Seeing is Believing
and Perseus believed.
Perseus was a smart kid. He would never be a genius, or even highly intelligent, but he was smart. He knew his gift was best left quiet, and so quiet he became.
He could see things that shouldn't exist.
Just like his mum.
He had no memory of her-having been only two weeks old when she passed away. His father rarely spoke of her for how much it still hurt, and his grandfather was stuck in a loop of her as a child.
But it was okay.
After all, Perseus could see things that shouldn't exist.
He never carried on a conversation with her, after all, he didn't speak. But she spoke to him.
Oh, did she speak.
Ubiquipeds and nargles, crumple horned snorkacks and his father.
Oh, his father was his favourite.
No one knew his father like she did. Perhaps no one ever would. And the stories she told him, of every time they met up until the day she kissed him. And even after.
His mother loved his father dearly.
And his mother did all she could to make sure both he and his father survived. When she told him that, she cried.
It was the first and last time he ever saw her cry.
The next day, Aunt Hermione took him on a trip.
Though the other creatures and apparitions remained, he did not see his mother again.
Seeing is believing, and Perseus believed.