Amongst the Hunted Moons

Notes:

Oh boy, here we go. I'm excited for this one boys and girls.

I see a few of you have picked up the bread crumbs but have no idea what you're looking at, one of you has guessed right. To that person, shut up, they don't know who it is and it's gonna be fun introducing her.

But when I first started this fanfic, I had a thought, "why limit myself to only the Greek Gods?" So, I'm not. The Warrior maid is someone from the Irish Gaelic story of the Ulster cycle which takes place between the 8th and 11th century BC. Think of her as the Irish equivalent of Chiron, just far more hands-on.

Also, mwinter1, sorry about switching it up all the time. This is my first story and I've learned a bunch by writing it. But I have ADHD so my brain jumps around a lot and switches things up, but I swear, I'm trying man.

But enough of this mortal prattle, On with the show!

Harry Potter, Unknown, Unknown.

Harry had no idea how long he had fallen for, he doesn't even remember passing out. But when Consciousness came to him again, he groaned out in pain, it felt like his body was beaten with beater bats, he didn't know if it was the backlash of the hunt or him landing on the cold stone under him. When he finally opened his eyes, all that greeted him was darkness, it was unlike the darkness of night that had the stars and moon to light the night, no this darkness was different.

It was devoid of all light, the shadows twisted and shifted like a living mist, clinging to him as if it was welcoming him, his eyes blessed by the hunt could not penetrate the darkness and make out the ground he laid on. Harry groans as he finally gets his hands under him and pushes himself off the ground. His body cries out for rest but he ignores it as he feels around in the dark until his hand bumps something on the ground and he feels the familiar pulse of his magic, Harry sighs out in relief as he picks up his wand and stands up.

He was on a plateau, about half the size of a Quidditch field, in the distance he could make out the faintly glowing red lights that swirled and twisted like mist, showing the silhouette of huge vines of thorny stocks growing up, wrapping around and in some case growing completely over other plateau's. They all seem to be growing upwards and some seem thicker than the Hogwarts express, Harry follows them with his eyes to the sky of this ever-dark domain, and his jaw drops at what he sees.

Hogwarts, glowing and gleaming like crystals caught in the sunlight, looked to be built of frosted glass and crystals growing from the darkness of the sky and hanging upside down. Harry would know the silhouette of his home anywhere, he could make out the towers and courtyards from where he stood. Harry was confused and awestruck at the sight, just where was he? As Harry looked at the replication of his school he soon noticed something else, the shadows that seem to twist around him began to shape themselves, in the hands that grasp and clung to him, claws that slashed at him but passed right through him, faces of man, animals, and monsters he had no names for began to form all whispering to him, welcoming him back, asking for his name, begging him to kill them. As they begin to overwhelm him he slashes out with his wand trying to disperse them but it didn't work, he tried Lumos, but the light suffocated and died at the tip of his wand.

Harry tries to fight but it does nothing, and as he falls to his knees, hands coming to his ears to block out the whispers that threaten to overwhelm his mind, a new sound is heard.

Clang!

The sound of metal striking stone, and as the sound echoes out, the shadows scatter from Harry and fall into the darkness of the chasms below. Harry turns in the direction of the sound and walking from the darkness and into the soft crystal light of the fake Hogwarts, is a woman.

She was tall, standing a good head over Harry and powerfully built. Harry couldn't make out her face thanks to the mourning veil she wore over it, but he could see her hair, blood red, not like his mother's that was the color of fire. No, like the color of freshly spilled blood, a deep dark crimson that fell in loose ringlets down her back. She wore a mixture of leather armor that encased her forearms to her elbows and from her ankles to her knees and scale tunic that Harry could barely make out from under the red and black Bratt that she wore over it, belted and pinned to make it more like a shirt that went over her armor, she had a ruby studded Torc hugging her neck. In her right hand was what made the sound Harry had heard, a spear, well calling it just a spear felt like it was insulting the weapon itself, it's a beautiful weapon brutally designed to maim and kill with efficiency like none Harry had seen before. The weapon itself was taller than the woman by maybe a foot, the wood for the haft was black as night, and what looked like red veins growing and pulsating with power through the wood, the butt and blade, and guard were of the same red metal that looked like curved ivory, while both ends of it were pointed and sharp, it was the blade and the socket that was designed to do as much damage to something as possible, they were hooked and barbed, so while the spear could slide into the flesh easily enough, when it was pulled out it would take anything that was hooked to it with it. It was more of a barbed harpoon than a spear.

