Chapter 1
At first, the old man didn’t know what woke him. Through squinted, half-awake eyes, he cast a wandless Tempus, which showed that it was just past 4 am. Unable to fall back into slumber, he rose from the bed, deciding that perhaps the dullness of currently unfinished Hogwarts letters would help. He hardly noticed, in his half-awake state, as the room brightened considerably. Suspiciously bright for that early in the morning.
It was only a moment later, when a shower of golden sparks appeared before him, that he noticed it. It was very disconcerting, and made him feel off balance. In a matter of seconds, a tall, blonde-haired woman in a white tunic, paired with a golden cloak stood before him. He had met this woman twice before-once he became Headmaster of Hogwarts-as an introduction, of sorts, to the Greek pantheon-and again on one fateful Halloween night.
“Hecate,” he whispered, eyes wide, face going pale. “You’ve returned at last.”
“Greetings, Albus Percival Wulfradic Brian Dumbledore.” The Goddess narrowed her eyes. “I promised you I would, or don’t you remember?”
“‘As time and fate decree it’.” he quoted, trying to lighten the nervousness he felt. Her last appearance hadn’t gone well for him.
“And here we are, fifteen years later!” She pressed her lips into a tight line, a lit, angry fire dancing in her eyes. “Usually, it is a demigod cleaning up a god’s mess. Now, it is a goddess cleaning up and putting away a child’s chessboard.
“Do not forget, old Wizard, that I see everything. Including a certain Halloween night, where you changed the lives of two young boys-and the possible outcome of your war-forever.”
“It’s all for the Greater good.”
“You and your Greater Good talk! Your plans never end well for you, do they? You are but an old man who keeps secrets, ones that should be shared, close to your chest. An old man hell bent on bending the trees to his will! The people around you are not pawns on a chessboard, Albus!”
“Have you come here just to yell at me, or is there a matter truly in need of discussion?”
She glared at him but changed the subject. “Your ‘Death Eaters’, who I’ve understood to be Voldemort’s followers, have been spotted destroying homes and families around the world, primarily in America. MACUSA had it well in hand, of course. And then, a couple of days ago, a group of them attacked the Empire State Building in New York, which currently houses Olympus.”
“You believe Lord Voldemort has found out about your world.”
“Indeed.”
“But why come to me? Why not go to MACUSA with this?”
The goddess seemed surprised by the question.
“Because this is the birthplace of the evil wizard’s regime. And I happen to know that he attended Hogwarts.”
“You’re…you’re blaming me for this?”
“You’re partially to blame for Tom riddle’s upbringing, are you not?” Hecate retorted. “Voldemort must be stopped at all costs before the Muggle and magical populations alike are practically wiped off the face of the earth.”
“What do you propose is done?” Dumbledore asked lightly. The tension in the air slowly became more heated. “I’m sure you know all about the Prophecy-“
“Rest assured, I know all about prophecies. You know as well as I that they don’t say what they mean and more often than not, have double meanings. Clearly, you are taking it at face value.”
“As to what should be done? A little bit of indirect meddling.”
Albus wasn’t sure to make of that.
— —
Percy Jackson was always doing what he did on the last day of Camp: cleaning the Poseidon cabin. There was never much to do, considering he was the only one staying there, but he wanted a high grade on his final inspection, nonetheless.
“Hey, Seaweed Brain. Happy birthday!” He looked up at the sound of his girlfriend’s kind voice. Annabeth Chase stood there in her matching orange Camp Half-blood tee, a pair of shorts and sneakers, and blonde hair pulled into a sporty ponytail, covered by her favorite Yankee’s cap. On her neck lay the beaded Camp necklace, much like his except with more beads.
“Thanks, Wise girl.” Percy said, walking over to kiss her on the cheek. “Are you doing inspection again?”
“No, it’s the Hephaestus cabin.” She replied. She smoothed the bangs over his forehead, knowing Percy would want to keep the mysterious scar hidden. No one, not even his mother, Sally, knew how he got it. “Apparently, Chiron wants us at the Big House.”
“Oh, I wonder why. I hope it’s not another quest. I could use a break.” He admitted.
“Me too.” She smiled and kissed him.
