"He dances on the edge of the known, like a crazy man, pitting himself against heaven and the pit, because he is John Constantine; and because he is alive."

Doctor Occult (Books of Magic)

o0o0o0o0o

Kreacher was a good house elf but he was old.

Not that the filthy half-blood master realized that, no, he didn't appreciate the struggle that it was for him to lift the tea trey over his head. His legs were weak and his arms shook with every task he completed. The old, haggard, wrinkly House elf did his duty with a sour face but he never complained, as this was his sole reason for living. Kreacher kept the house clean and he made sure that the artifacts that he brought back after every successful hunts were properly polished.

From the curved sword that had once belonged to a woman he called out for in his nightmares to the horned helmet that once belonged to a god of blood and glory, Kreacher kept them in prime condition… though he did wish he could fix the gaping hole in the cursed armor his Master had brought home all those years ago.

…

But the Mirror he had brought into Grimmauld Place was something else entirely. It was dark magic; almost bordering on black, yet Kreacher could not say a word to warn his filthy Half-Blood Master… It did not allow him.

The It Kreacher was referring to took the shape of a human woman. She was a beautiful by their standards; her was violet in color and long enough to reach. Her eyes were bright shining blue; Kreacher would have compared them to the moon if he knew the name of the large white ball in the sky had a name. She dressed in a revealing black dress and wore no shoes.

There was also a mark above where its heart was supposed to be… like a triangle but much more complex.

It wasn't human, despite how It showed itself to be, that much he knew. It wanted his Master, not like it wanted Kreacher, no, it wanted him like his dear Mistress Walbulga wanted Master Orion. To Kreacher the woman was hunger incarnate and with every passing day it grew stronger…. while Kreacher grew weaker.

The decrepit House Elf had resigned himself to death without finishing Master Regulus' final order.

"Kreacher!" He heard his Master's call. With a pop the dutiful house elf trans ported himself to his master's side. His master was dressed in a finely fitted suit, black but casual for someone of his position, under a worn overcoat. There was a hard look in his emerald eyes. It had been there since the death of the blood-traitor, and had only grown worse after he returned from his sabbatical. Kreacher wasn't stupid enough to push this particular Master; he could not die because the filthy Half-Blood decided that he didn't need him anymore. No, he would die in service to Ancient and Noble House Black or until the purple haired parasite took what was left of his strength.

"What must Kreacher do for the filthy Half-blood Master?" He muttered as he handed the wizard his satchel.

Harry pretended not to register the words Kreacher used and instead reached into his bag and produced a small rectangular box from his bag. "Wrap thus gift up and place it n my bed." With shaking hands the old elf took the parcel and popped away before the wizard could get a word in edgewise.

Unlike before, when Kreacher did for the sake of annoying his master, he had popped away because a wave of weakness had struck him. He fell to his knees as black dots littered his vision and he heard a cackle ring in his ears.

'Why do you resist, creature?' it mocked as he attempted to rise. The voice had a thick accent like that man Master Orion had sent for during the war… Kakaroff, Kreacher remembered his name was 'Why don't you succumb to your obvious… weakness and allow someone worthy to bear the mazter's burden?"

Kreacher gritted his teeth as he felt his Master leave the house.

'Not today.' He thought to himself. Kreacher struggled to his feet. "Not when Kreacher can still be of service."

o0o0o0o0o

It was raining… it hadn't been raining when he was indoors but as soon as he put a foot past the threshold it began to poor. It was almost as if he'd been jinxed, just as John had been cursed, but as many enemies as he had he couldn't come up with a reason to make him suffer foul weather.

Hi goddaughter deserved better than a rainy afternoon a day before her birthday but what could he do?

Once he left the house Harry apparated with a loud crack, not that his Muggle neighbors noticed. No one could see him as long as he stood on the steps that led to the houses door, not unless they, like Draco, were keyed into the location. Apparition was especially unpleasant to the Wizard but it was a necessary sacrifice when true evil was afoot. To Harry apparition didn't feel quite right… not like it used to at least. It felt as if two of him were being pushed through the proverbial keyhole… maybe it was just age catching up with him.

The less educated labeled all magic that could do harm as Black Magic, but that in itself was a misnomer as all magic had the potential to do harm. An uncontrolled healing charm could cause cells to multiply rapidly, or a simple lumus could potentially blind a person, or a summoning charm could cause a person to be dragged through a busy street. The term Black magic came from the mistranslation of an ancient scroll, which was under the protection of Nicholas Flamel at the time. Some wannabe scholar thought it wise to break into the Alchemist's library and pilfer through his books. Needless to say that he was almost caught but in his haste the translator jotted down Nigromantia, which in Latin meant "Divination by means Black" instead of Necromantia.