The woman tilts her head as she walks toward Harry, she chuckles before saying "mar sin, chaidh leanabh Dhè air falbh air mo chù agus shlaod e a-steach do na faileasan, huh?"

Harry looks at the woman, confusion evident on his face, not knowing what she had said. The woman sees this, and Harry gets the feeling she pouts.

"skilurðu mig núna, barn?" She says and still, Harry doesn't answer.

"Me comprends-tu maintenant, mon enfant?" The woman tries again, but she gets no reaction; she tilts her head and makes a disgusted noise.

"quid de modo?" She spits out the words like a curse, and Harry just shakes his head.

"How about now, godling?" She says, her Scottish accent bleeding through her words, but finally Harry understands.

"Yes!" He cries out in joy, but the woman tilts her head again.

"I have no clue what that sound meant, Godling, just nod or shake your head if you can understand me." She tells Harry as he stands up from the ground with a nod.

"Good," the woman says with a nod of her head, "It would seem I'll have to keep this conversation to yes and no question, annoying but doable. So, Graeca, you came through the gate, yes?" Harry nods his head, he remembers that much.

"Were you looking for it?" She asks as she begins to walk around Harry, spinning the spear in her hand, he shakes his head.

"Sad," she says with a sigh of disappointment, "It has been such a long time since anyone had come here, I was hoping you had learned of my Legend and had come looking for the Gate of Skye that led to my domain." Harry watches her prowl around him, he can feel her eyes on him, sizing him up for something.

"But, since you have not a clue of who I am or where you are, allow me to inform you." She says as she stops in front of Harry, just out of arms reach for both of them, "I am Scáthach, the warrior maid, trainer of heroes, Queen of the Land of Shadows where my fortress, Dún Scáith, stands ever strong. You find yourself there young one, so allow the Queen of this place to welcome you to it." She says with what sounds like a smirk, "Welcome Graeca, to the land of shadows, ever teeming with death." She tilts her head and raises her spear to Harry's face; he flinches back, not wanting to get near the point, but all the woman, Scáthach, does is brush his bangs to the side to reveal the lightning bolt-shaped scar.

"But you already know all about death, don't you, Greaca?" Scáthach asks, but Harry doesn't answer her, just glares. Scáthach just laughs, "Oh, you have spirit, little Graeca, I like that." She says she looks Harry up and down again.

"My oh my, what a fine specimen you are, tell me Graeca, are you from the islands?" Scáthach asks, Harry narrows his eyes and slowly nods before she speaks again, "Good, I would hate to let someone not from my homeland to die here, to be stuck with an unworthy ghost is simply out of the question." Scáthach notices the boy flinching but says nothing as she takes a few steps back. She holds out her left hand and Harry watches as the red mist seems to twist and bend and consolidate into a single form, a long red lance, much like the one Scáthach holds in her right, just with no barbs or hooks. She tosses it to Harry, who catches it in his off-hand, the grip on his wand tightens, and he feels his mouth go dry as he looks at the woman in. Scáthach begins to twirl and spin her spear in a show of skill and confidence before sliding into a ready position as easy as if she was moving in a dance she had done a thousand times before.

"Ready yourself Graeca, It would be a shame if you were to die too fast," Scáthach says just before she lunges at Harry.

Harry back peddles, slashing his wand out, shooting off three cutting curses at the charging Scotswoman, all three were shredded by the head of her spear as soon as they made contact with it, Scáthach laughs before saying to Harry, "You're a draoidh, how interesting! But it won't save you, Graeca!" She thrusts forward with her spear to punch a hole through Harry's head, he yanks it to the left to avoid that fate but realizes it too late that it was a bad move. Scáthach had let go of her spear, letting sail behind Harry as she slams her shoulder into knocking Harry off his feet. As he falls to the ground Scáthach wraps her hands around Harry's twisting them as she flips him onto his back before digging her knee into his back and taking his wand from him, as if it was the simplest thing in the world to do.

Scáthach stands, twirling his wand in between her fingers, "When did staves get so small Graeca?" She asks, "Back when my school was open to all, some students would show up with staves, great big carved things that suggest they were overcompensating for something." Harry could hear the teasing tone in Scáthach's voice as she tucks away his wand into her Bratt and holding out her arm.

