Chapter 4
“And it's a goal by Haaland letting Manchester City lead by a whole two points. Can Liverpool still salvage the win!” Percy stepped out and closed the door to the muggle pub silencing the drunken cheers from the inside. The summer breeze hit his cool skin that grew accustomed to the air condition inside. The air forces him to slightly sober up from his multiple drinks. He was a little tipsy but was still coherent. He mounted his motorcycle and turned the engine on to begin the long ride back to his apartment.
Years had passed since that day when he won his first tournament. Two years to be precise and Percy Jackson had continued with his life. And oh what a life that was. He reminisced on how his life had turned speeding past scarlet lights and in between cars all the while. He may have been forgotten by the divine but the magical, the magical is where Percy Jackson was more than just some teenage hero hidden by a divine mist. He had a job as a freelance auror now, taking in bounties and hunting rogue monsters that caught some witch or wizards attention. When he wasn't chasing down a pack of hellhounds he was going after the new dark wizard; most Auror departments spread too thin to catch most of them. He ruthlessly hunted them down all for a small cash prize. But he didn’t do it for the money (it was a nice benefit though) he lived for the danger and would easily grow restless without it. Nothing could truly bring him more joy than the adrenalin of a chase or fight. Dueling could only lessen it but it was too calm for him. So organized with rules and regulations he needed chaos he needed greater stakes, he needed to
Destroy
Of course when Percy wasn’t drowning himself in his work something that must be one of his inherited powers as it seemed he couldn’t work enough (the people he worked with would beg to differ) he would be forced to rest. And this is where we find him now, forced to rest and forced into peace, a sentence too cruel for a man always ready for battle. He opened the creaky door to his apartment and sat in the dark room Nyx is watching, she is laughing at you the silence too quiet to block out his thoughts. The area that served as his living room was spartan in decoration. the few maps he had to represent everywhere location he had been and the TV opposite to the couch. A coffee table and an armchair facing the window giving a great view of the city and the sea. He sat there, restless and so gods damned tired. These two emotions that seem to be engraved in whatever he has for a soul. It had been too long since he let Appolyon out. It had been so long since he had contact with the divine. But isn't that what he wanted, to be forgotten?
He got up only to pace up and down in his apartment once more. An ugly place with an ever-present draft. It was less a home to him than Tartarus ever was. The spirit of Apollyon was asleep but it couldn’t sleep forever. He was already awake and if he didn’t let him out soon he didn’t want to know what would happen when he truly let him take control again. The room was dark.
Was the room too dark? But no, if it was too dark he wouldn’t see their ghosts, he wouldn’t see her wherever he went. He had learned that Jason had died and didn’t feel anything when he had died. A tragic thing he had grown to realize that he was so out of touch that only an offhand comment from his dad had let him know of those events. He had only learned of it a few months ago of how a man that was like a brother to him, had died without him even knowing. He had cried himself to sleep the few times he could rest in the madness that followed him. He had thrown himself deeper into his work and all he could do between training and contracts or hunting down criminals was cry in misery or simply stare out searching through his memories of a better time. Times with her. He popped another beer bottle upon feeling his way through his apartment with the water in the air, a useful trick and a trick that could’ve saved lives Leo and Jason and she could still be alive if he still knew this. Taking a swig he could smell the cigarette smoke in the air almost tasting the tobacco in the air. He did not care anymore and wished to drown himself in his drinks. He did not even care if he was turning into Him one of the most vile men he had ever known. Both of them smoked and drank and his only saving grace was that he didn't lose the money he had off at some poker table.
He had to go sooner or later. He couldn't skip this event but he really did. He just wants to rest, not peace but just to rest? He sat on the armchair once more, lightning illuminating the dark room. Later would be more than fine and really who would miss him, who would care about him? He had learned from his father that he had a new daughter. A sister Percy would most likely never meet and was only three years old. Three years from what Percy had known lived a peaceful life, a peace Percy never knew. She would live in a world with high expectations but would never have the chance to fill it. Call him selfish but he was happy about it. No more divine world-ending threats for her to face like he had. Everyone would begin to fear her remembering or what they believed they remembered of Apollyon. But Percy knew they would come to accept her
. Had it been that long since he had left, he was a whole nineteen years old. It was a miracle he was still alive or even conscious to remember. The greatest magical duelist, a famed and accomplished bounty hunter, and no more powerful right now than a muggle. The strongest demigod ever and lives like absolute trash. But eventually, he had to get up and leave. It was his birthday tomorrow after all and he would have to attend a game.