“Are you going home to see your dad this afternoon before you head off to school?”
“No.” Annabeth made a face. “Dad’s wife is worried the boys will get hurt. Valid reasoning, I guess, with the monsters that chase after us.”
“Your father could still find a way to view his only daughter.”
“I wouldn’t give him a chance even if he asked.” Annabeth said honestly. “Not anymore. It’s clear that he prefers his, “new family”.
The pair made it to the Big House, where Dionysus sat at a table playing Pinochle with an unsuspecting satyr.
“Hello, Peter Johnson and Annie Chase.”
“Can’t you get our names right one time?!” Percy grumbled.
“Never!” He declared, though a small smile graced his face.
The boy and girl walked inside, immediately finding Chiron standing alongside two half-bloods: Will Solace, Son of Apollo and the Son of Hades, Nico D’Angelo. “Chiron!” Annabeth cried happily, running into the centaur’s arms. The horse-man has always been like a father to her.
“Hello, my dear Annabeth, Percy! It’s good to see you both in good health!” Percy knew what he meant. It had not been a great summer for the camp.
“Nico and Will!?” Percy said, surprised, as he gave each of his friends hugs. Will was the only one other than Annabeth that he saw regularly. Nico was what he liked to called a “nomadic soul”, meaning that he preferred to travel instead of staying at camp.
“What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know yet, water boy. Chiron said we had to wait for you.” Nico said, before turning to Chiron expectantly.
“I’m afraid I have a message from Mount Olympus.” The centaur began as the four younger campers sat in a couple of wooden chairs. “Apparently, the Wizards across the sea in Scotland need your help.”
“So we’re not returning to Ivermoney.” Percy stated flatly.
”No. You’ll be attending Hogwarts, where war is looming.
”I’m tired of war,” Percy complained.
“And I’m tired of quests.” Annabeth agreed.
“Will Solace, you will be assisting Madame Pomfrey in the H-er, infirmary.”
“Yes!” The blonde boy fist pumped the air. Everyone knew that if he reached adulthood (because not all Demigods did) he wanted to work in a hospital.
“The rest of you are going to fight alongside the British Wizards on the front lines of the incoming war.”
“At least I can use my Death fighters.” Nico said brightly. “Death Fighters” were corpses that he raised from the ground. “I wonder if I can get them to use magic.” He muttered thoughtfully.
“Percy, I’m sure you’d like to go home and inform your mother of your quest.”
“Yes, please.”
“Excellent.“ He smiled grimly. “Then, Tomorrow morning, the four of you will leave on a boat in New York’s Harbor. There’s a place called the Leaky cauldron, where you’ll stay until September first after you get your supplies. Oh, and Camp Half-Blood owns a vault, so don’t worry about that. But first things first: you must visit our Oracle.”
The four of us quietly walked out of the Big House and toward Rachel’s cave.
“Ah, so you’re leaving again.” Dionysus interrupted as we once again passed by. “A quest, I presume.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ah.” The God answered, almost seeming disappointed. “And will you be back, Peter Johnson?”
“Not this year.”
”So, Just you? Is Annie Bell Kay, Healer boy, and Death Star not going with you?”
“The rest of us leave tomorrow.” Nico answered. “Also, when did you have time to watch Star Wars?”
“Mr. De-Angelico—“
“It’s Di-Angelo,” Nico muttered.
“-Like you, I have been alive for many a decade-“
“At least you weren’t trapped in a time warping casino.” Nico muttered under his breath.
“-and though I am first and foremost the God of Wine, remember that I’m also the God of Parties. I’ve been to a fair share of Star Wars parties in my day.”
“I guess I should have known that,” Nico shrugged. They turned to leave.
“Oh, and you three,” Mr. D called, and the group froze. “Make sure you’re out of here on time tomorrow before the faeries come to eat you.”
No one could see his face, as they were now facing the other way, but everyone knew he was smirking.
