Against All Odds
Chapter 3
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August 18th, 1993
Diagon Alley
Since beginning his studies at Hogwarts, Harry Potter has been exposed to a whirlwind of excitement, danger, and hardship. Depending on the day, week, or month, the excitement might outweigh the danger or the danger might bite him through the arm. Which if he delighted in such activities, might constitute excitement as well.
When he had to stay with his relatives in Surrey, the excitement was left shut in a cupboard beneath the stairs. The danger was relegated to his cousin's fists or his aunt's frying pan. The dirt that he struggled to scrub out of his callused fingers, and the ribs he could count in the mirror were a hardship he'd handled most of his life.
One shouldn't ever relate to a child in a Dickens novel, yet Harry knew his life would've easily meshed with the words on the verbose pages. Orphaned at one, he hadn't heard anything good about his parents until he met Rubeus Hagrid. The Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts had, perhaps unsurprisingly, been the one to ultimately unlock the cupboard door.
He'd been whisked away by the jolly man who held secrets like a sieve did water; his life had taken a roundabout, and he now had fame, magic, and a brilliant owl. Since then, he'd made friends, glued together by the shared trauma of troll snot. He'd seen magical artefacts of great and impossible power, he'd helped a dragon, ran from house elves and giant spiders alike, skewered a basilisk, stabbed a diary (that was more impressive than it sounded), and was on his way towards a school record for detentions and hospital visits.
Harry would be the first to admit that Hogwarts was the home he had always wanted, however, his two weeks stay at the Leaky Cauldron proved to him that blowing up his uncle's sister like a holiday balloon provided the vacation he had always needed.
The whole accidental magic leading to expulsion had been concerning, but suddenly, out of nowhere, there was concern for his well-being. Knowing the way life tended to not gift Harry with lemons without first making sure he had plenty of paper-cuts, he'd accepted the Minister's pardon, and proceeded to enjoy the best two weeks of his life.
The typical day in Harry's "vacation" started with breakfast with Tom, the barkeep, not the psychotic teenage murderer who still held valuable real estate within Harry's nightmares. Next, he fed Hedwig and cleaned her cage. He'd wash up and managed to push past the memories of Quirrel burning to ash from his touch, or the venomous fang that went through the newly grown bones in his arm, and reassured himself that he wasn't anything like Tom, the murder-y one, in this case, and then he had free roam of Diagon Alley.
He'd been astonished to learn that there was more to it than school shopping, but up and down the Alley were a multitude of shops and markets. He'd even grabbed a few order catalogues, so he could owl supplies to Hogwarts during the year. After perusing the alley he'd somehow, he wasn't ever sure how, find himself in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry'd stare at the Firebolt until his breath started to fog up the glass.
It was boggling, how he used to view brooms as cleaning tools, and now he wanted nothing more than to take one out for a spin or two, to feel the rush of the wind through his hair and the chill of the air in his lungs.
After getting lunch, his routine continued with more exploration, usually through usage of his father's invisibility cloak, so he could follow shoppers and people-watch.
He had been very surprised at the number of people who he'd follow up until they went into Knockturn Alley. Later in his stay he'd ask Tom about it, and learned that despite the bad reputation, it is known for having better deals and being cheaper to live in. The barkeep had stared longingly into the distance and muttered, "What I'd do to get that property tax..."and after remembering Harry was there, "Ah, but don' worry about it, lad. The Cauldron'll be here til the Cannons win the Cup."
Over the course of his vacation, his routine trips to Quality Quidditch Supplies had resulted in him guilt-shopping for a cleaning kit, a bristle straightener, and a polish he'd applied to the wood of his Nimbus.
Which after several pricks and squawks for attention, he'd found himself visiting the Magical Menagerie to guiltily purchase improvements for Hedwig's cage.
It was strange, he was carefully using the bristle straightener on the backend of the broom, pining for a broom that he didn't own, while sitting next to an owl perched upon a Remington's Royal Roost (supposed to feel good on the talons, animagus approved, apparently) and the funds he'd taken from Gringotts for school things seemed... diminished. Yet this was the best summer he'd ever had.
With another glance out the window towards the Alley, he thought about the Firebolt again. Knowing another bout of guilt shopping was coming, Hedwig flapped over to the Magical Menagerie order catalogue, and tapped a talon to mark a particularly schnazzy-looking claw ring, charmed to make packages lighter.
Truly, this was the life.
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Towards the start of his ministerially administered vacation, Harry saw Neville and a teen with jet-black hair wandering up and down the Alley together. Harry would've greeted them, except they were too far away, and he hated meeting wizards who would stare at his scar, but if Neville saw him, he'd say they were just too far away.
He wouldn't've thought anything of it, except an hour or two later he saw Neville waiting for his Gran at the Leaky Cauldron, only, Harry's dorm-mate now had a large bandage over his shoulder and... glitter? In his hair?
This time, with no new potential gawkers present, Harry approached Neville and greeted him. The fair-haired teen seemed to be in a particularly good mood despite the glitter and the bandage. Making small talk, Harry mentioned a new plant shop that opened down a block or two from Quality Quidditch Supplies. Seeing Neville perk up even more, he asked if his arm was okay. Neville had nervously joked, "A-at least I still have b-b-bones in it, eh Harry?" His shaky smile and uncertain look in his eyes actually made the attempted rib that much more hysterical.
Harry found himself giving a two-parts-wince-one-part-laugh. Also unpracticed at joshing around, he attempted a small clap on Neville's good arm, "Ha, my advice is never let anyone who has won best smile in Witch Weekly operate on you."
Neville looked very pleased at the camaraderie of the jibes, "I'll have to double check that Percy never won, then." Harry's brow furrowed, "H-he's a new student from the States. He'll be in our year, though. He helped me with the dittany after our own 'Potter-level' of misadventure. But we got Trevor safe and sound in the end." Neville's cheeks coloured in embarrassment as the toad tried to hop away, again. Luckily, Harry's seeker reflexes took over, and toad met a nimble hand in a quick catch.
"He does run away a lot, doesn't he?" Harry asked, ignoring the Potter comment, and handing the warty toad back to Neville.
As Neville agreed and nodded to mollify his embarrassment, he noticed someone over Harry's shoulder, and told him his Gran had arrived. After saying their goodbyes, Harry watched as his dorm mate was verbally berated by the elder wearing a vulture hat before they left in a flash of green flames.
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After that meeting, Harry's day continued in its new regular cycle. He meandered back towards the Firebolt display. His money pouch weighed on his mind with every step. Harry knew that the broom would quite likely wipe his account out.
He'd internally debated the merits of dropping an elective, and, if he could manage it, Potions, to save money. After all, ingredients and textbooks were far from free. He was carrying the one, in his sickle to galleon conversion, when he heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. He glanced up in confusion at the clear skies above. When the thunder stopped, he noticed he was at one of the two locations in Diagon Alley he usually avoided.