The barbed spear answers its master's call and comes flying into her hand, she catches it and spins it with a flourish, "Up, Graeca, I have yet to decide if I will kill you or not, so up! Pick up your sleagh! Come at me!" She orders Harry as he stands up off the ground and readies his spear, and Scáthach smiles as she charges him again.

She danced around Harry, stabbing and slashing, and it truly was a dance. Her forms flowed like water from one move to the next, she twisted her body around every stab Harry could do back, and she'd spin both body and spear to add more momentum to her attacks. Harry could barely keep up, mostly blocking every attack he could be trying to counter with his own spear, but never getting a clean hit while he was literally covered in slashes and cuts from the barbs that had caught him. Soon enough Harry started to notice a pattern, not in her fighting style, no, to Harry's eyes it was a wild and chaotic dance of barbs and blood as she moved around him.

What he noticed was whenever he would try and shift his hands to a different position of the haft, she would crack the part he was moving to as to stop his hands from moving. As she danced around him, she would stab and slash at his feet and heels to move them to where to Harry had felt that he had a better balance, the stabs were slow enough to where he could see them coming and move his feet at the last second but fast and strong enough to where he couldn't block or bat it away. Her slashes were skin deep, annoying but he could ignore the pain, life with the Dursleys had taught him that, she would switch it up when he least expected it, and a stab would turn into a shoulder check, a slash into a strike with the haft or the butt of her spear, on the rare time's Harry would get to strike out with his own spear her duck would turn to a leg sweep that knocked him to the ground.

She would always wait for him to get up before she would resume her dance of twirls and spins and blood. She was relentless, if Harry took too long to stand back up she would kick him across the plateau with immense strength or stab at him on the ground to get him moving again. She didn't speak once to him the whole time she was knocking him around only laugh when he did something unexpected before countering it gracefully and effortlessly as if she's seen it a thousand times before.

Harry had no idea how long they had fought, how long she had treated him like a punching bag, but as the butt of her spear cracked against his head the umpteenth time and sent him flying. Harry tries to get back up, he tries to push as hard as he could but his arms give out and he falls back to the ground, huffing and puffing, his body sore and bleeding from the beating he took at the hands of the woman.

"Is that all you have in you, Graeca?" She says as she lowers her spear, the point level with the ground, "I confess myself disappointed, I had expected more from a bloodline that had conquered half the known world." She says with a disappointed sigh. "But that is what I get for getting my hopes up, but we have reached the end of this game, Graeca." She lefts her spear, pointing it at Harry and he watches it be consumed by an aura, he could practically taste the bloodlust from where he lay on the ground twenty feet away, the aura, much like the woman, was wild and twisting with a promise.

A promise of death.

"End of the line, Graeca." Scáthach says as she spins the spear in her hand, getting ready to throw it, "Time to join the dead here, goodbye Graeca."

Contrary to what Hermione had said in Gryffindor Tower, Harry didn't want to die. He wanted to live, he wanted to get away from the Dursleys, he wanted to finally live. He had been locked away for so long that he had gotten used to it, but he was close, so very close to escaping his cupboard to run free. he didn't charge into danger with a death wish, he did it because he wanted to prove himself better that he had been called all his life, he did because it made him feel free, for a short while. But now? Now he was going to die at the end of a spear, away from his home, away from his friends. Harry Potter was going to die and he knew it.

"No." Was Harry's first thought through the pain, "No, I don't want to die. I can't die here, I can't die here, I won't die here. I won't."

So Harry reached into himself and found the tap that controlled the flow of the hunt and he turned it, flooding himself with the ancient power. With a roar of defiance, the boy who lived picked himself up and charged at the Queen of the land of shadows. His vision had flickered, blinding him before coming back with a pop in his ears, he could see them now, the same black spots as when he had killed the basilisk, dancing across the body of Scáthach as he charged, one strike at any of them would end this fight.

The surprise on the Queen of the Shadow Lands' face could not be seen as Harry charged at her, nor the shook when he moves faster than she could follow with mortal eyes, only years of honed battle instinct saved her from getting her head crushed in by the boy when he swung to do just that. But as she blocked the strike and parried the attack and followed up with a snap kick that sent Harry flying the smile under her veil split her face and watched as the boy twisted in midair and landed on his feet to charge her again.

