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Harry Potter and the Children of Poseidon

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This story is No. 3 in the series "Harry Potter - Superhero Style". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Harry's trying very hard to figure out how to survive the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, and he's come across something which might be able to help him do that.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Non-BtVS CrossoversGreywizardFR15511,946811432,46513 Dec 1125 Aug 13No

Chapter One

Disclaimer: They all belong to JKR and any minions she might delegate with the responsibility for them, Marvel or DC Comics or possibly even Palladium Books. Deal with it. I have.

Time Frame: Starts shortly after the end of the competition in the First Task in 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' before going extremely AU.

Spoilers: None after Harry's completion of the First Task, because this story is going spectacularly AU right after that.

Character Bashing: Just the usual putzes. I’m sure you all know who they are by now. (And where’s Harry Dresden when you need him?)

Feedback: Of course!

Archiving: Talk to me first, please.

Author’s Note 1: Many thanks to Bill Haden and Theo (Starway_Man) for beta-ing this story.

Author’s Note 2: As usual, “word” indicates speech, :: word :: indicates mental communication and { word } indicates a character's thoughts.

Author's Note 3: Fic #13 in my Christmas Challenge Fic-A-Thon.


Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Fourth floor – library

January 27, 1995

Harry Potter sighed deeply from beneath the safety of his invisibility cloak, but took care to do it as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to possibly draw Madame Pince's attention as he carefully made his way past the librarian's desk.

The Second Task was drawing nearer with each passing day, and the young wizard still had no firm idea of how he was going to deal with it.

Well, aside from the now ever-more-frequently-occurring passing thought of just running away from the school, withdrawing as much money from his Gringotts trust vault as he could manage, then heading off for parts unknown, and risking the chance that the Goblet actually wouldn't drain his magic as penalty for not competing n the final two Tasks, that is. He’d seen the parchment that came out of the Goblet, and the signature wasn’t even close. Not that Crouch and Dumbledore had cared…

Lacking any other ideas about what to do, Harry was currently following the least onerous of Hermione's many suggestions regarding potential preparation for the Second Task and was checking the shelves in the restricted section, looking for (preferably) ancient (and useful) tomes or other books, which might possibly offer him a chance at surviving whatever insane task the assholes who'd set up this whole ridiculous farce of a tournament might have thought up.

After all – even if seventeen was the legal age of adulthood in this bloody half-arsed society – who in their right mind would think that setting a fourteen year old boy against a full-grown, adult dragon was anything but an extremely one-sided opportunity to feed an overgrown, fire-breathing lizard?!

{ What? They don't have anything more nutritious to feed the dragons than teenagers? } he thought to himself as he checked to make sure no one was around who might notice the books acting oddly.

And his finally figuring out the golden egg last week (after a little bit of help from Cedric) and then hearing the merpeople's recitation of yet another confusing verse actually hadn't helped him in the least.

{ What sort of freaking idiot poet came up with these clues? } Harry wondered to himself as he carefully skirted several of the study cubicles and headed back towards the Restricted Section in the rear of the library.

{ 'Come seek us where our voices sound / We cannot sing above the ground / And while you're searching ponder this / We've taken what you'll sorely miss / An hour long you'll have to look / And to recover what we took / But past an hour the prospect's black / Too late it's gone it won't come back,' } the last scion of the House of Potter went over all of the not-really-all-that-helpful verses again in his mind.

What it might be would be taken which he would 'sorely miss' certainly narrowed down the list of possibilities, since Harry certainly didn't have all that many things he really cared about now, as compared to what he'd possessed before he entered Hogwarts.

The Firebolt Sirius had given him was one thing, but that could be replaced fairly easily if anything ever happened to it. The opportunity to attend Hogwarts and get a magical education was something else he hadn't had previously, but that wasn't the sort of physical thing which could be taken from him. The album of photos of his parents which Hagrid had given him might be 'what you'll sorely miss,' but again – that just didn't seem all that plausible as something that could be used to force him to compete.

No, the only other thing the Boy-Who-Lived had now which he hadn’t had before starting at Hogwarts was Hedwig and his friends, he suddenly realized. And as he stopped in his tracks, Harry was abruptly hit with the overwhelming conviction that his friends were, indeed, what he'd sorely miss, should anything happen to any of them.