Anyone who went to visit “the Oracle”-or Rachel, actually-would first see the brightly painted drawings on the cave walls before spotting Rachel herself. Her art changed fairly often, though the ones out front were always the same: Chiron thousands of years ago with his very first group of half-bloods, Percy fighting the Minotaur before ever setting foot in camp (that one always startled him), Luke Castellan’s death (that one always made Annabeth cry), and a portrait of Apollo on a canvas. (It was always assumed that it’s because he was the one who gave Rachel the ability to be the Oracle.) On the walls inside, the paintings were different from what they were last time: Annabeth, Nico, and Percy, alongside a dark haired boy, a bushy brown haired girl, and a group of red-heads fighting an older woman with a head of dark curls and a blonde older man, Will and an older lady surrounding someone in a hospitable bed doing whatever they could to cure the patient, a werewolf who looked oddly calm, a man with black hair turning into a dog, Percy next to the dark haired boy, and an old man with a long white beard and hair.
“That dark haired boy has a scar exactly like yours, Percy.”
Will remarked.
“He looks exactly like you.” Annabeth said. “Well, except for the glasses.”
“He looks nothing like me.” Percy disagreed.
Annabeth opened her mouth to contradict him, then closed it again as Rachel appeared in all her fuzzy red haired glory. “These are all from dreams I’ve had recently. I’m guessing they might be from your quest, whatever that is.”
“When do you leave, Rachel?”
“Oh, same time as you, Percy. Hopefully, wherever you’re going is more fun than where I’ll be.” She sat on the couch, gesturing to the one across from her. “So, come sit down and say the magic words!”
“We’re here to receive a quest.”
Immediately, Rachel’s green eyes glazed over, and green mist came pouring out of her mouth. The voice that came from her lips was not the sound that belonged to Camp Half-Blood’s favorite red-headed nightmare.
“Four half-bloods shall go across the sea
To protect a kingdom and castle under siege
The sons of Poseidon must topple the master from his throne
Learning along the way that he won’t go aaaalooone-“
Suddenly, the Oracle Priestess collapsed. Her body became a limp noodle. Will even had to check to make sure she was still alive.
“Still breathing.” Will said, relief evident in his voice.
“We should go tell Chiron what happened.” Annabeth, always the voice of authority, said.
“I don’t think she was done.” Percy “It almost sounded like she was-“
“-midsentance, I know. That’s why I think we should go tell Chiron what happened.”
“And so that he can send another healer to check on her.”
“Yeah, that too. Come on!”
They didn’t stop running until they reached the Big House, where Chiron was playing Pinochle with Dionysus and another Satyr. “My goodness!” The centaur man cried when he saw them running toward him. “Shouldn’t you be gone already, Percy?”
“It’s Rachel!” He said breathlessly, ignoring the pointed question. “She fell unconscious while she was giving us-“
“She wasn’t even finished with it, Chiron, she was in the middle of the last word when she collapsed!”
“I was worried the effort had killed her or something!”
“I would have felt her dying, Will.”
“I’ll send a healer to take her in to the infirmary.” Chiron answered. “Now, tell me exactly what happened. What did she say?” Before they could begin, he leaned over to the Satyr speaking in his ear. The satyr ran off. “
”Aw, come on! The game was almost over!” But Dionysus looked on curiously at the them. Annabeth perfectly recited what Rachel had shared: “Four half-bloods shall go across the sea To protect a kingdom and castle under siege The sons of Poseidon must topple the master from his throne Learning along the way that he won’t go alone-“
“That’s where she stopped.” Nico said helpfully.
“Intriguing. I’ve never heard of this h-“
“Hang on, SONS of Poseidon? But-“
“One problem at a time, Percy.” Annabeth said quickly.
“Chiron…”
“I’m sorry, but I suppose there’s not much else to do but continue with what you’ve been given. Maybe the rest will come later.”
“Maybe,” Annabeth responded, sounding uncertain.
“Tell your mother I said hi, Percy.”
“Will do.”
— —
“So you’re telling me that magic and the Greek…Gods and Godesses are real?”
It was several hours later that Percy was back at home. He’d found Paul at the kitchen table, reading a book. It was in that moment that he realized the man needed to know about his…interesting…life.
“I know, it sounds crazy.” Percy nodded. “I found out when I was twelve, when a monster tried to kill my mom, and then she was kidnapped by Hades.”
Paul went white as a sheet, widening his eyes.
“Also, Poseidon-my father-gave me a gift!” Percy said quickly, face brightening. “I can control water.”
