Good day!

I kind of said to myself, that I really shouldn't write another fanfiction, that I have other things to do, blah, blah, blah. But then a stinking idea got stuck in my head that I just couldn't get out. Sorry if this story doesn't update much, I am currently working on another…project, I guess you could call it. It's after The Last Olympian and during The Deathly Hallows; around the time that Ron left Hermione and Harry. Without further ado, I give you Percy Jackson; The Death Eater. (lame name, sorry.)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson series, nor do I own the Harry Potter series, unfortunately….

Percy's POV

I opened my eyes and sat up. Looking around, a frown formed on my burning face. I was on a beach… but not one on Long Island. I stood up and walked around a bit, trying to figure out where I was. A cool, December breeze blew on me, and I shivered. I winced when I realized that I was only wearing a pair of jeans, a camp T-shirt, and the wrist watch Tyson gave me.

Hoping to figure out my location, I stepped into the water. Immediately, I learned that I was on a shore of England. 1.9 miles away from London. I was too tired to use the energy to swim back to camp. Even with the energy the salt water gave me, it would probably burn me up just trying to get back.

I sighed and stepped back out of the water. Another breeze came and a shiver rippled its way up my spine. Checking my pockets, I silently cursed myself for not bringing any drachmas with me. I began walking towards the road, hoping that I would be able to find my own way to London. The bigger the city, the easier it would be to find a few coins lying around, which would give me access to a pay phone.

"How did I end up here?" I asked myself.

The previous day came crashing back to me.

Flash back sorta thing!

I had been at camp, hiding out there after another monster attack at Goode High School. Mom said she would take care of all problems, but I should probably lay low for a couple of weeks.

Anyway, I was at camp, and I was kind of down in the dumps. Earlier in the day, I had accidentally shot an arrow in Chiron's hide. He tried to give me a reassuring smile, but the blood trickling down his leg really didn't help. After I left that mess, I bumped into a child of Hephaestus, who had been openly carrying a bit of Greek fire to see if the gloves he had been working on were fire proof. The child of Hephaestus (who's name I think was Henry) tripped, and landed on a nymph's tree, causing it to burst into flames. The fire quickly spread to other trees. Camper, nymphs, and satyrs all rushed out, trying their hardest to put out the flames. Panicking, I felt the familiar tug in my gut, and doused the entire area. Everyone in the way of the wave became dripping wet. A got a bunch of angry glares from a lot of campers, some who were beginning to draw their weapons.

An anguished cry came from the Pavilion, and it sounded like Annabeth. Fear gripped my heart, and I practically flew towards the cry. Annabeth, who had been rushing towards the fire, had been blasted backwards by the wave. She just so happened to be carrying Daedalus's laptop, which was now dripping with water. "SEAWEED BRAIN!" she angrily yelled.

"Sorry!" I half yelled, half whispered back. I walked up, touched it, drying it at the same time. She grumpily turned it on. It didn't spark, which was a good thing, and she looked relieved to see that her latest plans for Olympus had stayed up. I glanced at part of it, and realized it looked a bit like the pictures of London that I had seen. "You're going for a more British style?" I asked.

She blushed. "Yes… slightly. Percy, I think some hippocampi want you. You should go." She got that deadly look in her eyes, that told me if I didn't leave soon I would be pinned on the ground with a dagger near my throat. (Which would pretty much be pointless, with the curse of Achilles on me and all…) Still, I didn't want to take my chances, and quickly high-tailed it down to the beach, where- as Annabeth said- there were a few Hippocampi waiting for me. I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my socks, and dove into the water.

The next five hours were a blur for me. I did so many 'favors' for the Hippocampi, that I almost forgot that half of the camp was angry at me. Almost. I was reminded as my mind wandered as I swam back up towards the surface after finally finishing taking care of the Hippocampi's problems. I was mostly reminded by the shoe that flew down and hit me in the head when I was only about two feet away from the surface. As I clasped my now aching head, I looked down at the shoe and recognized it as one my own.

Not wanting to face the angry campers at the top, I swam to the bottom of the lake and laid down. Exhaustion from helping the Hippocampi over whelmed me and I fell asleep and dreamed about… England. I guess I willed the currents in my sleep to carry me, which pretty much burnt me out.

End of flash black thing!

I mentally cursed myself for being so klutzy the previous day. Tracking my way up the sand and to the road, I tried to figure out where I would spend the night, seeing as there was little to no chance of finding a way back home in this day.

I thought things through as I walked my way to London. I figured I would scrounge up enough change on the streets, or do some minor water tricks to earn money, to make a few phone calls. I would try calling my Mom, to let her know I wasn't dead, Annabeth, to hopefully send somebody from Camp Half-Blood with a pegasus, and if her phone was off- like it so normally was- I would call Rachel Elizabeth-Dare, and see if she could send out a helicopter or something. Although, I would feel weird asking Rachel for help...

I made it to London, and began to carefully look around for some loose change on the ground. I noticed a lot of people staring at me, a couple of people even gasping and running off. I shrugged my shoulders about them, though. They probably were just shocked to see some kid wandering the streets of London in jeans and a t-shirt in the middle of winter.

At last, I found enough money to make two phone calls. Searching quickly, and shivering in the bitter wind, I found a telephone booth.

I entered the booth, and shut the door, happily sighing as the wind was shut off from my skin. I looked at the phone. It looked a bit rusty, with a bunch of graffiti on it, but it seemed like it would work. Depositing the strange European coins in the old slot, I waited as the phone rang, praying that my mom would pick up the phone.

