Two Wrongs Equals A Right

Author: Amethyst Raindrops 16

Disclaimer: Percy Jackson and Harry Potter are not mine.

Chapter Nine:

Revealing a Darkness

POV: Percy Jackson

I am unfortunately proficient in the art of breaking things.

Lamps, tables, china cabinets, doors, cabins, national monuments – it does not matter the size or scale, I've managed to wreck damage on them all. Part of my damages can be excused and brushed away as a side effect of being a demigod (it's hard to battle a mechanical bull indoors with a sword without knocking over a Precious Moments® figurine or five), although some just comes with being me. My mother is a saint for putting up with the shards and stains, but I think that our apartment might be the only one still child-proofed in our building.

Like I said: professional object ruiner and house breaker could go on my resume. But until now, I can't ever say that I've managed to trash a wand shop.

Well, now I can.

This one wasn't entirely my fault though, something that everyone and their mother had reassured me of when the fifteenth wand singed the countertop and disintegrated in my disappointed fingers (again).

I could feel my face burn red, not from embarrassment (okay, partly from embarrassment), but more out of shame. I couldn't understand why one didn't just work!

From what I could read from the faces of the wizards and witches, nobody had ever took so long to find their wand. Of course I would be special, and I found being special usually just caused more strife than stardom.

"Never you mind, I've got some more that might work…"

Ollivander attempted a cheery face, as I brushed the remnants of the now non-existent wand into his cupped hands. I was grateful for his optimism, especially since I was sure I had just rendered hundreds of dollars (or galleons) worth of merchandise for him.

Actually, the more wands I tried, the more enthralled and excited the wizened man became. Well, if he wanted a challenge, then at least I was giving him one. If nothing else, I could walk away from this experience knowing that I made some old man's day. Yay.

I hissed slightly under my breath as George grabbed my arm, pressing his thumb down (purposefully?) on a burn mark courtesy of Wand #6.

"The wand didn't like me," I muttered, as if the pile of ashes and wrecked shop wasn't enough evidence of that fact.

George gave me a raised eyebrow expression, and I found myself chuckling despite my down mood.

"Yeah, we guessed that much, mate," Ron interjected, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe Mum can heal it," Ginny suggested, already moving to ask.

I waved her off, more out of fear that somebody would get too close of a look at my battle scars (that I normally wouldn't give two shakes of a rat's ass about… if I wasn't trying to seem like your average, non-demigod teenage boy) than out of 'manly pride'.

"It's all good, Ginny. Better wait 'till I actually find a wand that can tolerate me, before you heal me. Thanks anyways."

Harry gave me an unimpressed look, until Hermione elbowed him muttering something about "always doing the same thing with injuries". We could all hear Ollivander banging around in the back room (ie. Labyrinth), and I sighed.

"Ya know, maybe I'm just not cut out to have a magic wand."

I had tried to make my tone sound less like my entire life's goal had not just gone up in flames (literally), but apparently I sounded just as dejected as I felt. Remus offered a kind smile, all warm amber eyes and sympathetic gestures.

"All wizards and witches have a wand, Percy. Perhaps yours is taking more time because of your age."

Hermione jumped on that conclusion eagerly. "That's brilliant, Professor! Yes, Percy, that's why your wand is harder to find. Most wizards and witches get their wand when they are eleven, when their magic is just starting to mature and not yet at their full power. Their wand does not react nearly as strongly to their magic, because they are not at their full potential and power."

Mr. Weasley set a freckled hand on my shoulder.

"A young wizard's wand would mature and grow with them, taming their magic into a usable form. You, however, at sixteen have gone five years longer without taming or using your magic, but that hasn't stopped your magic from growing more powerful as you matured. Now that you are tapping into it's power for the first time, it is untamed and raw. It's only natural that you would have a more violent reaction to the wands that don't match your magical signature than others."

I bought the explanation because it was logical (plus the eager expressions of the group practically begged me to not give up hope), and I knew being disheartened wouldn't help anything.

"Okay, if you say so, sir."

I was prevented from more attempts at convincing me of my magical potential and power, by the sound of Ollivander coming back from the black hole that was his backroom. If I didn't know better, I would have said that a mountain of dust-laden boxes was moving towards us by themselves; the wand-maker was completely obscured behind the pile.

As he moved towards us, he bumped into a shelf and the boxes that had been precariously stacked on it tumbled down with a puff of dust. Instinctually, I moved forward to pick up the boxes for the old man (because I can be polite thank you very much).

It didn't even occur to me that touching a bunch of wands might be potentially dangerous, considering that I just exploded half a room with said wands. Ollivander set his pile of wands down on his counter with a grunt and waved at the air to clear the dust, made visible by the columns of light slanting through the windows of the dimly lit shop.

I gently picked up the box closest to me with both hands, trying to be careful with the no-doubt carefully crafted wand inside, and stood to hand it back to Ollivander. I should have known that my would-be good deed would take a turn for the unexpected and fiery. With outstretched arms, I offered the box with a "Here, you dropped this" and a tentative smile.

Ollivander's eyes widened and a wide smile spread slowly over his face, like he was witnessing the most amazing miracle. I followed his line of sight down to my hands, and a startled "Oh!" escaped my mouth.

The box was melting in my palms, but it wasn't burning me, so I wasn't ready to stop, drop, and roll yet.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked panicked and moved towards me with parental worry. Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood looking at the smoking mass like they expected a giant explosion or something. Well that was reassuring and encouraging.

"Wait!" Ollivander ordered, arms flailing to block the well-meaning couple from reaching me. "The wand is reacting! Interrupting might have dastardly consequences!"

I blocked out the protests of the parents and focused on the wand now visible as the last of the box dripped into oblivion over my fingers. I fully expected the wand to start to melt like Leo touching an icicle… but it didn't.

Instead it started to pulsate, and I could feel the magic – the warm energy that vibrated with untapped might and power – flow around me. Unlike the previous wands that I'd tried, which seemed to reject my core and repulse my demigod-side like forcing the wrong sides of a magnet together, this wand felt like being submerged in the purest water in my father's kingdom.

The wand seemed to glow, or maybe that was just me, and (as cheesy as it seems) I felt something deep within myself almost click, as if a part of myself that I'd never known was missing had fused together, leaving me feeling complete and practically buzzing with unbridled power. I closed my fist around the wand and raised it in front of my face, feeling an adrenaline rush to strong to ignore.

The tip of the wand erupted in silvery blue and green tendrils of magic, swirling in watery hurricanes around me like a comforting shield. Even without being told, I could sense that this was my wand, and the crackling energy forming a fluid hurricane around me was my magic, pure and unrestrained.

In the turquoise water-like magic, I saw figures:

Annabeth kissing me underwater, Jason and Leo fist-bumping tiredly after the battle, Grover finding me for the first time, Chiron congratulating me, Hazel and Frank and Reyna laughing, Piper and Neville competing for cleanest cabin, Coach Hedge proclaiming loudly the merits of bats as weapons, and Nico flashing a rare smile at Will as the son of Apollo pulled the "Doctor's Orders" card on him again.