{ Those fucking sons of bitches! } the young wizard silently swore to himself as he began moving towards the back of the library again. { That's what they're going to do for the Second Task – take one of my friends and make me hunt for them in the lake! Those motherless bastards! }

Finally reaching the restricted section of books and stifling another sigh, Harry forced himself to redirect his attention to the task at hand. As he crouched down and began inspecting the lowermost set of shelves, Harry didn't notice the faint luminescence coming from the topmost shelf of the same section of the bookcases. But then a small book, approximately the size of a mundane paperback and with its dark grey outer covering resembling a piece of sharkskin, abruptly appeared in the previously empty space at the right side of the shelf and the luminescence quickly faded away.

"Hmmm, what's this?" Harry murmured to himself when he finally reached the topmost bookshelf. { What? Interesting – there's no alarm charm on this book. }

"'A Chronicle of the Founding of Atlantis, Venturia and Aurania; Their Settlement, Loss and Resurgence Following the Great Cataclysm; Together With an Accounting of Their People's Development and Refinement of the Art of Hydromancy, as recounted by the Lord Iqula and the Lady Zhered-Na,'" Harry read the title of the small book aloud in a low voice, correctly figuring there was a negligible risk of anyone actually hearing him this far back inside the restricted section of the library.

{ Okay, if I'm remembering the schools of magic Hermione was listing yesterday correctly, then hydromancy deals with the magical control of water and other related liquids, } he reflected to himself.

{ Right then, giving this a look-over can't hurt, and it could quite possibly help a lot, } he decided as he slipped the volume into an inside pocket of his robe, before resuming his inspection of the library shelves.

{ All right, now what else can I borrow around here, in the hopes it can keep me alive? }


"Merlin, Harry! Where did you find this?" Hermione demanded an instant after first seeing, and then snatching up, the clearly ancient tome he'd found the previous evening.

The bushy-haired brunette's eyes were wide with wonder and what a more sardonic observer might describe as knickers-wetting lust as she began babbling at her Gryffindor housemate.

"The Lord Iqula and the Lady Zhered-Na were two of the most prominent historians of the Pre-Cataclysmic empire of Atlantis, and the books they wrote are generally considered as being worth more than almost anything you could imagine!" Hermione lectured her blankly staring friend, her voice pitched low in a near whisper, as though she were afraid of someone overhearing her and rushing in to snatch away the treasure she was holding in her now-trembling hands.

And now that he actually thought about it and gave consideration to what the generally acknowledged resident genius of Gryffindor House had just told him, Harry realized, that really wasn't all that outrageous an idea, if even half of what she'd said was true.

The Oh-So-Wise-and-Venerable Albus Dumbledore, at the very least, would certainly confiscate the book, since he would undoubtedly consider that it would provide the Boy-Who-Lived an unfair advantage over his older and more experienced competitors, { Not to mention he was a bigger information whore than even Hermione. }, all the while not giving any credence at all to the idea that forcing a fourteen-year-old wizard to compete in a tournament against two other seventeen-year-old wizards and a seventeen-year-old witch wasn't exactly a sporting proposition.

"I found it on one of the shelves in the back of the restricted section. It wasn’t alarmed," Harry confessed, making the young witch's focus abruptly shift from contemplation of the treasure in her hands to an intense scrutiny of the youth next to her.

"That's impossible, Harry," Hermione told him as she continued to stare at him. "If the Hogwarts library had officially possessed this book, the Ministry would have confiscated years ago. They would have snatched it up the instant they found out about it – if not for its intrinsic value as a compendium of hydromantic magic and the spells it contains, then simply for the prestige they could accrue by putting it on display for the rest of the Wizarding World to see," she explained to him.

"Well, regardless of what you might think, I really *did* find the blasted thing in the restricted section of the library," Harry insisted, frowning at his best friend for the implication that he was lying about where he'd found the damn book.

"Relax, Harry," Hermione smiled at him, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture. "I'm not saying you're a liar; I'm just saying that there's something even stranger than usual going on, what with you finding *this* particular book in the school library."

Seeing the expression on his best friend's face, Harry paused and considered the implications of what she'd just said.

"Shite," he declared a moment later, with a sick look on his face. "I'm *really* screwed now, aren't I?"

"Language, Harry!" Hermione admonished him as she swatted his arm.

"And yes, you're right – we're really in the thick of it now," she then added with a frown, apparently not realizing that she'd used the plural term 'we' when she'd answered. Harry did, though, and repressed the smile which that thought to produced, and instead gave Hermione's words due consideration.

"Oh. Well, in that case – double shite!"

"Harry! Language!"

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