You were a scrawny kid, just brought to Camp Half-Blood.

You weren't very social. Other kids seemed to know something about you you didn't, especially the older ones.

In particular, you got many a judgy look from the dirty-blonde haired counselor of the Hades cabin, his stormy eyes always seeming to be sizing you up somehow.

As you dumped the remains of your plate into the fire for the first time, most campers started murmuring, while a very small few behind you started cheering.

A pomegranate above your head. You were a child of Hades.