Harry Potter & Percy Jackson: Dark Waters.

"It's a… dumpster, I think Hestia called it. A large metal container outside of buildings

where people throw trash. And people throw away lots of food, even if it's fuzzy and tastes funny. When you're hungry enough, you'll eat anything. That's why I want to learn plants and animals and survival and things, so I can take care of myself and I don't have to go fishing in a skip – because they get emptied every now and then, and then you get reallyhungry."

He swallowed, and then looked away, scuffing his foot on the ground. "I'm good now, and Hestia is really great. But maybe she'll grow tired of me, too. My aunt and uncle did, and they were family. Good things don't last. So I want to be able to take care of myself."

Zoë kept staring at him. When he gave no sign of continuing, she said, "I see." She went silent again, thinking. "That is… a proper reason," she finally decided. "Surprising as it is," she added. Again, silence, more thought. "As I know Lady Hestia, she would not abandon thee easily. My Lady, too, seems to have taken a liking to thee. However, 't is never a bad idea to be prepared for the worst. One never knows what the future will bring."

Zoë starting walking again, and Harry followed. He didn't want to think about being left again, but he had to be ready just in case. His aunt and uncle had abandoned him, and they were family.

They stopped at one of the tents, and Zoë pulled back the flap. "This is the supply tent," she explained. "Pick one of the backpacks and follow me."

Harry went in, and noticed a dozen or so backpacks of the kind and size that Artie usually conjured during her lessons. He never had to carry one before, as Artie always conjured them in place, but Harry wasn't about to fail his new teacher in her first lesson.

He looked the packs over, found them all to be identical, and picked up the one that was best situated for him to pick up, one that was on top of a couple of others so that he didn't have to bend down too much.

He carried it out, and found that Zoë had already started walking. He tried putting the pack on his back, but it was almost as tall as he was, making it difficult for him to walk as his feet kept bumping into it.

Somehow managing to catch up, he kept working the pack in an effort to make it more comfortable for him to follow her.

"Thou seem to be struggling," Zoë noted without a hint of helpfulness.

"It's the first time I carry one," Harry explained. "Artie usually conjures one when we arrive. I've unpacked and repacked one dozens of times, I've set up the tent dozens of times, but Artie's never had me carry one." His heels bumped into the pack when he took a larger stride.

"I see," Zoë said, looking him over. "It does appear to be slightly large for thee. Keep walking," she instructed when she fell back behind him. Harry kept walking.

He felt her hitch the pack up higher and adjust the straps. "That should hold thee," she said, stepping out from behind him, and rapidly taking the lead again.

"Thanks, Miss Zoë!" Harry said, grinning widely.

"Good. Thou kept up," she decided. "Please put up the tent."

Harry dropped the heavy pack. "Yes, Miss Zoë," he managed between gasps of air. Thankfully, this was something he had done plenty of times before, and within minutes he had the backpack unpacked, and the tent put up.

The Hunter circled it, studying it intently. "Very good," she praised. "Very good indeed. I can see where My Lady hath trained thee. Thou did it precisely and true to the rules." Harry smiled at her, thankful for the praise. "Thanks, Miss Zoë."

"Remember how it is done, I shall not remind thee," Zoë said, just dipping her head in recognition of his gratitude. Harry nodded, took his notebook, and made notes to remind himself to study the pack when they stopped so he could figure out how it was done. "We shall go to that forest of there, to a clearing I know," the Hunter stated, pointing straight ahead. "There we shall see what you have learnt from My Lady."

"Okay, Miss Zoë," Harry said. They walked in silence, Harry's smaller legs pumping to keep up with the Hunter's longer, easy-going strides.

When they entered the forest, Harry struggled to keep up; Zoë seemed to know instinctively where to put her feet to avoid slipping on the mossy floor, or avoid holes, or anything else that would break her stride.

Harry, despite having been in forests plenty of times with Artie, had never been pushed like this and he had to work hard to keep up.

When they finally arrived at the clearing, he wanted panting and sweating, while Zoë didn't even bother to look even slightly winded. Harry nodded. "Alright, Miss Zoë," he said, starting to break down the tent. As he worked, he kept his attention to the tent, but asked, "How would you put up the tent when there's a storm?"

"Observe," she said, making him look up. She seemed amused.

As he watched, she pulled a package out of her inner packet, something the size of a pack of gum. She threw it to the ground, and it unfolded into a perfectly pitched tent.

Harry stared at it with open mouth. He then looked at her, and back to the tent. " That… that's amazing!"

The Hunter dipped her head, yet did not make to reply while looking at the tent. "Break it down. I shall show thee how to do it quicker," she finally decided.

Harry broke it down and repacked it, precisely following the steps Artie had shown him.

His new teacher took the pack from him. "My Lady is the Goddess of the Hunt," she said. "That means that she does everything according to the rules, in the best way possible. However, in most cases, one does not need to follow the best way. One needs only to follow the most efficient way. This is how a Hunter pitches a tent," she explained, and pitched the tent.

Harry stared. It was far quicker. Far far quicker. He could also see where Artie's way would be better; on uneven ground, during storms, or with any kind of adverse conditions, following Artie's way would get the tent pitched. But like Zoë said – this ground was flat, there was hardly any wind, there was no storm. And so, the tent could be pitched faster.

He grabbed his notebook, flipping to the page detailing how to pitch a tent, and started writing.

The Hunter stepped over, and read over his shoulder. She nodded as the boy wrote. Suddenly, she interrupted him, and pointed out a mistake he was making.