Harry Potter and Percy Jackson Dark Waters - CH 4

The bread tasted strange, better than any bread he'd ever had before. He knew he wouldn't be

able to survive on bread alone, and was pondering what to do next, staring into the fire as he did so.

Suddenly, the flames of the fire leaped up, turning deeper, darker shades. As the fire seemed to jump out of the fireplace, he let out a shout that was part surprise and part fear. Before he knew it, he was halfway to the cooking area, when he heard a whoosh from behind him.

Thinking that the fire was now burning further into the sitting area, probably engulfing the couch he had been sitting on, he dropped and hid behind the nearest cabinet, before carefully looking over the top to see the damage.

Instead of damage, he saw a girl, probably a year or two older than him, with brown hair and dressed in simple robes, examining the sitting area.

She picked up the loaf he had been eating, and he suddenly realized he had dropped it in his frantic effort to get away from the fire.

He glanced at the fireplace. It was burning normally again – what had happened? Had the girl walked out of the fire? Was that why it had scared him with its strange behavior?

He ducked back down behind the cabinet when he saw the girl turn to look in his direction. He wasn't going to get caught; he needed to get away. Sure, Mister Statue had indicated he could stay, but he wasn't about to try and explain to someone else that the statue had done so. They'd think he was crazy!

"I know someone is here," the girl said. Her voice sounded gentle, and just a little bit teasing. "After all, the hearth is burning and there is a half-eaten loaf of bread sitting here."

Harry cursed to himself. She was going to find him and the lack of walls in this house meant

that she would see him if he tried to run. Now what was he going to do?

He heard her sandals on the stone floor as she walked. Then he heard the leather of the couch when she sat down. "I'm not here to harm you," she said again. Her voice sounded warm. Maybe he could trust her?

"I came because this hearth hasn't been used in a very long time," the mysterious girl said.

That explained what the girl was doing here, Harry decided, but he wondered if others would be able to do the same thing. If she could do it, while being only a few years older than him, then the grown-ups would be able to do the same thing, right? He definitely didn't want the grown-ups to know. they'd yell at him and try to hit him for stealing that bread.

"My name is Hestia," the girl said while Harry was sitting behind his cabinet, trying to calm himself and trying to think his way out of

trouble. "I'm not here to harm you, if that is what you are worried about."

He'd heard that before. Even if her voice was warm and gentle and didn't sound like someone who would hurt him.

"I won't tell anyone else you're here either," Hestia said.

That's great, Harry thought, but what if they find out by themselves?

Hestia stood up, judging from the sound of the couch. "You can trust me. I won't tell anyone, and nobody will be able to find you here."Her footsteps trailed off and then vanished entirely.

Her voice soothed him. Despite himself, he glanced over the side of the cabinet, curious to see what the girl – Hestia – was doing.

To his immense surprise, he stared directly into a pair of brown eyes. He yelped loudly and threw himself backwards, while the girl stifled

a laugh. It was a lovely laugh, Harry realized, while sitting on his behind, trying to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest.

"That wasn't funny," he declared.

"Yes it was," Hestia said, smiling at him. "What's your name?"

"Harry," Harry said morosely, while standing up.

"Don't be mad, Harry, it's just a harmless joke," Hestia said, still smiling at him. She turned to the sitting area. "Won't you sit with me?"

He shrugged, still not sure about this strange girl that popped out of the fire and then scared him. He followed her, and sat down on the other end of the couch, not sure what to do or say. Hopefully she wouldn't turn him in.

"I'm Hestia," Hestia said again. "I'm the goddess of the Hearth and the Home."

He blinked. A goddess? Was that why she walked out of the fire? He glanced at the fireplace.

"Yes, that hearth," Hestia said with a small laugh. That same laugh that had calmed him earlier. "Among all the others. That's why I knew someone was here, despite this temple not having been used in a very long time. It's also why I could come. If I don't share my findings, nobody else will know."

He relaxed; that explained why she offered to keep him a secret. "So you won't tell?"

Hestia still had that gentle smile. "No, Harry, I won't," she told him. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Won't you tell me how you got here?" she asked.

Harry looked at her, feeling weary. "Promise me you won't tell any adults?" he asked, just to make sure.

Hestia looked surprised for a moment, followed by a look of realization. She smiled at him, and Harry suddenly felt warm. "I promise I won't tell anyone without your permission," she reassured him.

Harry was silent for a few moments, studying her. She looked normal, for the lack of a better word. Plain brown robes, brown eyes, brown hair. Her skin was a shade deeper than the pasty white most English people had.

He decided to trust her. If she didn't keep her promise, he would just have to run. No way was he going back to Aunt Petunia now that he'd felt freedom.

His silence must have clued Hestia in on his thoughts. "I can swear to it, if you wish," she offered.

Harry pulled himself from his thoughts. "isn't that the same thing?" he asked.

Hestia's smile grew slightly, and she edged closer to him, as if about to explain some great secret. Despite himself, he leaned in to hear her explanation. "Not to us gods," she confided. "We can swear on the River Styx. To break an oath made on the Styx is to invite calamity and misfortune on yourself."

Harry frowned. "What does that mean?" he asked, not understanding.

"It means that, if you make an oath, and don't hold to it, bad things will happen to you. A lot of bad things. Swearing an oath on the Styx is the most serious promise a god can make."

Harry nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. He also understood that she was offering to make such a promise to him.

"You don't have to swear," he said. "Just… promise you won't tell a grown-up."

She smiled at him. "I promise," she reassured him. "Can you tell me why?" she asked gently.