Disclaimer: Playing in Rowling's and Riordan's sandbox. They own the toys; we're just having fun!
Previously in Chapter 5:
Silence fell, broken only by the rhythmic roar of the ocean. The setting sun cast long shadows across the beach, painting the scene in shades of orange and purple, but for Harry, the world had narrowed to the face before him. It was a face he shouldn't know, yet he had seen it many times, in fact, he saw it every time he looked at himself in a mirror.
'Dragonstaff and Technomage' - Thoughts
Chapter 6: The Jacksons
Or as Percy called it 'I meet my older twin'
Silence reigned, a heavy cloak descended upon the beach. The ocean's roar seemed to mock the turmoil within Harry, its rhythm mimicking the frantic beat of his heart. Shadows stretched long and lanky, painted by the dying embers of the sun, yet the only face Harry saw was the one before him, held steady as if carved from the twilight itself.
It was a face he shouldn't know, a haunting echo from a forgotten dream. Yet, every curve of the chin, every line etched above the sea-green eyes, mirrored his own with horrifying precision. Yet, there were differences, subtle but visible to the trained eyes.
How his eyes were sea green instead of the emerald hue of Harry's. How he had a more rounded, and yet somehow regal face than Harry's. How his hair was wavy, pulling off the messy look much better than Harry's ever could. There were other differences too. Harry was brought out of his musings when the boy started speaking again.
"So, mister," the boy piped up, his voice laced with childish curiosity, "you just gonna stare all day or are you gonna offer a guy a name? I'm Percy, by the way. Percy Jackson. No middle names, too cool for those."
Harry blinked, the haze of his fear starting to dissipate. He was right. This wasn't him from the past. This was just a kid, a kid with his hair holding sunshine and a mischievous glint in his eyes. A kid who, if anything, reminded him of himself in his more confident moments.
"Harry," he croaked, his voice still rough from the shock. "Harry Potter."
"Harry," Percy repeated, testing the name like a new toy. "Cool name. You from around here, Harry?"
The woman's voice, sharp as a breaking wave, pierced through the haze of Harry's shock. "Percy!" it echoed, carrying across the sand with a hint of frantic concern.
The boy, Percy, froze, a fleeting shadow crossing his sun-kissed face. He glanced back at Harry, a silent apology in his sea-green eyes, before turning towards the sound. In that instant, Harry had a glimpse of the boy beneath the mischievous facade, a boy clinging to a sliver of fear.
"Oops, gotta go!" Percy shouted back, his voice strained. He took off at a sprint, his lanky limbs propelling him across the damp sand, leaving Harry alone with the approaching wave of maternal worry.
The woman emerged from the dunes, her hair, the color of sun-bleached kelp, whipping in the salty breeze. Her sparkling blue eyes were fixed on Harry with a scrutiny that sent a prickle of apprehension down his spine. She wasn't just worried, she was wary, like a lioness guarding her cub.
"Percy, how many times do I have to tell you to not run off like that?" her voice was firm, tinged with a familiar exasperation.
"Sorry, Mom," Percy mumbled, kicking at the sand awkwardly while returning. "But this guy, he, uh..."
The hyperactive energy drained from him, replaced by a hesitant shrug. He looked back at Harry, a silent plea for help in bridging the gap. Harry understood. This wasn't just some random stranger on the beach, this was a possible ally, a connection to a life he thought forever lost.
Taking a deep breath, he offered a smile, hoping it didn't seem too forced. "Hi, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you. Percy and I were just… uh… discussing the best way to build a kraken out of sandcastles."
Sally chuckled, the sound light and disarming. "Well, Percy," she teased, her eyes dancing, "I hope you were taking notes. This gentleman seems like a kraken-building expert."
The tension from before evaporated, replaced by a warm lightheartedness. Harry saw Percy relax, the playful glint returning to his eyes. This was the boy he'd connected with, the one who reminded him of laughter and sunshine, not suspicion and fear.