I smiled, and tried to convince myself that the dampness on my cheeks was because of the water spinning around me. I loved my family, because that is what they were: family. Not because they were technically related to me through their godly side (never mind the fact that gods and goddesses didn't have DNA that would show up in any DNA test of mine), but because of what we'd been through and survive together.

So yeah, I got pretty emotional seeing some of the most amazing memories with my family and not being able to be near them. Sue me, I'm only human (well, half human but that's irrelevant).

I swiped the evidence of my memories from my face and focused on the more present situation: that of my wand and magic.

I didn't know how long the vortex of doom was going to continue but I was getting bored of this pretty quickly. Plus, I knew that if it continued for much longer, Ollivander wouldn't be able to contain the Weasley matriarch from "saving" me from the wand. I knew this must look pretty worrying from their point of view: random explosion of magic devours poor Percy who knows nothing of magic, no doubt doing unimaginable horrors and dangers to his helpless soul.

I didn't know the first thing about controlling this new wizard magic, but I did have some experience manipulating my godly powers to my will so it seemed a reasonable conclusion that they would work somewhat similarly. I concentrated, trying to feel my magic, knowing that if anyone could see my face right now I would look super constipated. Nothing happened except me making a fool out of myself… in front of nobody. I tried again, muttering in a mixture of Greek and English at the magic that I was starting to doubt was even mine at all.

I doubt it was my fruitless attempts to tame "my" magic and more some cosmic joke, but the jets of light emitting from the tip of my wand lessened, and the encircling magic blew away with a mist smelling faintly of the sea.

I sighed shakily, and laughed with exhilaration. I was exhausted from the release of power, and shaking from the post-adrenaline crash. Still clutching the wand with tight reverence in my right hand, I mussed my wind-swept hair so it didn't resemble a mad scientist.

"Wow," I breathed. "Can I keep it?"

I raised my eyes for the first time to the crowd of disheveled witches and wizards in front of me. They all looked kind of shell-shocked, but my query broke the spell (haha). Ollivander cleared his throat, and fluttered his hands with excitement.

"You've found it, dear boy. That's it. That's your wand. I wonder…" He trailed off and moved cautiously towards me.

"May I?" He gestured to the wand, and I shrugged although inside I was not at all pleased to have to give up my newfound wand so soon.

"Sure, knock yourself out," I relented, passing it to him with the caution of a newborn child.

"What is it made of?" Harry asked after a few minutes of the aged wand-maker closely examining the wand.

When it was in my hand and emitting all that craziness, I hadn't really been able to look at the appearance of the wand closely without blinding myself. Now that I could, I was taken aback by the beauty of a stick.

It wasn't like I was unaccustomed to weapons being ornate and beautiful; the camp armory was chalk full of ancient and stunning works of Celestial Bronze weaponry. I was particularly partial to my own weapon of choice, Riptide, whose weight I could feel in my pocket (in pen form, of course). But this was a thing of beauty within itself.

I'd never seen anything like this, and the best part was that it was all mine. I knew I sounded like a five-year-old possessive of his favorite toy dolphin, but honestly I didn't care one bit. This was my magic wand, and it could be made out of horse crap and I wouldn't care.

"Curious… I haven't seen this wand in centuries," Ollivander breathed.

I couldn't tell if he was serious about that length of time, given how old wizards lived, but I wasn't about to ask.

"So, doc, what's the prognosis?" I was in a particularly sassy mood with my excitement and exhaustion.

Ollivander looked up with this strange reverence in his expression.

"14 inches, ebony wood with some strange metal inlay…" Ollivander pointed to a strip of metal that ran up the side of the impressively jet-black wood as he spoke.

"What does that mean?" I asked, feeling like I was missing the significance of the (admittedly powerful-looking and elegant) wood.

"Ebony wood chooses a wizard with an impressive reputation, a wizard who is courageous enough to be themselves."

Neville looked at me with a fond smile. "A non-conformist wand fits your love of authority figures, Perce."

I shot Neville a look, stubbornly refusing the entertain memories of the slew of god/goddess-challenging stand-offs I'd instigated. It wasn't my fault that I was not just about to go with the flow like a brainwashed duckling if "the flow" was inherently unfair and bigoted.

Ollivander continued with Neville's interjection.

"Individualism with ebony, however, may lead to the status of an outsider; only a wizard who holds strong to unyielding beliefs regardless of external pressures possess the strength of character worthy of ebony."

The man shifted the wand in his hands again, closing his eyes in concentration.

"Hm, interesting. It seems as if there are two cores… how rare."

By this time, I'd learned that if I had a question, I need only glance at Hermione to ask for an explanation.

"Wands with dual cores are not only have the potential for extreme power, they are also thought to symbolize in some renditions of olde magick lore the wand master's dual personalities. It was thought that if a person had two equally dominant, yet different, aspects of themselves, that their wand would reflect this…. However, many see this as a sign of a hidden "dark side" and fear it," Hermione trailed off, realizing the insulting turn her explanation had taken.

I kept my face blank except to smile reassuringly to alleviate any tension, silently agreeing. If anyone had two "sides" it would be this guy (me).

"One of the cores is a Pure Coral – thought to be hewn straight from Atlantis in many mythologies – and the other appears to be Thestral tail hair? No, it cannot… but it is. By magic itself, this wand is truly a unique specimen. The only other wand in possession of a Thestral tail hair core is the Elder Wand itself!"

I had zero idea what that was but I could tell it was something important so I made a sound of awe. Truthfully, I was getting a little fidgety with this whole "dissecting-the-make-up-of-Percy's-wand" deal. It seemed that with each reveal, we came a little closer to my godly identity.

"Cool, is that it then?" I urged, bouncing to pass my anxiousness off as excitement.

"All except for this," the aged wandmaker pointed to what looked like ancient Greek writing fashioned out of Aquamarine stone.

"I can tell this stone is Aquamarine, a material associated with heightening the user's courage in dealing with grief and self-healing, but I cannot read these runes. They seem to be in some ancient language, but not latin or that of olde magick… curious."

Okay, yep it was definitely time to make my exit here (WITH my wand and godly secret preserved, thank you very much). For a few more awkward seconds, Ollivander stared at the wand, until Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander, for your services."

This seemed to bring the man back to reality and he focused his glassy eyes on us again.

"How much for my wand, sir?" I asked, gently taking my wand from the man.

Ollivander looked thoughtful, before shaking his head.

"It's been taken care of. Besides, I cannot see such a unique and temperamental wand ever fitting another. That wand is as much yours as the magic within you."

And with that, he walked back and disappeared between the rows of dusty wand boxes. The Weasley matriarch started to usher us out of the shop, and back onto the crowded, cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.

I felt bad about not paying for my wand, especially when it seemed to inspire such awe and possess such power. I resolved to find some way to pay back the man, if only because I hated being indebted to others; from my experiences, giving others something to hold over me during times of conflict (aka: war) never worked in my favor.

Someone started talking again, and another voice joined in, raising to a pleasant lull that my magic-worn and exhausted brain let carry over me. As excited as I still was about magic, I couldn't help the exhaustion from creeping into my bones (and didn't that make me sound like I was eighty years old). I let Fred and George sandwich around me, forming a barrier that broke crowds and steering me to follow the group.