The dance begins again, faster and fiercer than before, Harry moving with the might of the hunt, every slash, every stab, every bash aimed to kill. His opponent was just another hunt and he was the hunter. But even with Harry on the offensive, he found he still couldn't land a hit on her, the faster he moved she would move just as fast, they exchanged blow for blow as they danced the dance of death in a land teeming with it, Scáthach laughing all the while.

"That's it! That's it Graeca! Fight for your life! Give me everything you have and more!" Scáthach calls out as she finds she can no longer land a clean blow on the boy, it was like he had gained a sixth sense for danger, dodging the blood-red glowing spear that hungers for the boy's heart.

The swift strikes and twisting bodies continue to dance in the shadows, neither one giving or gaining an inch, and as Harry felt the hunt become impatient, forcing more and more of itself into him, Harry knew he had to end this soon or be consumed completely by the domain. So, Harry did something very brave, but very stupid.

When the queen of the shadow land swings once more to take his head off his shoulders, Harry reaches out and grabs the socket of her spear, he winces as he feels the bones in his hand crack at the force of the blow. He cries out as he feels the hooks and barbs dig into his flesh as Scáthach tries to pull her spear from the boy's grip, but Harry holds on even though it feels like his shoulder was almost ripped from its socket, it was a familiar feeling from his time with the Dursleys.

But as the Queen pulls, Harry moves with it, stepping into the pull and using the forward movement to thrust the spear in his hand forward. The back spots danced around the heart of his foe, so that's where he had aimed at, Harry could feel the hunt purr as he felt the spear sink into the flesh of his opponent, and he pushed the weapon given to him out through the back of the one who gave it to him.

Harry let go of both spears, his left hand torn open and bleeding from the Witch-Queens weapon, but he had done it. He had killed his prey, but as he steps back from her, he feels wrong. There was no rush from finishing the hunt, no pulse of power, there was only pain as Harry gasped and his body began to convulse in pain.

Harry drops to his knees, before falling to his side as his muscles convulse as the hunt feeds on the hunter. "Why!?" Harry thought through the pain, "I killed my prey! I fed the hunt! Why!?" And as the boy who lived looked up to the Queen of shadows, he saw why.

Harry watched as the woman looked down at the spear piercing her heart, before reaching for it and pulling it from her chest. Instead of the flood of crimson blood he expected to pour down her chest, staining her armor, it was gold. Bright and glowing gold, ichor, the blood of the gods.

"Very good Graeca, it has been a long time since someone had landed a mortal blow against me," Scáthach tells Harry as his body tries to eat itself, "But a warrior should never let go of their sleagh unless they are throwing it or they are dead." The Queen walks over to Harry, stabbing her own spear into the ground before grabbing Harry by the back of his collar and begins to drag him over to the edge of the plateau.

"I do not know if it was desperation or a natural aptitude that had you land the last blow, but it does not matter Graeca, you show promise," Scáthach admits as she drags right to the edge of the chasm and tosses the spear down into the darkness below, "The quickest way to my fortress is the iron stocks of thrones, find one and climb up, if you make it to the top I will find you worthy to train." She tells Harry before picking him up by the collar of his shirt with one hand and with the other she pulls back the mourning veil from her face and over the back of her hair. Her eyes were a deep red, Auburn in color, her face was rugged and sharp with aristocratic features, and she wore red face paint swirling and hooked making her look an equal part demonic and angelic.

Scáthach smiles at him, "And try not to die boy, I think I may be starting to like you." Before she tosses Harry over the edge.

Harry watches her turn and vanishes into the darkness, as he himself fell into shadows and death.

Atalanta, Gate of Skye, Hogwarts.

"HARRY!" Atalanta's scream echoes throughout the chamber as she watches her charge get dragged through the gate by some monster made of shadow, without wasting a second she was up and over the stones and running right into the portal, jumping through the red haze of the portal intent of saving her adoptive little brother. As she passes through and lands she looks around trying to spot Harry or the beast, but all she found was the chamber the gate sat in.

"No…" she whispers in a small horrified voice, before turning around and jumping through the haze again, nothing. She had not gone through like Harry had, "No, No, No! Let me through! Let me through damnit!" As Atalanta screams and tries to cross through the haze but never leaves the chamber her panic grows. Something had Harry, something wasn't letting her through, she could protect him, she had to get to him.

