PERCY
That night, Percy was woken up by a sharp tapping on his window. "Okay, okay," Percy mumbled as he got out of bed. "What?"
He pulled open the curtains to find Rue rapping at the glass with her beak. Blinking, he opened the window to let her in. She stuck out a leg, which had an envelope tied to it. Percy untied it carefully, bringing it inside with Rue.
The owl pecked inside his hand agitatedly. He laughed.
"Let me read it first, you greedy owl," he said, but fetched her an owl treat.
She nibbled on it as he opened the envelope. It was sealed with a fancy-looking red wax seal, like they might have used in medieval times. On the back something was written in emerald green ink:
Perseus Jackson
Room 15
The Leaky Cauldron
Diagon Alley
Percy opened the envelope eagerly. Inside was a letter, addressed to him again.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Jackson,
We are pleased to inform you that your transfer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been accepted. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
"That was fast," Percy remarked, staring at the letter. September 1 — that was only three days from now. Looking through the other items in the envelope, he found a list of school supplies (which were all listed on the package from Hermes anyway), and a ticket for the train he was supposed to take to Hogwarts. Did stations usually have three-quarter platforms? Percy shook his head. The UK ways were strange.
When he looked back up, Rue had flown back through the open window already. He got up to close it and went back to bed, promising himself to figure everything out the next day.
—l—
For the next two days before the start of school, Percy made an unusual effort to study and catch himself up on some more basic magic. He especially enjoyed practicing combat spells — hexes, counter jinxes, deflection spells — because they were sort of like learning new techniques in the training arena. Except a lot safer, and Percy was a lot worse at them. By the time he left for King's Cross station on the last day, he'd only gotten down lumos and reparifors. And they were inconsistent, at best.
Still, he was a demigod, not a magician.
As it turned out, there was no Platform 9 . Percy walked back and forth in between Platforms Nine and Ten awkwardly, half-expecting the Fates to pop out at him and yell, LOL, noob! Of course there's no such thing as a school for witches and wizards. He was five seconds away from giving up when he spotted a smaller boy pushing a trunk with a caged owl towards the platform.
An owl?
As he watched closely, the boy turned confidently to face the brick barrier in between the two platforms. Without a second thought, he pushed his trunk forward and walked straight through the barrier.
Percy pinched himself.
The boy hadn't come out the other side, so the barrier must have been some sort of portal. Steeling himself, Percy dragged his own suitcase in front of the wall and went forward, praying to Hades that his head would be spared.
He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the crushing impact of walking into bricks, but the hit never came. Warily, he opened his eyes again.
Well, he'd made it to Platform 9 .
The platform bustled with activity, tearful mothers and proud fathers hugging and saying last-minute goodbyes to their kids. It was like the elementary school drop-off center all over again. Except there were also older kids around Percy's age, who boarded the waiting black-and-red train without a second glance. Just then, there was a puff of steam, and parents began pushing their children toward the doors.
Percy got on the train quickly, walking down the corridor as he looked for an open seat. There weren't many; kids were crowding in with their friends at a rapid pace. Finally he settled on a compartment with only one person in it, a boy around his age with a pale face and slick white-blond hair.
"Hey," he said, pushing open the glass door, "Could I sit here? Most of the other compartments are full already -"
The boy looked up from where he had been staring out the window, scowling. "Who are you?" he said, ignoring Percy. "Haven't seen an American at Hogwarts."
Percy put up his hands in a gesture of surrender, taken aback. "I'm a transfer student. From -"
"Yeah, whatever," the boy cut him off, looking bored. "Find another compartment. This one's full."
"But you're the only one in here."
He was ignored.
"I won't be any trouble or anything…" he tried again.
"Out," snapped the boy. "I don't want this compartment all clogged up with scum like you."
Rolling his eyes, Percy backed out. He'd had enough experience with jerks at school like this one to know when to engage and when not to.
The next compartment he found was much more pleasant, and the two already there introduced themselves as Luna and Neville.
"Harry's gone to the bathroom quickly," Luna said serenely, flipping her magazine upside down and shaking it. She seemed to think something had fallen out, and she settled back into her seat, satisfied.
Neville caught his eye, shrugging. Don't ask me, his expression seemed to say.
Percy grinned.
"So where are you from, anyway?" Neville asked. "I don't think I've heard your accent much around here."
"I'm a transfer student from America," Percy explained. "Just came here this year. My name's Percy Jackson."
They shook hands. "Are you going to be Sorted, at Hogwarts?"
Percy shrugged. "Probably. What house are you guys in?"
"Gryffindor," Neville said, face splitting into a wide grin. "I hope you're with me or Luna."
Just then, the compartment door opened and another boy stepped in. This one had dark hair and round glasses. He started a little when he saw Percy sitting there.