"You alright there, mate?"

I quirked a smile.

"Yeah. I don't know why I'm so tired all the sudden. I feel like I could sleep for hours – I mean, days," I corrected myself, realizing that to someone not suffering from regular nightmares wouldn't find sleeping for hours as luxurious and resting as I did.

"Well, let's see here, Perce…"

"…You had a huge burst of magic…"

"…one large by normal wizard standards, not to mention someone who…"

"…by no fault of their own, mind you…"

"…hasn't used magic ever…."

"…Displays like that, mate…."

"…they take a lot out of you…"

"…but don't worry, young Percy…"

"…you won't always feel this drained."

I gave a slightly drooping thumbs up and let the rest of the day pass with only minimal comments.

After whirlwinds of robe-fittings (does this magic tape measurer have any sense of boundaries?!), textbook and potions purchasing (thank gods for featherlight charms!), and parchment buying (my dyslexia will love such archaic methods of writing), I found myself in some ice cream shop.

Shaking my brain awake from its mental vacation, I twisted to oogle the flavors with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Ice cream and exhaustion forgotten, my senses switched smoothly to survival mode.

Something was off, but I simply stretched nonchalantly so the uber paranoid group I was under the watchful eye of wouldn't notice anything off. I caught a flash of something disappearing around a corner in my peripheral vision.

Monster.

Lady Luck seemed to be on my side, because the adults appeared too happy to finally be sitting down after a long couple hours of herding wild animals, I mean teenagers, around back-to-school shopping to notice. The door to the shop opened and I seized my opportunity, slipping out past a boy with blonde hair who was tugging impatiently at his father's hand towards the counter.

Being inconspicuous would have been 1000x easier if I'd had Annabeth's hat (or just Annabeth in general), but I'd have to manage on my own for this year. Part of me desperately wanted to alert Neville, but I knew he would insist on coming with me instead of staying behind with the (blissfully unaware) others, so I didn't bother sparing a cursory glance backwards.

In all honesty, I didn't give a Hellhound's howl whether they noticed me slipping out the door or not… but I did still have to live with them for the next undetermined amount of time, so I couldn't have them under the impression that I was a flight risk.

My eyes scanned my surroundings as I continued to move with seeming purpose around the street. Partly because I didn't really know where I was going and partly so that I could easily stay hidden with my back protected, I crept around close to storefronts and walls. Briefly, I wondered how I must look: a teenage boy with an odd accent slinking around in the shadows with his hand in his pocket glancing around like he was expected Voldemort to pop out at any minute.

I felt the chills again, and instinctually took off in the direction my senses pointed me towards (and I know how cheesy that sounds believe you me).

How could a monster (assuming that I wasn't hallucinating here) even find me in the magical world? Did the Mist still work here? I'd thought – or rather, assumed – that places with magic would naturally have some evil-repelling, greek-not-so-mythological-monster-shielding barrier or wards… but apparently not if monsters could still find me here. Had this ever happened to Neville?

(I made a mental note to ask him, and then made a mental note to actually accomplish some of the things on my "mental notes").

Maybe it was just my luck, and by luck I mean parentage. As a proud son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods not to brag, I attracted monsters like there was no tomorrow, even more so than normal demigods. Assuming that Neville had never thus far been attacked here, I could only conclude that as a son of Dionysus, his godly blood wasn't strong enough to attract monsters when surrounded by all this magical voodoo. But, of course, mine was.

I shook my head, mentally erasing those thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, and forced myself to concentrate on the problem on hand. Entertaining such thoughts wouldn't help me track this monster, especially when I didn't have any answers to the questions. Gods, I missed Annabeth.

Letting my battle-ready warrior mind take over, I slipped down the alleyway I thought the nameless monster had disappeared down. Withdrawing Riptide, yet keeping it in pen form, I advanced like a predator stalking its prey (I preferred to be thought of as the predator and not the prey, although my rational side was telling me it was likely the other way around from the monster's point of view).

I wasn't sure how the Mist worked around wizards and witches – actually, just around magic in general since the Mist is a sort of magic within itself – so I didn't want to risk having some magical police spot me wandering around slashing at a) nothing or b) a monster with a gleaming sword. Assuming a fighting stance, I faced the dead-end alleyway head on, sure I would find myself eye-to-eye with some impressive monster, who would soon meet their end thanks to my clever strategy in boxing them in.

The alleyway was surprisingly dark (which would help in my quest not to be seen by wizards, but not so much in fighting) and there, in the middle of the litter-scattered ground was a fearsome, a terrible….. ladybug.

I toyed with the Mist a little, just to make sure that it wasn't playing some cruel joke on me by disguising a Chimera as a ladybug, but found the little red and black-spotted bug to be just that: a bug.

This might be a new low.

As the insect flew away, I was suddenly thankful nobody else was here to witness my embarrassment. Maybe I'd misjudged the whole situation; maybe there was no monster. I sighed and scrubbed my hand down my face. Sometimes I couldn't tell if I was going crazy or not, but it was times like this that I was almost certain I was.

My brain tried to reassure me with phrases like 'You've just been on paranoid, high-alert for so long that you've forgotten how to relax' and 'I know its strange after the war, but you know, not everything is out to get you'. It didn't work.

Slipping my pen back into my pocket, I spun on my heel around and was about to stroll with as much normalcy as one can out of an abandoned alleyway, when I felt something slimy and wet drip down on my nose. Then I heard the growls, and didn't have to look up from me feet to the monster looming directly over me to know what it was: Hellhounds.

I knew that I'd been led into a trap, although probably not intentionally considering that Hellhounds had as much Sheepdog herding tendencies as I did. Great, I'd cornered myself, in a fight against (I raised my glanced to count) four Hellhounds.

"Lookin' for me, big guy?" I taunted, Riptide already in my hand gleaming in all its trusty Celestial Bronze might.

The hounds growled and bared their teeth. Then, they leaped forward in a black blur of ferocity and I began. Despite the fact that there were four of them slowly cornering me with less and less space against a brick wall in a dark alleyway, I was by no means the underdog in the situation.

The first dog obviously wasn't the brightest in the bunch, and practically impaled himself on my sword when he charged, exploding with a yowl and a burst of golden dust. Another Hellhound pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. I kicked it in the nose hard, and slashed once with Riptide.

Two down, two to go.

There was one right behind me now, and one right in front of me. I made like I was going to jump, then tucked and rolled at the last minute. Recovering from the impromptu somersault on one knee, I ended the third Hellhound with a stab to it's underbelly.

The last dog, however, had taken this opportunity to, essentially, ram its head into me. I went flying backwards into a brick wall and gasped for breath for a moment as the wind was knocked out of me. The giant monster towered over me, and raised a giant paw to shred me into Percy-flavored bacon (not sold at your local grocery store, guys).

The only weapon I had on me at the moment was the pocket knife Paul had given me a couple months ago with a 'I know its not whatever godly metal you're used to, but I figure every man should own a Swiss Army Knife'. My sword had been knocked to the wayside just out of reach (naturally).

The paw descended towards my head, just as I flipped the mortal weapon open and slashed. Now, I knew it wouldn't do anything at all to the monster, but I hoped it would distract the Hellhound long enough for me to, well, kill it.

