Two days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent their free class before lunch in the courtyard. There weren't a lot of people there, just a few Slytheirns and some Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy was lounging against a wall, talking to Crabbe and Goyle. Annabeth Chase sat against an opposite wall, drawing something in a notebook.
Apparently Ron hadn't noticed Annabeth before, because just then he looked at her and shouted, "oy, Chase!"
He started walking towards Annabeth, leaving Hermione and Harry to follow.
"Ron, don't, she's actually really nice!" Hermione whispered to him, but he didn't stop.
Annabeth snapped her notebook shut and stood as they approached, a guarded expression on her face.
"Why did you have to help Malfoy yesterday, huh? We were all having a good laugh about it. Why'd you have to ruin it?"
"Excuse me for being a decent human being," Annabeth said coolly.
Hermione saw an explosion coming, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. She remembered Annabeth's expression yesterday when Malfoy was being tossed around. It was one of anger, horror, but also... recognition. Hermione couldn't help but feel like Annabeth knew what that was like. She remembered earlier that day in the library, when Annabeth had locked down at the mention of Geryon.
"Have you been through something like that before? Do you know what it feels like?" the words were out before Hermione could stop them. She regretted it as soon as Annabeth's expression closed, impossibly, even more.
"Please," Ron scoffed. "We've been through more than that, and we were fine. We got through all those tricks and traps in our first year. We found the basilisk in our second. Harry's parents were murdered, for Merlin's sake! She could never know what that feels like."
In a flash of blond curls, Annabeth had Ron pinned to the courtyard wall, an arm at his throat. The look in her eyes was so fierce it could have melted stone. Ron made a small choking sound, his fingers clawing at Annabeth's arm. She looked like she didn't even feel it.
Hermione gave a small scream, pressing her hands to her mouth. Harry was too stunned to move. Hermione had never seen a look quite like that.
The entire courtyard had gone silent.
"Don't you dare," Annabeth said. If looks could kill, Hermione thought Ron would be a pile of ashes, as would the wall behind him. Her voice was little more than a low growl, but Hermione was sure everyone could hear it. "Don't you dare assume you know anything about me, Ronald Weasley, because you don't. You know nothing about me, you anenkéfalos anóitos. Harry doesn't even remember his parents. He doesn't have to live his life repeating memories in his head, wondering if he could have done something different. You know nothing, nothing, about me. Am I clear?"
Ron whimpered, pale as a sheet.
"Am. I. Clear." Annebeth repeated, pressing her arm into Ron's throat.
This time, Ron nodded his head frantically, his eyes full of fear.
"Good." Annebeth removed her arm.
Ron slumped to the ground, gasping for air. Annabeth stepped back, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and made for the exit, everyone scrambling out of her way.
Malfoy smirked as Annabeth neared him, his eyes full of mirth. He held out his hand to her. She pushed him into a wall and kept going.
When she reached the archway, she broke into a run, but Hermione could still see the glimmer of a tear running down her cheek.
"Look what you've done!" Hermione scolded a very distressed Ron. she spun on her heel and went in the direction Annabeth had gone.
***
Annabeth didn't know how she found the room. She needed to let off steam, and suddenly there she was. She had been walking through the halls of Hogwarts, fuming, when she passed a door that hadn't been there the second before.
The room beyond the door was a magical version of a gym– meaning that there were mortal workout machines, but without any mechanics. There were treadmills, bench presses, an entire running track and obstacle course like on American Ninja Warrior, a freshwater pool, and every workout machine Annabeth could think of.
She was too angry to question it. She hopped on the nearest treadmill, put on the safety bracelet, and cranked up the speed to six. She could go faster, but she didn't want to tire herself out before classes ended.
Distantly she remembered that her free was going to end at some point, but she was too lost in the rhythmic pounding of her feet to care.
The memories were so painful. Luke, kneeling on the ground, desperately trying to hold back Kronos from forming. Luke, who had taken care of her since she was seven. Luke, who had tried to kill her so many times.
Bob, who had jumped into Tartarus for her and Percy, despite them never visiting him in the underworld. Bob, who had protected them and led them to safety. Bob, who had given them a way to survive. Bob, who had sacrificed himself so that Annabeth and Percy could escape.
Damason, who didn't know them, who had fed them and gave them rest and supplies, all in return for a story. Damason, who had saved both her and Percy's lives by giving them travel packs and Annabeth a weapon. Damason, who had broken his curse just to distract Tartarus, his father, so that Annabeth and Percy could get to safety.
And so many others. Their names came with every pounding step on the treadmill. Bianca. Zoë. Castor. Micheal. Lee. Beckendorf. Silena. Olive. And so many more. Too many more. All because Annabeth was too stupid to see the signs of Luke's betrayal.
By the time she realized she was crying, Annabeth's eyes were blurred with tears. She pulled the safety pin out of the treadmill, and it shuddered to a stop.
Annabeth hated when this happened. She would start out with one negative thought, and before she knew it, her thought process would spiral it into a million, until she was sobbing on the floor.
By the time she had the presence of mind to be aware of her surroundings, she realized her socks were stained red.
"Oh, Styx," she muttered, wiping her cheeks. The stupid Hogwarts uniform shoes weren't made for running.
Annabeth slipped them off carefully and set them on the ground. She felt a lot better already. Her anger was mostly gone, and so was the lingering worry and stress from this entire quest. She felt refreshed. Sometimes a good cry is exactly what you need.