So like all things it just ended up being Life magic versus Death magic… and even that was incorrect on so many levels.

Magic is power.

Voldemot knew this but in his avarice he failed to grasp the reality of it. Magic wasn't just a tool for the strong to control, it is seeing through the shadows to the world beyond reality and to wonders normal humans were never to discover. It was a both a privilege and a responsibility to wield magic, not a right to be abused.

John Dee had abused that power. Necromancy on that level hadn't been seen since the Dark Ages.

Rowlington would not heal for many years, so much death corrupted the earth… not that anyone would want to live there after the cover story MI5 came up with. Kris Lazarus was dead scientist who had attempted to clone a creature known as Doomsday a few years back. His creation was so unstable that it fell apart soon after encountering Wonder Woman. Now, the spin was that he had survived his encounter and had set up shop beneath the small town but this time things ended much worse.

In their woven tale fed to the public Kris Lazarus created a virus from the cells of his original creation and it escaped killing the occupants of the town before it died out. Now, Harry wasn't a fan of lying to the public but his department head had agreed that this was the best course of action. When the Morrigan ordered her agents to go along with it, all of them followed despite how they felt about it.

When the news broke there was an appropriate amount of fear, but the people took comfort in knowing that the man responsible was dead and the chances of this horror returning where minimal. The problem that Harry had with this little story was that the only way that it would hold was if they caught Dee before he could do it again… Which was exactly what they were having problems with.

The man, despite his lack of magic, had acquired himself an extra dimensional witch. Her name was Rachel, if what the dying woman had told him was to be believed. Without other options the DEO had labeled her the source of Dee's power… that meant if she couldn't be pacified none lethally they were going to have to deal with more permanently than he would prefer. This sickened him beyond whatever shreds lingered within his soul.

Harry disapparated in the center Potter Field Park far enough away from Tower Bridge that Lennox could comfortably wait for him. Of course, the hulking demigod wasn't there and in his place was a tall man with bluish-grey skin, dressed in leaning heavily on wooden staff with two coiling snakes. He dressed in a grey beanie and a green army camouflage poncho, but besides his oddly colored tint what stood out most were the talon feet that everyone seemed to ignore.

"Harry Potter-"

"Black." Harry corrected.

"My apologies, Mister Black." He said sincerely. "When Lennox sent me here I had wrongly assumed that you hadn't changed your name since your time as my brother's disciple." If the man could have looked guiltier he would have but as it was there was something more urgent in his tone. "I am Hermes, God of-."

"Messengers and thieves." Harry completed for the wounded god. He knew exactly what kind of god Hermes was, a trickster much like Loki had been in Norse mythology. He appeared to some as benevolent but every action he took would ultimately serve his own purpose. "War told me about you… but he didn't mention that you were around or that you would approach me… what do you want?"

"My companions and I are in desperate need of aid." Hermes answered with conviction. His staff glowed slightly with his words but other than that nothing happened. "Lennox approached us with a daring plan. It is difficult but achievable but only if we have sufficient members… which we do but as I have been crippled by hunters…"

Hermes took a few minutes to explain how he came upon this situation. How he had discovered a woman, her name was Zola, carrying the last son of Zeus in America, before his apparent disappearance, and his effort to protect both her and the child. Diana had sworn to protect them, and was currently with Zola somewhere nearby. The trio had at on point fled to Thermyscira, but left after something had caused Diana to flee her home and return to London. Hermes skimmed over the incident that drove them from the safety of Thermyscira, as if what they had experienced there were enough to make him reconsider helping.

'Noble.' Harry had to admit but there was something off about the whole thing. The timing was suspect. The massacre of Rowlington had occurred three days ago and now a god who wished to enlist him had approached Harry with some kind of quest… not that he could refuse. Even if Dee was just a coincidence nothing Hermes had said explained why he had gotten involved… The majority of the Greek pantheon was hedonistic by nature, Hermes was no exception, their pursuit for pleasure had caused wars that shook the very foundation of humanity and even in their most benevolent moment they rarely interfered in the lives of mortals.

"Will you lend us your aid?"

Before Harry could give a reply Big Ben chimed, followed quickly by an explosion of water of water rose from the Thames, and a deep, resounding voice boomed from the river.