Over the doorway were the words "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C." carefully burned into a fine wood. Through its narrow windows he could see Ollivander, a woman, and Neville's friend from earlier. They were having a conversation about... well... he couldn't hear them, but most likely they were discussing wands. The old wizard handed the teen a long pale wand to try. Finding comfort in distance, Harry was quite curious about what a wand choosing looked like from the outside.
Neville's friend was a hand taller than Harry, with dark hair and skin that saw more sun than British summers could ever provide. As the young wizard raised the wand in the air, sparks of electricity crackled from its tip and a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a percussive crash of thunder which shattered the windows of the shop. Harry jumped back at the sonic boom. When the dust settled, the kid, Ollivander, and the woman wore expressions of horror, intrigue, and amusement.
Ollivander waved his own wand to repair the windows and re-stack the wand boxes that flew off the shelf, and the young man sheepishly held out the wand with the air of apology. In his hand was what no longer could pass for a wand, instead, a charred stick with a fragile constitution. The woman was trying to apologize for the damage, but Harry saw the mirth dancing in her eyes.
With a delighted glint in his eye, Ollivander extinguished the last embers burning on the wand and accepted it back, examining the various burn marks eagerly. He pulled out a different wand, this one light brown with a twisted end like a corkscrew. Having destroyed enough of the shop himself, Harry continued watching unconcerned. The boy raised the wand, and all the fixtures went out in the store. When the lights came back on, the wand disintegrated out of his hands. Harry gulped, despite his own tumultuous attempts, he hadn't destroyed a wand, let alone two. His hand absently reached into his pants pocket to make sure his Holly wand hadn't caught wind of that destruction.
The American was looking concerned as the elder wand-maker stared at the pile of dust in his hands. "That's not good." Harry muttered as he witnessed the train wreck before him, "Does he do this to every wizard that goes through his doors?" The glint of excitement in Ollivander's eyes had blossomed into undiluted curiosity. With the intensity and focus of an academic, the wand-maker observed the teen like an unprecedented phenomenon. That expression brought forth memories in Harry, memories he had been trying not to think about all summer.
The phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other.
There are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter.
Unbidden, Harry tasted the cold stale air of the underground chamber. His breath hitched as he remembered sharp double-takes at the mirror in the bathroom at Privet Drive. Seeing, just for a moment, the face of his tormentor, his parent's murderer. The pace of his pounding heart spiked as he didn't see red eyes, but instead, his own green. Unconsciously, his hand tightened on his Holly wand, and he felt a reassuring rinse of magic, the bond that came from being chosen.
He exhaled as the weight slowly alleviated from his chest.
As his heart-rate slowed towards a healthier pace, he took one more glance into the shop and saw Ollivander eagerly taking more measurements with his measuring tape. Harry sighed, he felt bad for Neville's friend, truly. This wasn't a fate he'd wish on anyone but his worst enemies. However, quite frankly, every wizard for himself when dealing with the eccentric wand-maker He whispered a final, "Best of luck," and resumed his noble quest towards Quality Quidditch Supplies.
In the window reflection of the building across from Ollivander's he saw a bright turquoise light, and then every pipe on the block exploded with water.
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Twenty minutes earlier
Percy entered the wand shop with Bri, his duffel-purse-thing full of textbooks, robes, and potions supplies. The bell chimed overhead, as the smell of wood lacquer and leather-bound books caught his attention. An older voice from the back called out that he'd be up in a minute. Percy was momentarily disoriented as the building was much taller than he'd expected. Weaving throughout the store were floor to ceiling shelves each filled with various colored and numbered boxes.
Percy hadn't even noticed the spiral staircase in the center of the room until an old man climbed out of it. "Oh my, Tanya, is that you? Why you haven't aged a day, dear." The old wizard chuckled while approaching the immortal goddess and gave a small bow of his head in formal deference despite the informal greeting.
She wore another bright smile as she waved him off, "None of that nonsense, Gerhardt, it's wonderful to see you again." She pulled him into a familiar hug, and the old man gave her a tender pat on the back.
"Oh my, I haven't heard that name in quite some time. I've gone by Garrick since Victoria passed, dear." He corrected, then turned towards Percy, "Tanya," he began with a mischievous smile, "did you finally have children of your own?"
Britannia gave an involuntary snicker at the thought, "Ha! He's my baby brother." Taking a small breath, she introduced the two, "Percy Jackson, I'd like you to meet Garrick Ollivander, a wand-smith of the highest caliber and the last of the druids. Garrick, I'd like you to meet Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon." Percy gave a small smile and greeted the wizard, once again reminding another person to call him Percy.
Ollivander's brow crinkled as he looked Percy up and down, "Fascinating," he muttered, "Tell me, Perseus Jackson, why are you only now receiving a wand this Summer, instead of two years ago with the rest?" His head cocked slightly, as though he was trying to look at Percy from a different angle.
"Er, I didn't have magic yet." Percy answered bluntly.
Ollivander drew up, offended, "Have Magic? You do not have magic; you are born magic." He emphasized.
Percy gave a shrug, "I was born, me. Went on a quest and… touched something I shouldn't've, and... I got magic." Bri looked positively insulted that he had dumbed down the events of the Summer Solstice to such a simple sentence.
"He took in power and blessings from our father and each uncle, on the Summer Solstice." Bri emphasized and the druid stood mouth agape for a moment before he became giddy with excitement.
"A new type of magical." His eyes looked like Grover's on enchilada day, "I never thought I'd meet a proto-magical. I wonder how this will affect the choosing." With a surprising spring in his step, he pulled out a tape measure and told Percy to stand still.
The tape measure began to wrap around his arms and pull them up or down, like that naked guy painting he'd made fun of Annabeth for reading about.
"Which is your wand-arm?"
"I'm right-handed."
Nodding absently at the demigod's lack of ability to think things through, "Ah, then which is your sword arm?"
Percy blinked, "Oh Hades." Thunder rolled in the distance and Ollivander winced, "I'm going to need to become amphibious."
Bri snorted a laugh, "Ambidextrous dear, you are amphibious."
"Right." Percy said, the wheels turning in his head.
Before Ollivander could ask his next question, Percy ran a hand through his hair messing it up further, and turned to Bri, "Do you know how bad my handwriting is with my right hand? Every time Circe couldn't read my homework, she'd create fiery versions of each letter in the alphabet and force me to dodge them... As a guinea pig!"
Bri failed to stifle her laugh, and Percy muttered a parting shot about the cruelty of the gods.
In the distance, thunder rumbled softly, and the measuring tape continued forcibly gathering measurements of Percy's arms, ears, and the distance between the knuckles on his index finger. As he pulled out a wand from the back, Ollivander resumed speaking, "You are not the first demigod to come through those doors seeking a wand, Mr. Jackson. I would appreciate if you would not bring undue attention from The Silent One or The Witch upon my shop." Britannia finally stopped laughing, and he continued, "Though it has been many years, I have introduced many scions from The Messenger and The Lady of the Crossroads to their wand-partners. There have been others, of course, yet never a Child of the Sea."
