A/N: I apologize for the wait. I know it's been a while. Also, the first part of this chapter is very confusing - I know so because even as the one who wrote it, it confuses me. So there's your warning.

POV: Draco, Percy

Disclaimer: Who, me? Nuh-uh, you're looking at the wrong person. Type in the letters "jk" and "rick" in Google and they should come up as "I'm feeling lucky".


Chapter 7

Darkness flooded my thoughts during waking and sleeping hours alike. It was hard to figure out what was going on and keep up with the outside world when you were caged in by your own mind.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Ruin My Life, kept bringing me information periodically. I listened to his words. I reacted in a way that could be considered sensible. But only half of my mind was focused on what I said and did. The other part had been enveloped by a murky, filthily dark fog. And it was there that I spent most of my days.

It was as though what had happened to me was all but a memory; distant, yet near, horrible to think about, but impossible off of which to take the mind. And I was absolutely trapped, stuck in an abysmal endless cosmos where only these thoughts pervaded my every sense of existence.

My body was under the control of my own mind, yes. But was I in control of that part of my mind?

It didn't seem so.

It seemed, instead, as if I was experiencing my own life through a stranger's eyes — as if through a dream. But I knew somewhere inside me that life was going on, as it should, and the only thing wrong was that side of me in which I was trapped.

I knew I had to get out of this trench of overwhelming misery and darkness. My body kept going, yes — but my soul did not.

So I started to wake up.


I knew the hole of darkness was gone as soon as I opened my eyes. Every memory for the past few weeks had seemed dull, monotone in a way; almost monochromatic yet hosting every color of the rainbow at the same time. Now, I felt my body blink, and when my eyelids opened once more, it was relief. All the usual bright colors of everyday things surrounded me; I felt soft, worn-down sheets (quite — ahem, different — from the ones at my own house) beneath me. And the air that hit me was fresher than any horrid smell I'd been breathing in the night abyss, even though, I reasoned, it mustn't be all that good if I'm in a Weasley's stuffy, under decorated bedroom.

Relief, along with a whole lot of pain. It was as if the past few weeks, I hadn't felt anything happening to me. Now, the pain of all my stiff and sore joints hit. I felt every individual bruise, and my arms and legs felt as though the thread holding them together had ripped apart.

The feet were worst of all. I vaguely remembered Voldemort doing something hideous to the soles — what had that been?

My question was answered when I looked down. Both propped up on pillows, my feet were bandaged like there was no tomorrow. But by the circumference of the object that the bandages covered, my feet were very narrow. Too thin.

That's right, I remembered bitterly. Voldemort ripped my feet off. Nice to remember that.

I winced. Just the thought was painful, after living through the real experience.

And just as I was getting used to being back in my own body for the first time in a long time, Harry Potter had to walk into the room.

Why? I mentally moaned. He was carrying a Daily Prophet that looked like it had already been used to hit someone over the head multiple times, a frown on his face.

"What's the matter, Potter?" I asked him, feeling like I was actually in control of the words coming out of my mouth in contrast to the long time in the hole when my body spouted out things without my doing.

"Hermione's been looking over the prophecy again. You should see the annotations she's made on the thing, there's not a square centimeter of blank parchment left," he sighed, sitting down in the chair that he always sat in.

"Who's surprised?" I asked, smirking and accepting the newspaper he held out to me. Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing as I let my eyes rove and skim over today's headlines.

The Boy Who Lived muttered something unintelligible, and I decided after a brief moment's hesitation not to ask him to clarify his words. Instead I let him continue to talk to me as I scanned the words in front of me, sometimes not quite processing what I was reading and having to reread it over again.

"— she's been going over it constantly. Ron reckons that Annabeth and Percy are right, that prophecies don't make sense until they're completed."

"Is that so?" I asked nonchalantly. "Sounds like Wea—Ron is actually smarter than Hermione for once."

Harry nodded, exasperated, then put his head in his hands. "I've agreed with him and Hermione says we're both bollocks."

"Well, aren't you?" I smirked again.

"Draco," Harry simply said, looking at me with a bored expression. He sighed. "Some things never change, do they?"

"No idea what you mean by that, Potter," I replied sarcastically.

"Exactly that. That's what I meant." He eyed me warily, but I could sense that it was in a joking way.

This time, my smirk wasn't malicious or sarcastic.


"Mr. Jackson, this simply is not working."

I slowly opened my eyes after squeezing them tighter. I didn't want to face Professor Dumbledore's disappointment.

