Demigods At Hogwarts

One Evil Grandpa, Two Evil Grandpas... Wait, That's All (Harry's Perspective)

"Look," Hermione was still peering at the family tree, "it says his mother was a Squib. She was adopted by two muggles. But Percy Jackson's status is still a wizard, obviously."

"Dad's side?" I demanded.

"That's the weird thing." She said. "Jackson's dad doesn't have a last name, and neither do his grandparents on the dad's side. They're Rhea, Kronos, and Poseidon."

"Doesn't matter. We have all the proof we need. Probably just a mistake in the magic." I wasn't worried, but Hermione was still inspecting the paper. Her eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh... wow." She muttered, flustered.

"What?" I questioned.

"His dad's been with... a lot of people. Jackson has, like, hundreds of half-siblings." She informed me, and I couldn't blame her for freaking out. That majorly weirded me out. Like, maybe I could understand a few, but hundreds? Now that's creepy. I suspected Jackson didn't know even a quarter of them. I hoped there was a mistake in the magic, but Hermione never made mistakes. Ron wasn't sure whether to be amused or disturbed.

"Well..." I shook my head, trying to forget the information, "It doesn't matter. The fact that Voldemort is Jackson's grandfather proves literally everything. We should take this to McGonagall right now." I stood up, and so did Ron. Hermione looked up.

"Normally, I would stand up for him; he's never known his grandfather. But..." She stood up with us, shaking her head, "he and his friends are way too suspicious to be normal." We began to walk towards the door, when Hermione suddenly gasped in pain and grabbed her temples.

"'Mione?" Ron hurried and caught Hermione with two arms before she fell forward. She straightened up with effort.

"Just... remembered..." She wheezed, panting for breath. "Something ran through my mind. Like a flash of memory. Something about Frank, Zhang, talking to the Sorting Hat, about..." Her eyebrows scrunched together in bewilderment. "About... a piece of wood... his life was tied to?"

The moment she ended her sentence, pain lanced through the back of my brain quickly. I remembered what she was talking about.

"That's right!" I yelped. Ron jumped at the sudden outburst, looking between me and Hermione. Puzzlement was written all over his face. "I remember too!" I told Hermione. Then a realization hit me, like a blow to my stomach.

"Hermione, you think..." my voice quieted, "you think it was a Horcrux?" I asked nervously. Hermione looked taken aback, but then jumped.

"You're right! The wood is probably the Horcrux; the Sorting Hat said his life was tied to it! A piece of his soul! And, burning... he could've used Fiendfyre, the Horcrux-burning flames!" She paused. "Though why he would burn his own Horcrux is beyond me." She admitted.

"It doesn't matter! It still makes sense! Horcruxes, grandson of Voldemort! They're evil!"

"Excuse me," Ron interjected, and we looked at him, "What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded. Hermione and I looked at each other, then at him, expecting him to suddenly recall Zhang and the Sorting Hat's argument like Hermione and I did. However, no reaction appeared on his face, other than a little more resilience.

"Well?" He demanded. Hermione and I exchanged glances again. Then I just started walking toward the exit to the Gryffindor dorms, gesturing for him to follow.

"We'll explain on the way," I told him, and he grudgingly nodded, stepping beside me, and Hermione walked next to him. Then I mentally smacked myself; just realizing the urgency of the situation, we broke into a run.