"You are an Amazon?" The voice bellowed. "There is more to you…" there was a pause and then there was a hiss that sounded akin to "Zeus, his blood no longer holds… water." The voice sounded pleased with itself, puns did tend to boost the confidence of the speaker. "You would do well to get out of my way, mongrel."

"Poseidon." Hermes clarified once he deciphered the curiosity in Harry's eyes. "It seems that I am late and Zola left undefended."

"What about Lennox?" His friend wasn't the strongest Demigod but he was no push over.

"He is parlaying with my other uncle."

"Hades?"

"Yes."

'Fuck.' Harry darted towards the bridge in a dead sprint. With one hand he reached for his phone. He didn't need to look as he dialed his boss's number. The phone rang exactly twice before the Morrigan picked up.

"Agent Black, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? You're not due in for today."

"Poseidon has surfaced near Tower Bridge and according to a reliable source Hades will follow soon enough." Harry sidestepped a couple who where frozen in fear as a giant whale/octopus like creature floated on the river. It was massive, taking up half of the width of the Thames and the only thing between the bridge and Poseidon was Diana.

She wore her usual uniform. Silver bands reflected the scant sunlight like beacons of hope. She did not draw her lasso or her sword, instead choosing to approach the god with words. He was too far to hear what she said but knowing her… there was a seventy five percent chance that she was reasoning with him, the other twenty-five would be her threatening Poseidon with death.

"Wonder Woman is on the scene but be ready for a fight to break out."

"When it rains…" The Morrigan sighed in resignation. "What is your assessment of the situation?"

"The potential for catastrophe is too large to ignore." Harry hissed into the device. Normally by this point there would be several teams, armed to the teeth, portkeying to his location. The DEO had prepared for possibly world ending events; this was a result of Darkseid's invasion of Earth a few years back. "Why aren't you sending an immediate response?"

"As of right now, we simply do not have the resources to mount a sufficient defense." Her tone was cold but there was sliver of sympathy I her tone. "Most of our forces are in Rowlington, keeping the area quarantined, and those remaining few won't make a difference."

"Why can't we redirect some of the enforcers-"

"Whatever John Dee did in that town is interfering with all forms of magical transportation."

"I'm on my own?" Harry asked, he had suspected that Agent Blake was still following him, as she tended to do.

"Yes."

"Permission to attempt to minimalize casualties?" He sounded determined, or at least to himself. There was, of course, a reason for his question. It was the only way he could let loose without the DMLE making a show of him using magic in front of Muggles. As it was he couldn't risk drawing too much negative attention from magical society until they found either found Charles alive, so he could tell them that Harry had nothing to do with his kidnapping, they found his corpse and a proper investigation could be mounted.

"Keep exposure minimal and try to keep the damage as limited as possible." Translation: 'Try to avoid using flashy spells and try not to get yourself killed.'

"Roger that." With that he pocketed the phone and nearly instantly noted a woman in a blue hoodie and a brown backpack standing by the rail looking upon the scene. Every other human, near human, and creature posing as humanoid was fleeing the scene… except her… she was glued in place. Was this Zola? Or was this just another idiot with their phone taping a video in hopes of making a few dollars for channel fifty-two.

The Ministry wouldn't send its forces to deal with this. Not when it threatened to break their Statute of Secrecy, so Harry had to be extra carful when setting up protections on the bridge.

He moved closer to her but stops when he spots something much more worrying. Two centaurs like creature were strutting onto the bridge with weapons drawn. One had a spiked mace and the other carried a short sword. The one with the short sword was grey furred and much more bestial than any centaur Harry had ever met. He had a quiver made of hide but no bow in sight. The other was cream-colored fur had no other weapon but she looked more like a centaur than her companion. She looked feminine as a mockery of a being could.

"My brother Zeus was a monster who cared about nothing other than himself." The sea god bellowed but Harry paid him little attention. The Wizard reached into his bag and pulled the Betrayer's blade from its depth. Clarent was unlike Sin and Salvation, it was long and heavy, and it did not whisper promises of paradise or damnation, but it did tug at his bloodlust and scorn. "Ergo. I'm not interested in anything you have to say and now hat the heavens are without a lord, I mean to claim them as mine. I will rectify the mistake of ceding them to him and no one will stand in my way."

"Centaurs on Tower Bridge." Harry murmured as a twisted grin split his face. "The Ministry's incompetence knows no bounds." He could feel Clarent's influence touch his magic. Its darkness resonated with his own like a warm hand.

