It had been three weeks since the end of the Second Giant War.

Percy had been told that time was supposed to heal all wounds. But he still didn't feel any better.

He figured that after a little while, the nightmares and flashbacks would stop, and he'd be able to continue on with his life. But unfortunately for him, there was no sign of that happening for him any time soon.

Which led him to here and now, back in his mom's apartment, hoping that maybe a change of scenery would help push back the nightmares and memories.

He, per his usual bad luck, had had no luck so far with this plan.

Which was why he, at 10 o'clock at night, was currently sitting up in his bed, alone, and afraid to go to sleep.

The soothing sound of gears turning and faintly whirring machinery along with the subtle click of metal was his only company.

He had to admit as he stared down at the faint glow his bronze arm let off in the darkness, Leo had done a fantastic job.

He had lost the lower half of his right arm in the final battle against Gaea. Greek fire was potent stuff. How the monster army had gotten ahold of it was still a mystery. But they had used it as part of Gaea's Last Revenge as it was now called. It still boiled his blood to think about it.

Flashback:

They had attacked the infirmary.

There was a little girl, a daughter of Apollo, who was helping her siblings with treating the wounded. She couldn't have been more than 12 years old.

He had been helping out while their army finished off the last of the monster army when it happened.

The infirmary was burning, he couldn't see much beyond the smoke, but thankfully it wasn't a direct hit, and one of the photo kinetic children of Apollo had lit up the place so they were able to evacuate the wounded. They got everybody out, and he was standing next to Will Solace doing a head count when he saw it.

A bright flash of blond hair, slightly dirtied with soot. It was the little girl, Claire, Will's newest and youngest little sister.

She was still in there, laying on the floor, crying and clutching her ankle that was twisted at an angle that was most certainly not natural.

The building was beginning to creak and groan, the burnt wood not being able to hold up the rest of the building's weight.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had dashed into the still-burning building, ignoring the shouts of protest from behind him.

The green fire devoured everything in its path. The most dangerous substance known to mortal, demigod, and god alike.

He picked her up bridal style, hardened and determined sea-green eyes meeting tearful sky-blue ones. She hung around his neck, trembling with fear and tears running down her face from the pain.

There was a gods-awfully loud crack, and then everything was coming down around them.

He wasn't moving fast enough. He wouldn't make it.

Unfortunate flashbacks to his time when he fell into Tartarus flashed before his eyes, and his heart began to race in residual fear.

Desperation. Another time with another last glimpse of sunlight.

He wouldn't make it, but the girl in his arms could.

In a last ditch effort, he threw the little girl in his arms as far as he could towards her siblings and the square of sunlight just as the rest of the building came down around him.

From there all he knew was green flames and pain.

His right arm was pinned, the destructive fire eating its way through the flesh with no mercy, slowly making its way up his arm and beginning to devour his right side.

He screamed until he couldn't anymore. And then he kept trying.

Blessed blackness couldn't come for him fast enough.

Flashback End:

He gasped. His breath shuddering as it exited his lips.

The celestial bronze arm clenched into a fist subconsciously, and he reveled in the subtle intricacies of the machine. It was one of the most beautiful things he owned.

He was jolted out of his semi-conscious daze by a loud CRACK that came from the living room. He was immediately alert.

He jumped out of his bed where he hadn't even been really sleeping, thankful for the fact that he had decided to not even bother getting changed for bed. He was still wearing the grey sweatpants and long sleeved black shirt that he had been lounging around the house in the day before. He threw on a hoodie to be safe and made his way around his room to all the various places that he had hidden weapons should he need them.

In under five seconds he was ready, all of his back-up knives were strapped into place, and he had a cautious hand on Riptide which had appeared in his pocket.

Creeping forward stealthily with bare feet, he made his way towards the door, pressing his ear against it to listen.

Now, he's not exactly the master of stealth or anything, but even he knows that when you break into someone's house you at least try to be quiet. But apparently, whoever was out there now, didn't get the memo. He heard the sound of the living room lamp being knocked over and shattering on the floor, quickly followed by a few muffled curses in what sounded like a British accent. Next came the sound of scuffling and drawers opening. He used the noise and their seeming distraction to slip out of his room and make his way into the kitchen where he last heard them.

Sticking to the shadows, he employed every technique and stretched out every sense he had ever picked up in his demigod life. Sensing the water in the body of the intruders, he could tell that there were three of them, male judging by the size of them. There was one in the kitchen, the one rifling through the drawers. He was separated from his companions, so Percy chose that moment to strike.

Lunging forward out of the shadows of the doorway of the room, he grabbed the man with his real arm around his throat and pressed one of his smaller knives against his jugular, all before the man could say or do anything.

"If you value your life you won't do or say anything. Understood?", he said in his best cold voice. He had been told that it was pretty scary, especially after he came out of Tartarus because of his slightly scratchy voice from the poisonous atmosphere down there.

The man immediately went stiff and nodded as much as he dared.

"Good".

Percy took that moment to search him, trying to decide whether he was monster, mortal, or something else. Though what else he didn't really know. The Minor god of breaking and entering maybe? He wouldn't be all that surprised.

Patting him down expertly with one hand, he kept the knife pressed tightly against his throat. There was nothing on him but what looked like an extremely well-polished stick. He had no idea what it was for, but he took it off of him anyway. Magical weapons came in all shapes and sizes, and he wasn't really willing to find out what this one could do.

"Come on, let's go", he said, roughly pushing the man forward with the knife still at his throat. He set the stick on the counter in the kitchen, making sure the it was too far away for him to grab it.

He could sense the two other men still in the living room. One of them was sitting on the couch while the other stood nearby in the corner of the room. Probably trying to hide for some reason.