Percy, unsure of where this was going, said, "Well I only used a practice wand with Cir- I mean, Ms. C.C." He caught himself.
Ollivander's hands twitched slightly, "I would be most curious to hear her 'process', however, I fear I would lack sufficient trade to do so."
Percy shrugged, "My mother offered her Medusa's head, maybe you have something like that?" He glances around the wand shop, nervously.
Ollivander gave Percy a level stare over his glasses, "Hmmm… Beware, Mr. Jackson, the goddess you speak of is named such, for a reason." He paused and brought forth a white wand with an almost silvery luster, "Regardless, this is an 11 and ¼ inch sycamore wand with a phoenix feather core."
Holding it out in his hand, Percy felt a familiar tug in his gut, and the storm unfurled from within. A pulse of magic traveled from the wand and sent an electrifying thrill up his arm.
With a blink Percy stared across the endless expanse of bright blue sky. All concern of trespassing melted away. The problems from the ground had vanished, the pressures and rage of the sea were far below, instead, he just felt freedom. The moment lasted a mere second, as the potential energy and chaos of his existence held its breath.
When the sparks began to lacerate his senses with ozone, and a fist of bright unyielding light punched him in the gut. His body flipped and fell, the friction of air burned at the edges of his being. He fell past the throne room of Olympus, then he reached the New York City skyline, and all that was left was the asphalt below.
His eyes opened, and the vision was over.
Percy's forehead had broken out in sweat from the terror of free-fall, and the shop reminded him of a Greyhound he'd seen explode months before.
As Ollivander quickly reassembled the shop with his own wand, revealing a well-practiced mastery of the Reparo spell. "How... curious." He muttered several things in a language Percy didn't recognize, but Bri's delicate eyebrow arched in interest, "Perhaps…"
Ollivander grabbed another box, "9 inches of Hazel wood, quite whippy, with dragon heartstring." This wand was a twisted creation which reminded Percy of DNA diagrams he'd seen in science class. Holding it before him, unknowingly in a dueler's salute, a silver tear drop formed on the tip of the wand, and once more he was taken elsewhere.
The dark murky shadows stretched unnaturally in the ruined hall around him. His bones ached and the very air weighed upon his lungs with an unseen burden. Each step proved more difficult than the last, and he saw the inky blackness pool at his feet as he sunk in. The last thing he heard was a smooth voice of unbridled power. You are not welcome in the House of Night.
With a deep breath he saw the darkness rise from the shop, and the wand he held, once pristine in its shape and design, disintegrated into dust floating away in the air. He found himself choked up, and he passed the little bit of ash back to the wand-maker, "I-I'm so sorry."
Ollivander took the dust in his hand with an expression of intrigue and mourning. One hand made a symbol to ward away darkness.
"I'll pay for it—" He paused, as he remembered Bri was paying, and turned towards her, "Umm Bri?"
"Gerhardt, we will pay for any of the damages." She spoke in a no-nonsense tone suddenly, then after a pause. "Apologies, Garrick."
With a chuckle, he said, "Never fear, never fear, Mr. Jackson. We will not give up on your wand yet." His thumb traced a design into the opposite palm repeatedly, and he moved towards another shelf. After reading up and down the boxes, he called out, "Your magic, it was… awakened? On the Summer Solstice, yes?"
Percy affirmed, and Ollivander brought a new box over. "English Oak, collected as the days lengthened. An unyielding sturdy wood, 10 and a half inches. With a core of Unicorn hair. Hopefully able to provide the stability you need."
Holding the wand, Percy let out a small gasp as he felt the magic seep through his whole being, a turquoise light emanated from the wand and an ocean's breeze blew Percy's hair back.
For the third time, he found himself elsewhere. On an island, only, this time his wand was in his left hand. To his confusion, the tide began to recede from the shore, and he walked out, curious as to what was happening.
In the distance he could see a wave approaching. As he realized what he was looking at he sprinted back to the island. The tsunami loomed closer and closer. An unfamiliar feeling of panic sunk in; this was not a monster or a god he could battle with grit and determination—this was a force of nature crashing down on him. Percy held his wand out, and with every ounce of being he felt the tug in his stomach. His wand glowed turquoise, and he pushed, slowing the tsunami down as the waves towered over the island.
With a war cry, he met the wave head on, spinning his wand in front of him and slicing down. After a moment he stared in amazement at the turquoise energy that hit the wave and split it around the island.
Laughing he opened his eyes to a druid, goddess, and a wand shop drenched in water from flooded pipes. He had once again become one with the plumbing.
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Almost two weeks after the pipe-bursting incident found Harry meeting his friends Ron and Hermione at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour. Harry and Ron brought over the small bowls of ice cream, while Hermione anguished over the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet.
BLACK ATTACKS DIAGON ALLEY
By Rita Skeeter
After twelve days of investigation, the Aurors have yet to release any news on the attempted terrorist attack on Diagon Alley. This intrepid reporter must wonder, "What is the Ministry doing to defend us from Sirius Black?"
For those who don't remember, Sirius Black, one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most dangerous lieutenants, broke out of the Ministry-controlled prison at Azkaban earlier this summer. He had previously been put away after exploding a street of muggles and posthumous Order of Merlin recipient, Peter Pettigrew. For details on the manhunt for Black see page 2.
After ten thousand galleons in water damage to various shoppes throughout the Alley, we can't help but wonder what he was trying to achieve. Knowing his record of destroying city streets, is this just another tally to his total? Or is this menace seeking to destabilize every facet of our magical lifestyle?
Was this a continued attempt of crime upon Muggleborns? Reports from St. Mungo's report a Muggleborn was using the facilities at Eunice's Everyday Enchantments, and due to an unfortunate display of accidental magic, they're still waiting to remove the faucet from her left ear.
Flourish & Blotts found itself in a dire situation. Drying charms did not suffice to mend wrinkled pages and smeared ink. Unfortunately, this includes the first batch of the Lockhart Ledgers recently released by Forge N' Steel Publishing. Again, Black has found a way to not only deprive us all of these texts, but he has worked towards preventing a whole generation of Hogwarts students from receiving a proper education. Continued page 5.
With a disheartened sigh, Hermione folded up the paper, and all that could be seen was an image of a wave of water bursting across Diagon Alley, and the maniacal visage of the convict, Sirius Black.
Hermione had a single mint chocolate chip ice cream scoop and began digging out a bite of the frozen delight. The first nibble already turned her forlorn expression into a more neutrally pleased one, then a thought reoccurred within her mind and her smile drooped once more, "The bookstore, he flooded the bookstore, this man is a menace to education. This will set us all behind in the curriculum!"
Next to her, Ron had started in on his own ice cream, a mound of conically shaped chocolate ice cream charmed to erupt strawberry syrup from the centre like a volcano. With his spoon held in front of his mouth, he paused and leaned towards Harry, "Seems like an alright bloke to me."