"He says he's not from around here," Percy piped up, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "But I think he's hiding something interesting. Maybe he's a pirate captain in disguise, come ashore to bury treasure!"
Sally raised an eyebrow, amusement twinkling in her eyes. "A pirate captain, huh? And what kind of treasure would a pirate bury on a beach like this?"
"Treasure?" Harry echoed, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of it all. "Well, let's see…" He glanced around, pretending to scan the sand with squinted eyes. "Perhaps a map to a hidden island, overflowing with mangoes and talking parrots. Or maybe…" He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "a chest full of mermaids' tears, guaranteed to grant eternal youth and a smile that could charm the ocean itself."
Percy's eyes widened, his ADHD flaring to life. "Mermaids' tears? Can we dig for them? Do they sparkle?"
Sally laughed, the sound like sunbeams dancing on the water. "See, Harry? You're a natural with kids. Percy's been obsessed with mermaids lately, convinced one lives in the cove down by the pier."
Harry glanced at Percy, seeing a spark of the same mischievous twinkle in his own eyes. "A very wise obsession, young sir. Mermaids know all the secrets of the sea, including where to find the most glittering treasures." He ruffled Percy's hair, the gesture surprisingly natural, as if his hands remembered this kind of touch.
Sally watched them, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "You know," she said, her voice soft, "Percy's never taken to strangers… not like this."
The compliment caught Harry off guard. He wasn't used to people seeing past his scars, past the shadow of his past. "Well," he stammered, "perhaps we just share a… certain appreciation for sandcastles and mythical creatures."
Sally's gaze lingered on him, tracing the lines on his face as if searching for an invisible map. "Maybe," she murmured, "or maybe there's something… familiar about you. Do you have family around here, Harry?"
A cold prickle ran down Harry's spine. The question was innocent enough, but the way she looked at him, the way her eyes seemed to see through layers of disguise, sent a tremor of fear through him. Could she...?
He forced a smile, hoping it didn't falter. "No, not as far as I know. Just passing through, enjoying the salty air and the company of a very energetic young pirate."
Percy, bless his obliviousness, chimed in, "Pirate captain, Harry! Don't forget the captain part."
Sally chuckled, shaking her head with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Alright, Captain Harry. Well, the sun's setting, and this young pirate needs his dinner. How about you join us, Harry? We're having seafood stew, Percy's favorite."
The invitation hung in the air, a lifeline thrown across a churning sea of fear. It was just a simple meal, a casual offer, but for Harry, it felt like a turning point. A chance to step out of the shadows, to be more than just the Boy-Who-Lived, to simply be… Harry.
Hesitantly, he met Sally's gaze, her blue eyes still searching, yet harboring no malice. Perhaps, just perhaps, in this small seaside town, he could find a haven, not just from his past, but from the isolation it had woven around him.
"I… I'd love to," he finally choked out, a smile blossoming on his lips, genuine and warm for the first time in years.
The golden hues of sunset clung to the sky as Harry followed Sally and Percy towards their quaint beach house. The salty air carried the aroma of simmering stew, a beacon of warmth inviting him further. Yet, as Percy scurried ahead, Sally lingered. Her touch on his arm was brief, yet the weight of her gaze felt profound.
"Percy can be… enthusiastic," she said, her voice low, carrying the murmur of the ocean. "He doesn't meet many strangers he clicks with like that."
A flicker of unease played across Harry's face. "Just, uh, a shared appreciation for pirates, I suppose."
Sally's smile was gentle, but her eyes still held a searching glint. "Pirates, hm? And you, Captain Harry," she paused, scrutinizing him, "don't seem like much of a sailor."
Her words hung heavy in the air, pulling back the curtain on his carefully constructed facade. Harry swallowed, the warmth of the stew suddenly turning bitter in his throat.
"Just passing through," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "Looking for a place to anchor down"
"There's always a reason," Sally countered, her voice soft but firm. "Tell me, Captain, where are you sailing from? What winds brought you to our little cove?"