As if to prove his point, the water in the tap behind him turned on as if by its own accord and sprayed Paul with water, though the book stayed dry, on Percy’s command, of course.
Paul was speechless. “So…your dad is a Greek God…and you can wave a stick and do magic.
“Yep.”
“Does…does Sally know you’re a Wizard?” “Yeah. I started Ivermoney-magic school, I guess-when I was five.”
“Is she also…”
“No, no, just me. I’m what they call a No-maj born, a magical kid born to none magical parent.”
“That’s good to know.”
The English teacher nodded. The pair retreated to Percy’s room, where he showed the older man his wand.
“Percy,” Paul said again after a moment of silence. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“All right.” He answered, raising an eyebrow. Paul didn’t normally sound so…formal. Or nervous.
“You know your mother and I have been together for a few years now.” Paul began. “And the boyfriend usually asks for the Father’s permission, but as she never knew her own dad…”
“Oh!” Percy cried, catching on quickly. “You’re going to ask my mom to marry you! Of course, I’d love to have you as part of the family!”
“Really?” Paul asked brightly, a childlike excitement in his eyes and voice.
“Yes!” Percy grinned. “Heaven knows you’ll be a better husband and father than Gabe ever was.” Paul wrinkled his nose at the mention of Sally’s ex-husband.
“I would hope so.”
“So, how are you going to propose?” Paul opened his mouth to answer, but the creak of the front door stopped him.
“Honey, I’m home!” His mother’s cheerful voice rang through the house. “Is Percy home yet?”
“Hi mom!” He called. He pulled her into a bone-crushing hug the moment she entered his room.
“How was camp?”
“Eventful.” Percy answered darkly. “We defeated Kronos, but not before campers died…”
“Hang on, you were fighting someone? People died?!” Percy exchanged a look with his mother. That singular glance told Sally everything she needed to know: that her son had told Paul everything. Well…almost everything.
“Mom, speaking of camp…”
“You’ve got another quest, don’t you? Sally asked, judging by the look on Percy’s face.
“Apparently, I’m not going to Ivermoney this year.” He confirmed. “Oh, and Chiron says hi.”
“Happy birthday, Harry.” The newly turned fifteen year old boy whispered to himself, green eyes staring despondently at the number twelve on the hand-me-down alarm clock. (Dudley was rewarded with a new one after cracking the digital face of this one. Then, Harry stole the broken one.) He flopped down onto the old mattress that was his bed, staring at the full moon through the window’s bars. With his homework locked in the cupboard under the stairs, there wasn’t much he was able to do at the moment in the precious time he had away from the demanding Dursleys. Harry’s mind turned to just going to sleep, which he was seriously considering until he saw two medium sized shadows and one very small one zooming towards his window. Owls, he realized, standing suddenly. He was quickly able to open the windows and slightly loosen two of the metal bars enough for the group of birds to get through with their mail: A school owl, Hedwig, Pigwidgen, and Errol, who had to be helped by the other two.
The school owl must have brought this year’s list, judging by the Hogwarts crest on the front of the envelope. It was expected, this time of year…though the Prefect’s badge was not. He’d assumed that Dumbledore would have picked a gryiffindor with a cleaner track record. And it’s not like his grades were all that promising…
Hedwig brought a letter from Sirius. His godfather’s untidy scrawl made him grin. Although it was short-“Happy birthday, Harry! Miss you, Kid! No matter what old dumbles says, I’ll see you soon!” It was more than he’d gotten from him in a month.