It was like the imeprius curse, comforting… almost soothing but ultimately it could be ignored if on had strong enough will. He could see why Mordred betrayed King Arthur, as the magic of this sword would be too strong for a mortal with no magic. Harry wasn't swayed by its calls to slaughter

The beasts stood against the mass of bodies scanning for something with their blank, empty eyes. The one with the sword suddenly tensed when his gaze fell upon the blue hoody woman. It roared and pointed its blade at her and charged, its companion followed with inhuman viciousness.

It was lucky that Harry was closer.

Harry slammed his forearms together creating a protective physical barrier around himself and the woman he suspected to be Zola. The beasts, like Greyback, slammed into his shield with tremendous force. She was blond with short hair and blue eyes. She was shorter than Harry and rather slim. Nothing to indicate that she was pregnant. The woman's gaze snapped away from Diana and moved between her savior and centaurs trying to kill her.

"You're Zola, right?" Harry asked. When the woman didn't answer he couldn't help but roll his eyes as she glared at him with distrust. "Hermes sent me to protect both you and your child."

"Who the hell are you!?" She demanded. Her distrust was as annoying as it was refreshing. Many people this day and age are far too trusting of people that present themselves as saviors. He guessed that the age of heroes made people far too trusting. "Where's Hermes?"

"In the park limping," Harry stated while his shield was being assaulted. "Hopefully he is on his way here." Though he doubted it. Beings that labeled themselves gods tended to be immortal but more often than not they could be injured. Why else would they hide in the shadows if they were absolutely invulnerable? The feared humanity because they had the power to unite and were very creative with their punishments.

The Centaur with the mace battered it against the shield while the one with the sword circled them. It was looking for an opening… not that he would find one; the goblins didn't build things with weaknesses, it would be bad for business. The shield would protect them from physical attack but the problem was that he couldn't go on the offensive.

He couldn't set protections that would limit the damage that Poseidon could inflict, nor could he deal with the two centaurs whose blood Clarent sung for. Something had to give, but not until he deemed it so. Looking at his environment he was able to put together a strategy that allow him to do both.

"Duck under the car." Harry ordered Zola. The blonde, who had most if not all her attention on the beasts intent on taking her life, looked at him confusedly.

"What?"

Harry was about to repeat his order but was cut off by the Sea God's roar. It didn't take him long to figure out what Diana was up to and, in a way, it made him proud that she had learned something from the scarred Warlock… even if it was just the best way to keep an opponent busy. The best way is to get them monologuing.

"SHE DARES?!" Poseidon's tentacles lifted Diana in to the air, pulling at her limbs. "SHE BELIEVES THAT SHE CAN CLAIM WHAT BELONGED TO ZEUS?" The shout was loud enough that it shook the Tower Bridge like it had been hit by an earthquake and strong enough that Harry's forearms separated for a fraction of a second. The shield momentarily flickered out of existence but the centaurs couldn't capitalize on this weakness because they stumbled as the bridge shook. "I will make her kneel, just as Zeus did."

Poseidon growled as he attempted to twist the Amazon's limbs.

"This world was divided among three brothers, the heavens, the seas, and the underworld. The scraps we left to others…"

He on the other hand acted swiftly as they recovered. Harry didn't exactly shove the pregnant woman as he did forcefully guide her beneath the vehicle. She yelped loudly but scooted further beneath the teal van. With that taken care of Harry spun on his heel and swung Clarent at centaur closest to him.

If he had used Sin or its sister blade Salvation, the sword would have smacked into the mace, maybe chipping the grip, but otherwise nothing remarkable would have happened. Harry knew from legends that Clarent was a magical sword. It had been originally given to King Arthur by the nymph Nimue and later it was passed onto Mordred once the king had gained complete control of Excalibur. Clarent curse was well known; wounds inflicted from the blade did not heal naturally and by the time magic was able to mend it would be far too late.

What most didn't know, Harry included, was that Clarent was much sharper than it appeared. The Arthurian sword sliced through the thickest part of the mace with moderate ease, continued onto the weapon's handle, leaving it unevenly split, and severed its fingers.

He didn't stop there.

Harry used the momentum of his swing to twirl forward. The shock of loosing appendages was enough of a distraction that she couldn't react fast enough to retreat or more likely stomp the Warlock with her hooves. The first hit staggered the beast at Clarent dug into its body. The second came from the same direction but without her weapon and without the time it would take her to react He hacked at the base of the centaur's human like torso. It took Harry three solid swings to sever the body in two.

