A preface of sorts

Well, hello everybody and welcome to this fanfic!

I am very happy that you're stopping by! Before you give my story a chance, I owe you some explanations to make your experience more enjoyable and to be clear on some fundamental points.

Yes, this is a crossover. However, if you look at the tags, you'll see that Harry Potter comes first and most of the characters are from the HP universe. This is not done by chance. The protagonists are characters from the Harry Potter world, mainly Harry, family, friends and foes. Some characters from the Percy Jaxon universe will of course appear and be important, even be game changers, but this story is 90% Harry Potter and 10% Percy Jaxon. Well, let's not be too tight with the proportions here, but you got the gist. You need to have read Harry Potter. It's not necessary to have read PJO. Details about this universe will be explained in the story, since many of the HP characters don't know about the demigods.

I'd like to have a demigod at Hogwarts. Which one, I'm open to suggestions, but probably not one of the seven, their life is too much set in stone for the changes that would happen if a demigod was also a wizard.

I've read several HP/PJO crossovers but you won't find any of the common tropes here. There's no quest or Ecate blessed business. If a demigod goes to Hogwarts, it's because one parent is a god and the other a wizard or a witch.

Some wizards 'have business' with a few of the gods, true, but they aren't demigods.

About the timeline: I know HP takes place in the 90S and PJO in the 2000S. However, these aren't historical novels and the events that take place in these years don't feature in the books. This means that this story takes place somewhere in time. If there's a book or a song that I want to mention I'll do it without too much forethought.

Harry Potter won't be canon compliant. PJO will play out as it does in the canon books as I am concentrating on the Harry Potter universe. You will see some snapshots from the other side of the ocean, PJ takes place in the USA, but it won't be a main focus in the story.

Harry will be somehow out of character, because he grows up with a father and Lily dies later than in canon; however I'll try my best to make him consistent.

James Potter lives. If you want him to die or to be an horrible dad, then this will not be the story for you.

About Snape: he is not as horrible of a teacher and of a person as you see in canon. I understand the value of that characterization but I don't share it. I am the author and as it is, my views on life and my ideals will influence what I write. His journey, why he switches sides, is different from what happens in canon. If you want bad teachers, you'll get your fair share. I mean, just look at DADA's professors.

I am a professional astrologer. I've been studying this spiritual discipline for years and the astrology you read in this story is authentic, it's what you learn if you go to say IAA, STA and so on. That's what you get if you go to a well-learnt professionals. Astrology will feature in this story and I will make a point of distinguishing between a well-done astrological consultation or divination done Trelawney's style. JKR is quite a fine astrologer herself!

English is not my mother tongue. You're welcome to point out vocabulary or syntax mistakes e. g. make instead of do.

Well, that's all for now. If I feel the need to add something, I'll come back later or add notes in the relevant chapters. I may add some tags as I go on and the story develops.

Legalese:

Harry Potter belongs to JKR; Percy Jaxon belongs to Rick Riordan.

This story ain't for kids. I won't put warnings on each chapter but there is violence, grief, torture, betrayal and other nasty stuff going on.

Enjoy the journey!

Chapter 1

Harry sat in the Hogwarts library enjoying its intellectual silence punctuated by chirping birds, loud barking and happy whistling — Hagrid was out with Fang. The window next to him was open, allowing the warm sun and the outside life to enter and be his company for the late morning.

It was pleasantly warm, for the standards ofMay in Scotland; it was eerily quiet around him. All the students were in class or holed up in their common rooms for the last minute revisions. As may reached its end, so June came nearer and nearer with each passing day, its load of final exams relentlessly approaching. Everyone was in an academic frenzy. Even the Weasley twins, Fred and George, who usually spent their time huddled somewhere planning pranks with their friend Lee Jordan, could be seen with their heads bent on a second year book. It was the proof, if any were needed, that exams took their toll even on the most carefree of the students.

Harry turned a page, the noise of the parchment echoing loudly in the quietness of the henormous room. It stirred madam Pince from her librarian routine. She raised her head, saw who the source of the noise was and quickly got back to her work. Harry was an old acquaintance who had found sanctuary in the library since the time he had arrived at the castle, at age four, traumatized and frightened. There, he had learnt to read and to write, taught by older students and professors who had some time to spare. There was no noise in the library, unless you wanted to be kicked out. It felt reassuring and sheltered from all the bad things that could happen if you were out there, unprotected and alone. It was Harry's sacred place, along with his father's quarters and Hagrid's hut. Nobody that was unwanted came to bother him in any of his shelters. Nothing bad would ever happen when he was there.