Hermione cast a glare in Ron's direction, and Harry quickly took a bite of his own confection to hide a grin. Harry had been a victim of the flood personally, and seen much of its aftermath in the days that followed.
At the bookstore he'd witnessed the joy of the manager finally finding the shipment of The Invisible Book of Invisibility as its charm washed off, and the terror that struck everyone's soul when they learned that The Monster Book of Monsters, much like gremlins, shouldn't ever get wet.
He finally swallowed the smile along with the bite of his lemon icebox ice cream, "I already did my shopping before the great flood, you are both welcome to borrow my books until yours arrive."
Hermione slid her glance over to him, as Ron gave him a nod in thanks, "Oh Harry, I appreciate the thought, but I bought my books early so I could study during our trip to France this summer."
Ron threw his hands up, "Then why do you care?"
Eyebrow raised, Hermione sniped at him, "It is the principle of the matter!"
This set off the redhead, and the two exchanged pointed comments about one another. After a couple more minutes of bickering, Harry cut in, "Were you able to get a new wand, Ron?"
The redhead took one last baleful glare at the witch, and then beamed back at Harry, "Check it out, mate!" he pulled out a long thin box, and put on a slight elderly accent, "Fourteen inches, Willow, with precisely one hair of a unicorn's tail, swishy and bendable."
"Excellent!" Harry said, then after a second of thought, "How was your wand choosing?"
Ron's glow faded a little bit, "Eh, that Ollivander is kind of bonkers, ain't he?" he swallowed another bite of his chocolate volcano, "Seemed right offended that I made the wand wait til this Summer. As though I had a say in the matter."
Harry asked, "Did you have any bad reactions with other wands?"
"Not really, Scabbers got scared though. He's looked awful queasy lately, and when I caused a shelf to fly open… poor guy tried to run away." Ron patted the pocket with the rat in it. "Need to take him in to get looked at."
"But did your magic break any wands?" pressed Harry.
Ron looked at him askance, "Merlin, no. I think having the one broken wand to my name was enough."
"What's this all about, Harry?" questioned Hermione, "Is your wand alright?"
Momentarily panicked, Harry pulled his wand out and sighed, content at its condition, "Its fine. I just saw some new student destroy two wands during his wand choosing. It was right before the pipes exploded."
"Really?" — "New student?" Both his friends responded at once, and Harry filled them in on what he'd heard from Neville and seen outside of Ollivander's.
As Hermione thought over Harry's words, Ron said, "An American, huh? I thought they had their own school."
"Other schools? Like Hogwarts?"
Ron nodded as he took another bite of his ice cream, "Sure, there's a dark wizard one on the continent called Durstrange or somethin', and Bill was telling me about some curse breaker he works with who went to school in America."
Hermione chided, "It's called Durmstrang, Ron, and their not dark, they just have a very different curriculum" She paused for another bite, then with excitement, "I met some Beauxbatons students in Magical Paris this Summer, they teach Enchanting and Magical languages!"
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, and Harry took another bite of his ice cream, content to spend time with his friends.
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Though his life changed in many ways: he got magic, moved to Britain, met a sister; Percy found life stayed the same in many others. Since he'd accidentally burst all the pipes in Diagon Alley, Britannia and Ollivander had acted as his alibi once it became clear the damage was… robust. This of course meant that he owed Bri several more quests. With no distressed countrymen nearby, she instead asked him to fetch takeout for her and Hecate every night.
This meant he got to explore London every night.
This meant he got lost in London. Every. Night.
So far, his experience taught him that 3/5 strangers who offered directions were either monsters or muggers. His list of ingredients to research had expanded though. Alongside the three hag claws, he now had the stony eyes of four different gargoyles, the feather of a giant raven, and the limb of a tree which he had thought was attacking him but was merely blowing in the wind.
He'd decided never to mention that last one to Grover.
What had made him so jumpy?
He had a Dream, not to be confused with a dream. This summer he'd had several regarding the lightning bolt quest. Including one of his least favorite where Kronos took control and had a legion of skeletons drape him in robes and laurels that burned his scalp with Chimera poison. Between that and the vision of being swallowed by the pit that he now knew is the Pit, he'd gotten used to the dreams being rather… hostile. And truly, hostile was something Percy could deal with. Be it bullies, monsters, gods, or even titans, he knew how to get back up and press on.
This wasn't hostile. It was almost peaceful, except it clearly wasn't. Something had to be off.
In his Dream, he found himself in a lounge or sitting room of an old manor. The walls were covered in a painfully loud paisley wallpaper that did weird things to his vision. When he stared at the bookshelves for a reprieve, he found that none of the books used the Greek/Latin/English lettering system. Instead, it looked like asterisks and hieroglyphs were etched onto the spines of the books. Though he couldn't understand it, he did notice that the characters didn't swim like normal. 'Maybe it's because it's like little pictures?' He wondered.
A young African American girl, who looked no more than eight, sat cradled in a velvet loveseat, legs propped up over the side of the armrest, and her head hung over the opposite one, humming. Her dark curly hair bobbed back and forth as she rocked her head and kicked her feet to a tune that only she could hear. She was dressed for a picnic complete with brown sandals on her bare feet, a white sundress with dandelions, and a wide-brimmed hat sitting on the table next to her.
The young girl continued humming and her head would tilt and rise with an imaginary pitch. After a small pause, she sang in her falsetto, "Where have all the good men gone, and, where are all the gods?"
She leaned her head back dramatically with a hand over her forehead, like a renaissance painting, "Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed, late at night I toss and I turn, and I dream of what I need."
She threw her hands up while draped over the loveseat, and belted out, "I NEED A HERO!"
Percy couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as she pumped her arms and legs to the rhythm of the 80's electric drum noises that he could almost hear. Suddenly, her head snapped up to his direction, startled at being observed.
A distorted voice appeared next to his left ear. "Hm? Something on your mind, cousin?" Percy felt a chill down his spine as he realized somebody had been in his blind spot. A figure in a cloak of threaded shadow brushed past him, it whispered, "Which part concerns you more, the mountains meeting the heavens, or the wind, chill, and rain?"
The young girl's eyes moved from Percy to the cloaked being, "Mistress," She intoned, her voice carried an elegant quality with a sophistication of somebody much older than Percy, "It is merely a good song. Though, if you must know, I'm more worried about when the lightning splits the sea…" Her eyes traveled back to Percy, and a Cheshire grin spread across her face.
The cloaked figure beside him drew a small intake of air, and let out a whispered, "Indeed." The hood of the figure turned to look at Percy as well, all he could see was darkness underneath the cloak, and the entity hmmm'ed at the demigod. With the spooky cloak version of a pirouette, complete with proper billowing, it approached the bookshelves behind the girl, "You are not ready, demigod." the whisper from the cloak cascaded around him. "Seek out the Tortoise to understand the Wolf." As it's cloaked arms removed a book off the shelf, he noticed the paisley walls start to twist and turn.
The little girl giggled, "Bye Percy! I'll be with you when I can!"
