While Annabeth repeated the prophecy for Rachel's benefit (I'll never understand how she commits these to memory) I turned and savored all the wizard's different funky expressions. Two common factors were that all their eyes were as wide as the ancient, massive yellow clock sporting Roman numerals that used to hand directly above the smoldering fireplace in my childhood home (I swear their eyes will be stuck like this for eternity if they keep it up) and their gaping mouths were so broad I had the unnatural urge to pop whole roasted turkeys in them like stoppers. But they were silent. Sometimes I felt like we had barged in and were holding the whole school hostage.
"Okay, any ideas what it means?" Annabeth's clear voice rang out in the hall. "We already know that the first two lines refer to Tom Riddle," Annabeth continued, "since we received the prophecy a little late. But which pantheons could the prophecy be referring to?"
"It never specified the number of pantheons," Piper piped up (pun intended), "and we already know there's Roman and Greek." She gestured to the rest of the demigods. "Do you think it's just us?"
The demigods glanced at each other doubtfully. The Greeks and Romans had already come together. Stating that we would defeat the threat together was... a little too trivial, or obvious, for the Oracle. And we all knew the Oracle was never obvious.
"It might be the Norse," Percy proposed, "They are coming over."
Annabeth hesitated, then shook her head.
"I just can't see how Magnus and Alex could help with this. I don't think snagging some more of Kvasir's mead and challenging Riddle to a flyting will do it."
"Flyting?" Piper questioned.
"Tell you later." Annabeth waved it off.
"Well, the only pantheons we're aware of would be Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse." Percy reviewed, counting off his fingers. "And we know there's already Greek and Roman. So it needs to be either Norse or Egyptian to help us."
"Or it could be both of them," Frank suggested.
"Or another pantheon will pop up and my brain will explode," Annabeth groaned, hugging her sides.
"Okay, well, we'll save that question for later," Reyna pushed the matter aside, "but what is 'the tie between the stag and the undead?' We know the undead is Riddle. Who, or what, is the stag?"
Hermione stood up, frantically motioning to her mouth.
"Uh..." Piper looked at Annabeth, who nodded. "You can speak." Piper granted Hermione permission.
"We know who the stag is-" she paused, "or might be." She reflected. "We want to help."
"You?" Thalia asked skeptically. "You really think we'd let you help? You've been following us, trying to make our life miserable, and being plain infuriating! Why in the world would we want to work with you-"
"Thalia." Annabeth gave her a warning look, and Thalia crossed her arms and looked away, enraged. Reyna placed a hand on her shoulder in a meager effort to comfort her.
"We..." Annabeth hesitated like the words were choking her. "Acceptance of your help is yet to be determined. However, we would like to hear who you think might be the stag referred to in the prophecy."
But Hermione did not budge; instead, she crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'll only tell you if you promise to let us work with you."
"We need to talk." Annabeth decreed in a strained voice. I thought she had meant her and Hermione, but as she turned, I realized that she intended to discuss it with us.
"Would you..." Hermione spoke to Piper this time, "allow Harry and Ron to talk too?"
Piper nodded. "Harry and Ron, you may speak."
Both British boys stood from their paralyzed positions and began to yell at an adamant Hermione. Something about not being able to trust us, not knowing who we were, and not wanting to work with us.
Meanwhile, our group of demigods began to have a quick conversation- more like a shouting match- in Greek. I silently applauded Reyna for recently taking it upon herself to learn our language so that we could communicate in a way others couldn't understand (which was currently coming in handy).
"They say they know who the stag is. We need their help."
"They're probably lying, the idiotic brats," Thalia argued and turned away with a huff.
"We can figure it out on our own."
"I will never work with them."
"He's saved the wizarding world already! We're against, essentially, the same threat. We'll need to learn to work together."
"We don't need their help!"
"We might! They know who the stag in the prophecy is."
"We need to know what they know. Combining our knowledge gives us all the more to work off of."
Slowly, the argument turned in favor of working with them.