"Hi," he said, standing up. "Percy Jackson, transfer student from America."
The boy waved a little awkwardly. "Harry. Harry Potter."
When Percy didn't say anything, Harry seemed to be somewhat relieved.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound being Luna flipping the pages of her magazine and Percy fidgeting with his pen. The movement of the train was peaceful somehow, and the landscapes rolled by slowly as he stared out the window. They passed wide hills with grasses that swayed in the wind, a tunnel that changed the scene to only darkness and the occasional blur of colors, coming out on the other side to weak sunlight in a field dotted with little white flowers. Then there were the mountains, high and cold; they were pale lavender-colored, like mist. Some were streaked with white ice.
Soon, Percy felt his eyes closing, the events of the past few days finally catching up with him. His sleep was blessedly dreamless, only fleeting images invading the darkness. When he woke up, he remembered nothing of them, and there were two new people in the compartment.
Unconsciously, he checked himself for drool. Thankfully, there was none; by now, he was ninety-percent sure that Annabeth had made the whole thing up just to embarrass him.
"...And guess who's not doing his prefect duties?" The red-haired boy was complaining loudly. "Malfoy. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."
Harry furrowed his brow. "What did he do when he saw you?"
"The usual." He made a hand gesture that Percy raised his eyebrows at. "Not like him though, is it? I mean — how come he isn't going around bullying the first years?"
Harry only shrugged. "Dunno. That's strange."
Suddenly the other new person, a girl with bushy brown hair, noticed that Percy was awake. She turned to him curiously. "So you're a transfer student from the United States?" She asked, her scrutinizing gaze reminding him of Annabeth.
Percy sat up a little straighter. "Yeah. My name's Percy Jackson."
She nodded at him. "Hermione Granger. That's Ron," she said, motioning towards the one with fiery hair.
The name rang a bell. "Ron… Weasley?"
Ron's eyes went wide. "Blimey. You've heard of us even in America?"
"Oh, don't be conceited, Ron," Hermione told him.
Percy laughed. "No, I just went to your brothers' joke shop in Diagon Alley and one of them mentioned you."
"Oh." Ron slumped back, disappointed. "Yeah, they've got quite the reputation by now."
They sat in silence for a time, but the girl soon asked him another question.
"What's the name of your school, Percy?"
Frantically, he tried to recall the name on the transfer letter. "Uh — Othiryian." He tried the name with a little more confidence. "Yeah, the Othiryian School of Magic. In America."
"Hm," Hermione said, and for a moment Percy thought she had figured something out, but then she nodded. "I might have heard of that in International Schools of Magic. That was quite a fascinating read, by the way, boys," she said, elbowing them, and they yelped indignantly. "Detailed the traditions and cultures of different magic schools around the world. Did you know the cherry wood wand originated in the Mahoutokoro school in Japan?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "That's just lovely, Hermione."
She sent him a dirty look. "It was intriguing."
"D'you think you both could be quiet for a minute now?" Harry said suddenly. He was looking out the compartment door, observing a bit of movement just outside it.
Just then, the compartment door slid open and a panting thirteen-year old girl stepped inside. She flushed when she saw them. "I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and H-Harry Potter," she said, holding out to rolled-up pieces of parchment tied with a purple ribbon.
Harry took his, and Ron shook awake Neville, who had been fast asleep.
"Wha- huh?" he said, snorting awake.
"There's a parchment for you, mate," Ron told him, and he took the scroll sleepily.
"What's this?"
"An invitation," Harry told him.
Percy tried not to listen in —he really did — but he couldn't really help it. They weren't exactly being discreet, especially considering Percy was right there in the train compartment.
"But what does he want me for?" Neville asked worriedly as he read his paper.
"No idea," Harry said. "Listen. Let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might catch a look at Malfoy, see what he's up to on the way."
He pulled out a cloak made of weird silvery material that shimmered irregularly. Where it covered his hand, it made it disappear. Something about it made Percy start.
"You have an invisible cloak?" he asked.
Harry frowned. "I forgot you were here, sorry. I didn't mean to let you know."
"Harry, that's rude," Hermione scolded him.
"Well, anyway, the corridor's much too crowded to use the cloak," Ron pointed out. "You just go with Neville, there'll be other opportunities to spy on Malfoy during the school year."
"All right," said Harry reluctantly, stuffing the cloak back in his bag. "C'mon, Neville, let's go see what Slughorn wants."
They left the compartment, and Percy stared after them, frowning slightly. There was definitely something important about the fact they had a cloak that could turn them invisible; he just couldn't seem to remember what.