Watching the young girl's fingers wiggle in a toodles motion he had a sense of vertigo along with a hypnic jerk. Startled his hands reached out and gripped the edge of the twin-sized mattress.
With a disgruntled cry, Percy slammed his head onto his pillow. He tried and failed to sleep for the rest of the night, while Bonnie Tyler, tortoises, wolves, and spooky cloaks remained in the forefront of his mind.
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The dream occurred the night after his shopping trip, and the monster attacks became more frequent in the twelve days since. The next gargoyle jumped him on the way to a Pho restaurant that Bri just had to try.
The giant crow swooped out of the Tower of London and screeched something that had he spoke bird he knew would've been quite the insult.
He thought he'd seen the wisps of mysterious cloaks down alleys on his various food pick-up routes, but by the time he got there it was just a tarp blowing off a dumpster.
Inevitably he also found himself searching for stray tortoises.
How did Bri respond when he told her? She laughed at his Dream, suggested he take divination, and offered to take him to the London Zoo to see a tortoise. Given that she couldn't offer that with a straight face, he decided that the goddess also thought it was a silly idea.
Instead, they went to the British Museum, and she took him on a Behind-The-Scenes tour of the Greek and Roman section, which, went way better than the last time an immortal pulled him aside in a museum.
Bri showed him the Rosetta Stone, and the various sculptures from different Greek temples. She showed him the skeleton of a Cyclops that they'd somehow assembled into a mammoth. When he laughed, she said, "Honestly, it is a little embarrassing for us, but it ended up strengthening the Mist as a whole." When he asked why, she answered, "Convince enough mortals that the myth of cyclopes came from ancient people who couldn't assemble a mammoth, and they doubt monster sightings just a little more."
After the museum, she'd shown him Big Ben, and they'd looked at the London Eye from a distance, neither wanting to get that high in the air.
After one last night of him fetching pierogi's for just him and Bri, the next morning brought both of them to King's Cross Station.
"Now, Percy, we've completed your enrollment with the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. Circe wrote as an ICW certified tutor to verify you are prepared for third year. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall asked to let you know that to maintain tradition, of what will be your 'first' year at Hogwarts, you will ride the boats with the first years to the castle." With a small hiccup in her breath, "Don't forget to write or send a message, and… and…" She sniffled a bit, "I'm so glad to have you as a younger brother!" She gave him a big hug.
His breath was cut short as he was enveloped by the young goddess, "Thanks, Bri. I'm happy to have a sister too. Thanks for taking care of me." He squeezed her back.
She handed him the purse with all his school supplies in it, and when he blinked it turned into a trunk that fell on his big toe. After a very manly squeal, that left Britannia snickering, thus ruining the heartfelt goodbye, Percy chose to walk it off in the direction of the train.
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Percy boarded the train and saw groups of teens and kids chatting and greeting each other, and a familiar feeling swept over him. The New Kid. He took a deep breath. He's just the New Kid, again. It was after another deep breath, he pressed on, trunk rolling behind him.
To his surprise, he heard a familiar voice shout out, "Trevor, wait!" and a toad landed on Percy's head. Gingerly, he lifted the amphibian up, and turned towards Neville.
"Whoa, déjà vu." Percy said to the fair-haired Gryffindor. Neville was wearing a light brown sweater and blue jeans. His hair was mildly ruffled as though Trevor had just given him a nuggie before making a break for it.
"Percy! Oh—Trevor, stay still." Neville took the toad and put him back on the table in his compartment.
"Hey Neville, mind if I sit with you?" asked Percy.
"Y-y-yeah! That'd be great!" Neville managed.
"Sweet." Percy lifted his trunk to the rack above the compartment. "So, how've you been since last time?"
"Oh! I haven't told anyone!" answered Neville, "I know how secretive families can be about curses like that."
"Uhhh... Thanks, it's just something I'm not supposed to talk about too much." Percy had forgotten he'd suggested it was a curse. Then he thought about everything that happened this summer, and he realized, maybe, just maybe, curse was the right word for it.
The two thirteen-year-olds chatted in their compartment. It didn't seem long before the door opened forcefully. A short redheaded girl stood there looking at Neville. "Ughhh, Neville, can I sit with you? Ron is being a prick, again. I'm not privy to their private conversation."
Neville looked flabbergasted, "Er h-hi Ginny, you're welcome to sit here too… this is Percy." The red head turned to the other inhabitant of the compartment and her blood raced to her cheeks, having not noticed that Neville wasn't alone.
"Hey there." Percy waved at the pre-teen.
Her eyes averted, "…Hi." In the awkwardness, Percy waited for Neville to offer the redhead a seat, but Neville seemed at an absolute loss at how to talk to her.
Ginny piped up, "Um, I can leave and look for Luna… I guess."
Neville blushed and said, "Wait—Um, did your summer get better? I know you were mad about how your family was treating you."
Ginny's gaze drifted over to Percy before snapping back to Neville, "Er, yes. Thanks for writing me, by the way. Egypt turned out to be a lot of fun, we got to visit the First Nome, and Bill showed us the pyramid he's working on. Percy, my brother that is, almost got locked in a tomb." She said with a smirk sneaking out the corner of her mouth. After a deep breath wiping it away, she continued, "Anyway, I got to ride a magic carpet! You might like that, Neville, seemed more stable than brooms."
Percy watched in amusement as, this time, Neville blushed at the mention of broom riding. The boy stuttered and stammered until he settled on, "That sounds good."
Ginny's fiery red hair made her brown eyes almost look terracotta in color, and she wore a stonewashed denim jacket over a white blouse and a black skirt. Seemingly appeased that she was welcome, she sat down and looked at Percy, "You're not a Gryffindor, are you a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw?"
"I'm new." Percy said with the air of somebody who still doesn't know what those words mean, leaving the redhead staring at him weirdly.
"Are you… American?" Ginny asked.
"Yup." He popped the 'p' for extra emphasis.
"Wicked." She breathed out, "Why aren't you going to American school?"
Percy internally sighed, when he told Bri the excuse he'd given to Neville, she said that would be a good half-truth to fall back on, but to try and avoid too many questions about it. "My sister lives in London, and there were some problems regarding my admission to the American
schools, so… Here I am."
"Well." She began, accepting his story at face value, "I met this American at the dig in Cairo, he said he was from, Canacket or something?"
"Connecticut or Nantucket?" Percy asked.
"The first one."
"Gotcha, that's further north than where I'm from, I live in Manhattan." Percy was surprised at her blank look, "The Big Apple?" Both purebloods started mouthing the term 'apple' with curious expressions. "New York City?" That finally got a slight nod from Neville.
Turning towards Ginny he said, "I think that's where the MACUSA is located." Ginny's mouth made an 'O' shape in understanding. "Is your mom or dad in the government?" Neville asked, curious about his new friend.
Percy let out a snort at the idea, "My mom, I guess she's a college student now, but last year she worked at a candy store. My dad, is…" He almost said lost at sea, but that didn't feel right anymore. "He's not really around too often." Percy said evasively.