The cascade of blood that followed stained his clothes and cover most of his body from the neck down yet it didn't slow him in the slightest as he dodge a wild swipe from the other centaurs gladius. As it was the Warlock was having a great time, if the tested grin on his face was any indicator.

Harry loved losing himself in the role… it was almost cathartic.

Many magicals in his profession did the same thing. Baron Winter excused the atrocities he committed by claiming them in the name of balance; John did it whenever he lost another friend I some twisted miss adventure or another; Doctor Fate allowed the being known as Nabu to take control of his body in the name of Order; and even Zee, sweet, innocent Zatanna, did it whenever she sacrificed a part of herself for the Greater good. Distancing oneself was a small price to pay compared to what others did for peace and justice. The pain, the anger, the sheer unapologetic frustration… it was better to immerse himself in them than to suffer the numbness that being just Harry entailed.

The heightened rush that followed the fight was glorious. Every movement was calculated and never did he consider ending the fight with his wand as he easily could. Harry didn't realize just how much of Clarent's influence seeped past his Occlumency shields, but as his purpose for engaging the beasts was forgotten and the warped glee that he felt engaging the centaur in his deadly dance grew it became apparent that he wasn't in full control of his faculties.

He didn't swing, nor did he parry, no, he moved around his opponent as water did a rock. None of the aches he had collected in his twenty-seven years of life bothered him, his scars didn't itch, and his magic felt amazing for the first time since Carolyn's death.

'And why was that?' One might ask.

It wasn't because of Clarent's influence, despite how he would suspect it in the future, it was simply a catalyst for it to emerge; It wasn't Luna's strange companion fault either, though she was the embodiment of it; nor was it fault of Dee whose parasite had shown him paradise. It was because he'd allowed himself to be immersed in the metaphorical abyss he'd been teetering over the edge of for years.

It was the song of Pan that flowed through his veins, which moved his body like a puppet on strings. It was the part of him that Diana had seen all those months ago, when they'd trekked across the multiverse.

It was the Darkness within him.

Not that it lasted.

A moment later an impromptu javelin made from what appeared to be a flagpole, if Saint George's Cross was any indication impaled the beast sending over the railing. The centaur sailed of the side of the bridge much to Harry's disappointment. His grin falling as the creature fell into the river. Harry turned to look at the thrower but froze in place when he caught the concern in Diana's eyes.

The feelings of euphoria disappeared as he sobered, sheathing Clarent in it ornate obsidian scabbard. The fight was won yet now that the sword was put away he felt little to no elation. Zola was safe, Poseidon was on his merry way, and the bridge was still in one piece… but of that was overshadowed by the look Diana was sending his way.

Her lips moved as if to speak but Harry held up a hand to silence her.

"No time for emotion, love." He cringed at his choice of words. She had said those very words as they readied themselves to fight the Dark Angel; they had stung like all rejections that mattered should yet he did not hold them against her. Harry had shown his darkness to her and it had frightened her. This had been the second time she'd seen him like this… he promised himself that there would not be a third. "We've got a job to finish."

"We will speak of this, Harry." She stated because she knew he would not refuse her. She moved past him and lifted the truck that Zola hid under with one hand. She gave the woman a smile and muttered some small joke that was shared between them. When she turned back to Harry, he noticed something broken in her smile. "But for now, you are correct we need to complete this before Hera discovers what we're doing."

He didn't comment on what he observed… Harry Black was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them.

The Amazon grabbed Zola and Harry in each arm and jumped onto the Poseidon's back.

o0o0o0o0o

Lennox didn't like sewers.

That wasn't exactly surprising considering who his dear ol' Da was but then again he couldn't imagine any one liked being underground for a long period of time looking for the gate to the underworld. The Demigod hated being trapped beneath the stone mostly because the first time he discovered that he was special was during one of the bombing the Nazi's had done during the early days of WWII.

Yet he was especially off put by the companion who walked next to him.

Hades, or Hell as he preferred to be called, looked like a boy no older than fifteen. He dressed in plate armor that revealed nothing about his Greek origins. He was short but the candles that burned brightly from the top of his head as their wax covered most of his face added another foot to him.

"I find this fascinating." Hell finally spoke up after their mostly silent trek.

"What this?" Lennox asked as he stepped past a particularly large collection of shit.

"This playing with Gods." Hell clarified in his soft monotonous voice. "It never ends well for you because it actually only is a game to us…" He stopped when he spotted a figure standing by the entrance. "Is that Hermes?"

