not happy," she stated, levelly.

"Oh," Harry whispered, looking down at his half-eaten plate of food.

"However," the Goddess of the Home went on, "I will have a chat with Artie and her Lieutenant, and see what they have to say regarding this."

"Thanks, Hestia," Harry said, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

She smiled and shook her head. "You're awfully dedicated to forgiving Artie and her Lieutenant, though," she added with a bit of a teasing lilt to her voice.

Harry, completely missing the tone, nodded seriously. "I like Artie and Miss Zoë. They're both awesome, and I learn so much from them. They're my friends. Even if they probably don't think the same of me, me being a boy and all. But it doesn't mean I don't like them," he explained.

"Oooh?" Hestia asked, drawing out the syllable. "Does someone have a crush?"

The young boy exploded in a spectacular blush, the innuendo this time hitting right on the mark. Unable to even meet her eyes, he looked down at his plate. "Don't say that, Hestia, they'd be really upset!" he pleaded.

Hestia laughed softly. "It's not a bad thing, Harry. Lots of boys your age have a crush on their teachers."

Harry pouted silently. "They're just good friends, that's all," he muttered.

"Of course they are," Hestia said with another laugh. Harry's blush didn't abate as he continued to stare at the, by now, cold mac'n'cheese.

"Pervert," he accused her.

Hestia laughed loudly. "I don't believe I have ever been accused of that," she answered, still laughing. "And seriously, you wouldn't be the first to develop a crush on my niece. Or her Lieutenant. It's how you act that matters, and so far I haven't heard either of them complain about your behavior."

Harry fell silent, silently praying for the conversation to go away.

Hestia giggled. "Praying to me to make the conversation go away is slightly redundant, Harry," she joked.

The young boy's shoulders drooped and he wanted to hide under the table until the world went away. He just couldn't win right now. He moved the plate aside, he wasn't going to eat it now anyway, and thunked his head against the table.

Hestia just laughed softly.

Knocks came from the front door, causing Harry to lift his head and frown. He wasn't expecting any visitors right now. Hestia had stopped laughing, but was still smiling, as if remembering the conversation right now and still enjoying it immensely.

With a small groan, the young boy got off his chair and went to answer the doors of the temple.

Pulling the door open, he was surprised to see Artie and Zoë.

Zoë looked apprehensive, but Artie was grinning widely. "I heard your prayer and thought that something funny was going on," the Goddess of the Hunt said with a small laugh.

"I was merely teasing Harry," Hestia said from behind, obviously having followed him as he went to open the door.

"Aunt Hestia," Artie greeted, calmly. "I thought it could be you."

"Please, come in," Harry said, politely, and stepping aside to let his visitors in. As soon as the door closed, he hugged his second-favorite goddess. "Artie! Hestia's being mean!"

"There, there," Artie said, patting his back. Seeing the amusement on her aunt's face, she added, "What did she do?"

"She's saying things!" Harry said, stepping back. "Bad things!"

Hestia laughed again. "I was just teasing him about his little crush," the goddess explained.

Artie gave Harry a look, but then shrugged. "He has been behaving honorably," she proclaimed, as if considering the matter closed.

While the two goddesses talked, Harry had turned to Zoë. "Hi Miss Zoë," he said, offering her a smile. She smiled back, although her heart did not seem in it. "Hug?" he offered her. Hugs always made him feel better, and he wanted to cheer her up.

The Hunter looked thinly amused, then held out her hand. "Handshake," she answered, although her usual spirit was lacking. Harry shook her hand while offering her a supportive look.

"Since I thought I could find you here," Artie was saying, "I decided to pop by." She glanced at Zoë, and motioned to her. "This one has something to say to you."

Harry felt bad for Zoë, as the Hunter in question seemed to shrink in on herself. For the first time, he realized the limitations of Artie's brand of immortality; it merely halted aging.

Zoë looked, for the first time since he had met her, not like a 2000-year-old immortal warrior of the Goddess Artemis, but rather like the 17-year-old girl she had been for nigh on two millennia.

Suddenly he understood the problem inherent with Artie's Hunters, as while they did not age, they were also prevented from growing up, and despite accumulating knowledge and experiences, they were forever stuck with a teenager's mindset.

"Lady Hestia," Zoë said, looking away, then forcing herself to look at the Goddess of the Home and the Hearth. "I humbly apologize for my lapse in judgment and lack of care that I displayed." She swallowed deeply. "I humbly submit myself to thy justice, in an effort to," she swallowed again, "to one day regain thy trust."

Harry looked aghast at Zoë humbling herself, then shot a look at Hestia when she didn't immediately reply.