Maybe this wasn't unusual at all, and many wizards could turn invisible. Then again, by Harry's reaction, he hadn't wanted to reveal that he could. That made Percy think it was an uncommon secret. He sighed and shook his head.
"Have you got wrackspurts?" Luna asked suddenly. She had been quietly reading her magazine for the whole time, and he had almost forgotten she was there.
"I- sorry, what?" Percy said, slightly disconcerted.
"Wrackspurts," she repeated. "They make your head go all fuzzy. I told Harry, I thought I saw some of them floating around in here." She batted the air around her vaguely.
"That's nice, Luna," Ron said disinterestedly.
"By the way," she added absentmindedly, "I do agree with Hermione. International schools are rather interesting. The Zinkeler's school — that's in Scandinavia — was the first one to channel Xindoodler dust into potions. Very effective, I believe."
"See, even Luna agrees with me!" Hermione said, turning to Ron triumphantly.
He scowled. "Well, that doesn't count."
"And why not?"
He looked scandalized. "Because — well, because she's Luna!" He made a wild, vague gesticulation in the air.
"And what's wrong with Luna's opinion, exactly?" demanded Hermione stubbornly.
Percy watched the two go back and forth with interest. The exchange reminded him oddly of him and Annabeth when they argued over how much syrup was good for his pancakes. Except in a train compartment, and in British accents.
The compartment door opened, and Neville entered the compartment, looking slightly puzzled. Hermione stood up to greet him.
"Hi, Neville."
"Hey, Hermione. Hi Ron, Luna."
When he pulled the door closed behind him, Hermione frowned. "Where's Harry?"
Neville shrugged. "I dunno. Said he'd see us later, and put on the Invisibility Cloak."
"What d'you reckon he's up to now?" Asked Ron, groaning.
"Probably gone to get rid of the wrackspurts. Very wise of him," Luna said approvingly.
She was ignored.
They seemed to have forgotten Percy was on the train, and he was content with it; that way, he didn't have to answer questions about where he'd come from and things like that. He could say pretty safely that he wasn't the best liar. That probably came from his mom being able to sniff out every lie he told her; eventually, Percy had just given up and admitted he'd eaten the last blue chocolate chip cookie.
He changed into the wizard school robes when Neville pointed out that they would arrive at Hogsmeade station soon, painfully accepting the fact that if a monster attacked, his clothes would have to get in the way. Honestly, had the wizards never heard of t-shirts and shorts? You know, normal clothes?
Percy tugged at his sleeves uncomfortably, and Hermione shot him a disapproving look.
About ten minutes later the train chugged to a stop. They stood and left the compartment, following the stream of students heading off the doors. Suddenly Ron stopped and looked around.
"Oy, where's Harry?"
"Oh yeah, he never came back," Neville said. "What's taking him so long?"
Hermione shook her head. "He probably went ahead without us," she said, exasperated. "He doesn't often use his head, unfortunately. Really, he likely just forgot about us. Come on, let's head to the castle with everyone else."
Percy was about to follow them when he realized that his wristwatch was missing. "Aw, man," he muttered, shaking back the ridiculously long sleeves to check his wrists.
"What is it?" asked Luna, noticing his distress. "Have the wrackspurts got you again?"
"No, I lost something important," Percy said impatiently. "Hold on- you guys go on ahead, let me just check the other compartment I went in."
They left after making sure he'd find his way on his own, which he wasn't even sure he'd be able to, but he couldn't tell Tyson he'd lost his gift again. He'd thought he had lost it during the battle at the labyrinth when he'd thrown it at Kampe, but Will Solace had returned it to him later, having found it while taking care of the wounded demigods. That had been a relief.
But if the train left while Percy was still on it… well, he was pretty sure he couldn't run that fast.
Promising himself he'd just look in the compartment he had entered before, with the thoroughly unpleasant blond boy, Percy turned back and walked hurriedly down the corridor.
Compartment I9, I3, I36, he counted off in his head. Honestly, why weren't the numbers in order? He was pretty sure it had been J-5, or something like that. Percy kept walking until he reached the J s.
He pushed open the first door on the right, which slid open with a slight creak. Most of the students had left by then, and Percy would admit it —the atmosphere was a little creepy.
He scanned the compartment, hopes deflating. Just then, he saw a flash of bronze a little farther in. Elated, Percy went forward to pick up his watch-shield, wondering how he'd managed to lose it all the way in there. He was pretty sure he had only stood in the doorway…
Percy slipped and fell backwards hard on his butt.
"Ow," he complained, getting up again. "What…"
Squinting down at his feet towards the spot that had caused him to slip, Percy jolted. He looked closer.
He hadn't slipped on a spilled bit of water, or anything like that. No, he had stepped in a little stream of — here he looked even closer to make sure the dim light wasn't tricking him — dark red blood.