Here it is! I hope you find it satisfying. Guess what?! Percy's making another appearance here along with two other PJO characters!
Thanks for everyone who reviewed in The Memory!
xXTheDragonRiderXx – Your guess was the closest possible! Brilliant! I've missed you reading my stories.
Warning – Unknown Character Death, Mentions of other deaths.
Listening to – Breath of Life by 'Florence + The Machine'
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson. They are fictional works (duh!) and belong to the respective authors.
Words – 2256
It was after the sun set that Harry walked out on the deserted streets.
To anyone, it may seem as though he were a normal young boy walking home after a day in a ground with a bunch of friends.
But this particular person was a child in only looks. He had a lean build with a proper and quiet respect to his surroundings. He wore black jeans and a black hoodie and was clearly doing his best to blend in with the evening crowd. Walking past a few blocks, he stopped and put up his hood. It covered his unruly hair and sharp eyes, making him seem even more invisible.
The boy was Harry Potter. A seemingly normal wizard.
Sitting down on the bench by the pavement, he made sure he was soliciting by any of the close houses in Woking.
It grew darker. Soon, the number of people outside, decreased and the street light where the brightest points in the quiet neighborhood. After the lights in the houses switched off, Harry looked around once to see if he was being watched. He had unnaturally good eye sight in the dark even if he needed his round glasses.
It was close to midnight now. He got up and walked towards a particular house in mind, with the knowledge that he couldn't be seen clearly if someone did look out their windows.
Another block down and he stopped looking up at the clean white painted house. A two storied building with three windows facing the street. Harry looked up once and sighed, silently opening the gate. He walked to the door and felt it locked.
Not wanting any evidence of a broken door to be left behind, he walked around the house and saw that the side window on the first floor was slightly lifted to let some breeze in.
He took a few steps back and ran, placing one foot on a small ledge on the ground floor window to leap upwards to grab the ledge on the first floor. He carefully distributed his weight, in order to let the ledges remain intact. He looked up and pulled himself a bit more, pushing up the window as quietly as he could. Once he climbed in, he looked around.
It was a kind of large storeroom. Some boxes were stacked with dust lingering on it. There was a pile of mattresses pushed into the other corner. It must have been done recently, because there was no dust around or on it.
Harry carefully swung the already open door and let himself in the small hallway. The dark house felt claustrophobic and it made him want to finish what he came for.
He saw the door at the end and since it was the only other door on the first floor, he assumed it to be the master bedroom.
Harry stuck his hand into his jacket pocket and came up with some bright red berries. A look at them was all it took to feel thirsty. Harry swallowed and placed them on an empty plate by the sink.
Now he needed a small disturbance.
He spotted the kitchen below and descended the stairs. The kitchen wasn't very neat at all. There were left over beer bottles and pans with something still in them. Harry went and opened the tap a little, letting it drip slowly.
He then went into the living room and sat behind the only couch there was.
It took nearly an hour.
Soon, the echoing sound of the dripping tap seemed to get louder with each drop. As it crossed the line of irritation, Harry heard the upstairs door creak open, followed by loud footfalls. The staircase creaked too and Harry waited silently, hoping that the man who had just switched on the kitchen light to close the tap hadn't heard his loud beating heart.
The man grumbled something and the noise of the drips stopped. There was a pause in silence and then a grumble.
Harry poked his head from the side and watch and saw the man grab some of the berries and stuff them into his mouth. Munching on them, he lazily walked back, switching off the kitchen light and plunging them into darkness.
A second later, there was sound of the man coughing. Harry's eyes adjusted to see the large silhouette grabbing his neck and make a choking sound.
There was a horrible moment of silence when the man convulsed and fell to the floor. After a few twitches, he was still.
Harry sat there for a few minutes thinking about what he had done. He felt a little at fault for killing the man but then reminded himself that it hadn't been too painful.
Ignoring his guilty conscience, he stood up and headed to the door. Before he could reach the handle, he heard a small 'creak'.
Turning around swiftly, wondering if the man was actually still alive, Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw the man still laying on the ground dead.
Then he saw the form of a small child, standing on the stairs, hands clutching the banister. He looked to be a small boy at the age of six, may be seven. He was shaking a bit, his large, dark eyes fixed on Harry.
The two stared at each other. Harry swore mentally. No witness, damnit!
The man deserved death but not the child. Harry clenched both his palms and walked with deliberate slowness towards the young child.
He leaned down to face the boy and knowing that he could see Harry's face faintly, he said, choosing his words carefully, "Later in life, if you want revenge and not an explanation, come and find me."
Sticking his hands in his hoodie pockets, Harry left the silent house just as silently.
Sighing, he swung up his maple tree and climbed into his room. He shut the window completely and lay down on his bed to stare at the ceiling.
It was a swift and painless end. He had earned it. He dug his own grave. Harry just gave a push. A small quick push.
Harry let out a soft groan and fisted his hands over his eyes. When he had first taken a life, there hadn't been any pain for him. Just a simple scene of watching all his victims eat his berries and fall without a pulse. He hadn't left any clue or evidence behind for the law to catch him. Besides, they were on the run from the law. So the police had an unknown ally on their side.
Never mind the unknown ally was a kid.
But now, his life was changing. There was more to living than thinking of the past. Harry actually felt guilty with every death. It was as if he pitied them. But they didn't need his compassion. They had none themselves.