Harry faltered. Lies danced on his tongue, ready to take flight, but something in Sally's eyes, the vulnerability beneath the strength, stopped him. The words caught in his throat, choked by the ghosts of his past.
"My… past," he managed, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "It's not… something I like to talk about."
Sally sighed, a deep, understanding sigh. "Perhaps not," she said, "but sometimes, the past has a way of whispering in the shadows. Especially when it looks you in the face, like it did just now."
Her words sent a jolt through Harry. He stared at her, his heart hammering against his ribs. Could she…? Did she…?
Sally's lips softened in a knowing smile. "You do have… familiar eyes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "A certain shade of green that reminds me of… someone."
The someone hung unspoken, an unspoken echo of a truth he wasn't ready to face. He opened his mouth to deny, to deflect, but Sally placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.
"Not now," she said, her voice firm yet reassuring. "Tonight, you're our guest. Percy needs this, this chance to connect. But we will talk soon."
The warmth of the stew still lingered in Harry's belly, a pleasant contrast to the churning anxiety in his gut. Sally's final words, "We will talk soon," echoed in his mind, each syllable a hammer blow against the fragile walls he'd built around his past.
Leaving Percy soundly asleep with a stomach full of blue cookies, Sally led Harry back to the beach. The moon had climbed high, bathing the sand in a silvery glow, turning the crashing waves into liquid diamonds. It was a scene of exquisite peace, yet for Harry, it felt like a prelude to a storm.
They settled on a weathered driftwood log, the ocean's rhythmic roar filling the silence. Sally's gaze locked with his, unwavering, the moonlight revealing the lines etched around her eyes, lines that spoke of resilience and a past whispered by the sea.
She spoke, her voice a slow, rhythmic thing like the tide itself, "So, Captain Harry," she began, "what brings a son of Poseidon to my son?"
A tremor ran through Harry, a shiver not from the night chill but from the weight of her words. "Poseidon?" he echoed, the name tasting foreign on his tongue. "Madam… Sally," he corrected, his voice raspy like wind through dry leaves, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
But her eyes, deep pools of sapphires, held him captive. He saw no accusation there, no suspicion, only a quiet knowing. "You could not have missed the familiarity. Percy does take some features from me, but he looks more and more like his dad every passing day".
"I have honestly never heard of this Poseidon guy you're talking about, Sally"
"A curious coincidence, then," Sally mused, her voice as soft as the sigh of the tide but carrying the weight of centuries. "This uncanny echo you have with my Percy. Like reflections in a tide pool, your eyes mirroring the same sun-kissed green, your hair whispering the same secrets as the restless seas."
His heart thundered against his ribs, a trapped bird desperate for escape. Could she see through the carefully constructed facade, the layers of borrowed identities he'd used to escape the confines of the world that had locked him down? He felt exposed, raw, a shipwreck laid bare on the sand.
He stole a glance at her, expecting a flicker of disgust, a confirmation of his worst fears. But instead, he met eyes brimming with empathy, with a mother's fierce compassion that transcended the boundaries of his perceived otherness.
"Why did you invite me to your home, then?" he whispered, the question tearing at his throat, a ragged plea for understanding. "Someone you barely know, I could be a serial killer, or worse."
A fragile smile bloomed on Sally's lips, a beacon of warmth in the cold night, her eyes meeting his with unwavering faith, "Call it a mother's intuition, Harry. You needed a moment of calm, a haven from whatever storm chases you."
"And this", she continued, pointing to the cabin, "This isn't home, Harry," she said, her voice a gentle hand soothing the storm within him. "Just a borrowed haven, a yearly pilgrimage to where I met Percy's father. A place where Percy can come away and be himself, without having to meet the expectations and the bullying of the world."
The fragility of Sally's smile mirrored the moonlight's shimmer on the waves. Her trust, a lifeline thrown across the churning sea of his past, stirred something deep within Harry. "He has kind eyes, Sally," he said, offering his own small beacon of warmth. "Like the sea in summer."