It was raining outside in a storm. He knew he was safe even if the occasional thunder was as loud as deafening as the pits roared. I'm safe I’m safe I’m safe I’m safe He wondered if he could take another day. He could have sworn he heard voices now but he resented that there were no such things like that. If he listened close enough he could hear the horns and general sound of the city. A busy place he lived in now. But he was so damned tired. Tired from life, tired from living just so tired. But he had to keep fighting on. But he reasoned that he didn't have to worry about that. He was safe and out. He had to see her first before he was to leave. But she was already gone and if he was to leave now he would be able to see her again but she wouldn't want him to leave. With all these thoughts screaming for his attention only then did he finally cry himself to sleep.
The next morning came and he woke up to another blaring alarm. It was early in the morning and early enough that he could do what he loved most, jogging. He put on some fresh clothes and tied up his shoes. He opened the door ready to start this day on a happy note when he was pelted by a huge gust of wind and water from the heavens; It was still raining. He would have moved out of London if he could but it would be too expensive it was because of her to move on. He went to put on his jacket and got his keys. He could apparate or mis-travel but something was just so soothing going by mortal means. Zipping around on his motorcycle was one of the few things that seemed that he could never tire from. He pulled up his hood and dropped his briefcase in the saddle bag. He dashed the remaining distance from his apartment to where he had magically stored his motorcycle in an alley across from his apartments.
The soft glow of a cigarette illuminated his surroundings before he smothered it out crushing it in his hands amused at the small amount of pain surprised he even felt it. It had been two years since Gaia and he was so sick of the mythological world even still. He made his way through the bustling streets of London the charms on his bike making people forget he was even ever there as he filtered through the lanes running red all the way to the leaky cauldron.
“Evening Tom!” The deep voice belonging to Percy called out to Tom the bartender. He paid for his coffee, a delicacy he realized long ago during his training with Alastor in a tea-dominated world such as Britain. A good cup of any type of coffee was hard to come by.
“The beef stew or something else” Tom called back with a smile on his face, a distinct contrast to Percy's. Seeing his best customer was always a treat for his business with people staying to meet him and eager to get rid of much of his stock. The man seemed to eat as if it was his last meal.
“The stew would be amazing” Percy replied, downing his mug in one fell swoop and knocking it back. He saw Tom raise an eyebrow before just handing Percy the pot for him to pour the rest in before going to the back to get more coffee and food. He ate his food quietly, the extra large portion making some of the customers who had not seen the man eat and even some of the regulars still raise an eyebrow or even openly gape at the man who put away gallons of stew. But sooner or later the capacity charm expired and he ran out of stew, a shame.
A whole hour and thirty minutes later thirteen gallons of stew and seven pounds of steak fed to godling he left the pub into Diagon Alley.
He made sure to make a quick stop at Olivanders to talk to the son of Hecate before leaving for Florean’s ice cream. He had every right to be excited and yet only could be amused after eating the ice cream.
Something Percy was growing to love about the magical world. In a world where Percy Jackson was just Percy Jackson. Not a demigod and not a hero. A man simply doing his work. Yes, he was still famous but it wasn’t just the fame of being thrust into a role of power. Many demigods deserved the fame he had in that world more than him and yet they died. He was an internationally famous bounty hunter and the holder of many international titles now. Titles he had won and trained for. He was nobody's pawn and the magical war he was once told he was to fight was in all likelihood not to happen. But nothing he could do would bring them back.
He had even been invited to the misery box for the first time so the rich and elite could rub shoulders with him and request favors. Of course, he most likely would ignore those requests but still, it was proof of his success she would hate this new ego. Finally finished with his last-minute shopping he sent it off to his apartment before appareting to the World Cup. Popping open the bottle of pills he always kept in his inside coat pocket she would hate everything about this new part of him addicted to drugs and other mortal evils he swallowed one dry. He would need a clear mind if he wanted to enjoy this day.
He mist-travled to his motorcycle before riding off to the forest in the middle of nowhere where Percy would be attending the world cup. When he finally reached there he gave the muggle his name and he gave him directions to his plot. After completing his jacket Percy made sure to tip him. Turning around to leave he just caught the man's words of how the most normal people to pass through was a yank.
