Harry was bouncing in his seat, giddy with excitement. To his left sat both his best friends, their expressions mirroring his own. He gazed around the Great Hall in awe of how different it looked from the staffs table.
He was a professor. Of Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a dream come true. Obviously, starting next year, he was going to begin his actual life as an auror but they had given him and Ron a year of freedom after all the months of treacherous training. Hermione had joined the two, unable to turn down the headmistresses offer. The couple-to-be were teaching Transfiguration together.
He gazed to his right, expecting to see Professor McGonagall but only saw an empty chair between him and one of his favorite professors. She caught his questioning gaze but only smiled.
The Great Hall, bubbling with excitement and nervousness (mostly the cowering first years adjusting to their new houses), immediately silenced when she stood and strode to the stand with floating candles around it. The only other person to ever stand there was the man with the long beard and half-moon glasses. Harry's heart lurched at the thought of him.
"Students new and students old, welcome back to another marvelous year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry drowned out her speech until a word caught his ear.
"-Against the Dark arts Professors. You heard me correctly, there will be two. They have different methods of teaching and will work out a schedule on their own, but you will be taught by both. Firstly, a familiar face, Hogwarts own Harry Potter!" The cheering of the students drummed against his skull but he stood and smiled.
The headmistress gazed at the empty chair and frowned. "The second professor should have been here by now. I told him clearly to-"
"Sorry I'm late!" Anyone could have heard the mass of people turn towards the great doors as they swung open, revealing a man, Harry's age. He had a mop of black hair and scattered green eyes that glanced quickly at everything and anything. He could have been Harry's twin. With no glasses. And taller. And stronger. And more-likely-to-make-a-girl-swoon-er.
He had on a robe to large and you could see the loose orange shirt peeking out of his collar. He had a stack of papers, corners folded messily, in his arms. The hall was silent as he trudged up the short flight of stairs to the staffs table and slammed the mass of paper onto his plate, still crystal clean. Harry could hear it crack. The man winced.
He took his seat and gazed expectantly at McGonagall. Minerva. Harry was still getting used to calling professors by their first names.
Minerva laughed softly and turned back to the crowd. "And that was you second professor. Professor Perseus Jackson. Perseus stood up and smiled. "Call me Percy, please."
Harry's heart stopped cold. Had he heard him right? Had he rolled his r's or were his ears messing with him?
He waited patiently for the headmistress to declare the beginning of the feast. Immediately, food appeared on every plate. Percy stuck his underneath the table, at his feet. Harry took the opportunity and stuck out his hand. "Professor Jackson, is it? We'll be teaching together, I'm Harry Potter."
Harry watched as the man's juvenile expression suddenly turned to stone, his green eyes swirling like a hurricane, when he heard Harry's name. He gripped his hand tightly and shook. "Pleasure."
Harry's heart didn't stop beating rapidly. It was no question now. Percy's accent was definitely foreign. He wiped his clammy palms on his pants and forced himself to eat.
He watched as Percy struck his goblet on fire with a muggle match and scraped half of his dinner into it. When he blew out the fire, the food was gone, replaced with a blue liquid. He sipped it and ate the remainder of his supper, his eyes returning to their normal bright green. He would scan the house in sections, his eyes never in one place. He picked up a conversation with Minerva, laughing every so often. He would turn and meet Harry's eyes and he smiled but his eyes never hardened.
It was difficult to swallow. Harry was shaking.
Percy was an American.
His mind ventured to all those years ago, to his eighth year. It had been an honorary year, the year after the war. He remembered the DADA professor then. She was American. She would strike her goblet on fire with a muggle match for every meal and scrape half her food into it. She would blow out the flames and the goblet would fill itself with a normal drink. She would bounce in her seat, glancing in a million directions at once. She would talk with Minerva as if they had known each other for years. She would turn and every time her blue eyes met with Harry's as he watched her from the Gryffindor table, she would smile a small smile, as if he had no idea what he was in for.
Harry turned to his friends and they were both looking at him with the same fearful expressions. The last American had been a trainwreck. She was a murderer. She was dangerous.
And the quenching in the pit of his stomach told Harry that this Percy Jackson had known this other American professor. That this Percy Jackson was here for the sole reason of revenge for what Harry had done to Thalia Grace.
Hey, long time no see. Ooops.
Anyway, this is just an idea I have been forming for a very long time. I will continue if I get five reviews :)
Later, am