Errol was the unlucky bird forced to carry a package, one that was triangular shaped. Though it was small, it looked to be rather heavy for the old owl. Harry decided to open that last. From Ron’s smaller owl came a single letter. It was nearly 2 parchments long, which was probably Hermione’s doing. But wasn’t just from her, apparently:
Harry! Happy day of your birth, mate! Hope you enjoy the slice of treacle tart mum made! We (Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and of course your most favorite twins in the world) decided that you ought to know the truth: that Dumbledore doesn’t believe that you need to know anything. Harsh,Fred. And slightly over exaggerated. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Hermione. But okay, what he actually told all of us was not to write to you at all this summer, which Ron and Hermione have clearly been disobeying- That’s because we’re actually his best mates! -or to let you in on any information. We’re all here at Snuffles’ place, and have been here close to the beginning of the summer holiday. There’s not much we know, to tell you the truth, because nobody will tell us anyone. Loads of people have been in and out of this place, including folks like Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and even Snape. They talk about the war together in a meeting, which they call the Order, but mum’s been diligent in catching us. We’ll explain everything more in detail once we see you. Hopefully soon. Harry, regardless of what any adult says, we’re going to bring you here soon. Too bad we don’t have the flying car, anymore… (“Don’t you dare blame yourself for that again, Harry. Not your fault!” -Hermione and Ginny) Mum and dad have sided with Dumbledore on the matter. Snuffles disagrees, but since he is confined to the house, he can’t do anything about it. We can’t tell what Remus thinks. We’ll corner him eventually, since he lives here too. Hope your summer’s going well, -Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny
It’s nice to finally find out the truth, Harry thought as Errol and Pig few back out the window. Ron and Hermione have been sending letters since school let out, but they haven’t been as in detail as they usually were about things, which was unlike them. At least he knew why, now. And learning that Dumbledore wanted to keep him in the dark didn’t exactly surprise him, though he did feel betrayed. Remus hasn’t written at all…
He unwrapped the package, which he now knew to be the treacle tart. He scarfed it down in mere seconds. Mrs. Weasley’s cooking is the best. (And it was the first thing he’s eaten in at least a week, but Harry tried his hardest to forget that.)
Stomach happy, he flopped back down on his mattress, considering what to say. Before Harry knew it, he was fast asleep again, lost to the world of dreams. It was only when he woke up that he realized, for the first time in a long while, that his much-needed sleep had been nightmare-free.
The first thing he saw upon waking were six packages next to the mattress. He must have left the window open the night before, as it still was, letting several owls flutter in to leave the gifts. He rose gingerly, smiling as he approached the packages. A note was attached to one of them: we thought Errol would get overwhelmed with so many packages going to one place, so we thought we’d wait for a second trip. -Ron
Just as he picked up the first package, he heard the twisting of his bedroom door and he quickly shoved the gifts into a hidden floorboard.
“Why aren’t you downstairs-you’re not even dressed yet! Irresponsible boy! You best not make Vernon late for work with your late start on breakfast!”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”
“You’re lucky I’m the one who came over here.” She grumbled, giving him the stink eye before shutting the door so hard that she rattled the cat flap at the bottom.
He knew she was right. If Vernon had been the one to open his door instead, there’d be hell to pay for certain.
Downstairs, Vernon walked into the kitchen just as Harry was pulling out all the fixings for a full English breakfast. Harry froze as the bigger man’s beady eyes fell on him.
“You lazy, good-for-nothing freak!” Uncle Vernon snarled, suddenly towering over Harry in mere seconds. He picked the skinny boy up by the arms, squeezing so hard that there was sure to be bruises before the end of the day. He angrily shook the small teen so hard that Harry’s head hit the refrigerator behind him quite a few times. Then, he dropped him onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. “You know I expect breakfast to be ready to go by the time I come downstairs! Now you’re going to make me late for work!” He picked his nephew up by the shirt and shoved him back towards the counter. “If it weren’t for my early morning meeting, you’d be paying dearly for running so behind!“ With a final angry huff, Vernon sat at the table, next to a silently smirking Petunia and across from a chortling Dudley.
As for Harry, he stood quietly at the counter, only thinking that it would be a long time before he would get back to the gifts waiting upstairs.
— —
Harry had, in fact, paid dearly that afternoon, once Vernon had arrived home. Vernon had already been in a foul mood, and finding out that the nephew he so hated hadn’t finished the day’s chores in time made things worse. His back hurt terribly during the next day’s chores, and his broken arm hadn’t made anything easy. But, with renewed vigor of the hope to avoid his uncle’s wrath, Harry finished the his work early. Aunt Petunia had only shooed him outside for the rest of the day when he had told her.
It hadn’t taken him long to spot Dudley and his crew. They seemed to be in the middle of some sort of drug deal which meant that he could peacefully spy on them from the swings undisturbed for the next few hours.