His words seemed to spark a flicker of warmth in her own gaze. "He does, doesn't he?" she sighed. "But even the gentlest seas can harbor dangerous currents, and Percy..." She paused, her brow furrowing. "He carries a burden heavier than any sandcastle he's ever built."
"I understand," Harry blurted out, the words catching him by surprise. He hadn't meant to speak, but her words resonated with a truth that echoed his own unspoken pain.
Sally's eyes widened, surprise tinged with curiosity. "You do?" she asked, her voice soft. "How?"
And so, Harry found himself pouring out his story, painting a picture of a life shadowed by darkness, of whispered prophecies and burdens heavier than any wand. He spoke of loss, of loneliness, of a world that had branded him and left him forever adrift.
He omitted the magic, of course, that was a secret he could not risk revealing. But the essence of his pain, the loneliness, the fear of never finding a place where he truly belonged, that he poured out like a tide long damned.
Sally listened, her silence a sanctuary, her presence a lighthouse cutting through the fog of his despair. Her occasional nod, a gentle squeeze of his arm, spoke volumes, a validation of his pain that he hadn't dared to hope for.
When he finished, his voice raspy and his throat dry, the moon hung high in the sky, a silent witness to his confession. The only sound was the rhythmic sigh of the ocean, a song of sorrow and solace in equal measure.
Sally didn't speak immediately. She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting the moonlight but filled with something deeper, an understanding that pierced through his carefully constructed walls.
"You're not alone, Harry," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm. "And I believe leaving was the correct decision. Better be alive and scorned, than dead and remembered. Your mum and dad would have been proud of you, proud of the challenges that you have overcome, proud that you still carry that inherent goodness in you, despite everything that has happened."
You really think so?" Harry echoed, his voice barely a whisper in the vastness of the night. Sally's words, filled with unwavering faith and fierce maternal love, were a lifeline thrown across the stormy sea of his doubts.
Seeing the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, Sally reached out, her touch gentle as the moonlight on the water. "I know so, Harry," she said, her voice firm yet tender. "You carry a strength within you, forged in the fires of adversity. A strength that would make your parents proud, I have no doubt."
His breath hitched in his throat. The mention of his parents, a wound perpetually raw, tugged at his heartstrings. He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on their sacrifice, on the choice he'd made that had torn him from the only home he'd ever known.
"They wouldn't understand," he mumbled, the words scraping against his soul. "Not the darkness I carry, the choices I've made."
Sally's grip tightened, her eyes locking onto his with a gaze that saw through his self-deprecating facade. "The path you walk is yours, Harry, and yours alone to judge. But in my eyes, you are no monster. You are a survivor, a fighter who chose freedom over destiny, life over sacrifice."
Her words, imbued with an unflinching belief in his humanity, shattered a piece of the dam he'd built around his heart. A tear, long held at bay, escaped, trailing a luminous path down his cheek.
"I would gladly lay down my life," Sally continued, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper, "if it meant that my Percy might survive. You surviving, and you living are the best gifts that you can give to your parents, Harry."
For the first time in years, Harry felt a glimmer of something other than loneliness and fear. He felt seen, not for the burden he carried, but for the resilience he embodied, the flicker of goodness that refused to be extinguished.
As the moon dipped towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of rose and gold, Harry realized that this haven, carved from memories and sea salt, was offering him more than just a night's respite. It was offering him a chance, a whisper of redemption, a possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could find his own shore, a place where he wasn't just surviving, but truly belonging.
The week that followed unfolded like a dream, tinged with the salty tang of sea air and the warmth of newfound companionship. Percy, with his sun-kissed smile and boundless energy, was a whirlwind of questions and laughter. He peppered Harry with stories of ordinary life – school, friends, his beloved goldfish, Bubbles – while listening with wide-eyed wonder to Harry's tales of distant lands and daring escapes.