My plan worked (see, Annabeth, I'm not hopeless without you) and the hound was momentarily stunned. Figuring I should take my break while I could, I twisted out of the way of the impending claw of doom and grabbed my sword, retracting the pocket knife and stashing it away. I would have to thank Paul the next time I saw him. I bet he never guessed when he gave me the gift that it would save my idiotic butt against a monster straight from the myths.

Not phased for long and actually looking (if possible) more enraged at being tricked, the Hellhound attacked again. I was cornered again, but this time I was standing and with Riptide, so I used the wall to my advantage, kicking off of it and slashing through the monster.

As the golden dust rained down, I scanned the alleyway for any more "friends" that might be hiding and trying to take me by surprise. There were none. Clicking Riptide back into pen-mode and stashing it, I brushed the dust off my clothes and hair.

Nobody had seemed to notice, and with the majority of the fight happening in an empty, brick-lined alleyway, there was zero property damage to contend with. That was a plus. I was relieved, not that I had survived (well, yes that I had survived, but that had never really been in question soo…), but that I hadn't been going insane when I had sensed a monster nearby.

Slumping against the wall, I used the bottom of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my brow, tousled my hair so it didn't stick to the back of my neck, and gulped in deep breathes to settle my adrenaline-filled heart rate. Assured that my pulse was no longer going to jump out of my neck, and having assessed the damages to my appearance (clothes a bit dirty, but nothing torn, and only a few scratches on my arms), I straightened and went to make my way somehow back to the ice cream shop. I got maybe five steps outside the alleyway, before a hand brushing at my shoulder had me turning around defensively.

"You missed a spot," Neville grinned as he swatted dirt and dust from my shoulder.

"You followed me?" I asked, unimpressed.

How had I not noticed that? Or maybe I had, but subconsciously knew that Neville wasn't a threat so had just ignored it in fighter-mode. Neville raised a disbelieving brow at me.

"Dude, you're practically a blinking neon sign the way you attract monsters. When I saw you slip out the door, nicely done by the way," he complimented.

"Thanks, it's a specialty of mine," I returned sarcastically.

"I simply followed you," Nev finished, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I opened my mouth to protest, but was cut off.

"Oh don't you dare say a thing, Perce. You would do the exact same thing, and you know it."

That was true.

"Why didn't you lower your royal self and help me, o stalker? I basically died back there. A little help would have been appreciated!"

Neville again shot me a look that reminded me eerily of Annabeth.

"Basically died? C'mon! If that isn't the largest load of BS. You had them just fine, Mr. I'm-the-son-of-Poseidon-and-battle-gods-and-titans-and-SURVIVE! You needed my help just as much as you needed a pink hair-bow."

I chuckled, imagining myself facing off Hellhounds accessorized by a sparkly, magenta hair ribbon.

"Fair point," I conceded. "So did I give a nice show? Next time you should bring some popcorn," I griped, slightly miffed that he'd just stood and watched while I fought for my life.

Nev elbowed me, and when I looked at him, there wasn't a joking line in his face.

"Don't be like that. You know that I would be the first one to play hero and jump in. If you had actually been in any danger, I would have lowered myself as you called it and fought alongside you."

I hoped my eyes conveyed my seriousness just as Neville's soft brown ones did.

"I know, man. I'm just giving you a hard time. I didn't even know that monsters could find me – us – here!"

I hoped my hysterical tone was offset by my wild hand gesticulations and grinning expression. The son of Dionysus raised his hands in surrender.

"Don't look at me, bro. I'm just as shocked as you are. Which is why, by the way, I stayed outside the fight. I was playing lookout if you know what I mean."

Neville's voice dropped to a whisper as a group of witches passed us, not-so sneakily checking us out. I pretended not to notice their flirtatious looks, and nodded. That made sense.

"The Mist," I voiced once we had moved passed the group.

"Yes, I know that normally, mortals, muggles, whatever you want to call 'em wouldn't see the fight, but I don't know how the Mist affects magical people so I was playing it safe."

Clapping my friend on the back, I said, "Good thinking, man. Keep that up and you'll become a regular Hazel! But really, a little extra Mist manipulation and coverage never hurt anyone."

We paused to let a gaggle of giggling girls pass, and then continued. It was then my stellar directional skills caught up to me.

"Uh, Simba? Where are we going? This isn't the way back to Florida Fountain's Ice Cream Parlour," I brilliantly assessed.

Neville's response was to glance impatiently back at me as if saying 'you're only now just realizing this?' and grabbing my hand to tug me faster through the streets.

"Firstly, it's Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, not Florida Fountain, Pirate, and you wouldn't know how to get back there if it was marked with a red carpet and flashing lights," Neville muttered.

"And secondly, we're going back to Ollivander's."

"Just when I thought I'd escaped the wand shop, you decided to go back!" I muttered, but I saw what Neville was doing.

Now we would have an official reason to have run away from the group other than 'fighting mythological monsters' (which I didn't think would have gone over so well).

"Don't play games, Perseus Zale Jackson. I saw that look on your face when Ollivander refused to let you pay for the wand. I also know how much you hate being in other people's debt. It's not that hard to put two and two together to equal four, man. I figured we could say that you just went back to leave some money in exchange for the wand because you felt guilty just taking it," Neville explained.

"Too bad I got us lost on the way there, which is why it took so long," I finished the thought.

"Yes, such a shame. We really should pay more attention to our surroundings," Neville agreed sadly.

I opened my mouth to continue the banter, then tripped trying to avoid running into someone. Neville stared at me, then dissolved into laughter.

"Oh the irony! And right after I said that thing about paying attention to our surroundings too!"

NOT-blushing, I shoved the practically crying with laughter male.

"Yes haha lets all laugh at Percy. And what have I told you about my full name? You make me feel like I'm in trouble, Neville Damon Longbottom!" I attempted to save-face.

Neville glared. "Oh so you throw my full name back at me too, then?"

I shrugged. "It's a good name. Suits you."

"Seriously?" Neville's voice rose an octave higher. "The name 'Longbottom' suits me? We need to work on your compliments. That was a low blow, Jackson."

I smacked my palm to my forehead. "No, you absolute idiot. Your middle name! You know, the Greek one? The one that means 'to tame' and 'loyal friend'? Ringing any bells?" I said.

"Oh." Neville colored slightly. "Thanks, Perce. For the record, I think Zale suits you too."

My voice turned high-and-mighty and I held up one finger trying to sound professorial. "Zale: meaning power of the sea."

I paused.

"Gods! Could I get any more Greek in my names? How dumb were people not to guess my godly parent with a middle name meaning power of the sea?!"

Neville chuckled. "I think they were in denial, Pirate."

"Yeah, well its time to get the Hades out of Egypt. They have their own set of godly weirdos that I refuse to mess with anymore." I grumbled.

We were just outside the shop now, and I turned to Neville. "How much does a wand cost? I still don't get how these magical coins compare to the US dollars I'm used to."

"Think of it this way: a Galleon is roughly equivalent to $10. I think most wands are about 7 Galleons, but don't quote me on that," Neville simplified, entering the shop.