As the conversation pressed on, he told them all about Manhattan, and how his mom recently sold an art piece. He even let slip that he helped some with the creative process. As the conversation wore on, Percy felt himself getting antsy in the train seat. His left leg did that uninhibited bouncing motion that his second-grade teacher had given him curb-time for after it shook the crayons right off the table and all over the floor. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk."
Neville had barely said, "On a train?" Before Percy was out the door. He zipped along the corridor of the train, peering out the window at the English countryside, complete with sweeping farmland and small hamlets in the distance. A couple compartments down he saw a frail looking blond boy was talking to two brawny teens having just slammed shut a compartment door. The two brunettes had buzz cuts and carried themselves like children of Ares.
One of the two burly ones said, "Eh, we could'a taken them."
The blond agreed readily, "Weasley's just tall, too poor to put any meat on his bones, and Potter," He spat the name, "Potter's a fool for even associating with him." His nose tipped upward with a haughtiness that gave Percy the desire to punch it.
Instead, Percy did as he'd promised Bri, Hecate, his mom, and even Chiron. They'd all told him, to do his best, keep his head down, and don't skewer mortals, even magical ones. He'd double checked, unless they were somehow a descendant of a Greek god, or a monster, it would pass through them like any other mortal. Only, they'd see it happen, and that's the kind of traumatic event that raised more questions than Percy wanted to answer. Worse yet, if they turned out to be some great great great grandson of Hecate, it'd be real embarrassing to have to tell her why her descendant looked like a shish kebab.
He was three steps away from slipping past the three teenagers, when the middle one, with the freshly-pressed robes and the demeanor of a particularly pretentious peacock, called out with derision to Percy. "Hey! I don't recognize you."
Percy responded blandly, "Okay."
As the black-haired demigod kept moving past the trio, the blond looked absolutely flabbergasted at the unexpected answer. "Wha… Wait. Who are you?" His voice drawled out, already carrying a degree of hostility. The other two shouldered around to block Percy from moving along the corridor.
"I'm just a student, looking for the bathroom." Percy gives a mocking bow as three sets of eyes narrowed at his terminology.
"What year are you?" The blond boy demanded.
"Um." Percy paused in time to avoid saying seventh grade. "Third year. Excuse me." He gave a strained smile while one hand's knuckles twitched and the other brushed a pocket with a pen in it.
When the heavyset boy on the left pushed Percy back to prevent him from passing, he stumbled back letting out a "What are you doing?"
Brutish British boy number two said, "Funny, we're third years too, and we've never seen you before."
"Sounds like you're not very observant." Percy retorted.
Pale and frail pulled out his wand, and Percy immediately tensed, until his words threw him for a loop, "Why would an Australian be going to Hogwarts?"
For a moment the only sound was Percy's laughter.
"Australian?" Percy asked, incredulous.
The wizard's pale visage colored immediately, and he lowered his wand in embarrassment.
Percy followed up with, "Have you ever heard an Australian accent before? Crocodile Dundee? Crocodile Dundee 2? Anything?"
He stared at them in bewilderment at this development. The three bullies stared back like he was the insane one. And off to the right he heard a harsh reprimand, "Crocodile Dundee is a movie about a crocodile hunter in the outback who ends up visiting New York City." A muffled whisper said something unintelligible, "The outback is in Australia, Ron." The feminine voice called out much louder than the other.
Chancing a glance to the side, he saw, peeking through the window of the compartment, three heads looking at him; a black-haired boy with glasses, a curly haired girl, and a redheaded boy.
"Wow. Anyway," Percy, making a decision, looked back at the bullies, ran a hand through his hair, and pulled out his wand, "I'm just looking for the bathroom or loo or whatever," Using the ancient and sacred technique of prepubescent boys everywhere, he spun the wand on his hand like he would a pen, this action immediately struck fear, awe, and envy upon all who witnessed it. "But you've shoved me and kept me from it." He stopped the wand, and it was pointing right at Bully #1 on the left-hand side, who had a small intake of breath, "Now, you've made it clear you don't know anything about America, and I know what you must be thinking," The wand twirled again effortlessly, "'how good could he be with that wand?'" It stopped on Bully #2 on the right, who got visibly nervous, "After all, we're all third years, right?" The wand kicked off spinning again, "Well I have one thing to ask you…" The wand settled on the pale blond boy in the middle, "You feeling lucky? Well, are you, punk?"
The two bookends, who still hadn't taken their own wand out, had taken an unconscious step back at his spinning display, which left the blond on his own facing down Percy's. With a sudden, tsk, he turned away and said, "You're not worth our time, foreigner."
He turned on his heel and his bodyguards followed him down the corridor.
Once they stepped into the next train car, Percy let out the breath he'd been holding. Internally he made a solemn oath to send Bri the very best offerings he could find. The two weeks of dinner and VHS movies had paid off. Wandering the streets of London and fighting off monsters had been worth it for that moment.
A self-satisfied smirk broke across his face, that had been epic. Behind him the door opened to two slack-jawed wizards staring at him with awe, a sleeping man against the window in the back of the compartment, and a frizzy brown-haired witch absolutely cackling at what she just saw.
At the witch's laughter, Percy accidentally dropped his wand and took an involuntary step back.
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Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen Hermione laugh that hard. As he thought it through, he wasn't even sure why she was laughing in the first place. When he turned from the American who'd just threatened Draco Malfoy, and stared at his best friend, she'd made eye contact with him, and then burst out into even more laughter.
Befuddled, Harry turned towards Ron, who was still staring at the American with wide-eyed wonder. It dawned on Harry that, with both of his friends in a catatonic state of one sort or another, he'd have to initiate the conversation.
"Erm, Hullo." He said and then blinked owlishly at the awkwardness of his conversation starter. "I'm Harry, this is Ron, and Hermione. And…" He glanced at his friends again, "That was..."
Ron jumped in, "Bloody brilliant! How'd you do that thing with your wand?"
Hermione tried to stop laughing to reprimand his language, but she caught sight of Harry once more, and continued cackling madly.
The American was still looking at Hermione with some degree of fear and trepidation. He picked up his wand, and introduced himself as "Percy," he followed this quickly with an "is she alright?"
After several attempts to catch her breath, Hermione had a hand on her chest as though she'd started to feel pain from lack of oxygen. "You-you-you Dirty pffffttt Harry'd Draco Malfoy."
Harry felt another owlish blink come over him, as that was a sentence he'd never expected to hear. You dirty Harry'd Draco Malfoy. He stared at Hermione who broke out into more giggles
over the situation.
His jade-coloured eyes stared at her without remorse, as if to say, I hope you choke on oxygen for that statement.
Harry turned to see Percy's grin stretch out a bit to one side, and the American bashfully scratched the back of his head, "Well, he wouldn't let me pass!" After a second's thought, "And he hadn't heard of Crocodile Dundee!" His arms threw up in the air with exasperation. "Who hasn't seen Crocodile Dundee! I mean, I could understand if he hadn't seen the sequel, but the original is timeless!"