Their days were a tapestry woven from the azure threads of the beach, the weathered wood of the cabin, and the cozy familiarity of Sally's car as they explored nearby towns and quaint ice-cream parlors. In the mornings, they built sandcastles that surrendered to the waves with playful groans, Percy squealing with delight as Harry taught him the secret of sandcastle resilience – hidden moats and strategic reinforcements. The afternoons were spent digging for seashells, marveling at the hidden beauty clinging to the shore, and listening to Sally's stories of her younger days, tales spun with the golden warmth of shared memories.
Evenings, bathed in the warm glow of the rising moon, found them nestled around a crackling bonfire on the beach, roasting marshmallows and exchanging riddles. Harry, seated against a driftwood log, felt a warmth bloom in his chest, a sensation so foreign he almost recoiled. But it wasn't a burning anxiety, like he usually felt, but a gentle glow, a flicker of peace he hadn't known existed.
Yet, beneath the surface of ease, a current of uncertainty tugged at Harry. Every wave crashing against the shore seemed to whisper of hidden depths, each seagull's cry an echo of unanswered questions. Who was he in this world, where myths seemed to walk the earth and the ocean held secrets beyond any map? What echoes of his past did he carry, waiting to be unleashed?
He sought answers in stolen moments. His gaze lingered on Sally's hand as she brushed Percy's hair, searching for a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He caught them on Percy once, too, during a particularly animated storytelling session, a fleeting look of wonder that mirrored his own internal storm.
But Sally simply smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Percy just shrugged, his attention already snagged by the antics of a firefly. The answers, if any, remained submerged in the vast, blue unknown, teasing him with just the surface of possibilities.
As the last day of their visit dawned, a poignant bittersweetness hung in the air. The beach, usually welcoming, seemed to echo with the impending goodbyes. Harry stood silently on the shore, watching Sally and Percy pack the car, his heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions.
Percy, sensing his melancholy, bounded over, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist in a surprisingly strong hug. "See you next year, Captain Harry!" he chirped, his voice muffled against Harry's shirt.
Sally placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her gaze holding a silent understanding. "Remember, Harry," she said, her voice soft as the morning breeze, "you're not alone. The sea may crash, but its tide will always bring us back together."
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange and gold, mirroring the turmoil in Harry's heart. Saying goodbye to Sally and Percy felt like tearing apart a fragile tapestry woven from laughter, sandcastles, and whispered secrets. The thought of them returning to the city, to the shadow of Gabe Ugliano, twisted his gut with an unfamiliar protectiveness.
He couldn't let them go back alone. Not after this week, not after Sally's unwavering kindness and Percy's infectious laughter had chipped away at the walls he'd built around his soul. A flicker of the "good person" Sally believed him to be ignited within him, demanding action.
"I..." he started, his voice rough with unshed emotions. "Can I come with you? Back to the city?"
Sally's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. "Are you sure, Harry? "
A humorless laugh escaped him. "I don't know, Sally. This just feels...right."
Percy, bouncing on the balls of his feet, cheered in approval. "Yay! Captain Harry's coming with us!"
And so, they piled into the Camaro, the scent of saltwater and suntan lotion clinging to the worn leather seats. As they navigated the city streets, the vibrant glow of the setting sun gave way to the flickering neon signs and grimy underbelly of a metropolis indifferent to their quiet joy.
They pulled into Sally's cramped apartment building, and a familiar dread coiled in Harry's stomach. He could smell him before he saw him – the stench of stale beer and simmering anger that heralded Gabe's presence. And there he was, sprawled on the couch, a half-eaten pizza crust dangling from his greasy fingers.
Gabe's eyes narrowed at the sight of Harry, his face twisting into a sneer. "Well, well, look who the cat dragged in. The fancy friend got bored of his beach shack already?"
Percy cowered behind Sally, eyes wide with fear. Harry felt a wave of icy rage crash over him, cold and potent. He wouldn't let this monster terrorize them, not anymore.
He squared his shoulders, meeting Gabe's gaze with newfound defiance. "Gabe," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, "I think it's time we had a little talk."
Gabe snorted, amusement dancing in his eyes. "And what makes you think I owe you a conversation, boy?"