We looked around, but Ollivander was no where in sight (which was odd according to Neville). I dug around in the pouch the I'd gotten at Gringotts and fished out (rather clumsily) ten shining, gold Galleons. Neville nodded approvingly, knowing that whatever figure he gave me, I'd surpass. Having not come from much money myself, I'd rather get the price right; since the wandmaker refused to state an exact price, I thought it safe and polite to overpay rather than underpay.

Plunking the coins down on the counter in two neat stacks and fastening the bag shut, I gestured to Neville.

"Lets go. We've been gone a while, and the last thing I want is to see my face on a 'Have you seen this child?' poster again."

We speed-walked through Diagon Alley back to the ice cream place. I sighed in relief. I'd been gone about fifteen minutes, which was enough to be noticeable, but not to induce a search-party.

Neville glanced at me as we entered the shop door with a friendly ring of the bell as if a thought suddenly hit him.

"You good?" he mouthed, concerned eyes searching quickly for any life-endangering injuries.

Like I would be wandering and joking about the street if I had any of those. But I appreciated the thought. I nodded with a thumbs up. The bruises would make for an interesting cover-up lie, but I'm a clumsy child so I was sure I'd come up with something.

As expected the moment we entered the door, we were accosted by our very worried looking group.

"Where were you?"

"You boys should know better than to just run off like that!"

"It's dangerous to be out there alone, you two are lucky."

"Why'd you disappear like that?"

"Yeah, one moment you're there, and the next…"

"…poof! Gone like a ghost."

"We were about to convene a search party!"

"You boys had us worried sick!"

"Percy! Are you alright, mate?"

Amidst the worried exclamations and relieved hugs (mostly from a one Mrs. Molly Weasley), the query over my wellbeing silenced the group of chastising adults faster than any explanation I could give. Immediately, all eyes were focused on me, and faces that only seconds ago held varying expressions of relief, fear, and anger now showed worry and concern.

I fidgeted under the scrutiny, and put on my best innocent face.

"I'm really sorry to have worried you all! I didn't expect to be gone so long… but wow is this place ever big. I kinda… um…" I looked down almost bashfully.

"You what, Percy dear?" prompted Molly.

"I kinda got lost? Thank goodness Neville went after me, or else I would still be wandering around!"

There, that ought to explain the length of our absence, while simultaneously making Neville seem heroic. Neville picked up on my idea and continued, casually slinging an arm around my shoulders and giving me a slight shake.

"This idiot here – with his stupidly big heart and generosity – felt guilty about not paying for his wand. So he thought that it would be a brilliant idea to sneak back and secretly leave some money. It's kind of ironic really, Perce. All that effort to avoid attention for your actions backfired into a huge ordeal."

I grinned like I was embarrassed and rubbed the back of my neck, peaking out from underneath my obsidian-black hair that had fallen into my face. Molly's face softened.

"That was very generous of you, son," Arthur clapped my shoulder approvingly.

"But why didn't you just tell us? We would have been happy to accompany you!" asked Hermione.

"I guess I just wanted to do it quietly, and, no offense, but this caravan isn't exactly quiet per se. Next time I'll just carry a flashing sign declaring my actions; it might be more subtle," I joked.

With the crisis of our locations averted, and a reasonable explanation delivered (and accepted), the adults began gathering packages and ushering us towards the exit. We were finally going back to Grimmauld Place. Dinner was a quiet and quick affair, and soon I found myself trudging up the stairs to the room Neville and I shared, eager for sleep (and praying it didn't bring any demi-god dreams, aka: nightmares).

As Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the twins sighed their goodnights to Neville and I, I heard Fred mutter to George, "He never explained those injuries, though."

Shutting the door and getting comfortable for bed, I mentally sighed. So much for tying up any loose ends of suspicion, I thought. Then I let sleep overcome me, and Morpheus take me, and all my worries, away.


When I first heard that we would be taking a train of all modes of transportation to Hogwarts, I thought Sirius was messing with me.

Wizards and witches (as I've been told) can travel with just a sprinkle of powder through fire, enchant any item to whisk them away to a specified destination, and even transport themselves with a 'pop' anywhere they picture… yet they chose a train to transport their children to school. And just when I thought things were getting logical again, I'm faced with this.

I relaxed back into the decently comfortable seat of the Hogwarts Express train compartment Harry had secured for us. Neville, Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George (the latter two seemed to surprise Ginny with their presence) were now sprawled comfortable in the car now that the hustle and bustle of getting trunks loaded and good-bye's said was over. Hermione and Ron had promised to join us later, then had disappeared claiming "Prefect duties", which I assumed was similar to being Head of your Cabin at Camp.

I felt the train start and heard the last good-byes of parents and siblings called through the walls. I felt a rush of excitement. We were on our way!

I leaned back contently, and studied the people I'd become close friends with despite all reservations over my grandfather (ye old dark lord).

Harry was animatedly talking about something called Quidditch with Ginny. His mossy green eyes were bright and he was flushed with happiness (particularly when Ginny leaned closer and laughed).

Ginny, for her part, looked equally as enthralled with the lively conversation. Her red hair swung around her freckled face as she laughed and appeared to debate something Harry said. Their banter was calming and provided a background noise for me to focus my thoughts, and reminded me of interactions between Piper and Leo.

Neville had opened some book that had scientific drawings of plants that I'd never seen before. At first glance, the text appeared to be written in English (which I could tell from its utter unreadability), but as I focused farther, the words morphed into Ancient Greek. Well that was clever. I would have to get Neville to show me how to do that.

I smirked slightly as I saw Neville's thoughtful gaze on the plants. As a son of Dionysus, plants and gardening came fine to him. He was no child of Demeter, but with his father being the god of wine, fruits on the vine were a specialty. However, I knew the real reason behind my friend's passion with plants: a certain relationship with a one Miss Miranda Gardiner, daughter of Demeter.

I thought it was sweet that Neville would focus on plants greenery, when he couldn't be around his girlfriend. At Camp, the Aphrodite cabin ate up the relationship, even giving it a couple-name, Nevanda. I bet learning about plants gives Nev something to talk about that's right up Miranda's interest.

I wonder if Miranda (or Mira as most called her) knew about wizards and witches and magic…

Fred and George were sprawled over the seat and floor taking full advantage of the space, with twin expressions of mischief on their faces. They spoke quickly to each other, scribbling indecipherable notes on pieces of paper and scrunching up their brows in identical looks of scheming concentration. I wished that Conner and Travis would be able to meet these guys; even though the Stolls weren't twins, they acted exactly like Gred and Forge did.

I closed my eyes and relaxed, taking in the rare occasion of being in the company of other people, and not having any responsibility to contribute to a conversation or fight a monster or strategize for an impending battle or worry about our survival…

I hadn't maintained my peaceful state very long before Ron and Hermione entered the compartment, bickering (what I hoped was) playfully as they got comfortable. Eventually they quieted down, Ron joining Harry and Ginny's conversation and Hermione pulling out a thick tome of a book and immersing herself in it.

A lady popped by with a trolley full of sweets for purchase, and all activities were momentarily forgotten in favor of procuring sweets. I looked up from my chocolate frog several minutes later to find Harry looking at me intently.

