I encourage reviews of any type.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, slavery is illegal.

Unless otherwise stated, assume all speech is in Greek.

OLYMPUS

Dear Mr. Harry J. Potter,

Harry, where ever you are and whatever name you go by, let it be known that I have charmed this letter myself so that it could only be opened by Harry Potter. You. I do not claim to know what you have been told about your heritage but in the event that you have no idea I will explain.
You, Harry, are a wizard and so were your parents. Both of them attended school here at Hogwarts and I invite you to do the same. It's an opportunity for you to discover your past, Harry, as well as be tutored in magic by the best magic school in Western Europe. Please, take the time to consider this. We await your reply no later than August 5st.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbeldore
(Hogwarts Headmaster, Supreme Mugwhump of Wizemgot, 1st Class Order of Merlin, etc)

"Well," a woman's amused voice rang out. "I bet you are surprised."

The reply, "I'm sure I am, Mother," was followed by a cheeky grin and then a yelp as the second speaker, a boy, was playfully pinched.

"I suppose I will just send their reply claiming that you refuse the offer," was said in mock-sadness.

"Why would you…?" A pause. "Oh, you want to see how much I mean to them."

"Of course, I find it odd that someone with these credentials would personally charm a letter to a perspective student. He's been searching for you. Wouldn't we like to know why?" The decidedly wicked looking smirk following this question was mirrored.

"Wouldn't we?"

When Asmodeus Nardessian had first received a large parchment envelope and letter delivered by owl mail and addressed to "Harry J. Potter," he had been very suspicious. For one thing, that name was no longer in use. Greek wizards used doves for letters and no one else he knew were crazy enough to use an owl. Not only were they picky, spoiled and their lumpy bodies ugly but it was far too much of a risk. Even Blinds were bound to notice owls flying about in the daytime.

After ordering one of the house elves to take it directly to his mother in case of a hex, he had run all the way to the study with an odd sense of excitement building. It was the first weird thing that had happened all summer and, being him, he had been just dying to know what.

Now, though, he was feeling slightly annoyed. He thinks I don't know anything, but doesn't bother to explain the important bits. He knew about the "past" the wizarding world had made for him and that included the instant fame his peculiar scar gave him. However, growing up as a Nardessian had made his previous parents and Boy-Who-Lived status less important. As far as anyone, including himself, was concerned, he had been born on July 31st to Apollo Thebes and Hera Nardessian.

Not James and Lily Potter.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the scar, he would have forgotten about having survived the Killing Curse.

But to think that this Dumbeldore fellow thought he could get away with such a bare-bones letter! If he hadn't already known about magic, the simple "You're a wizard, Harry," would have confused him even more. Not even an offer to explain things! What a wizard was, why didn't everyone know about them, etc. From the look on his mother's face as she wrote, an irritated raise of a delicate eyebrow and a slight frown, he could tell that he wasn't the only one feeling this way.

"Hermes!" His mother called out, folding a finished reply letter neatly into a rectangle. The door to the study opened and a young man, short black hair and sky blue eyes wearing the high-collared black robes of a servant stepped in.

"Yes, My Lady?"

"I have a letter to send and I believe Cosmos needs more exercise." Both boy and servant snorted.

"I don't believe he would be happy with me saying that, my Lady," Hermes started, his lips twitching suspiciously.

"Your fool of a bird is rather vain, Mother." They started snickering.

She glared at them both. "You!" She pointed at Hermes. "Go do what I told you! And you!" Her arm swung around to Asmodeus. "Just for that, you can buy your own 'fool of a bird' Deus."

Both faces fell; Hermes because the dove tower had five flights of stairs and Deus because it had taken him six months of begging for Hera to say yes to his very own messenger bird. Six months wasted.

He let out an exaggerated sniffle as Hermes left and was rewarded with his mother's rolled eyes. "Oh please."

Breaking into a grin, he turned away from her, then plopped himself on the carpeted floor for the nighttime ritual. She conjured a brush and hair tie and began to work on his waist length hair. After seeing a picture of his father, Apollo, there was nothing anyone on the Estate could say to change his mind. He was going to have long hair and that was that. If anyone cut it, it was back the next morning.

His mother still insisted on it being tamed for bed though.

"Tell me the story of how you found me," he said bluntly.