But she couldn't.

She needed help, she needed to get Dumbledore, she needed to get Lady Artemis, one of those two should know what was going on and how to help. She could prey in the dark of the chamber, unknown who could hear her and she would not risk Harry to the unseen one or whatever forces haunted this chamber. So she turns heel and calls upon the hunt, pushing it to the line she knows all too well that separated her from who she was from the beast she had been and ran. She rushed through the tunnel, not caring about the consequences of not feeding the hunt she needed to get out of the tunnel and prey before going to get Dumbledore.

When she reaches the rope she climbs it quickly pulling herself over the lip of the hole and rolling it onto her back, she prepares herself for the hunt to take its pound of flesh and begins to pray.

"Lady Artemis, the chasted hunter, Lady of the hills, forests, and moon hear my prayers and answer my pleas, Harry was taken My Lady by a monster made of shadows and dragged into a g-gate, undergr-ground, we-we-we found it wh-while h-hu-hunting, p-p-please, M-my La-Lady, Help," Atalanta begs as the hunger of the hunt rips through her, as the pain begins to reach an unbearable point a hand lands on Atalanta's shoulder, and she looks up into the amber eyes of Artemis.

"Be at ease, hunter." She says in the same detached tone of voice, and Atalanta feels the pain drain away, "What happened to Harry?" Artemis asks after she had pulled the Atalanta from the jaws of the hunt.

Atalanta swallows before pointing to the hole, "we found that as we were hunting a pair of Acromantula, it lead to a gate under the school, Harry wanted to get close enough to try and read what was carved above but the shadows tore themselves from the wall in the form of a wolf or a hound and dragged him into it when he had turned to leave. I tried to follow through but the gate wouldn't let me." Atalanta explains quickly.

"Show me." That is all Artemis says in return.

So Atalanta does, she leads her Mistress through the tunnel and shows her the gate, Artemis walks around the monolith, inspecting it, running her hands over it. It was divine, that was no question, as old or even older than her. It did not feel like any of her Olympian kin, this felt different but familiar as well, like the taste of something that you can't quite place by memory alone. But this thing had dragged her son into it, and that wasn't something she would let slide. Artemis was positive she could force the gate to open and take her where her son was, but first.

"Atalanta," she calls the hunter to her before folding a notebook and pen into existence and handing them to her, "I know not where this goes, but I will be going through to get the boy. This is a breach of the ancient laws, another divine from a different Pantheon is interfering with us, this will not stand." Artemis tells her huntress and Atalanta pales at her words, this could be bad. "You are to write down what the inscription says and bring it to the Headmaster, he might have some insights into what this is." Atalanta nods at Artemis orders, "and finally, if I do not return in a day's time, pray to my brother and tell him…tell him everything. Do you understand?"

Atalanta's eyes go wide, but nods and says "Yes, my Lady. Be careful."

Artemis scoffs but nods at her hunter's words, she did not mean them as insulting, she was worried. "Thank you, Atalanta, but I plan on killing everything that dare imposes itself between me and Harry. Careful is not something I will be." The Goddess says before turning to the gate and stepping through.

Artemis, Land of Shadows.

Artemis was not happy, far from the word as she landed on the shadow-covered plateau, she had not been in a good mood since leaving the orphanage, Artemis had confronted Aphrodite about what she had done to Harry, her age-old enemy had just laughed at her and said "If I do not get to spend eternity with the children I love, then why should you? What are you going to do about it, Artemis, run to daddy?" Though the look on her face when she found out a few of her favorite date spots and boutiques burned to the ground was almost worth it. For while direct revenge was out, Artemis could still hit the Goddess of love where it hurt, the best part? She couldn't even complain about it, because if she was to say why the death of all her children would be on her own hands. What does her uncle always say? "Always get a solemn oath"?

The meeting with Aphrodite went smooth in comparison to the meeting she had with Albus Dumbledore, she had found out the old mortal played his cards close to the vest, and Artemis had made up her mind to kill the old fool, but then he opened his mouth.

Flashback, six days ago, Headmaster's Office.

