Choices || Harry Potter [HP X PJO]

t h r e e

I can't deny that I was nervous to be sorted. I was pretty sure I knew what house I was going to get, though. Hufflepuff, if I had to bet. The house of kindness and loyalty. I can't claim to be the kindest now—I'd been hardened by war, forced to be a child soldier—but I was like Percy. My fatal flaw was loyalty.

As the train slowed to a stop, I couldn't help but be grateful that Remus had never returned to the compartment. It was selfish, I knew, but I was nervous to see him. My father. 

Oh, gods, I thought. My hands were shaking, tapping against my leg. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't—

My thoughts came to a halt as the train did too. "Oh, gods," I muttered under my breath, which was quick with a slight, nervous panic. This is pathetic, I thought. I could stand strong against armies upon armies of monsters, but when I get the chance to meet my father—something I had been wanting for so long—I wanted to flee?

As we exited the train, Harry pointed. "Those are the carriages, where the older years go. That's Hagrid, the first years go with him. Do you know where you're going?"

I repeated what Hecate told me the school said. "I'll go on the carriages, but I won't go outside. I'll just have to wait by the doors until Professor McGonagall comes to pick me up."

Harry hummed in understanding. "Alright. You want to ride with us, then?"

Smiling gratefully at him, I nodded. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

The ride was quiet and tense. My eyes were locked on the thestral, and I suspected the silence had something to do with the fact that the trio were clearly concerned about something, and I, well, I had my own problems. 

At every creek in the woods I jumped. Every time one of the trio spoke, my hand would shoot up to my earrings, where my daggers were concealed. Every time the carriage shook, I would prepare to run. 

I hated it. Hated the fear, the constant suspicion of everything and everyone around me. 

"I can't believe that Sirius Black escaped," Hermione said disbelievingly.

 "What did he even do?" I asked, bringing up my eyes to meet hers.

"He killed thirteen muggles, and one wizard," She told me.

Guilt washed over me like a wave. I had done worse. I had killed over a hundred mortals, innocent bystanders, as I brought down a bridge in New York to stop the Titan's army from crossing. It was to stop them from toppling Olympus, to save the world... but was there a part of me that did it because I thought my life was worth more then a mortals?

I hoped not. I really hoped not, and I didn't think that was why, but what if it was and I was just refusing to admit it?

Then the anger came. Not everything was black and white. What if he had been like me, a few lives for so much more? She didn't know the full story, no one did. Why did people have the right to decide other people's lives, why did people think that they had the right to play Zeus?

Saying nothing, I clenched my jaw and turned to look into the forest.

Doubt came next. Was I evil because I had made that choice, that choice that ended the lives of so many? Was I right to do such thing? There were no answers, no right or wrong or evil and good. Only gray areas, only balance. I had done a bad thing for the right reason, put the greater good ahead of everything else, but why did I live when so many died?

It wasn't fair, nothing was fair.

The carriage ride was rather quick, and I waved by to Harry, Hermione, and Ron as they followed the other students inside. Professor McGonagall, I learned as she walked up to me, was an elderly, stern-looking woman. "Scorpia Astrid?" She asked.