The American wore a grey hoody jacket zipped over a turquoise tee and dark scuffed jeans. Harry's eyes widened when he saw the American's necklace. In the center of the beaded leather string was a carved wooden lightning bolt.
He felt an internal spike of anger, Am I famous in the States too? For what, having dead parents?
After a few more quick back-and-forths that Harry missed, Percy stood up and left with an "I gotta get back to my… friends? Friends, yeah." And with a mildly proud expression he said his goodbyes and left the compartment.
Harry realized he'd missed something because Ron was now fumbling in attempt to spin his wand, and Hermione had calmed down and was looking through her Muggle Studies textbook.
It was only after she had an "Ah-Hah" moment regarding how wizards thought of muggle cinema, or rather, 'the muggle photoplay'. She followed that exclamation with a disgruntled sigh at how unaware wizards are about technological change in the muggle world.
By the time the trolley lady came through, the excitement from watching Draco get (Harry shuddered thinking about it) Dirty Harry'd had died down to a low simmer. And by the time the dementor's swarmed the train, Harry no longer cared at all, since there were, well, bigger fish to fry.
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When Percy made it back to the compartment with Neville and Ginny, he was rather content at his Hogwarts experience thus far. He'd made friends, found he could get along with some others, and only had the one confrontation with a bully.
For what was essentially a really long bus ride to boarding school, he'd definitely dealt with way worse problems in the past. At Yancy Prep, he'd only been friends with Grover, and his main enemy, Nancy Bobofit, had a whole friend group who said snide things to back up her lazy insults and subpar peanut butter ketchup sandwich throwing skills.
Even at Camp Half-Blood his only friends had been Grover still, who was stuck on probation from the Council of Cloven Elders, and Luke. Annabeth had been rude at best; it took around five life-or-death situations for them to actually forge something of a friendship. Meanwhile he'd had to deal with a whole cabin of Ares kids then eventually their jerk of a dad too. If all he had to deal with bully-wise at Hogwarts, was this Draco guy and his two backups. This would be a walk in the park for the demigod.
He settled back into his seat and found Neville and Ginny in a conversation about Ginny's trip to Egypt. While still maintaining conversation, Percy determined that train travel made his second-favorite form of transportation after canoeing.
Fast, check. No lightning bolts threatening him, check. Not in a death-taxi barreling through a desert at 120 mph, check. Not stuck in the back of an eighteen-wheeler with abused exotic animals, check. Not flying, checkity check check.
The only way it could beat canoes would be an underwater train. This led him to the obvious question of does Atlantis have a subway system. He didn't see one on Olympus or in the Underworld, although the Underworld had awful traffic, so they could probably use one the most. Maybe he could send an offering to Hades with a small red ball for Cerberus, as a reminder, and a suggestion for the suggestion box about implementing a mass transit system.
The candy-lady came by, bringing his inner monologue to a halt, and Neville took him on a culinary sweet tour of candies he'd never tried. With his mom having worked at a candy store for so long, he thought he'd sampled every candy in the known universe. In hindsight, it made sense that it was just every candy known to mortals... or muggles? This of course made him determined to snoop around Olympus next time he was there, and wasn't in danger via quest or whatever, and search for divine sweets.
As the train trip took its toll on Percy's fidgety self, Ginny and Neville taught him Exploding Snap, and they passed the time joking around and just having fun. It was a few hours into the trip, and Neville was reading a book called A Horticulturist's Almanac. It took Percy five minutes to read the title, and he and Ginny had shrugged and began playing the game of, can you throw the Bertie Bott Bean into the other's mouth mid-conversation.
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy thought he saw a cloak through the window, and he sat straight up to look, causing a jelly-bean to hit him in the forehead. With both Neville and Ginny staring at him, he gave an awkward chuckle and told them he needed to go check something out.
He was out the door before either could get out of their seats to follow.
Percy was running up and down the stretch of the train, looking for the little girl who had told him she'd be with him when she could. If her friend in the creepy cloak was here, then she would be too.
It was three compartments down when he suddenly felt a lurch inside, as the train slowed to a complete stop. When he felt the temperature drop forty degrees, and his breath became visible in front of him, he instinctually grabbed Riptide out of his pocket.
As he checked over his shoulder, he saw them.
Two cloaked figures floated ominously down the frosted corridor, searching for something. Staring at them he felt the cold bleed into him, and he was flooded by memories.
He uncapped Riptide and ran in slashing.
He stood before the Pit in the Underworld. A voice demanded, "Pull me up! PULL ME UP!"
Percy ducked under one of the creature's swipes, and slashed upward, and to his great horror. Riptide phased through the monster as though it was a mortal.
The muted gray figure swooped over him, unfazed, breathing in his darkest memories.
The minotaur holds a golden orb in one hand, inside is Percy's mom. With a flex of his meaty hand the minotaur crushes the golden orb into a myriad of dust. Percy screams in distress.
The next wraith looking-thing tried to grab Percy and bring him into a hold, leaning in for another breath upon him. The other, who'd inhaled that memory, let out a screech and began fighting the other one for dominance. Percy watched in horror as one of the beings ripped into the other, pulling at its cloak until the flaky grey skin of the monster was exposed. As the cloak tore off, it floated down into an ectoplasmic viscera. The aggressor took both hands and pried the jaw of the other one open.
Leaning in for a... kiss? The predatory monster sucked the whole being of the other one into itself. Leaving only one tattered cloak in the hall. The temperature dropped lower, and Percy heard several glass panes crack from the chill.
Percy pulled out his wand, desperately trying to remember a spell that created fire. The cloaked being unhinged its jaw, and let out an unearthly screech as it once more set its sights upon the young demigod.
Its once flaky and gnarled hands, stretched out and he could see the skin was mending itself back together, and out of each finger's tip grew talons of obsidian glass that raked through the foggy chill with a spine-tingling terror.
In front of the dais was Percy's mother, frozen in shimmering golden light, arms outstretched towards him. The sadness in her eyes reverberated through the black marble chamber as Percy reached out, and his hands began to wither to bones. Greek skeletal warriors draped silk robes upon his shoulders, and he felt the burn of Chimera poison drip off the laurels they placed on his head. The voice of Kronos created a discordant tone with Percy's screams, "Hail the conquering hero!"
Blinking the dream memory out of his brain, Percy felt the sting of the talons across his chest, and as the abomination leaned over him, he felt the emptiness of the Pit. Pulling at his very being.
As his eyes closed, he felt a great warmth and a bright light overtake him, and the figure let out a horrifying howl and he felt it pull away to the distance. Blinking, Percy was sure he was seeing things, a glowing white wolf floated above him, and nuzzled up to him, licking the scratch marks on his chest.
He muttered, "Where's the tortoise..?" and then he heard the voices shouting his name from somewhere behind him.
