"English"
"Ancient Greek"
New York, New York, September 3, 1985
Sometimes there is no warning when death will strike. Sally Jackson learned that the hard way walking her five year old son Perseus "Percy" Jackson to his first day of kindergarten. It was only her quick thinking that saved her child from the drunk driver barreling down the road, shoving him several feet forward as he jumped the curb and struck her.
The last words from her mouth before Clotho cut her string was "Percy, whatever you choose, I support yo…"
When the ambulance arrived on the scene with the police, only minutes later, there was nothing they could do for the poor young woman tragically taken in the prime of her life. They could only take her crying, confused child and check to see if she had family to place him with.
Little Winging, Surrey, England, September 6, 1985
Early in an ordinary house on an ordinary road on Suburban Britain, the phone rang. "Put that down before you break that!" she snapped at a dark haired child trying to put a carton of eggs into the fridge while pocking up the phone.
"Hello, Dursley household, Petunia speaking, how may I help you?" she said sweetly into the microphone.
"Hello Mrs. Dursley, I'm with Family and Social Services in New York, and I'm calling about your half-sister."
"I'm sorry, but I don't have a half-sister, now if you would let me go…"
"Our records indicate otherwise and imply that she may have been the product of an extramarital affair."
"Why does that concern me?"
"Well, she passed in a car accident a few days ago, leaving a child around your son's age. You are currently the only known relatives we could find, and were wondering if you are willing to take custody of him."
"I'm sorry, but I am already taking care of my other sister's son. I can't."
"Okay. He'll be going into foster care then. Can I give you my number in case you change your mind?" the social worker asked.
"Of course," Petunia replied, ready to be done with this nonsense, and wrote down the information he told him.
"Who was that, Pet?" she heard Vernon ask as she hung up the phone.
"Americans. They're trying to pass another brat onto us; claiming I have a sister I didn't know about!"
"Rude buggers, aren't they? Expecting us to feed and house him when we already have two to care for."
"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, can I have some eggs and sausage too?" Harry interrupted.
"Eat your toast, you ungrateful little git, and don't interrupt," Vernon snapped. "Now what was I saying? They expect us to take him in and care for this child like our own? And how do they expect him to get him here? For us to buy him a ticket at our own expense? Crazy, the all of then." The phone rang again, bringing him out of his rant. Seeing his wife get up, he said "No Petunia, I'll get him this time."
"Dursley residence…" he managed to get out before being interrupted.
"You will take in the boy," a firm voice said.
"Who is this? What is the meaning of this?" Vernon asked, not expecting someone to be so demanding to him without context.
"You and your wife will take in the boy, and treat him as your own. He is being put on a boat today, which will arrive in Bristol next Wednesday, the eleventh, at noon. You will be there to pick him up, or there will be consequences for both you and your wife, Vernon Dursley. I better bot have to call you again."
"Who are you? How did you get this number? How do you know my name?" Vernon puffed into the microphone as the line went dead.
"Vernon?" Petunia asked him.
"What was the number you wrote down? We're taking the boy."
Bristol, England, September 11, 1985
Percy was anxious, his ADHD not helping. He had been cooped up in a the cabin in the freighter for the better part of the week. He wasn't aloud to wander the ship alone, crew had to accompany him out. One crewmember, who called himself Triton, would occasionally bring him out to the deck to look at dolphins.
"You ready?" Triton popped his head inside the cabin. "We're pulling in the harbor, and we'll be unloading soon. Don't you want to meet your Aunt and Uncle?"
Percy looked up at the man. "I miss my mommy. You think I'll ever see her again?"
Triton looked at the small child sadly. "I don't know Percy. I don't know."
"What is taking them so long?" Vernon impatiently asked Petunia.
"They have to unload a bit before they can start bringing passengers in, Vernon," Petunia responded.
"Well they better hurry. I had to take the day off from work."
Petunia looked up and saw a man with a young, dark-haired child walk onto the ramp. "I think he's here."
Approaching them, the young man asked: "Petunia and Vernon Durseley?"
"Yes," they both state. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble," Petunia says.
"He was a dream. One of the best crossings I've ever experienced," the young man states.
"We better be getting home, we'll need to be getting the other children from nursery care." Petunia grabs Percy's wrist and drags him towards the car.
"You think he'll be all right?" Poseidon asked his son, choosing their native Archaic Greek.
"I don't know. These people are not nice people, he'll have a challenge. And there's the British wizards. The Europeans wizards are always mistaken demigods for their own," Triton responded.
"He was doomed from the moment he was born," Poseidon sighed. "All we can do now is watch. Anymore and the others may notice."
"He is just a child though."
"And he is strong. He'll be safe in Britain, he'll be hidden. All we can do is watch, and hope he'll be ready when fate catches up with him."