"You've been quiet here, Percy. Everything okay?"

I smiled at Harry's concern. From the look on his face, I could tell that he had been through the same oh-my-goodness-magic-is-real-I'm-going-to-Hogwarts-for-real thoughts I was having. Hermione looked up from her book, and her amber eyes studied me closely.

"Sirius said you seemed quieter than usual this morning. Are you worried about how people at Hogwarts are going to react once they realize who your grandfather is?"

Great Poseidon's trident, I hadn't thought about that! I was too busy drowning myself in the problem of concealing my godly powers, while learning magic that I hadn't even thought of the fear and prejudice I would inevitable face. This must have shown on my face, because Harry shot Hermione a look.

"No, I'm good, thanks guys. Just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night because I was so hyped up to see this school you guys keep going on about," I assured, internally contemplating the probability of everyone knowing that I was Voldemort's grandson without me telling them.

Annabeth was better at statistical probabilities than I was (although it wouldn't take much), but I was willing to bet that if people didn't know already, they would by the end of the night. If gossip circulated anywhere near half the speed it did at Camp, my grandfather's identity wouldn't stay a secret for long.

I guess my face looked a tad too miserable because Ron tossed another chocolate frog at my face. I caught it with demigod honed reflexes that raised eyebrows.

"Nice catch, mate. Keep that up, and Harry here will be out of a job as a Seeker!" George commented while Fred whistled lowly.

"You've got no competition from me, Harry. Flying is not my thing!" I assured, grinning ruefully.

From what I'd gleaned from the conversation about Quidditch, it was a sport played on a flying broomstick (what was next, cauldrons and potions?), and although Zeus probably wouldn't kill me (he wouldn't dare incur his brother's wrath at the murder of his only demigod son), lets just say I'm pretty sure that the king of the gods wouldn't be too pleased.

Harry smiled good-naturedly and Ron cuffed him over the back of the head.

"Cheer up, mate," Ron said, smiling at me with a contagious enthusiasm. "Sure, people might be a little cautious around you to start. I mean, lets face it: you are You-Know-Who's grandson! But you're about as related to that guy as I am, when it comes down to who you are. We like you alright, mate."

Fred and George cut in. "What our dear little brother is trying to say, Harry…"

"…is that once they get to know you…"

"…with your sarcastic humor and those big green puppy-dog eyes…"

"…they have no choice, really, but to like you!"

"Plus even if people have their heads…"

"…shoved too far up their arses to look past the fact that…"

"…you are Voldemort's grandson and see the real Percy Jackson…"

"…then that's their loss and our gain…"

"…cause then we wouldn't have to share your precious time with others…"

"….because face it, Perce…"

"…you're one of us now!"

"A regular honorary Weasley little brother!"

"And we look out for our own…"

"…whether you like it or not…"

"…you're stuck with us!" The twins finished together.

Ron, while rolling his eyes, nodded at their sentiment.

"That's exactly what I said!" he muttered under his breath.

Grinning (the twin-speak didn't even phase me anymore after living with them for a week), I threw a chocolate wrapper at them.

"Aw shucks guys!" I said. "You're gonna make me blush! But thanks. Just the idea of going someplace where I know I'm going to be labeled and marked before they even get to know me…" I trailed off, clenching my jaw and biting my lip in frustration.

Neville dog-eared the page in his book and shook his floppy brown-haired head at me.

"If you haven't guessed," Neville said, pointing his thumb in my direction. "Perce, here is a real fan of labels. Especially ones based on rumor and judgment before getting to know him."

"Oh yeah," I countered, sarcasm dripping off every syllable. "What gave me away?"

The mood in the compartment lightened and conversation returned back to the pleasant lull. Soon, somebody would announce that we were getting close to Hogwarts, and it would be a mad dash to pull on robes, straighten ties, and pack up compartments before the train reached the school. But for now, I was content to, literally, enjoy the ride.


"Catching flies, Pirate?"

I hadn't realized that I resembled a frog so closely, but I snapped my gaping mouth shut anyways. I know it was rather cliché of me, but the moment I saw the Hogwarts castle, my mouth dropped open.

I'm used to beautiful things (architecturally, I mean, not just every time I look it the mirror). With my girlfriend as the architect of Olympus after the first war, and being an almost permanent resident of a camp that looks straight out of ancient Athens itself, I am no stranger to gorgeously styled buildings.

However, at Camp and even on Olympus, the structures were almost exclusively Grecian in style. Fitting, I know, considering who we are, and while marble pillars and ornately carved domes are breath-taking, I guess I've become a little desensitized to that kind of architectural beauty because I see it so often.

I think that was why I was so taken with Hogwarts' beauty. While I honestly do think that Olympus is better looking (medieval castles pale in comparison to the home of the gods and goddesses), Hogwarts castle was a thing of beauty.

It looked so regal and sturdy, like it would protect those in it just by the pure will of the stone walls. With the stunning backdrop of the sunset colored sky, splashed with the light of the first stars just daring to twinkle as reflected in the lake at the foot of the castle, Hogwarts looked like magic embodied in a building.

It was huge, for one thing, with turrets, and towers, and wrought-iron gates that stood out proudly against the sky, jutting up bravely like a majestic monument watching over the valley and students below. Every window in every tower, double door, and room was ablaze with warm and welcoming yellow light, beckoning in the travel-weary students.

I could see, truly see, why Harry had described Hogwarts as home when I'd asked. There literally were no words that could ever describe the sight I'm seeing right now, and no dictionary or thesaurus could match the feeling inside at this view. This was something I'd hold onto forever.

"Isn't she something?" A voice at my ear murmured, hushed with reverence.

"Yes, she certainly is," I agreed, not tearing my wide gaze away from the beauty of the school.

I felt two bodies link arms on either side of me and pull me along. Fred and George.

"As much as we'd love you give you and the castle a minute alone…"

"…we've got a ride to catch if we ever want to get to the castle…"

"…and trust us…"

"…that welcoming feast…"

"…is to die for!"

Laughing, I allowed myself to be pulled along to the carriages, which were pulled by the strangest looking horses I'd ever seen. I climbed into the wagon after Neville, followed closely by Fred and George, and studied the beautiful creatures.

If Poseidon and Hades created anything together, it would be this deathly equestrian animal. They tossed their skeletal necks regally, and craned to look at me, as if sensing my stares.

Son of the Sea God! Son of the Sea God!

I tried not to appear shocked at the voices of the animals in my head. They looked—appearance-wise—enough like a horse that I shouldn't really have been shocked, but this was a place where magic ruled so I couldn't be sure.

I reached out to rub their boney necks fondly, whispering, "Hey guys, I'm undercover here so no formalities please."

Louder I said, "What are these creatures?"

Everyone except for Neville looked at me like I'd grown another head.

"What are you talking about, Percy? There is nothing pulling the carts, they pull themselves," Hermione slowly answered, looked left and right to Harry and Ron as if to reassure herself that there was really nothing there.

Carts pull themselves, my foot! See how under-appreciated we are, little prince?