"What happened, Zoë?" Hestia finally asked. "From the tales Harry told, it seemed that you weren't opposed to teaching Harry, and had gained some measure of appreciating for him."

"I do, My Lady!" Zoë protested loudly. "He was… is… a fine student. Attentive, appreciative, hard-working."

Harry smiled widely at hearing that. "Then what happened?" Hestia asked again.

Zoë looked away for a moment, before once more forcing herself to face up to Hestia. "Lady Artemis initially explained Harry's training schedule to me when she asked me to take over," the Hunter explained. "As Harry progressed, Lady Artemis left the training and testing in my hands."

Hestia nodded softly, then shot a look at Artie. "For two thousand years, my Lieutenant has trained Hunters," the Goddess of the Hunt said.

Hestia accepted that explanation, then looked back at Zoë, prompting her to continue. "As it became time for Harry's latest test, I remember Lady Artemis' suggestion of a forest filled with bears. As I believed Harry to be well advanced beyond that, I exercised my initiative to… update… the test."

Artie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's why she became my Lieutenant in the first place, Aunt Hestia," she explained before said goddess could reply. "Zoë shows initiative to ensure the best results possible. Unfortunately, this time, she has overstepped."

Zoë seemed to shrink and Harry felt worse for her. He desperately wanted to weigh in, but what more could he say?

"And Harry has said that you were right in your assessment, and that if it hadn't been for one of the rarest bears in existence, he would have been fine," Hestia said, shooting him a glance before returning to look at Zoë.

The Hunter glanced at the boy as well, and offered him a grateful little smile.

"Harry is dear to me," Hestia finally said, breaking the silence that had descended. "Having him in pain, or hurt, upsets me greatly."

Zoë swallowed visibly. "However," the Goddess of the Home went on, "it doesn't appear you had any malicious intent, and were simply focused on ensuring a proper test of Harry's skills. Indeed, the very fact that he survived is a testament to his skills. And to your skills as a teacher."

"Thank you, Lady Hestia," Zoë offered.

"I'm also aware you remained with him, and that you would have intervened had something drastic happen," Hestia continued, a statement that Zoë nodded to confirm.

"Please ensure something like this never happens again, and we will talk no more of this," the Goddess of the Home stated.

Zoë seemed to breathe out from the tips of her toes. "Thank you, Lady Hestia."

The Goddess of the Hearth patted the Hunter's shoulder. "Please be more careful in the future. Harry is still a young boy, and while he claims to be able to handle it, he doesn't always know his own limits."

Zoë nodded seriously. "I shall see to it, My Lady."

"Good. Then you and I shouldn't spend any more time on this," Hestia said with a smile, before turning to Artie. "Perhaps there is something you wish to say as well?" she asked the Goddess of the Hunt softly.

Artie looked surprised and confounded for a moment. "Aunt Hestia?"

"I noticed how you put all the blame on this poor child," Hestia said with a faint motion to Zoë. The Hunter in question looked like she couldn't decide between surprise or offense at the statement.

"But Aunt Hestia," Artie started to protest.

"Perhaps a bit more oversight and clearer instructions could have prevented this," Hestia continued, still with that faint smile of hers.

Zoë looked like she was completely lost and adrift.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, slipping closer to her while the two goddesses talked things out.

The Hunter hesitated for a few moments, obviously debating whether to answer him or not. "I am… unsure," Zoë finally admitted, looking down at him. "These last days have been… difficult. I am pleased that Lady Hestia no longer bears me ill will, however..." she continued.

Harry nodded. "I know how you feel," he answered. "I disappointed Hestia when I brought that statue back. I never want to disappoint her again. But then again, I wanted to speak up for you and Artie, too, so it was kinda hard to do without making Hestia upset at me."

Zoë nodded thoughtfully. "And I am grateful thou spoke up," she stated softly, so as to not interrupt the two goddesses, where Artie was still trying to wriggle her way out of responsibility. "I do not know if Lady Hestia would have been so forgiving if it hadn't been for thee leveling the path for me."

Harry offered her a smile. "You're welcome, Miss Zoë," he replied. "Both you and Artie are awesome and I learnt a lot from you. And you're my friends, even if you don't think the same of me, and people should always help their friends."

Zoë was silent, but offered a nod anyway. They didn't speak for a few moments, before Harry looked back up at her. "Was Artie really mad? You said it had been difficult."

The Lieutenant to Artemis' Hunters sighed slightly. "My Lady was most displeased," she confided. "She spent quite a long time explaining her displeasure to me. 'T is a… humbling… experience to have one's faults listed extensively."

