It was a small room, really, with nothing more than a small armchair. The only source of light was the cold, crackling fireplace.

"Wormtail," A cold, snake-like voice hissed from behind the armchair. A small, stooping little man cringed as he looked at the armchair. "Y-y-Yes, my lord?"

"Remember the plan. You must not fail me this time. Or do you need a reminder?" The voice behind the chair hissed with some kind of soft glee.

"No, no!" Wormtail bowed, his hands trembling. "But, my l-l-Lord, a-are you s-s-sure this will w-work?"

The man behind the armchair, or creature, whatever it was, laughed a high pitch, icy laugh. "How many times, Wormtail, do I have to tell you? It will work. We must take Harry Potter's blood, yes, Wormtail, the blood of Harry Potter, and use it so I can get my body back. And I will tell you how, Wormtail. This year Hogwarts will host a special event, as according to Bertha Jorkins's information. We will use my most faithful servant and, through this tournament, will help me get to Harry Pott-"

The 'thing' behind the chair was cut short by a stuttering Wormtail. He looked frightened and defiant at the same time.

"B-But, I am your faithful servant!" He murmured, but apparently the 'thing' behind the chair had heard.

"Wormtail, Wormtail. You do not think I have not seen your disgusted stare as you carry my body, or how you cringe when you look at me? Lord Voldemort knows everything, Wormtail. You have only been here because you have betrayed your friends who are bigger and stronger than you and you are afraid to go back to them. That is why you have come back to your old master, is it not? Lord Voldemort knows, Wormtail, he always knows."

"B-But My Lord, why not use a... a-another person? It would be much easier than to, than to..." Wormtail flinched as the 'thing' behind the armchair laughed a cruel laugh.

"My dear, dear Wormtail. You're brain really is as idiotic as you look. Don't you understand? With his blood, I shall bear his stupid mothers sacrifice in my veins, and I will be more powerful, more greater than before. It is time that I truly finish off The Boy Who Lived.

I will kill Harry Potter."

-oOo-

Miles away, Harry James Potter woke up on his small bed, scar burning, heart thumping, and breathing sharp.

He put his glasses back on and squinted out at his window, where a bright light was streaming through. It took a while to adjust and realise he was back in Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Winging. As he sat there, and as his heart rate slowly turned back to a slow steady one, he began to think about his dream.

It was very frustrating. Every time he tried to grasp on to the small details, they seemed to slip away from his grasp like trying to Cup water in his hands.

There had been Wormtail, he remembered, and of course, Voldemort. Harry's palm sweated as he remembered the high pitched laughter of Cruelest, Evilest Man alive. They had been in this room Harry could not recognise, and they were talking about a plan of murder, a plan of blood, a palm that involved killing... killing-

Before Harry could confirm the two words, 'killing me,' he stood up and stretched as he glanced down at the floor. It was the usual.

A few books were strewn on the floor, which he had hastily chucked in his trunk the night before and had not bothered to tidy the ones that had bounced off the lid of his trunk. His clothes were stuffed in his cauldron, and his wand was next to him on the bedside table. Hedwig was off hunting, so her cage was empty.

Harry wanted to tell SOMEONE about his dreams. No, never the Dursleys. He might have to starve a week if he told them his dream. He pondered sending a letter to Dumbledore, but, he pushed away the thought as Professor Dumbledore was surely busy, and, anyways, he didn't know where he went for the summer holidays. Harry smiled slightly to himself as he imagined Dumbledore, with his white beard and half-moon spectacles, off somewhere on a beach, wearing a bathing suit and sun-tanning. No. Wasn't there a person who could understand, who he was close to, and who had the same experience as him?

Harry face palmed his forehead with his hand. Of course! There was Sirius Black. Harry scolded himself silently for not thinking about Sirius at the first place. But, of course, he had only gotten to know that he was Harry's godfather a few months ago, so, it was obvious that he hadn't thought about him.

Harry got a parchment, some ink, a quill, and began to scribble furiously. When he was done, he looked at his letter and re-read it again.

Dear Sirius,

Thanks for your last letter. The bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window.

I'm going to Ron's place quite soon to see the Qudditch World Cup. I can hardly wait.

A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again, and I had a horrible dream where Voldemort was planning to... kill me. I can't remember the exact details. Last time this kind of thing happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if cursed scars sometimes hurt years afterward?

I'll send Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.

Harry

Harry, satisfied, watched the small beams of sunlight creep forward inch by inch through his window. He sat there, thinking, all the while waiting for Hedwig to come back.

-oOo-

"They're late." Uncle Vernon declared as his small, piggy eyes glared at the clock.

A few days back, Harry's best friend, Ronald Weasley, had sent a letter to him saying that he was going to go with them to the Quidditch World Cup. Harry had told the Dursleys, and, after threatening them slightly about Sirius (who they still believed as a mass murderer), they had lost and Harry was allowed to go.

Now, as the Weasleys were more than an hour late, Harry's bit his lip anxiously as he glanced around Number Four, Privet Drive's living room.

The walls were covered in pictures of a round beachball with different colours, which was Dudley, and the living room was spotless. The armchair Uncle Vernon was sitting in was the best in the house, and today, Uncle Vernon had worn his best suit, not in a gracious way, Harry knew, but to intimidate the guests.