It was late when the group finally pulled away from each other. It was clear that many of them were very drunk, though Dudley was only just slightly tipsy. He’s so fat, that it really is hard to tell, Harry thought with a snicker. His cousin’s departure meant that it was time to begin heading home. With a sigh, he rose from the swing and found himself on the same path as the other boy.
“Hey Big D, how were the drugs?”
“Only my friends are allowed to call me that!”
“What would dear old mum and dad say if they realized you’re drunk?” Harry was only really only half-teasing. He did wonder what they would actually do if their perfect angel son showed up totally wasted, if they did anything at all. They’d probably find some way to blame him for it.
Instead of responding to the jibe, Dudley said, “You know mum and dad will kill you when you get home after I do?!” And took off.
A steady stream of swearing flying under his breath, Harry ran after him. It wasn’t hard to pull ahead of him, since he’d gotten so fast from the many years of “Harry Hunting” (a game which Dudley and Piers Polkiss enjoyed and Harry didn’t) as well as the fact that Dudley didn’t exercise.
He was halfway home when he felt it. The air went cold, abnormally cold for a warm August night, and the lampposts around the two boys went out.
“Why’d you stop, freak?!” Dudley asked when he finally caught up, stopping despite himself to catch his breath. “Realized you deserve the belt after all?”
Harry barely flinched, only focusing on what was happening in the air around them. “No, Big—Dudley. Shut up for a moment.”
“You can’t tell me to shut up! Dad will kill-“
“Dudley,” Harry interrupted urgently, taking out his wand. “Dudley! RUN!”
“Why do you have your freaky stick out?” The fatter boy whined instead. “You’re going to hurt me with that crazy stuff you learn at your freakish school, aren’t you? You just want to hit me while my back is turned!”
He can put two and two together when he really wants to, even if the answer is wrong, Harry thought. “Yes, Dudley, I’m going to use magic to turn you into a tree.”
Sarcasm, it turned out, was a bad idea. Harry forgot how dumb as well as literal he was. “I’M GOING TO TELL MUM YOU USED THE M WORD!” He turned to flee, but it was too late. The dementors were upon them, one on Dudley, the other on Harry. Harry found himself unable to breathe, barely able to think. On the other side of the street, Dudley had already fallen to the ground, and the dementor was making quick work of him.
Harry fought, his wand clasped so tightly in his palm that his knuckles were turning white. The world around him seemed to blur. Think, he thought, Think of the happiest memory.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, a glowing doe appeared. The dementor before him was vanquished, as was the one who had been almost Kissing Dudley. The fat teen was laying still on the ground, though thankfully, he was breathing. Harry half-spun, stunned to find Professor Snape, grim faced, with his wand out. What was he doing in Surrey? In the middle of a muggle neighborhood?
The black haired man lowered his wand slightly as Harry approached and the lampposts turned back on, seemingly all by themselves.
“P-Professor Snape?”
The man seemed to eye Harry up and down, almost frowning in…concern? which was out of character for the him. “Evening, Potter. Do not studder, it does not suit you. Come, let’s get you and your…cousin home.”
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked in wonder, not truly expecting an answer, as they pulled Dudley up to a half-standing position.
“A ‘thank you for saving my soul’ would have been a better response, but a valid question nonetheless.”
“Sorry. Thank you.”
“I have learned that Mudungus Fletcher was on tonight’s watch, and I know, from past experience, that little thief cannot be trusted.”
“Mudungus-wait, tonight’s watch? Wha-“
“I do not believe your relatives would like to see me, so I must be going. I’ll see you the first of September and not a moment sooner, Potter.”
And before Harry could demand an explanation, he disappeared with a quiet, pop! At least he had helped me get Dudley up the steps.
Harry knocked on the door, afraid of how his aunt and uncle would react. It was mere moments before the door was opened. As expected, the pair immediately began fussing over Dudley. Petunia was crying, and Vernon was nearly shaking him, trying to get his son to talk.
Harry slunk through, unnoticed. He quietly climbed the stairs, intending to spend the rest of the night in solitude.
But no such luck. He’d been one step away from freedom, too, before the two elder Dursleys suddenly remembered his existence.