Harry loved Hogwarts: its secret passages, its grounds, the lake, its nosy, chattery and moody portraits, its humoral stairs and doors, its grumpy harmours, the Great Hall, the house elves, the kitchens, Hogwarts food, the quidditch pitck and the quidditch games, the four common rooms; he loved them all. It was his home and nothing and nobody would ever violate it.

He had made friends with students from all the houses and was glad he didn't belong to any; but that wouldn't last for much longer, Harry thought sadly. In September, he would start his first year. He wasn't worried or scared. He knew each and every professor. He had already read the first year books and he had attended several first year, and above, classes. No, that wasn't the problem. He wasn't scared or bothered by doing homework and preparing for exams. His fear was being sorted into one of the four houses once and for all. He knew what the sorting hat thoughts were on the matter — he had put it on his head a few times just to pass the time and to experience how it felt to be under the hat's prying eyes. Well, it wasn't anything frightening or challenging. You just sat there, the tattered magical hat on your head and you listened. Sometimes the hat talked to the students; other times, he sorted them immediately, even before it properly landed on their head.

"You would do well in any of the houses," the hat had said, when Harry had put it on. "You are loyal and hard working, you are brave, you are very intelligent and curious but very ambitious as well. I see you want to make a name for yourself, not just be 'the boy who Lived' or James's son. Difficult, very difficult. But there's still time, before I have to decide. But remember, the final choice rests with you, Harry."

These were ominous words for him, who felt too small and too young to make such an important decision that would irremediably shape his school years — he was just a kid, for Merlin's sake! He had witnessed many sorting ceremonies and he had seen how the students got divided after their sorting. The ceremony didn't worry him. Nothing embarrassing had ever happened in all the years he had been a Hogwarts resident. The hat talked in your mind, nobody could ear a word — unless the hat decided to have a laugh out loud, literally. No, the choice itself scared him to death. To him, it felt too final, much like a judge sentencing him to prison for life. How could he decide? How could he know what he wanted? He had friends in all the four houses. He had visited all the four common rooms; he liked all the subjects the heads of house taught; he got along with all the professors, including the grumpy and insufferable professor Snape, who hated his dad's guts — Harry didn't know the details — he wasn't sure he even wanted to, but he knew that it steemed from their school years. If Harry chose Gryffindor he'd lose his Slytherin friends; he didn't have many in that house but he cherished those he had — they were half bloods like him; if he chose Slytherin he'd lose his Gryffindor friends — he had several; with his dad being the Gryffindor head of house, if his son ended up there, it would be very difficult for James not to be accused of favouring Harry at each step, even if it weren't the case. He would put his dad in a very bad position. No, Gryffindor would not work. Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw seemed his best options. Ravenclaws got along with anyone they could have an interesting and stimulating conversation with. Hufflepuffs were naturally friendly, or so that's what they were supposed to be. He guessed they would get along with Gryffindors and maybe with some Ravenclaws but Slytherin was out of the picture — they viewed hufflepuffs as weak and useless. He'd have to find within himself the courage to ask for advice to one of his friends or to an adult, but they were all biased! His dad was a true Gryffindor and he loved his house — although he was making an effort not to boast about it for his son's sake. He knew that Gryffindor wouldn't be the best fit for Harry. His earned merits wouldn't be appreciated, everyone thinking it was just because his father was the head of house.

His godfather, Remus Lupin, professor of history of magic, too was a Gryffindor. He was quieter than his dad, but he loved his former house. He always gave Harry reassuring answers when he asked, worriedly, about his sorting:

"No matter the house you'll be in, I'll be happy for you and I am sure you'll do very well," he said calmly, in an attempt to make Harry feel more confident.

His friends were even worse. They of course openly favoured the house they belonged to, they deserved points for their house pride.

Did he have any friends who knew about Hogwarts but had not attended it?