Dudley was currently holding his backside, and Harry chuckled as a sudden memory of Dudley with a pigs' tail came to him. The laughter died away as fast at it had come as the constant ticking of the watch continued.

"Maybe they think they'll be invited to dinner if they come late," Aunt Petunia tutted, her bony arms folded.

"Absolutely not!" Uncle Vernon growled, looking straight at Harry, who took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen, taking deep, calming breaths.

"If, th — AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Uncle Vernon's scream-ish shout piereced the nervous silence as Harry jumped. Dudley cam running, full speed, down the hallway into the kitchen.

"What is it?!" Harry shouted as Dudley ran past, his hands clamped tightly at his bottom. Dudley refused to answer. Harry took a quick glance at him, whipped out his wand and ran to the living room.

Uncle Vernon was staring, horrified, at the cold, fake fire in the fireplace. A shouting was coming from inside the fire, though, it was oddly familiar.

"No, George!" A man's voice, unmistakably Mr Weasley cried. "Go back! Go back! Somethings wrong—oof!"

"What are we doim here?" Fred's voice issues from the fireplace, slightly muffled. "Weremt we subbose do go do Harry's?"

"Yes, yes," Mr Weasleys voice said, distractedly. "But something went wrong. Go back, and tell Ron not to—harrumph!"

A new voice, a voice that made Harry's insides jump with joy, rang out from the electric fire. "Why'rwealere?!" The voice of Ronald Weasley, Harry's best friend demanded.

"What?" Mr Weasley asked.

There was a heaving sigh. "Why. Are. We. All. HERE?!" Ron practically shouted.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Ickelronniekins, but there seems to be a problem, as you very well know," The twins said, identically. "Hey, I wonder if Harry can hear us?"

"We might as well give it a try," Mr Weasley said resignedly. "Harry? Can you hear us?"

Harry stepped forward as the Dursleys stepped backwards.

"Mr Weasley, it's Harry. Is that you?"

-oOo-

"Krum! Krum! Krum! VICTOOOOR KRUM!"

A roar of sound greeted the round shouldered, slightly duck-footed young Bulgarian man as he soared towards the sky on his Firebolt. He had thick eyebrows and a curved nose.

Ron was screaming hoarsely and nearly toppling over the edge of the top box. "KKKRRRRRUUUUUMMMMMMMM!" He screamed so loudly that the house elf in front of them, Winky, jumped.

"Oh, Ron, do grow up," Hermione Granger sighed as she pulled the bouncing-on-his-heels Ron down onto his seat. Her bushy brown hair was tied in a clean ponytail as she grabbed Ron's shirt and firmly pulled him down. "What's so special about a game anyways?" She asked, sighing. Both Harry and Ron rounded on her.

"WHAT'S SO SPECIAL ABOUT A GAME?" Ron cried, incredulous. "Hermione," Harry shouted over the crowd, "It's really important!" Hermione just sighed, muttering something like, boys.

"—Releases the balls, and yes! Let the games beeegin!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed over the crowd, as two teams soared high up into the sky.

-oOo-

Screams pierced the air as Harry, Ron and Hermione stared dumbstruck at the starry night sky where a green image of a snake slithering out of a skull's mouth could be seen.

It was dark and the three had run to the forest.

"Oh, come on, Harry, Ron," Hermione whimpered slightly as she tried to tug Harry and Ron back into the depth of the forest. "Please, come on, Harry, please, hurry!"

"What is that?" Ron asked, obviously stupefied inside. "It's, well, oh, it's the dark mark!" Hermione whispered, urgently. "Hurry! We have to go!"

As the three turned around and start to run back to the forest, Harry felt the hair on the back of his head stand up. "Down!" Harry shouted just in time, as about ten wizards apparated intuit he clearing and shouted, "STUPEFY!"

-oOo-

"I bet you'll try, will you, Potter?" Draco Malfoy hissed, spitting out the 'Potter'. "You never miss out a chance to show off. You're obviously gonna try, aren't you, weasel? It's gonna be good to have some money, no? I bet you'll finally have one decent meal for once. I heard you Weasleys sleep in one room, is that true?"

"Try what?" Harry asked, pulling back Ron as Ron's fists curled and his ears turned red.

"Oh my god," Malfoy sneered while his goons, Crabbe and Goyle, laughed stupidly. "You have a Father and a brother at the ministry and you still don't know? My Father told me ages ago."

"Either you tell us what's gonna happen at Hogwarts, or go away, Malfoy." Hermione said, noticing that Ron's ears had turned pink.

Malfoy laughed and walked out of the compartment.

"What do you think he was talking about?" Hermione asked once she had shut the compartment door of the train.

"I dunno," Harry said. "But we'll find out soon."

-O-O-O-O-

I do not own Percy Jackson or Harry Potter.

Well? How was it? This is a fixed (?) version of 'Percy is on a trip to Hogwarts, well, actually to protect Harry Potter'. If you read that story, make sure to follow this one as well, because this is the same story but I fixed the Grammar errors.

Italics: Dreams, visions memories or/and telepathic talking

-oOo- : Changing of scenes, timeskip, or events taking place in other scenes (Meanwhile)

-O-O-O-O-: Start/Ending of a chapter

Thanks!