In that moment, Harry felt something shift within him, a surge of power he hadn't dared to access since...since the darkness before. He focused on the churning anger in his gut, on the image of a crashing wave, his wand finding his way to his hand.
The air crackled with energy. Magic swirled around Gabe's feet, freezing into icy chains that bound him to the couch. His face contorted into a mask of terror, eyes bulging as he struggled against the invisible bonds.
"What is this sorcery?" he shrieked, voice thick with panic.
Harry met his gaze, a cold fire burning in his eyes. "Just a reminder, Gabe," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "that Percy and Sally are under my protection. You do not deserve to have these people in your life, you blithering coward!"
Sally and Percy gaped at him, speechless. Harry, too, stared at his trembling hands, a mix of shock and something like grim satisfaction coiling in his stomach.
"What was that? You have powers?" Sally asked, trying to put herself between Harry and Percy.
Sally's voice cut through the charged air, snapping Harry back to reality. He saw her concern etched on her face, her body poised protectively in front of Percy. Shame washed over him, tinged with a bitter echo of the Dursleys' rejection. But this was different. Sally cared for them, and believed in him.
Hesitantly, he met her eyes, his voice laced with the vulnerability he'd kept buried for so long. "Sally," he started, "I... I didn't mean to scare you. It's just…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I have abilities. Things I can do that aren't… normal."
Percy, wide-eyed with a curious gleam, shuffled closer to Harry. "Like magic?" he breathed, the word sparking light in his eyes.
Harry smiled faintly, a warmth blooming in his chest. "Something like that," he admitted.
He glanced at Gabe, still frozen in his icy shackles, then back at Sally. This time, he wouldn't hold back. He would tell them the truth, even if it meant risking their acceptance.
"I wasn't always on the run," he began, his voice gaining strength as he unwound the tangled threads of his past. He spoke of his life before the darkness, of a hidden world where magic hummed beneath the surface, of the prophecy that had marked him, the boy-who-lived. He spoke of the night his parents fell, sacrificed to protect him from a power so dark it chilled his very soul.
He told them of his escape, of years spent alone, haunted by shadows, learning to survive by any means necessary. He spoke of the guilt that clawed at him, the fear that whispered rejection, the loneliness that threatened to consume him.
But then, his voice softened, he spoke of their arrival, of Percy's sun-kissed laughter, of Sally's unwavering faith. He spoke of the flicker of hope that had ignited within him, the dawning realization that he wasn't alone, that maybe, just maybe, he deserved a life beyond the shadows.
"Percy," he said, his gaze locked on the boy's wide eyes, "you remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who looked at the world with the same wonder, the same innocence. I would never do anything to harm you, little brother. You and Sally… you're both under my protection, now and always."
Sally's initial shock melted into understanding as Harry poured out his heart. Her eyes, filled with empathy, held none of the fear he'd braced himself for. Instead, a quiet strength bloomed within her, echoing the storm he'd just unleashed.
"Harry," she whispered, stepping forward and placing a hand on his cheek, "you are no monster. You're a survivor, a fighter, a protector. And yes, perhaps a bit of a magician." A smile twinkled at the corner of her lips.
Relief flooded Harry, warm and welcome. Sally's acceptance felt like a lifeline thrown across the vast ocean of his loneliness. In that moment, the walls he'd built around his heart cracked, letting in a glimmer of hope he hadn't dared to dream of.
"With this… magic," he started, hesitant but hopeful, "I could protect Percy… both of you. You wouldn't have to…" he gestured towards Gabe, still shivering in his icy bonds.
But Sally shook her head firmly. "We appreciate it, Harry," she said, her voice warm, "but this... our situation, it's more than meets the eye. It's not your burden to bear."
Intrigued and concerned, Harry pressed further. What secrets were they hiding, secrets that outweighed even the threat of Gabe? Hesitantly, Sally began to weave a tale spun from moonlight and whispered warnings, a tale of demigods and monsters, of gods and prophecies.