“COME HERE, FREAK!” Vernon boomed. Harry sighed, nearly tripping back down the stairs in his haste to obey orders.“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Nothing!” Harry answered honestly.
“YOU LYING FREAK! WHAT HAPPENED?”
“There were these two dementors-“
“Dementors?!” Petunia exclaimed in a hushed voice, her face looking rather alarmed. “They did this?”
“You-what?” Vernon was staring at his wife in shock. “What are…dementoids?”
“How-you’ve heard of them?” Harry asked quietly in disbelief. She gave him a harsh glare, the very look always given when he dared ask a question, and pursed her lips before then she said, “That b-Lily told me about them, years ago.” The way she’d rushed the change between “That” and “Lily” made him think she had been going to say something else. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Dementors. They guard the Wizard prison, Azkaban.”
“How do you-what? Nevermind, I don’t care.” Vernon sputtered. “So what do these…dementoids…do?”
“Dementors suck out your soul. They can even leave you brain dead.” Harry answered bluntly. The shock on their faces would have made him laugh had the situation not been so grave.
“Brain dead…” the dark haired woman whispered, eyes wide with shock.
Suddenly, Vernon broke the distance between them and grabbed Harry’s neck before he could even blink. “Worthless freak.” He spat right in his nephew’s face. “We give you a roof over your head and in return you almost get my son killed! I should dispose of you, RIGHT NOW!”
Harry blinked once in shock, not able to do anything but stare at the red faced man as Vernon began roughly squeezing. The air was noticeably being cut off from his lungs, making his chest almost scream in protest.
He knew Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had never liked him and in fact always wished to be rid of him, but they’d never verbally outright wished death on him before-
“No, Vernon!” Aunt Petunia shouted, and for some reason her rejection of the idea surprised Harry. Her voice had fallen to a horse whisper with the next words. “Our Duddy could be brain dead right now…”
Uncle Vernon dropped Harry like a sack of potatoes. As he hit the ground, a crack sounded, the kind that only came from an injury. He eyed his leg, even as the dark haired teen could feel Vernon’s laser eyes locked on him.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you, boy.” Vernon said nastily before leaving the room.
“Don’t think this changes how I feel about you at all, freak.” Petunia spat. “You may have saved Dudley tonight, but I still loathe you, and that will never change. Now, up to your room, and I better not see you until breakfast!”
It took Harry a long time to climb the stairs, as something indeed seemed to be wrong with his leg. His ankle appeared almost misshapen and was presently turning purple.
When he finally entered his room, Hedwig was perched on his desk, a letter in her beak. “Hi, girl.” Harry cooed softly. He faintly recognized the writing on the front, but couldn’t remember where, until he opened up the letter and saw Severus Snape written at the bottom.
Potter- I’ve been chosen to pick you up tomorrow eve from your aunt and uncle’s. You’ll be brought to the home of your dog friend. Be ready.
Not a moment sooner indeed. Potions Master Professor Severus Snape
Harry could imagine him pursing his lips on the last line. He knew, and had known for a long while now, that the Potions Master wasn’t a big fan of his. Why did it have to be him? Still, at least he was leaving the Dursleys. And sooner to be expected, too.
Suddenly, Errol slipped through the bars, another parchment tied to his leg.
Harry- We overheard Snape talking about the Dementors to Albus Dumbledore. He (Snape of all people!) said, “Perhaps Potter would be safer here, Albus. If You-Know-Who is sending Dementors after him…” The old git disagreed, saying that the Dursley’s home has the best protections.Then he left. Snape stayed, though. Tore our Extendable Ears (overhearing devices, you could say) and said he knew we’d been eavesdropping. We then convinced him (surprisingly, that didn’t take much doing) to bring you here. We don’t think Professor Greasy Hair really trusts Dumbledore, either. He’s still the Dungeon bat, though, and I wouldn’t trust him. Then Hedwig, that smart bird of yours, flew through the kitchen window… Anyway, mum, dad, Sirius, and Remus don’t know that you’re coming. -Hermione, Ron, Fred, and George, and Ginny
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised by this. The twins hardly did, anymore. Harry only wondered what they said that convinced Snape. He collapsed on the lumpy old mattress.
One more day.