The door opened before Annabeth could get her socks off. Quickly, Annabeth wiped the rest of the tears off her face and tried to look as casual as she could look while sitting at the edge of a magic treadmill wearing bloody socks. She heard a gasp, and then Hermione rounded the bend.
"I've never seen this room before," she said, in awe. Then she saw Annabeth and rushed over, sitting next to her on the treadmill. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry about what Ron said, I know he didn't mean it, he just gets like that sometimes! What happened to your feet?"
"Stiff school shoes," Annabeth said, slowly peeling a sock off, "are not good for running."
"I'm sorry for asking, but—" Hermione seemed to muster up her courage. "Did what happened have anything to do with what you said about that Geryon guy?"
Annabeth suppressed a snort. If only that was the least of her trauma. Geryon didn't even make it into the top ten.
"Part of it," Annabeth said instead. "Let's just say he was bad at taking care of his animals. And his guests."
Hermione made a small 'hm' noise while Annabeth peeled off her other sock, revealing the bloody cuts in her ankles.
"You should go to the hospital wing," Hermione said. "Madam Pomphrey can patch that up in less than a minute."
"I'll be okay." Annabeth got up and walked over to the pool, bending her ankles as little as possible. She sat down by the rim and ripped off the bottom of her robes to use as a rag.
"Oh, i wouldn't," Hermione said worriedly. "That's probably chlorinated."
"It's not," Annabeth said, dipping her hand in the water and tasting it. "See? Perfectly fresh."
"Let me help you, at least," Hermione insisted. "To make up for Ron. I know there's a spell that can heal that."
"I'm okay," Annabeth said. She missed Percy.
She used her makeshift rag to towel off the blood, then she cleaned the cuts, wincing at the sting. She ripped the bottom of her robes again to use as bandages to bind her ankles until she could get back to her dorm. The fabric chafed against her raw skin, but it was better than having it exposed to the air and possible infection.
Hermione gasped. Annabeth looked over to see her gaping at her watch.
"We have Defence Against the Dark Arts in seven minutes! We have to go!"
The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was put her shoes back on, but she did it anyway and tried not to limp as she followed Hermione out.
***
Hermione rushed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom only a minute before the bell rang.
"Been in the–"
"Library," Harry interrupted. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."
"I wasn't in the library, actually," Hemrione said, following her friends to the front row. "I was talking to Annabeth. You really upset her, Ron."
"Yeah, well, she shouldn't have disrupted our fun," Ron said, sitting down.
He was about to open his mouth to say something else when Annabeth herself came into the room. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she had a stoic expression on her face, as if daring anyone to comment about it. The bottom of her robes were ripped, and she was walking funny, like every step hurt.
Ron felt a pang of guilt. He really didn't know anything about her, and he hated to upset her. She was so pretty. But she was a Slytherin. Why should he care how she felt?
He saw, through Annabeth's ripped robes, that she had a long scar running down her leg. He wondered where it came from.
***
Annabeth sat down in a desk at the side of the room just as Moody limped in.
"You can put those away," he growled, sitting down at his desk. "Those books. You won't need them."
There was a collective rustle as everyone put their books back in their bags. The air was practically tingling with excitement.
"Right, then," he said after taking attendance. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had pretty thorough grounding in tackling dark creatures. You've covered boggarts, red caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, and werewolves, is that right?"
Everyone muttered something along the lines of yes.
"But you're behind, very behind, on dealing with curses. So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards could do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with dark—"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron Weasley said from the front row.
Moody stared at Ron. he was silent for a minute, and Ron looked scared, but then Moody smiled. It only served to make his face look even more scarred.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. yeah, i'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbldore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He laughed again, then clapped.
"So— straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then.
"But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen?"
Annabeth smirked at that, thinking about how many times she'd faced something she'd never seen before, but she stayed silent.
"A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
A girl yelped and looked up from under her desk, where she had been showing her friend something. Annabeth noted with some discomfort that Moody's magical eye could see through wood.
What else could it see through? Did he decide where to focus it? Did the eye have any limitations? Would it be stopped by, say, multiple layers of walls? Could he see through the entire castle and out onto the grounds? Or did it have a limit on how far it could go? Was there a certain density it couldn't see through? A certain object?
Annabeth hadn't made any noise, but Moody's eye swiveled straight towards her again. She tensed. She didn't like how that eye made her feel, like she wasn't safe. The eye lowered slightly, settling on Annabeth's arm, and probably the dagger strapped to it under her robes. Annabeth thought for sure he would call her out on it, but instead he just nodded approvingly, and the eye moved on.
"So... Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"
A few people slowly raised their hands. Moody pointed at Ron.
"Er," Ron said nervously, "my dad told me about one... is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"
"Ah, yes," Moody said. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."
He flicked his wand, and the word imperio appeared on the blackboard behind him.
Now, Annabeth didn't know much Latin, but she was pretty sure the word imperio meant command. The small amount of spells she'd already seen were all in Latin, too, which made sense. Along with Ancient Greek, Latin was a language of magic. Chants for spells just didn't work as well in other languages.
Annabeth would have to experiment with it later, but if she was right, she had just unlocked a way for her to work magic without studying any spells.
Moody stood up and opened a drawer in his desk. The class waited, silent, as he pulled out a jar. It only took one look for Annabeth to see that in the jar were three spiders, and all of them seemed to be looking right at her.