Thoughts of his future sorting and the four houses had by now fully absorbed Harry's attention. The book he was reading lay open and forgotten on the table — Harry's leafing through had stopped on page 234. There, an image of a centaur with an arrow stuck on his side, his face twisted in pain, occupied most of the parchment. It was a book about mythology, a subject that wasn't taught at Hogwarts but that harry studied on his own. His dad had strong ties with the Greek gods. He didn't really understand the whole story, but James had promised he'd show Harry his memories with Dumbledore's pensieve that upcoming Summer. But still, he had friends at Camp Half Blood in New York and they knew about Hogwarts even if they didn't attend. Well, to whom he could ask? Mr. D? No, that man was grumpier than Snape in a bad day. True, he had helped Harry to recover from the trauma of his mom's murder but he didn't feel confident in approaching the god of whine…

Harry's gaze fell on the opened page of the now abandoned book.

Chiron! I could ask him! He wouldn't give me a straightforward answer, he's not that kind of person, but he'd give me a way to sort this mess out, like, how to understand what I want and how to make the right choice.

"There's no right choice, Harry," the centaur's voice said in his mind. You have to choose what is right for you." Harry sighed with exasperation, maybe not even Chiron could help him. He was too young for such complicated philosophical matters.

His dad worked with the goddess Artemis but she didn't like men at all; she tolerated his dad, harry didn't know why, but he had understood the choice hadn't fallen upon her. It sort of happened — he'd learn it in due time but the fact remained that she was out of the picture. His problem was still unresolved.

Whom to ask for help? If he wanted a wise advice, Dumbledore could do, but he was probably worse than Chiron. That man spoke in riddles; at least the centaur asked you questions! No, no, that wouldn't do. Well, Blaise's dad had studied at Uagadou, but he was dead; his friend Lavender Brown was sure she'd be in Gryffindor and that was that for her. Harry was running out of options. One of his dad's teachers, monsieur Nicolas Flamel, had studied in France at Beauxbatons, but Harry didn't know him that well. Of course the old man — who didn't look old at all — was friendly and kind and his wife seemed even nicer and reminded him of his mom — a lump formed in Harry's throat, but the problem was the same, he didn't know her whatsoever.

He could ask the Weasley twins — they had been sorted into two different houses, but they didn't have any pre-Hogwarts friends. Everyone knew they were inseparable and nobody batted an eye when they visited each other in their common rooms and ate at the same house table. After some initial disappointment, they had even turned the situation to their advantage and had ended up loving their sorting. They looked identical and they loved to exchange their uniforms to get people confused. When points were given or taken, you never really knew who was who that you ought to blame or thank.

Who else could Harry ask to, who else?

He started turning the pages of the book just to pass the time till the bell that signaled the beginning of lunch would ring, he was getting hungry. His hunger brought the image of the Great Hall with his bewitched ceiling and its four tables filled with students and food. Harry could sit where he wanted, either at a house table or with the professors. This would all end for him on the first of September. The prospect made him too sad to keep thinking about it.

He was now on page 302, where an image of the goddess Athena healing an injured howl greeted him.

Of course! How could he have been so thick? Annabeth! He could ask Annabeth! Who better than a daughter of Athena could help him make sense of the mess that his life was about to become? If not her, then who?

"How could've I been so stupid!" He muttered with annoyance. He snapped the book closed, earning a glare from madam Pince — which he serenely ignored. He resolutely got up and confidently strode to the Great Hall. The bell that signalled lunch had just rang and there was food waiting for him. After that, he had a letter to write. He knew how to use an Iris message, but he didn't really like it. It wasn't for free and the longer the conversation was, the more he had to pay — he didn't have many dracmas to start with and if Annabeth was busy she would not pick up his call. A letter was the best option, she loved being visited by howls anyway.

"Hey Harry!" This was Charlie Weasley, one of his friends — he liked all the Weasleys — maybe not Percy; but Bill had taught him to write with a quill and Charlie had introduced him to Hagrid and his scary but fashinating 'monsters'!

"You won't guess what we did today during care of magical creatures!" He said with enthusiasm.

He walked toward the seventh year Gryffindor and greeted him. He'd eat with them, today. He looked at the high table and locked eyes with his father, who looked young as usual — he didn't age — something to do with Artemis and who bore a mischievous smile on his face — it was Friday and he had just taught the twins Harry recalled — and prepared himself to listen to another tale of another crazy lesson at his favourite school.

End notes

How many teasers in this chapter!

I am open to suggestions for the demigod who is also a wizard and goes to Hogwarts.

If my maths is right, Charlie is in his last year the year before Harry starts Hogwarts.