It had been three days; three miserable days that Dumbledore had been teaching Annabeth and I to Apparate. Annabeth had moved about an inch the first day, and by today was already able to Apparate to Camp Half-Blood's border and back.

The first time, I had somehow managed to splinch my eyebrows right off my face. That was the most I had done in these three miserable days. I hadn't been able to Apparate at all since then.

Dumbledore had begun suspecting about an hour ago that it was a side effect of my ADHD — my inability to focus in other words.

I had protested that that couldn't be the case, since Annabeth seemed to have no problem Apparating whatsoever. Dumbledore argued right back, saying that her Animagus studies (I don't really know who told him, but he knew somehow) were helping her center her focus whereas I didn't have anything of the sort.

That had shut me up and, frankly, put me in a quite bad mood.

Which, as anyone can imagine, would make trying to focus on Apparating even harder. Annabeth had tried to propose different solutions, but nothing was working.

"Percy, we've been over this before, but is there anything, especially anything in a magical area, that focuses you more than anything else?" Professor Dumbledore asked, kindly and patient but yet simultaneously disappointed in my lack of progress.

"I already told you, Professor. Sword fighting is really the only thing I enjoy that helps me focus." I in fact had told him this. We had tried to make me think I was sword fighting to focus me and make me Apparate. It was honestly useless.

Annabeth, who had just appeared two inches away from me with another obnoxious CRACK, put her hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

"Professor, what if we tried using the ocean again…?" she proposed open-endingly. Yesterday, Annabeth had had the lovely idea of trying to make me use water as a medium through which to Apparate instead of open air and space. It made sense, given my ancestry and power with water, but I had tried to Apparate underwater numerous times and all it led to was me shooting out of the water like a rocket, spinning rapidly. What a sight.

"No, Miss Chase. As much as I dislike to, I daresay that that has proven an inefficient method. Perhaps we can try it later, but he must be able to Apparate normally first."

What focused me? Transfiguration was definitely off of the list. Same with Defense and Charms. Patronus charms were something I yet couldn't do fully. And —

"Potions!" I yelled.

Annabeth hesitantly took her hands off my shoulders at my sudden outburst. Dumbledore eyed me but smiled as if he already knew what I was thinking.

"What, Perce?" Annabeth asked me.

"Potions, remember? You wondered all year how I was doing so well in Potions. It's something I can actually focus on. It's definitely not as strong as sword fighting, but I mean —"

"We can surely try it, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eye twinkling above the half-moon glasses.

Spoiler alert: that didn't work either. I was so certain I'd found something magical that would help me focus and Apparate and then — bam. Nope. I lost basically all hope.

I wasn't the only disappointed one. Dumbledore rubbed his beard, eyebrows furrowed as he muttered to himself. Annabeth gave me a piteous look, one that I utterly loathed. I hated not being able to do things. It only brought me back to the time before I found Camp Half-Blood, at Yancy Academy and all the schools before that with all their bullies.

I walked away from the two of them, shaking off Annabeth's grip. We were near the beach already; all it took was for me to walk into the water until my entire head was under.

I floated underwater for a while, breathing normally, looking up through the surface of the water at the blue sky above. It was such a deep blue that it reminded me of a river.

I shifted over to face downward, watching the beautiful crystalline water of the ocean gradient into a deep murky black. This reminded me of a river once again, but a much different one than the one I thought of when looking at the sky.

I tilted my head, still thinking as my body naturally turned over again to face the sky. I was still underwater, my head maybe five feet under the surface. The cogs in my head started turning once more. Dumbledore had said I survived the Killing Curse because of the Curse of Achilles. The Curse of Achilles grounded whoever had it to earth, but not by mortality; instead, the thing that bound you was what helped you survive the path to get the curse itself.

So, Annabeth had pulled me out of the Styx. So she was the bind between me and earth. What if there was more to the Achilles than it seemed?

I rose out of the water. This was an interesting thought. Could my curse and blessing be preventing me from Apparating in some way?

Only one way to find out, I guess.


A/N: I know this chapter was relatively short and I haven't been posting regularly. I won't be updating every week from now on; there is too much going on, and I'm dedicating more time to other things. This story will be completed, but I don't know when or how long it will take.

For now, the updating will be irregular and whenever I have enough time/ideas to write. The next chapter may be put up tomorrow or next month. Here's to the hope it won't stay that way for long. :)

As always, thanks for reading and if you would take the time to leave me a little review I would greatly appreciate it!