I suppressed a chuckle. Whatever these creatures were, I would have to visit them more in my time at Hogwarts. I had a feeling Blackjack and them would be hilarious to get together.

Neville looked at me sadly.

"They are called Thestrals, Percy. They can only be seen by those who have witnessed Death. Actually, isn't one of the cores in your wand a Thestral tail hair?"

My excitement at the identity of the horses wilted slightly. Of course nobody else in the cart except for Neville and I could see the creatures.

In a way, I supposed this was a good thing. Children and teenagers aren't supposed to be on the front lines of battlefields watching their closet friends die in painful and medieval ways. It also would explain why people were looking at me like I was crazy… you know, if they couldn't see them that is.

"Yes I do, that's right," I replied slightly distracted.

"Thestrals, you said?" Hermione perked up at this new point of information.

I could almost see the cogs in her brain beginning to turn as she processed this new information to override her old belief that the carts pulled themselves. Neville smiled sadly.

"Yes, when I was little, maybe four or five, I saw my Great-Uncle die. Nothing too terrible or gory, I think it was pretty peaceful actually. That's why I can see them," he commented, and my brain started to work double-time to come up with a believable lie as to why I could see them.

It wasn't like I could explain my involvement in mythologically-weighted wars and countless battles off by telling the truth. Neville was clever, actually. I knew for a fact that everything he just told Hermione was true, so that even if he hadn't been a demigod and witnessed the terrible carnage and deaths of the Giant War and Titan War, he would still be able to see them.

The group was tensely silent. Harry looked at me with sad green eyes. Hermione looked down at her lap. Ginny rubbed Neville's arm comfortingly.

"What about you, Percy?" Ron asked softly.

Fred and George each respectively hit and kicked their younger brother at the same time.

"Ronald! Have some tact!" hissed Hermione.

"No guys, its okay. Everyone was wondering, I don't mind. Actually, the death I witnessed wasn't of anyone I knew personally. When I was little, I used to live in a really rough area of New York. There was a lot of gang activity, and one day when I was walking home from school, well, I guess one of the gangs had beat up this guy and left him to die."

Everyone looked fascinated by my story, including the thestrals if the way they perked their ears was any indication.

"What'd you do?" breathed Ginny.

"How old were you?" asked Harry.

"Hm, I was about eight or nine I think. Well I did what anyone would do. I went to the nearest building and called the police. Then I went back outside, because I felt like nobody should be in pain alone, and the guy just kinda died."

I infused as much truth into my lie as I could.

I had grown up in a rough area before Paul was my step-father. I had witnessed a lot of gang activity and violence. I had seen a guy bloody and beaten in alleyways on my way home from school. I had called the police for the guy.

But I hadn't gone back out to hang around and keep the guy comfort. No, the store owner had instead given me a free ice cream, shielded my eyes from the scene, and then walked me home. Nobody in their right minds lets a child hang around a victim of gang violence (or assumed gang violence). That's just dumb.

I flashed a grin. "It was a while ago, guys. Trust me, if I have nightmares, its not about the time I found some random guy dying on my way home from school."

Well shoot me with Apollo's arrows. That made it sound a whole lots worse than it really was. I was about to try and dig myself out of the whole I'd dug (but I probably would have failed knowing me), but the thestrals had pulled us right in front of the castle by now and everyone (looking a little shell-shocked, which was probably my fault) piled out.

"Thanks for the ride. I'll visit you soon," I promised the animals, patting their flanks in thanks.

It was an honor to serve the son of the sea, little prince. You can find us in the Forbidden Forest.

Knowing I probably looked foolish waving goodbye to creatures 99% of the students couldn't see, I waved goodbye anyways. I'd figure out where this 'Forbidden Forest' was later, and why it was named such (it couldn't be that bad, right?).

I followed the rest of the crowd of students through the ginormous (and I mean, ginormous!) doors and I was inside the castle! The stream of bodies carried me through stone-walled hallways to an impressive set of doors that, thrown open, appeared to lead to some sort of dining hall.

"That's the Great Hall," whispered Hermione.

Noted.

As we entered, I immediately noticed the set up (battle-trained, remember?). At the very front of the room, a long table was grandly laden with cutlery, plates, goblets, and pitchers of liquid. A podium was slightly in front of that, and a figure recognizable as Albus Dumbledore himself was standing in front of that.

Seated at the table behind him was a dozen or so adults, many of whom I recognized from my stay at Grimmauld Place. I assumed that was the Head Table where the teachers ate. Perpendicular to this, were four long tables, for the four Houses of Hogwarts I assumed by the colors that adorned the banners and tablecloths of each.

A little ways down from the podium and Dumbledore was a stool upon which my old pal the Sorting Hat sat. He looked a little worse for wear, but I was glad I hadn't completely killed the thing. That would have made me feel really bad.

The sorting hat seemed to look at me, and I half waved. It glared in response, and I humphed. So there might be some hard feelings there. Behind me, I could feel the twins, Ron, Harry and Neville laughing. I moved my elbows out behind me and was satisfied when I heard "oof" in response.

Good. That'll teach them to laugh at my pain.

I took at seat at the Gryffindor table and tried my very hardest to sit patiently while the Sorting Hat sang his song (I almost asked for an encore, but thought better of it at the last minute) and sorted every single first year one by one.

After that ordeal was finally over, and every last bit of my patience was used up, I licked my lips in anticipation of the amazing feast Fred and George had described in agonizing detail to me on the train ride over. Nothing appeared. Dumbledore was talking, but I tuned him out in favor or surveying the students.

Just when I thought that the Headmaster was going to twirl his magic wand and gift his starving public with food, I heard a grating "Hem hem". A squatty woman, dressed in the most unflattering, hideously pink garment, was clicking her way over to Dumbledore with an expression of one who smiled while torturing children and enjoyed the taste of disappointment and tears.

Dumbledore looked shocked, but had enough social graces to pass the mic (so to speak) off the toad-woman. With a simpering voice that made nails on a chalkboard sound like Mozart, the lady began going on and on about Ministry involvement in magical education, and something about changes.

When she finally ended her speech, for which nobody except maybe Hermione (and even she lost interest in the end) was paying attention to, the applause was more because she was done talking and less because of her fabulous speech. I don't think this reached toad-lady, though, because she looked entirely too pleased to have just bored the entire Hogwarts student and teacher population to death.

Finally, food arrived at the table, and I happily dug in; chatter slowly rose to a dull roar as students collectively decided to ignore toad-woman and her message of doom, gloom, and change in favor of catching up with friends over summer adventures and digging in to their Hogwarts' favorites. I filled my plate and ate until I felt like I was going to burst. I felt warm inside, and safe (a feeling that is rare outside of Camp for demigods like me) and I basked in the glow the Great Hall's feasting atmosphere left in me.

Satiated, I was surprised to see that Ron was still going strong, as was many of the others. Patting my food baby, I allowed myself to examine the tables again.

Okay, so yellow and black is Hufflepuff… blue and silver is Ravenclaw… and green and silver is Slytherin. I did a double take in my scanning of the room.