"It will be seven years to the day in three months, Deus, when I found you," she began calmly, not at all offended by her son's lack of manners. "I was in England at the time to play witness on the behalf of my sister's stupid husband but afterwards I found myself wandering around outside, bored to death. I didn't get far when there was a sharp crack! And guess what I saw then?"

He gave an astonished, "What!" while grinning like an idiot.

She rapped him on the head with the brush. "I saw this dirty, knobby-kneed and bruised little boy tumble out of thin air with green eyes that looked just like mine. He certainly wasn't old enough to have learned how to arc and yet he did, right in front of me. And," her hand lightly brushed his forehead as her voice took on an odd tone he never heard before. "And he had this most peculiar scar…"

She got up to the part where Hermes had freaked at seeing her carry a small boy home when she noticed that Deus had fallen asleep. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile.

"Bosun!"

A faint 'pop' heralded the arrival of one of the family house elves, bowing and prostrating himself on the floor. "How is Bosun being of service, Mistress?" he rasped.

"Put Deus to bed and tell Yitter that the manor in Oxford will soon be in use," she said dismissively.

The elf jumped up as if there was a fire in his toga. "Yes, Mistress, right away." With a 'pop' her son disappeared and with another she was alone.

Hera Nardessian attempted to get back to her abandoned work but, like every night for the past three years, her mind wouldn't let her. Despite all efforts, it dwelled on the boy now sleeping in his room, completely oblivious to the world.

"Asmodeus Nardessian…Harry Potter. It's easier to say I'm sorry than it is to ask permission., I'm afraid." She murmured, toasting him with an imaginary glass. "You'll forgive me someday."

The morning sun saw a young boy, around 11 years of age, posing in front of his charmed bedroom mirror.

"Well? How do I look?" He twisted and turned, making sure that everything fit properly. Greek wizard "robes" usually consisted of two pieces: the pants and the over coat, both made of a flowing material for dexterity. The older the family was, the more regal the design.

"Like a Grecian prince," the mirror simpered. It's bubbly voice was slightly grating on the ears. "You could stand to add a little green for your eyes but the family colours work rather well…shall I call in a maid for your hair?"

"I'll pass, just a ponytail will do," Asmodeus said rather painfully. He was always asked about his hair, from mirrors, from servants, from his mother…They seemed to be under the impression that unless it was attacked with cosmetics, it wouldn't behave itself.

It never would but the boy had already accepted that.

"So simple! I must insist that you at least adopt one of Lord Talricces' fashions-"

"Mother gets away with it," he interrupted before he spent the next hour hearing about hair styles. He had let it ramble on once before. Never again.

There was a beat of silence. "Your mother," the mirror began dryly. "Can get away with murder in broad daylight."

He felt his breath hitch. "She can." He admitted quietly, an odd smile on his reflection's face. "And she has."

The heavy stench of blood...he thought he would choke...laughing-she was laughing!

"Did you see that!" Green eyes so much like his own were sparkling. "Beautiful, like art. Absolutely gorgeous..." It was like a small river, gushing from where the head should be...whe-when would it stop?

"You killed him." There...was so much blood...

She gave a harsh barking laugh, he never heard it before. "Of course." A sigh. "I missed this you know."

"W-hy?" His voice broke half way. She looked at him - his head pounded - looked at him as if she had never seen him before.

She reached out for him. "Because I can." She was...hugging him, there was blood on her clothes. "Ah, my beloved son." She sighed again. "You'll learn."

His heart skipped a beat. My beloved son...beloved..she-she loved...He buried his face into her chest, fighting the urge to cry.

He will learn.

Deus was coming down stairs when he spotted Hermes approaching from the Entrance Hall. The young man wiggled his right index finger and rolled his blue eyes. Guests. Ones that the Head Servant didn't particularly care for.

Asmodeus nodded and straightened his posture then, after a moment of hesitation, he adjusted his hair so that the scar was in plain sight. First impressions and all that.

The first person to arrive in the Main Hall was an old man with an unusually spry step. Half moon glasses and twinkling blue eyes, he looked just like his Chocolate Frog card. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbeldore was obviously here to negotiate Deus' enrollment to Hogwarts. A dark, greasy looking man followed him but Deus opted to ignore him. The Headmaster was the one that needed to be convinced of something important right now.

"A Nardessian should only serve a Nardessian. Everyone and everything else is there to use."

He was a Nardessian and that would never, ever, change.

Comments, critcism, flames...I can only get better if I get a response!