Just as I was beginning to give up hope, I heard the phone on the other end pick up. At the same time, somebody began banging on the door behind me. "Go find another phone!" I called out behind me, not bothering to turn around.

"Hello?" came my mother's voice from the other end of the phone.

"Mom!" I cried happily, feeling somewhat relieved to hear her voice.

"Percy! Thank the gods, where are you? You've been gone for two days, and nobody knows where you are!"

I swallowed. Two days? I've been asleep that long? The Achilles' curse did have the effect to make me need more sleep, but I didn't think it would ever make me sleep for more than a few hours extra. But two days…

"Percy? Are you there?" I heard my mom frantically ask on the other end.

"Yeah, I'm here." I said. The banging began again on the door behind me. "Go find another phone!" I growled out behind me, not bothering to turn around again.

"Percy, what's going on?" My mom asked, panic present in her voice.

"Somebody's just banging on the door of the telephone booth behind me, that's all."

"Oh, okay. Now, your location?"

"Er, mom… I'm in London…"

"What?" She asked/yelled, sounding completely shocked. "London, England?"

"Yeah Mom, London England. Do you think you could contact can for me and have somebody come-" That's all I was able to manage before somebody ripped the door open behind me.

I began to turn, but before I could turn completely, somebody shouted something, "Stupefy!" I think it was, that hit me in the small of my back.

I blacked out, vaguely hearing my mother's frantic cry of "Percy?" from the phone that was dangling by its' cord.

"I don't think it's Potter!" I heard a woman's voice with a British accent say.

"But he's got the green eyes and the dark hair!" a man's voice rumbled, too with a British accent.

I was able to register that I was lying on a cold, dusty, stone floor, and that a couple people were standing over me, watching me. My hands were chained up behind my back, and a gag was in my mouth.

"Get Draco, he'll know."

"I don't think it's Potter…" the woman grumbled, and I could hear her stalk off to go find the boy, or as I presumed he was a boy from his name, called Draco.

I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. My body was horribly stiff and didn't want to move. I groaned slightly, and heard a man stand up. "Yup, you've got green eyes. I s'pose you hid your glasses and did some spell to hide the scar so ye could just wander the streets of London, eh? Well, it wasn't enough to fool me!" The man remarked.

I looked up into the face of the man, getting my first good look at him. He had thick dark hair, grey eyes, pale skin, and a beard. He wore dark robes, and was holding a…stick?

He sneered at me and tried to kick me in the side. But since I saw his foot coming, I was able to deflect it with the Achilles' curse. He ended up having his foot being sent in the opposite direction, causing him to stumble and fall.

"Dolohov! What is going on in here?" The same woman's voice asked. I looked up, and saw a woman with heavy lidded eyes, and wild, thick, dark hair. She seemed to have a mad, but beautiful, look about her. Her eyes flickered down to me. "Did you trip over the boy?"

He snarled, and stood. "No. He somehow was able to make my foot move the other direction."

"Well, he doesn't have his wand, does he? You did empty his pockets, right?"

Dolohov's face flushed. "No," he muttered.

"Imbecile!" She snarled at him, and quickly rushed towards me. I tried to worm my way away from her, which really isn't an efficient way of moving, and she grabbed me. Reaching inside my pockets, all she pulled out was Riptide- my trust worthy ball point pen that when you take off the cap, turns into a three foot gleaming bronze sword. She stared at in disgust and tossed it over her shoulder. Searching both sets of my pockets (front and back,) she seemed a bit dismayed. She opened my clenched fists, and found nothing in there. "What! Where's your wand?"

I stared at her like she was crazy, which she probably was. She took a stick out of her pocket- a wand; I guess you could call it- and pointed it at me. "Crucio!" She said, a small smirk on her face. Nothing happened. She raised her wand again, and, with a bit of irritation, cried out 'Crucio!' again.

Just as she was going in for a third time, a boy with pale blond hair stepped in the door way. He looked about a year older than me. He had a weathered look to him, and, even though he seemed only to be seventeen, looked like he had more to deal with than the average seventeen year olds. I've seen that look on many kids at camp. "You wanted to see me?" he addressed, too with a British accent, to Dolohov, who was now standing by the door, smiling. The boy reminded me of someone…

"Yes. Please, tell me, is that not the Potter boy on the floor right there?" He seemed smug.

The boy, Draco, I'm guessing, stared at me in confusion. He took in my eyes, my hair, and then my clothes. "What's Camp-Half Blood?" he wondered aloud to himself.

"Never mind that, is that Potter or not?" Dolohov angrily said.

Draco furrowed his brow. "I…I don't know. He could be. A simple trick used to hide the scar, a small alteration on his eyes to let him see without his glasses." Draco seemed nervous with his answered, but it seemed to please Dolohov.

"See?" he smugly said to the woman.

"He said it could be!" the woman barked back.

"Have you tried asking him who he is?" Draco asked quietly.

The room got quiet. "No…" said Dolohov, a small amount of realization in his voice and his shoulders slumped. Then he regained his posture. "Well, he could have bloody lied about who he was!"

The man quickly rushed forward to me, and roughly sat me up, grasping my shoulders tightly. He yanked out the gag, and I cough a bit of dust out of my lungs. "Well boy, you don't look stupid, are you Potter or not?" The woman asked, a snarl in her voice.

I looked up at Draco and the woman. They seemed strange, not exactly mortal, but not demigods either. Still, I answered their question, hoping it would send me home. With a small cough, I looked confidently in their eyes, and said "I am Percy Jackson."

Yeah, sorry it's a pretty cruddy first chapter. Perhaps it will pick up as time goes on. I'm kind of know where this story is going, kind of don't. Leave me a review to tell me what you think of this story, please!