Passing the many rows of brightly colored tents in a sea of colors of bulgarian reds and irish greens he finally found a Stand selling Omnioculers he spotted a group of kids two with red hair and one with hair as black as his arguing over what seemed like the shorter kid with black hair gifting the pair of them omnioculars. It would make sense as they cost a whopping one hundred galleons as much as he made from most bounties. But he paid them no mind buying one for himself. Next, he made his way to a stand selling Irish merch and bought an everlasting pouch of fake galleons. Even with the steep price Percy just chucked and pocketed it. He of course supported the American team however they had been knocked out a few matches ago. Making his way to his plot of land he set up his tent, the movements natural to him. Finally, he made his way to the ministry box and took out one of the galleons to fidget with.
“Ah Percy Jackson” the distinctive loud voice of the minster filled Percy’s ears as he looked up to see the man making his way to him
“Minister Fudge, a pleasure to meet you again and thankfully in much better circumstances than last time.” The two men chuckled at the memory. Percy giving out a real laugh, the ministers a nervous one remembering how he had to be embarrassingly saved from a Scottish mountain troll by Jackson.
“So minister what can I do for you, it would be an honor to work with Miss Bones and her department once more, I heard you still need help capturing Sirius Black, maybe I could help with that.” Last year when Percy had offered Fudge to capture the escaped fugitive he was rejected as Fudge thought a British wizard had to arrest a British criminal.
“I don’t believe that would be necessary but we would make sure that you are well informed when we require your services.” Percy knew that would be soon even if the minister would not want to admit it. The British auror department lacked the manpower to capture most criminals so hired freelance hit wizards and aurors from other countries or private aurors like Percy. With a clap on his back the minister fudge, still nervously laughing, made his way to the Bulgarian minister of magic who had just entered. Going back to his fidgeting, his last coin already lost, he yearned to twirl a pen around his fingers the same way he had done all those years ago with riptide. His word practice would be slightly rusty however he made by with an imperial gold gladius he had gotten from the legions barracks before he left but it wasn’t the same.
Before he could get even more restless he took a quick swig from his flash, an old habit kept new from his time training with Alastor. Downing the fire whiskey in it he felt a tad bit better with the burning in his neck. He was brought back out of his thoughts when a new group of witches and wizards arrived in the top box. A family with fiery red hair reminds him of Rachel from camp. They all clamored out looking awed at the surroundings. Percy had to forcefully remind himself that luxury and opulence weren't everywhere draft to it after visiting the literal home of the gods but still. He of course recognized the head of the family Arthur Weasley the head of the ministries department of muggle affairs or what not, honestly Percy was really bad at remembering all the departments.
He stood up to not to be rude to the children, three of them he recognized from before at the omniocular stands. Percy nodded at them and the other Weasleys before clasping Arthur's hand.
“Percy, great to see you again!” the fire-haired man joyfully proclaimed, they had become acquaintances over the years with him asking Percy about his short time living in the muggle world. Honestly, Percy didn’t know too much about it, spending most of his time in the magical and immortal world however he seemed to know much much more about it than almost any other wizard that didn’t grow up in it.
“It's great to see you too Arthur, I didn’t know you were also invited up here” he gave him an easy smile, something he only reserved for a few people these days.
“Come I would like you to meet Molly and the rest of my kids and their friends.” Percy happily followed him out of his chair shaking the motherly Weasley matrons and a woman who reminded him early of hestia but seemed as mortal as the rest of the procession.
“Everyone this is-” Before Arthur could finish his sentence one of the boys truly a pair of twins already reminding him of the Stolls responded
“He's bloody Percy Jackson, the international dueling champion” Percy gave a tired smile loving the fame but still detesting it even if it wasn’t as bad as his divine fame which often led him being hunted down by monsters.
“That I am,” Percy replied, shaking their hands. The boys seemed harmless enough but Percy made sure to keep some of his guard still up around their mischievous grins.
“Fred Weasley” “George weasly” Percy gave them an easy smile before turning to the rest of the group watching one of the boys bowing so low his glasses fell off as he fought for the minister's attention.
“Hello, what is your name?” Percy asked the boy who looked so much like him and yet nothing like him at all (for one he was far too skinny.)
“My name is Harry, Harry Potter and these are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger” the boy now identified as Harry said ruefully. Percy of course knew who Harry Potter was and gave an easy small smile. how couldn't he but decided not to say anything other than raise an eyebrow. The two other little ones, fourteen Percy guessed, both said their hellos before spying a house elf sitting alone and going to confront her. Percy ignored it and went to sit back down. The match was soon to begin with the Veela's and leprechauns making their debut.