Very few of them had families. Most preferred to be detached. The boy who had seen him was Robert McCallister, whose father led a different life to what the child had been led to believe.
No one had ever seen him when he had taken the others down. He was always careful. But this first slip-up was because he had hesitated for a while and had stayed in the house wasting those precious moments.
He'd never hesitated before! He was slipping.
The small clock on the bed soon showed the time as five in the morning. He hadn't slept the entire night. Harry got up and frowned at the window. His eyes were wide when he saw a few owls staring at him as they sat on the branches of the maple tree outside his window. They all had packages with they clutched o tightly patiently waiting for him.
Harry jumped up and let them in. Along with them, Hedwig was present and Bolt leaped in too.
"Ughhh! You should've seen me, Harry! I turned into a wolf, for a few minutes, though. But it felt amazing!"
Harry raised an eyebrow and stared at Bolt. She looked as though she blushed under his stare, "Alright fine, I was a wolf cub, but I'm quite sure I was adorable."
Harry rolled his eyes and let Bolt climb his shoulders. Hedwig gave her a steady look before haughtily raising her foot towards Harry.
"It's okay, girl. There's no competition between you and Bolt." Harry assured her as he took her letter.
Both Bolt and Hedwig gave a noise of disbelief.
Harry shot them a look before opening his letter from Hermione.
The other three owls were from Ron and Neville, Hagrid and DJ respectively.
Birthday wishes. Oh, yeah. He was thirteen, wasn't he?
Well, he hadn't forgotten it. There had been so many things he'd been busy with in the past few weeks since coming back from Hogwarts.
He'd had no sleep with his recurring nightmares with a large snake and burning pain from Bolt looking into a basilisk's eyes. He had to refer to his Occlumency book for some calm moments. And of course, he still hadn't gotten over from seeing Percy Jackson in a green mist when the world spinning stopped on its axis.
It must have been his introduction to his teenage years made by the fates themselves.
Hermione had given him a complementary book to Occlumency - Developments on Mind Shields. 300 pages of pure intellectual use of the advanced memory. It was perfect for Harry. Hermione was on vacation in France and the particular author was on tour in Paris. She had even gotten the book autographed. It was thankful to know that she had moved on from Gilderoy Lockhart so quickly.
Ron had given him a new set of Quidditch goggles and a pack of Egyptian Scripts with English translations on Ruins and Treasures. Harry's eyes skimed over the new language. He wasn't done with Goblintongue, but he would be soon. Then he can start on Egyptian.
He took a look at his copy of the Daily Prophet which showed a picture of the Weasley family touring in Egypt after having won a lottery. He had amused himself with the fact that one of his best friends had gone to France, his other best friend was in Egypt and his baby brother was in New York.
May be.
Harry sighed. He opened DJ's pack next and stared at what his cousin had packed. He slowly lifted the dark red jacket. It was his size, and was of Gryffindor designs with Gold stitches and a small lion which moved around in front of the pocket. There was a sentence stitched on the back.
Trouble's my middle name.
It certainly is, Harry thought. The hood had a small amount of gold designs but the red had a look of blood on it. Though he preferred black, he was quite sure he could pull off, wearing something that looked like it was soaked in blood. Dark humour. Harry gave it some thought. If he would ever plan to develop a proper sense of humour, may be dark would suit him.
Harry put the red jacket down and read DJ's letter.
Hey Harry,
Before you complain about your gift not being black, the jacket's a two-in-one type. You can turn it inside out and the second one's black. Plus, you look great in the Quidditch Robes, so the jacket (both sides ) is perfect for you.
Happy Birthday! What's it like being 13? Any magical change in thought or magic?
So, I'm guessing Hermione sent you a book or something. But have you heard? Ginny and her family are in Egypt with her older brother, Bill! That's sounds super! You think we can go somewhere? Just a small trip. You know where I'm talking about…
I just got another letter from Mrs. McCarty and I just figured it out! I know what she is! But it doesn't matter. I know it doesn't bother you either! She said that Dumbledore's already talked to her entire family for a visit at Hogwarts. She didn't exactly say visit, but I think there's something more. But the main part is that we can see her! And her family!
Yeah, there's this nervousness but really, I'm excited! I'm pretty sure you are too.
So enjoy your day! Don't go and think too much about what happened with that vision you saw last year. At least for a day. I believe you and Ginny does too. Sorry this letter was late, but the jacket was ordered in late, I wasn't really sure whether I should get you a book, but then the jacket idea got me and there you are!
Happy Birthday again!
DJ. Potter.
Harry rubbed his thumb on the parchment once before setting it down and picking up the jacket again. He turned it inside out and felt comforted with the familiar black colour. There was no saying on the back. So Harry decided to try his own.
This was one of the simplest types of magic possible. Making a mark. So he took advantage of the situation and for the first time, tried wandless magic.
With his finger, he concentrated on the jacket as though he wanted to burn a hole out of it. Slowly, the points where he touched turned bright red and he wrote using a small twig he borrowed from a sparrow's nest on the maple tree.
I'm never wrong. I once thought I was; turns out, I was mistaken.
He slept better after that.
You may not have understood some of Harry's thoughts about what he had done in the past, but everything will soon be unraveled.
Stay tuned for the next chapter!
Cabba.