"They aren't wholly imbecilic. Hermione has some wits. We could use those."
"I have a feeling you and Hermione would get along well if she stops being... inquisitive, Annabeth," Hazel remarked. I snorted. 'Inquisitive?' Nosy is more like it.
By this time, Hermione, Ron, and Hairy were finished with their conversation and watching us apprehensively. By Ron and Hairy's red faces and furled fists, I could tell Hermione had won. Ron called,
"You blokes done?"
Thalia turned to him with a withering glare, and Annabeth nodded.
"We'll do it. Who's the stag?"
Hermione gestured to Hairy. "Him."
"Or my dad," Hairy added through gritted teeth. He clearly didn't like this. Well, ditto. "But he's dead."
Annabeth shrugged. "That still keeps him as a possibility. What tie would you a Riddle have?"
"He gave me a scar. I could see through his mind with it sometimes; flashes. But he broke the tie already, with the killing spell."
"How aren't you dead?" Reyna interrogated skeptically. Hairy shrugged.
"I think Voldemort made a Horcrux in Harry. He destroyed the Horcrux." Hermione informed us. Obviously, Ron and Hairy didn't know this, because they turned to her with bewildered looks. She noticed this and asked, "What? I thought you knew."
Ron scratched his head. "Now that I think about it, it might've come up," he offered. Hermione sighed.
"Guys," Piper spoke up, "Should we really be talking about this in front of everybody else?"
"Um..." Annabeth looked around like she had just come to her senses. "No."
We turned to leave, Rachel trailing along not really sure what to do. Percy looked back at her.
"You feeling okay?"
"Yeah." She mumbled. "Just... the Oracle was always there. Then, when Apollo 'shut it off,' the presence was... gone. Now it's back, and it feels weird."
"Just try not to spout another Great Prophecy or anything in our lifetimes, okay?" I called jokingly. Rachel's lips tugged upwards.
"I'll try."
"Oh, and Piper, let the students free," Annabeth mentioned. Most of the students were eating silently, merely watching. I mean, there was nothing else to do. I felt bad for them. We had run into their school as outsiders and were ordering them around under the pretense of saving them. We were trying to save them, but at the moment it sure didn't feel like it.
"You can talk now," Piper told them. We rushed out quickly to avoid the cacophony of shrieks and screams that followed.
"Okay, so we're thinking the stag is Harry, and the tie is already broken?" Annabeth recapped. Hermione nodded.
"But that doesn't make sense," Percy argued, "because the prophecy wouldn't tell us 'if' if the tie is already broken."
"You said your dad could be it," Annabeth spoke to Hairy, "did he have any connection with Riddle?"
"Vo- Riddle killed him."
"His father also escaped from him three times beforehand," Hermione added. There was silence, as nobody could think of anything to say. I grabbed a few pieces of random materials for my trusty toolbelt and began to fiddle with them to appease my ADHD. Finally, Annabeth spoke.
"We can't dwell on this for too long. Prophecies aren't meant to be deciphered. We need to let it be, let it take its course."
"You said you'd been in six prophecies before. What did you mean?" Hermione interrogated. I sighed and repeatedly began to ram my head into an imaginary, very rigid, brick wall.
"None of your business." Thalia cut in before Annabeth could reply.
"It is now."
"No, it is not." Annabeth countered rigidly in a way that left no room for argument. "You may go." She gestured to the door stiffly. The way Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak and her fingers twitched in annoyance, I knew in different circumstances she would have stayed, immovable. However, she had seen what we could do. We were not people she wanted to mess with.
As she headed for the door, Hairy and Ron following, she turned and asked one last question. "What were those... things?"
Even though her vastly vague description could mean a number of things, we knew what she was referring to.
"Monsters," Annabeth answered, a single word that detailed them all too well. Hermione nodded without question and shut the door, leaving us alone and with a fuming and dangerously quiet Thalia.
(I feel like this story is going nowhere. Any advice or ideas would be greatly appreciated!)