"It is." Lennox assured as he pulled out a cigarette from his coat. "I'm running with the Messenger." At that Hades burst into laughter. It was a disturbing sound that was caught between a laugh and wheeze. Lennox looked at him as he had grown a second head. "Did I make a joke?"

At the inquiry Hades composed himself. "In a way. You said you're running with someone you can't possibly keep up with."

Lennox knew well enough when he was being insulted, not that he showed it. It was for the best if people underestimated him. He wasn't very well learnt but he considered himself a good judge of character. After all he saw the past the mask Harry erected for the rest of the world and made dear friend. He didn't trust Hermes, which was why he had sent him to get Harry to guard after Zola.

If all went according to plan his magical friend would have taken Zola back to that hidden house of his while he and Wonder Woman dealt Hera and her ilk.

"It was just a turn of phrase." Lennox remarked smoothly.

A mad grin split Hades face. "Maybe your words were." Was his enigmatic reply.

Once they reached the mouth of the sewer Lennox couldn't help the words that slipped from his mouth once he caught sight of a giant tentacle whale that was waiting by the dark sandy bank.

"God almighty."

"Yes?" Hades answered his call.

"Yes?" Hermes followed.

"Yes?" Poseidon asked amusedly.

Things were going according to plan.

Diana descended from the sea god's back, in her arms she carried Zola, who looked nauseous, and Harry, who was covered in blood from the neck down. His friend looked absolutely pissed the second his eyes landed on Lennox.

Or not.

"I told you that I needed to speak to you." The Demigod defended with a grin.

"Next time the 'wind' tells you something like this you stop with the enigmatic word game bullshit."

The Messenger smiled at his words. "So there will be a next time." Hermes said with a smile. "Your help will be invaluable."

Hades looked at Harry with a tilt of his head. There was a look of disgust on his face but he did not speak until Lennox nudged him with a look. "Your friend stinks of the pool of resurrection." At this Harry turned to Hades and gave him a questioning look of his own. "The smell sticks to your skin for decades." Hades turned away from the mortals and turned his attention to his brother. "Do you agree to Heaven's bastards proposal, dear brother?"

"I have yet to hear a proposal-"

Green lighting spit the sky, much like it had done in Harry's vision of the Fall of the Amazons, and with it Hera appeared exactly as she had been the night she had turned Hippolyta into a stone statue.

"No proposal shall come to pass!" The Queen bitch shouted at the top of her lungs

Lennox smiled.

Things were going to plan after all.

o0o0o0o0o

Miles away in creaky shack a pale goddess in a ripped dress walked into a small dilapidated wooden shack just outside of a hidden village and next to ancient castle. Strife couldn't help but smiled as she felt the warping fabric of reality give way the further she went into the broken abode.

Within the complex she could hear the scream of souls being ripped apart and then stitched together into something new. The pain and the agony were delightful to her ears but they were not why she had come here. She enjoyed them sure but she could get this feeling anywhere she decided to grace her presence with no, she was here for the occupant of this house.

Strife walked into the main room, where the occupant kept his creations and smiled when she spotted him. Now, Strife loved her little sister dearly and she had decided that she would give the ungrateful amazon a gift. The goddess considered herself one of love because was there a greater catalyst for that emotion than discord? No, of course not. She had felt the turmoil with both Diana and the scarred man she had presented and knew just how to bring them together.

"Doctor Destiny…" She smiled at the seated man as his puppet tended to the bound man in the corner. "I am here with a proposal worthy of a god like yourself."

o0o0o0o0o

A/N: Here's chapter fifteen... i'm not happy with it but it satisfies what i needed to convey.

In this chapter I hinted at the identity of the Servant that i had mention a few chapter back. Can any of you guess who she is? Now, this chapter's main purpose was to embroil Harry deeper into Wonder Woman's story as she plays an important part within his own. Lennox has been hinting that he was planning something big since i first introduced him and this is it. A Game for the Throne of Olympus... or is it?

The DEO not responding was actually something that made sense to me. An entire town being massacred should hold the attention of the entire department, especially such a small forces in reserve wouldn't be able to stop a rampaging immortal and as such they would be better suited for recovery efforts. Harry wasn't going to stop even if he was ordered.

On him not using magic: Harry can't risk earning more ire from the Ministry while his brother is missing. So he didn't wizard magic because the trouble it would cause outweighed the benefits when dealing with the rogue centaurs. The protection he was supposed place wouldn't have been as obvious as creature exploding for no apparent reason.

as always PM or review with any questions.

Next update: Foxglove