"What did you say?" Artemis loosens her hold on the throat of Albus Dumbledore, she was intent on choking the life from the man before tossing his body to her hounds, She appeared in his office not long after she felt her divine curse on the Dursley boy be broken. While impressive, she wasn't about to let that go unanswered, a mortal shouldn't meddle with divine punishment until the lesson sinks in. So she had appeared in his office like she had all those months ago, but the curious feelings were not being buried any longer and Artemis' full rage was on display. She was in the same form she had terrorized the Dursleys in, another mortal was in the room with the old man, but she was in no mood to deal with extras, so with but a glance into his mind she had ripped forward the hunt in all of its fury and the man collapse gasping; Artemis was just surprised that he was still awake and not passed out from fear.

She had wrapped her hand around the throat of Albus Dumbledore and had told him, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you for what role you've played in the boy's home life?"

She had mostly said it in jest, she had not anticipated any answer from Albus Dumbledore from staying her hand, but when he had choked out the words "Prophecy" and "He's not dead." She had dropped the old mortal to the floor.

"What Prophecy?!" She had asked through clenched teeth.

Flashback end

So Artemis got the full story out of the old headmaster, the Prophecy that tied Harry and this Dark Lord together, the power he knows not, the piece of her that Harry carried in himself, Albus had once thought it was Lily Potter's protection but now knew what the line meant. Then there was the fact that this mortal was able to cheat death, and so long as the man was wrapped in prophecy Artemis couldn't hunt him down, nor could Hades or Thanatos could do anything about it. And now, her son was kidnapped by some unknown divine power for unknown reasons, Artemis' mood was dangerously close to wrath, and that is exactly what she intends to visit upon the being that took her child and harmed him because she could smell his blood in the air.

Artemis turns her eyes skyward and sees the ostentatious crystal castle in the sky, she scoffs at it, she had seen worst from her kin, the glowing golden temple that her brother called home, the platinum fortress of her fathers, the pink eyesore of Aphrodite, the only two that had kept their respective temples to something simple was her and Dionysus. Hers was a silver temple made to look like the Artemisium, while Dionysus was a simple temple made of stone with a large vineyard surrounding it. She respects her half-brother for that, but she would still shoot him if he ever thought of going after her hunters.

Artemis twists her own form, shedding the guise of a human for now for one with feathers and claws, the silver hawk beats its wings as it takes flight through the darkness, heading to the crystal castle. As Artemis flew she took in all around her, the place she found herself in as a desolate land of crags and plateaus overflowing with shadows and death, she could make out the forms of creatures below she had never hunted before. They looked to be amalgamations of monster and beast, a lion with six legs, an alligator that stood on its back legs while its forearms were powerful looking with sharp claws at the end, and a basilisk-sized red serpent with three heads. She ignored them all and made it to the crystal castle before landing on a balcony and shifting back to her human guise.

As she walked through the castle, she couldn't help the feeling of Deja vu sinking in, had she been here before? No. Artemis does not think so, this castle however reminds her of something, Hogwarts! That was it. It reminded her of Hogwarts, granted she had only been in three parts of the castle, but this place had the same feeling to it. Like a memory that wasn't hers in the back of her head.

As if the castle was showing her the way through, she finds the throne room easy enough, Artemis knows this because she can feel the divine energy wafting from behind the door. Artemis pushes the door open and walks in, the hall was large and made for feasting or fighting, perhaps both. But the four long tables sat empty and devoid of life, a sense of sadness and loneliness permeated the air as Artemis' eyes landed on the Mistress of the castle.

She was dressed in a skin-tight leather full-bodysuit that left little to the imagination, a mourning veil trimmed with gold, she wore no shoes or boots, no gloves or bracers, her eyes were closed as if she was asleep with her ankles crossed and fingers interlocked, as a wicked-looking spear was stabbed into the grown a few feet from the crystal throne she sat upon.

Artemis moved deeper into the room with no fear, and as she reached the bottom steps that lead up to the platform where the throne rested, Artemis called out, "Where is the boy?"

The figure's eyes flutter open and look down at Artemis before smirking, "Oh? Two in such a short amount of time, my, how interesting. But I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, what boy?" The woman says in a flat and bored tone as Artemis' teeth start grinding.

"I am," Artemis begins in a flat and angry tone, "So very tired of mortals playing coy when I ask that question."

The woman laughs, "Then perhaps you should ask a better question?" She says with a hint of a smirk.