As he pushed the man through the door and into the living room, he sensed more than saw the two men's heads snap towards him.

"Sirius, what—", the man in the corner started, but he cut him off.

"Speak or do anything but answering my questions and you will find your friend missing an extremely important appendage faster than you can blink. Understood?".

The two nodded very quickly but did not speak. He noticed the one in the corner of the room's pulse speed up, and he could see him close his eyes and try to control his breathing.

"You, in the corner, step forward a little bit, I can't see your face".

While the man did as asked, he felt the man he was holding, Sirius, shift his feet and make to kick him in order to get away.

"Don't even think about it, Sirius", he said, using the man's newly discovered name, "I assure you that I am very good with this knife, I don't think you want to test those skills. Do you?".

He could feel the man growl slightly in frustration and anger, but he didn't move again.

Nodding his head, he looked up again and met the gaze of the man who had just stepped out of the corner.

Immediately the knife was flying out of his hand and pinning the man to the wall behind him by his shirt.

Percy was no fool. He had a hunter for a cousin. He knew what that slightly rabid look in his eyes meant, those scars on his hands and face, the shabby clothes.

"Lycanthrope", he growled, ignoring their shocked expressions. "I thought that I told your king to leave me alone. Or does he need another lesson?", he spit out, flicking open the silver pocket knife he had thankfully remembered to grab.

He shoved Sirius towards the couch, forcing him to sit next to the other man before approaching the werewolf.

His instincts screamed at him that there was something wrong here. Looking around, he saw that they were right. The werewolf currently pinned to the wall had not shifted into its wolf form to fight like it undoubtably should have by now. In fact, it looked very confused and scared, which wasn't at all what should have been happening. Sirius, the man he had just been holding at knife point was glaring at him for all he was worth, but his hands were shaking, and Percy could see him glance towards the kitchen every now and then. Surely he would know how to fight even without whatever magical weapon that stick turned out to be? Right? And finally, the third man, the one who was incredibly elderly by the looks of things, was looking about as comfortable as if they had just been having tea and making small talk. Not at all scared.

He kept his silver knife out just in case, but relaxed his tense posture slightly, and instead of pinning them with his glare like he otherwise would have, he stared at them with a confused expression and tilted his head to the side slightly.

"Who are you? Why are you here?", he shot off, voice no longer poisonous but merely inquisitive.

The elderly man chuckled. "Those are all fine questions, my boy", he said in a kind, teacherly voice that reminded Percy immediately of Chiron. That fact alone was enough to make Percy relax further and listen to what he was saying.

"We do not mean to barge in on you like this at such a late hour, but we have some important matters to discuss with you regarding your family. You are Perseus Jackson, yes?".

He flinched at the use of his full name and was immediately on guard again at the mention of his family.

"What about my family?", he asked, his voice tight as he brought the knife back up into a more defensive position.

He saw the man's eyes flicker from the knife in his hand to the knife currently holding his friend slightly aloft by his shirt.

"Would you mind putting the knives away, my boy?", he asked, his voice still completely smooth and calm.

Percy hesitated. He wanted to, he really did. His instincts were telling him that these people weren't monsters, and they had no aura of power beyond the one of some of the legacies that lived back in New Rome.

But at the same time, he had a bad feeling about this. They said they only wanted to talk, and he knew that whatever they were going to tell him was going to change his life. For the good or the bad was still yet to be determined.

"Fine", he said, still casting suspicious glances around the room.

He put the small silver knife back in the small sheath on his left forearm, and crossed the room in a few quick strides, pulling the knife pinning the lycanthrope to the wall out and slipping it into another sheath around his right thigh.

The poor man, who Percy could now see meant no harm, walked over to sit next to his two companions on the couch with as much dignity as he could muster.

Percy shot him an apologetic look and tried to break the rapidly growing tension in the room with his signature lopsided grin.

"Sorry about that. Let's just say that I don't have the best experience with others of your kind", he directed towards the werewolf who, after collecting his wits, appeared to be analyzing him in a way that made him miss Annabeth all that much more.

"Oh and only people who want to kill me call me Perseus. Unless you're not telling me something, you can call me Percy".

They all looked at him weirdly, and it was only then that he realized that normal people don't generally have people trying to kill them on a regular basis.

Sigh. How come mortals get the easy lives?

"Okay... Percy. My name is Professor Dumbledore. These are my companions, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black".

Both men nodded at their respective names.

Sirius had long black hair and was unshaven. His eyes were sunk into his head, and there were bags beneath them. Despite his rather bedraggled appearance, Percy could tell that he had once been handsome. He had the facial structure of typical royalty, and Percy could only assume that he came from a rather high-up family.

Remus had shaggy light brown hair and had quite a few scars all over his hands and face; no doubt the result of his curse as a werewolf. There was a slightly crazy, animalistic light in his eye that hinted at the true savage nature of the beast he was hiding. His clothes were very shabby and patched, but he had a sort of comforting aura around him. He also reminded him vaguely of Chiron. If Percy had to guess, he'd say that he was or had been a teacher.

"So, may I ask why you are breaking into my house at... 11:36 at night?", he asked, sitting down across from the three on a chair.

"We are terribly sorry to disturb your sleep, but we have come here on urgent news about your grandfather on your mother's side".

"What kind of urgent news?", Percy asked, more relaxed now that he had learned that this had nothing to do with the godly side of his life. "I was under the impression that my grandparents on my mother's side were dead".

"Well I'm afraid to tell you that that just simply isn't true. And in regards to what kind of urgent business, I have only one question. Percy, do you believe in Magic?".