The wolf faded away, and in time a giant deluxe chocolate bar appeared above him. A man's rough voice said, "Here, eat this, it helps. Try and focus on happy memories while you do."
Slowly, Percy managed to chew on the chocolate bar. His hand clutched the tear in his hoody and shirt. No blood appeared, but four black lines stretched over his right breast. The man let Percy finish chewing his of bite chocolate before offering him a hand to stand.
"I'm Professor Lupin, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." He explained, "Let me walk you back to your compartment, your friends were worried." His eyes glanced down at the marks on Percy's chest, and they widened in concern. He kept one hand on his shoulder, steadying Percy.
As they slowly walked forward, he asked, "Why don't you tell me about one of your happiest memories."
Lips blue, and eyes unfocused, Percy thought, taking another bite of the chocolate, and after six more steps, said, "Montauk… M-m-my mom takes me to Montauk Beach. The water is… perfect, even in a storm. The ocean reminds her… W-we get to just watch the waves."
The more he focused on the memory, the warmer he got.
Professor Lupin let him just ramble about the ocean and the beach, and after getting him settled back in his cabin… no, cabin is at camp. Percy glanced around and saw that people heard him, and he tried to give a smile, but the effort was Herculean. Psssh. More like Perseulean. Again, he'd apparently said that out loud.
The scarred professor handed over a stack of chocolate bars, telling Neville to make sure Percy eats them. Percy muttered or possibly demanded, it was hard to tell, "Make 'em blue."
With an eyebrow raised, Lupin changed the color of the chocolate to a rich cobalt blue, and this time Percy managed a grin.
"Alright, I need to check on the other students. Please come find me if he gets worse."
After the professor left the compartment, Neville and Ginny shared a slightly panicked glance, and made sure that Percy ate the chocolate. Neville was a peculiar shade of pale as he saw Percy struggling with holding a conversation or even eating.
As they got closer to Hogwarts, he asked for a glass of water, and Ginny shot up to fetch him one. It was quite the surprise to both Gryffindors when she handed Percy the water, and he just dumped it over his face and shirt.
"Ah!"—"Percy!" Both friends shouted at the demigod, but, to their elation, he was able to wipe the water out of his eyes and smile with a coherent look in his eye. He shook his wet messy hair like a dog, while both Neville and Ginny cringed away.
After a second of taking some deep calming breathes like the guidance counselor always told him, Percy blinked a couple times, "Holy Hades, what was that thing?" His friends seemed a little confused at his curse of choice, and they didn't seem to notice the distant thunder that rolled through the Highlands, but they explained that those were dementors from Azkaban searching for an escaped criminal.
Apparently, Harry, the awkward teen he met earlier, had a bad reaction to the unnatural horrors, and wound up passing out. Percy felt bad for the teen. He seemed nice, and truly, there was no shame in fainting against something as abhorrent as those.
As the last hour of the trip wore on, Percy perked up even more, and eventually he and Neville changed while Ginny waited outside, then vice-versa. With his Hogwarts uniform on, the black scratches weren't visible anymore, and though he still felt… wonky? Percy wasn't about to collapse from pain. If anything, it was more like his emotions were just… muted.
Soon they arrived at Hogsmeade station; Neville and Ginny headed towards some carriages to take them to the castle, and Percy was getting the scenic route over the Black Lake. As he watched his friends head towards the carriages, he found himself on a lovely boat. Being on a boat perked him up. He knew that they were at xyyyzyz, ffydyfdyfy coordinates. He shook his head like the radio had a funny signal. Why would he know the coordinates of the boat? Why would it be trttttytyty, srlllrsl?
He tried to focus on anything else, peeking down into the dark depths below, a tentacle rose out and waved at him.
Greetings, my lord. The voice spoke telepathically to him. Welcome to Hogwarts!
Seemingly, the voice timed it so that he would get his first majestic view of the castle, and it finally hit home how different this was from his previous schools. The gothic architecture stretched up into the night sky, the stars sparkled above and reflected on the water. Percy, along with the first years, all let out a gasp of amazement at the serene beauty.
Percy noticed that the beauty diminished quickly as cloaked figures flew across the sky, leaving a chill in the summer eve. One dementor, whose long black claws shone in the moonlight, hovered right at the edge, and tracked Percy's boat all the way to the shore.
After one final involuntary shiver, he helped the eleven-year-olds get off the boat. He waved back at lake, where he'd seen the tentacle, and he entered Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
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Author's Note
Whew! This chapter was way longer than I initially suspected. There was just so much to fit in, and I really wanted to get it to Hogwarts, since the Percy-in-class is really what people come for in a lot of the crossover fics. This chapter essentially doubled the length of the fic so far, which is pretty exciting from my perspective.
I hope that in this time since the last chapter anyone who celebrates the recent holidays had good ones. At the very least a day off! Anyway, hopefully 2022 stops kicking us while we're down and gives the world a breather for a bit.
Personal news, my partner has evolved to a fiancee! Though we don't think she'll reach her final form until 2023, it has us all aflutter nevertheless.
In regards to the story, I wanted to introduce Harry as a POV here, even though he'd made a partial appearance outside the quidditch store the chapter before. I've read some awesome fics regarding his time in Diagon Alley, and I think that given what we've seen of the Dursley's, Minister Fudge's "limit" on him being in Diagon Alley would probably be the equivalent of being told to not leave Disney World for half a month. I suppose Harry Potter World is a thing now, but, whatever.
I saw a video where someone mentioned a detail of the books that people forget, and it was Diary-Riddle mentioning how Hagrid raised werewolf cubs under his bed, which comforted me a lot as I realized Rowling had no idea what she was doing early on in the series.
One of the biggest challenges has been not mentioning anachronisms for this story that takes place in '93. I really wanted to have the little girl sing "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" by Celine Dion, since it has been playing nonstop in my head for the past few weeks, but it came out in '96, so, meh. When I stumbled upon "Holding Out for a Hero" I was enthralled at how the lyrics seemed to fit perfectly, which was wonderful!
I was also sad when I realized that Percy would need to reference Crocodile Dundee not The Crocodile Hunter, because I cared a lot more about the latter than the former. Alas, it still was a big hit, and totally reasonable for him to have seen.
The dementor immunity to Celestial Bronze was something I debated on for awhile, but after researching the Percy Jackson Wiki and learning that Lycaon is immune to all but silver, I think the dementor's weakness towards the Patronus shouldn't be messed with too much. After all, half the fun of greek myths let alone PJO is seeing how they deal with something that is unkillable: Nemean Lion, Chimera, or the Giants in HoO are all good examples. It's weird to realize how much the myths encouraged creativity.
Lately I've been super-obsessed with the mathematical concept of the Beast Number, which isn't the 666 that you might initially think of, but instead Archimedes' number, and I've sort of decided that it is the closest thing to Eldritch Beings that we've gotten. If you don't know about it, look it up, because it is a wild ride to think about.
The response to this fic has continued to be amazing, and as always feel free to PM or review any questions or comments!