She spoke of the day a stormy-haired man with sea-green eyes washed onto her doorstep in the same cabin on Montauk, a man that she had always claimed was lost at sea. Of how fate had chosen her, a mortal woman, to raise the son of Poseidon, the god of the seas. She spoke of Percy's hidden powers, the whispers of the ocean guiding him, the monsters that lurked in the shadows, waiting to prey upon him.
She explained their life on the run, always shifting homes, always a step ahead of danger. Her eyes welled with unshed tears as she spoke of Percy's innocence, his longing for normalcy, a childhood stolen by forces beyond their control. Then she gestured towards Gabe, her face hardening with resolve.
"He... he's just one cog in a much larger machine," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "His smell drowns out Percy's demigod scent. This was the only way to protect him from the monsters."
The weight of her words settled heavily on Harry. Percy, this bright, playful child, was a demigod, a target. And Sally, his protector, living every day on a knife's edge. A surge of protectiveness rose within him, fiercer than the magic coursing through his veins.
"But that's why I'm here," he insisted, his voice determined. "My magic…"
"Harry," Sally interrupted, placing a hand on his arm, her gaze holding his firmly. "Percy's world… it's different. Your magic, your world… they might not mix. There are lines, boundaries, and sometimes, the best way to protect someone is to let them go."
The weight of Sally's revelation hung heavy in the air, casting shadows on Harry's determined face. He understood her worries, the fear simmering behind her acceptance. But in his veins, magic thrummed, a counterpoint to her anxieties.
"Sally," he said, his voice firm, "you say my magic and Percy's world may not mix. But haven't I just shown you otherwise? I protected him from Gabe, and I can do more. My spells, my knowledge... they could provide you with shields, with answers."
He saw Sally hesitate, her brow furrowed in thought. He pressed on, each word fueled by the newfound purpose bubbling within him. "Think of your travels, constantly having to move. Wouldn't a haven, a place shielded by spells and wards, offer Percy some normalcy? A chance to just be a boy, without the fear of monsters?"
He conjured a miniature beach on the coffee table, complete with swirling sand and miniature waves lapping at a palm tree. Percy gasped, his eyes wide with wonder, while Sally's lips softened into a hint of a smile.
"My powers wouldn't endanger him," Harry continued, the beach dissolving into wisps of light. "I wouldn't bring monsters to your doorstep. Instead, I'd be your silent guardian, a second line of defense against those who would hurt Percy."
He met Sally's gaze, his green eyes mirroring the determination hardening in his features. "So tell me, Sally," he said, his voice a low rumble, "wouldn't a home, a protector who understands both yours and Percy's worlds, be the greatest gift you could offer your son?"
Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and a flicker of hope. Sally sighed, the weight of years seeming to press down on her shoulders. Her eyes, filled with a thousand unspoken worries, searched his face.
"You won't give up, would you?" she asked finally, a weary yet amused smile playing on her lips.
Harry grinned, a familiar spark back in his eyes. "Never," he said, his voice echoing with unspoken promises. "Percy and you... you're under my protection, now and always."
And in that moment, under the pale moon that bathed the room in ethereal light, a silent pact was forged. A promise whispered on the salty breeze, a shield woven from magic and unwavering determination. The tide had turned, and Harry, the boy who lived, had found his new purpose – to be the anchor in their storm, the guardian whispering protection amidst the crashing waves. The journey ahead would be fraught with danger, monsters, and secrets yet to be unveiled. But in this small city apartment, a family had found each other, their destinies intertwined by the whispers of the sea and the unwavering will of a boy who refused to let go. The waves whispered of challenges, but they also carried the promise of a shore – a haven where magic and demigods could coexist, where family stood strong against the rising tide. And Harry, with his newfound purpose and magic blazing in his heart, was ready to face them all.
AN: That was a difficult chapter to write. The conversations needed to be deep and profound, without being imposing or twisting the characters. I love Sally as the quintessential mom, and the idea of Percy, Harry and Sally forming a weird but amazing family situation.
Till next time
Dragonstaff and Technomage