A lot has happened between The Second Giant War and now. But the Gods are still stupid enough to believe that a harem and godhood can cure Percy's PTSD. [Percy/multi] [Starts out with an angsty plot, devolves into interconnected smutty two-shots that you can read however you like]

A Harry Potter fanfiction. Who are we to judge power? Muggle, magical, beast, god; it doesn't matter. Power is power, and the beings who wield it are divided into two categories: the ones too weak to seek more, and those who revel in it, desire it, and live for it. Most prominent among these are the Potters. A bloodline ancient beyond centuries, the Potters were one of the most powerful families to have ever graced the earth. Filled with formidable sorcerers and practitioners of magic lost to time, they flourished in war and reaped the souls of any who dared cross them. At age four, Harry Potter was left on the doorstep of his last living relatives, the Dursleys. He didn't stay there for long. Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, et cetera, et cetera. You all know how this goes. Edit: What the fuck is this cringey ass description?