𝐕𝐈. 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐄 ➵ 𝐏𝐉𝐎 𝐱 𝐇𝐏

21

"Hello, Minister!" bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. "Did I mention I'm resigning?"

"You're joking, Perce!" shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin. Fred looked at Percy with glee.

"You actually are joking, Perce. . . . I don't think I've heard you joke since you were— " The air exploded.

Suddenly, a figure threw what seemed to be a ball that exploded into a burst of bright white— shielding them from the blast. But they still tumbled back from the impact. Choruses of groans echoed as they tried to regain their senses, and when Fred looked up, he saw a teenager– not older than him, staring down at him with a raised brow. "You're welcome."

The teen immediately clicked on his ring and a gleam of white light appeared as a sword unsheathed. He immediately ran straight towards the Death Eater and swung his blade, chopping the head off clean.

The others looked on with a gulp, never seeing anything that brutal. He turned back to the wizards and said, "We need to cover the others. Let's go."

Meanwhile, on the other side:

The air was ablaze with magic and myth.

The Entrance Hall of Hogwarts trembled beneath their feet, the stone itself groaning as if it, too, feared what had come. From the shattered front gates, three monstrous shapes emerged—towering, grotesque, and pulsing with primordial power. Each was a bane of Olympus, born not just to destroy gods but to unravel all that stood against the Earth Mother.

The first was Porphyrion, massive and crowned with twisting horns, his skin dark green like moss-covered stone. In his hands, a jagged spear crackled with stormlight—Zeus's mirror turned enemy.

The second was Alcyoneus, chains dragging behind him, his eyes glowing with the cursed immortality of the earth he walked upon. He was the bane of Hades, armored in bones.

And the third—Enceladus, his breath a hiss of fire, his palms leaving molten cracks wherever they touched. He bore a twisted mockery of Athena's spear, forged in Tartarus, meant to pierce wisdom and leave only ruin.

Behind them, Death Eaters poured in like shadows unchained, dueling students, professors, and Order members who lit the battlefield with dazzling spells—blue, gold, red—streaking through the smoke-heavy air.

But in front of the giants stood the demigods. Hazel's hands gripped her cavalry sword, shadows curling protectively at her feet. Percy stepped forward, Riptide gleaming like a shard of moonlight. Annabeth's shield snapped into place beside her blade, and Nico emerged from the shadows, gaze fixed on Alcyoneus.

And between them—three champions of Hogwarts.

Cedric's robes were torn, his hair matted with sweat and blood, but he stood firm, wand in one hand, a celestial bronze blade in the other—gifted from Leo two days ago. Regulus Black had already discarded his outer robe, his shirt bloodied at the shoulder, his wand held low, glowing faintly with silver magic as his eyes, sharp and calculating, locked on Enceladus. Beside him, Theodore Nott moved like a whisper, pale eyes unreadable, a strange, quiet fury emanating from him. His spells came silently—clean, precise, deadly.

"Take them down. Hold the gates," Annabeth ordered, voice clear even over the thunder of spells.

Porphyrion bellowed, voice shaking the skies. "Children of Olympus. You are not enough."