I knew that blonde head of hair, but it couldn't be. He wasn't a wizard, at least I didn't think he was. But then again, until a week ago, I didn't think I was either so that didn't mean anything. Maybe he felt my fixated stare or maybe it was just chance that he looked up when I was staring at him, but the blonde male looked up and I knew. As impossible as it was, and as much in denial as I was, that hair, those chiseled and sharp features, those eyes, it was true.

Thanks for the warning, Neville. Way to be a pal and tell me about the other demigods at Hogwarts. Maybe he just like seeing me suffer. He probably has a betting pool going to see how long it takes me to notice everyone. Stupid son of Dionysus.

My sea green eyes stared, shocked and disbelieving, into the equally as surprised intelligent grey orbs of the blonde at the Slytherin table. He blinked, a couple of times, as if to reassure himself that I was no just an illusion his brain cooked up to tease him, then his eyes widened.

Just like Annabeth, I could see his brain working to figure out how he missed the signs of me being magical in the same way I was doing (I would be that he was being more successful than me, though).

I decided to break the staring contest and smiled at him, raising my hand to wave, but ending up knocking over a glass of what Harry bemoaned as "Pumpkin juice". With a wave of Hermione's wand, the mess was gone, but my Slytherin friend was shaking his head with suppressed laughter.

I saw some of the other members at his table looking at him strangely, but he motioned for me to come over. A voice in my head reminded me that nobody else had visited other tables during the meal and that a new Gryffindor chilling at the Slytherin table (especially with my pedigree) would raise some eyebrows, but I ignored it.

I had some serious questions that I needed answers to.

Rising from the table and attempting not to trip over the velvety fabric of my burgundy and gold lined robes, I made my way over to the Slytherin table, an easy smile on my face. I made sure to keep my gait sure and steady, not betraying my inner turmoil and confusion and fear of rejection.

With confidence, I sat next to the blonde who looked at me like he was still expecting me to change into someone else. I raised my eyebrows.

"Fancy running into you here, Dragon. Come here often?"

I don't know how the entire freaking Great Hall heard my greeting, but suddenly it was dead silent in the room. I guess many people from Gryffindor (new students at that!) didn't waltz up to Draco Malfoy during a feast and flirtatiously greet him like an old friend. Huh.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, especially those at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, who looked ready to jump into battle at a moments notice.

Jeez, calm down. If Draco wanted to maim or seriously injure me, he would have done in at Camp ages ago and vice versa. Draco's regal features split into a carefree smile of honest happiness and child-like excitement, that gave me a brief flash to the boy I knew before the two wars.

"As it happens, I do, Sailor. The real question is: what are you doing here?"

Draco's reply seemed to confuse and diffuse the tension in equal parts. The rival tables no longer looked like they wanted to murder each other, although the Slytherins looked seconds away from demanding an explanation and the Gryffindors kept a hawk-eyed watch on the events unfolding.

I shrugged, knowing that it wouldn't be safe to talk openly here, especially from what I'd been educated about the Slytherin table so far, but answering the best I could. I cocked my head as if thinking, waving my hand as if brushing off a pesky fly.

"Change in plans. You know how it goes, Dragon. So here I am."

Draco looked nothing but amused, though his eyes promised a long conversation later (one I was totally on board with). The son of Athena raised one blonde eyebrow delicately.

"You should have written! Shame you got stuck with the Gryffindors, though."

I sighed, noting the change in tone, and playing along for appearances amidst the Slytherins. I knew Draco so well, as he did me, that I could tell when his "mask" was on and the game he was playing. Who was I to mess it up for him?

But I knew that to explain my presence at the Slytherin table in a way that would be acceptable in this crowd and save Draco's reputation for superiority, I would have to reveal a secret many of them probably already knew but hadn't yet associated with me.

"It really is. The story is hilarious actually. The Headmaster had me sorted before the feast, less of a public thing, and I nearly broke the hat! It went full on comatose for a good thirty minutes! Dumbledore asked me what House the Hat had told me, because it never actually yelled out anything, and I figured that the House that would gain the most trust among "that group" would be Gryffindor."

Draco blinked at me for a moment, then started to laugh. "Only you, Perce, would sort yourself!"

I winked. "You know me, Drake."

"I do. You're always breaking the rules."

I scoffed. "Bending, not breaking. Breaking sounds so abrasive, you know?"

I paused to steal a pastry off of Draco's plate. "Anyways, I thought picking Slytherin would be too stereotypical considering my family."

I popped the miniature pastry in my mouth and chewed with an unconcerned expression pasted carefully over what I'm sure Draco noticed as a careful playing of my most closely guarded cards. Draco's eyes looked shocked at the seed I'd just planted, but I reflected only assurances and confidence in my expression. He nodded minutely, then gripped my shoulder tightly.

The other Slytherins at the table looked about ready to burst with questions, and I was sure that if roles were reversed and this happened at the Gryffindor table, they would already be jumping over each other to ask them, but these people seemed more refined. Well, they were Purebloods, so I supposed it was to be expected.

"Stereotypical how?" asked a handsome teenager with striking Mediterranean features that I would tentatively identify as Italian.

I swallowed the dessert and leaned forward as if telling a secret (well I was, actually).

"Its actually a funny story. Barely a week ago, I learn that I am a wizard and that my grandfather is a pretty powerful man in the wizarding world."

"Who?" asked a girl with straight dark hair and hazel eyes.

I straightened my posture proudly and spoke with my most confident, leadership-laden tone, green eyes swirling with power.

"I'm sorry! I haven't even introduced myself! I am Perseus Jackson, and my grandfather in the Dark Lord, Voldemort."


AN: So now that school is out (GUYS I'm going to be a Senior in High School next year ahh!), heres another chapter! I'm really proud of this one, so tell me what you thought! During school I was reading Fahrenheit 451 and learned that the author, Ray Bradbury, wrote the first draft of the novel in nine days. I figured if he could do that, I could update my beloved fanfiction….. so I did. :)

A couple things to clarify:

-Neville's middle name = no middle name was given in the HP books, so I chose "Damon" because it means "loyal friend" and "to tame" in Greek. Look of the story of the Ancient Grecian Damon, guys. Also, I thought it was appropriate because Neville is just such an awesome friend to Percy, and kinda balances everyone out (hence "to tame").

-Percy's middle name = also not given in the PJO books, so again I searched "Greek boy names meaning sea" online and found "Zale" meaning "pride of the sea" so there ya go.

-Draco Malfoy (aka: Dragon) = Greek demigod, son of Athena. More to come on him later.

-Percy's wand (the simplified version) = 14 in. Ebony wood, strip of Celestial Bronze on the outside and carved with Greek (you'll find out later what it says) in Aquamarine stone, dual core of Thestral tail hair and Atlantis coral.

I apologize for the lateness, but thanks for putting up with me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter regardless of the wait!

PLEASE make my day by reviewing! Suggestions are always helpful and enjoyed, as well as helpful and polite critiques (I don't think I can handle flamers, guys, but I haven't gotten any on this story so far because you guys are the literal BEST!).

Love ya'll! Since its (basically) July 4th: HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY, AMERICA AND FELLOW AMERICANS! (and to those who don't live in America, happy random day in July!)

Review if you want more Percy (who DOESN'T want more Percy?)!

-Amethyst Raindrops 16 3