"Where is my son?" Artemis says, her temper getting the better of her, "You have broken the laws of none interference, the ancient laws that we uphold, release him at once!"

The figure narrows her eyes at the Moon Goddess and glares at her, "Ancient Laws, you say? Broke them, have I? Why would I care about any laws outside of my own, hmm?" She says, Artemis here's the edge to her voice, and sees her hands begin to ball into fists.

"All of us divine are bou-" but that was as far as Artemis got before being cut off.

"Your laws bind me? Me!?" The woman on the throne shouts, "Look at where you are Moon Goddess, you are not in the material realm, you are in Tìr nan dubhar! My land of shadows that your laws have no power over!" She had leaned forward on her throne to scold Artemis for ignorance, Artemis' face was a scowl of dark emotions.

"Besides, where were your ancient laws when your descendants came to my land, killed my kin, slaughtered my students, and tore down my castle brick by brick." The woman says with a matching look of anger, "No. Your laws are not welcome or wanted here, the boy stays until I am done with him." The Queen says.

"Where is my son, last chance to answer." Artemis hisses out dangerously as her bow finds its way into her hand.

The witch-queen let out an angry sigh before leaning back into her throne, "I don't know, I kicked him into the chasms, but that was a week and a half ago." She says as she watches Artemis' eyes go wide as the vivid memories of the monsters below fill her mind. "He could already be de-" but that's as far as Scáthach gets as she quickly has to bend her head out of the way of an arrow impacted with her throne, right where her head was just a moment ago.

Scáthach sighs out and stands before a smile grows on her face, "it's been such a long time since I've gotten to do this." She says walking over to her spear and pulling it from the ground.

"What? Be put in your place by your betters?" Artemis says with a growl, another arrow notched and ready, aimed at the heart of the other Goddess.

"No." The Queen of the land of Shadows says, "since last I killed a god." Before summoning a second spear to her hand and charging at Artemis.

Notes:

Oh, shit!? Oh shit!

Grab your popcorn kiddos because it is going down!

In the blue corner, we have the Goddess of the hunt and sudden death, vs her challenger in the red corner, the warrior maid and Queen of the land of shadows, the Goddess of death, Scáthach!

By the gods, it's the Ara-Ara aunt vs the Tsundere mom, this is gonna be a slobber-knocker!

So, a little background of Scáthach(skah-hahk) she is the teacher of Cú Chulainn, an Irish hero from the Ulster Cycle who is normally called the Irish Hercules for good reasons. She was the one who taught him how to fight and gave him a replica of her own spear called Gáe Bulg and the secret to how to use it. When next we see her she somehow became a god, thanks to the fact that the Celtics suck at writing down any of their stories. We have to rely on texts written by the catholic church some 300 years after they beat the locals into submission. Which aren't very accurate, to say the least.

What makes her so well fitted for this is where her castle is supposed to be, you see Dún Scáith, her fortress, was located in Scotland over on the Island of Skye where, what they think is, her castle still stands today. The cherry on top of the mythological Sunday is that Hogwarts's exact location isn't known! So for this headcanon boys and girls.

Dún Scáith is Hogwarts.

The original castle was destroyed by the Roman demigods after the Romans came to the islands, the two sects of gods fought and it turns out the Roman gods were stronger. The roman demigods tore down Dún Scáith and left only the cornerstones that it was built upon.

Unfortunately, for the Romans involved the Land of Shadows and the fortress Dún Scáith are located in both the material realm and the realm of the dead, so you can't really destroy it unless you can get past Scáthach. So when the founders found the cornerstones of Dún Scáith in a valley, they were like fuck it, let's build a school, and the Dún scáith in the land of shadows was changed to match it. The founders had no idea that the place Hogwarts would stand on was once the domain of a god.

How is scáthach still alive and not faded? Is what I hear you asking, and that's simple. Her very being and story are tied to her fortress, so long as it stands she will not fade! She is remembered in the Ulster cycle and through Hogwarts. She is still as strong as the day she became a god.

How's that for a plot twist?

Also, Harry didn't outright beat a god, if you were paying attention, Scáthach was testing Harry, matching him in speed and strength, pushing him to his absolute limits to see what he could do. If Percy had done this, she would have done it the same way, though Percy would have ended it faster than Harry did with a lot fewer injuries.