Harry felt bad for her. "My Lady then disciplined me," Zoë said, still softly.

To Harry, that word had bad connotations. Almost as bad as punishment. His shoulders straightened, and suddenly Zoë realized that Harry was indeed a Demigod, and thathe had been in quite a few hair-raising situations that had made him fight for his life.

Harry Potter suddenly looked dangerous. "What did Artie do?" he asked, his voice suddenly pitched an octave lower. His vibrant green eyed seemed to glow. When Zoë didn't immediately reply, Harry fully turned to face her. "What did Artie do to you?" he asked, again, more insistent.

Suddenly remembering him asking her not to call him boy, and the implications of the statements he had made to her, she realized what kind of memories it had triggered in him. She put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "'Twas nothing like what thou art thinking at all, Harry. I was given extra work. I assisted with cleaning the wolves, assisted with preparing meals, or assisted with cleaning up. 'Twas nothing like what thou art thinking at all."

At once, Harry seemed to deflate. "Sorry, Miss Zoë."

The Hunter looked amused. "Thou should take care of thy temper. 'T appeared like thou wert ready to storm My Lady."

Harry looked embarrassed. "I just didn't want you hurt, that's all," he confessed.

"And what are you two lovebirds talking about so seriously?" Hestia asked with a teasing lilt in her voice. Zoë, realizing she still had her hand on his shoulder, yanked it back as if scalded, and blushed faintly. Harry sighed.

"Please ignore her, Miss Zoë," the young demigod told his teacher. Giving Hestia a look, he continued, "She's trying to make trouble, that's all."

Hestia laughed, while Artie looked conflicted. Deciding on changing the subject as far away from crushes as possible, Harry looked from one goddess to another, and asked, "Were you able to talk things out?"

Hestia smiled at him, revealing that he hadn't been at all subtle and knew exactly what he had done, but was willing to go along with it for now. "Artie accepted her part of the blame in recent events," the Goddess of the Home said. "As is befitting my beloved niece."

Artie seemed to be embarrassed for a few moments. "Perhaps I should have been clearer in my instructions," she admitted.

Hestia gave her a kind and supportive smile. "And?" she asked.

Artie seemed to shrink slightly. "And I am sorry for my lapse in judgment," she stated, sounding extremely embarrassed.

Harry felt bad for her, and decided to fix things the way he preferred fixing things. So he gave her a hug. "We all make mistakes, Artie, and no harm was done."

Hestia coughed slightly.

"No permanent harm was done," Harry amended. Artie just laughed softly and hugged him back. She didn't say anything, but then again, nothing else had to be said.

Deciding that they had spent long enough in the large entry room of Helios' Temple, Harry broke the hug with his second-favorite goddess and invited everyone into the kitchen for some hot chocolate as this seemed like a hot chocolate situation to him.

0000

Harry sighed as he sunk behind his desk. He felt that odd sensation of being both exhausted and hyped up, but mostly he was relieved that everything was alright again between Hestia and Artie and Zoë.

Grabbing some paper and a pen, he started writing a letter to his mother. They didn't converse that often, but the recent events had been pretty major and he felt like his mother should know.

As he wrote, he found himself scratching out sentences and rewording them. It helped make sense of everything that had happened, and he realized suddenly that he was putting his inner thoughts and feelings into the missive; something he wouldn't have done had they been talking in person.

Maybe this writing thing would be good for more than just keeping in touch with his mother after all. He remembered how Hestia had told him to get to know Tyche better, and it seemed like this was an excellent way of doing it.

He wondered if his mother felt the same way, and whether she also found herself including private thoughts and feelings that she wouldn't otherwise communicate.

He hoped she did, he honestly wanted to know her better. If only Zeus hadn't forbidden her from talking to him.

Then again, if they had been talking straight up, maybe he wouldn't have had the courage to say these things to her.

Harry looked up from the draft version of his letter. Great, now he felt conflicted again. He drew in a deep breath, waited a few moments holding it in, then slowly let it out. Feeling better, he went back to his writing.

After Harry wrote the events that had happened that day, he stared at the paper for some time.

Finally, he decided to write down what was bothering him about saying more in a letter than in a straight face-to-face meeting, and asked her if she felt the same way about it. He was honestly curious if she felt as conflicted as he did.

After writing out a neat version, he signed it simply 'Harry', before folding up his missive and putting it in an envelope. After addressing it to 'Tyche, Goddess of Fortune', he went to find some drachmas to pay Hermes with. By the time he got back to his desk with his money pouch, the envelope had vanished.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Mister Hermes."