Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, nor do I own Harry Potter. All rights go to their respective owners.
A/N: Guess who's back.
Exceptional bravery and stupid luck. That's how our head of house summed up our adventures for the night. Hermione had stepped forward and taken most of the blame concerning why we weren't in our dorms. Apparently she was "looking for a challenge."
The worst part? I could feel their eyes. Both Hermione and Ron were drilling holes in the back of my head as we were escorted back into the common room. I didn't even need to look back to see them. Frantically, I thought of ways to get out of the eventual interrogation they'll put me through.
I racked my brain but I couldn't find any sort of decent explanation for what happened tonight. Why? Because I have no idea what happened tonight. For all of Percy's explaining, I really did not know who Nico di Angelo and Thalia Grace really were. I have no idea why Nico is so frightening even ghosts hide from him, or why Thalia has such an…electrifying personality.
One question led to another. Are these two really Percy's cousins? Aside from perhaps hair color, I couldn't really figure out the resemblance between the three. And then there's the deal with the weapons. I know it's unorthodox but Percy, and I assume the rest of his American family, take such tools to ridiculous levels.
My thoughts were cut short as we neared the portrait hole and next thing I know, Ron and Hermione have me sat on the couch with both sides locked down. No escape it seems.
When I first stepped into Magical France, I had this set image of what everyone would be like. Ridiculous outfits, powdered wigs, funny accents, the works. Turns out actual France is nothing like that. Surprise, surprise, I'm an idiot. French wizards and witches have their own style of dress, different from the British, but still quite dated.
Also, funny thing, I had forgotten everyone here spoke French. I had never really tested the ability Aphrodite had given me, but soon I realized that if I do not consciously think about it, I don't notice that I am hearing and speaking French. Convenient to an extent, but also somewhat confusing.
It wasn't until a day later where I realized I had no plan to get into France's premiere magic school. I literally stopped in my tracks on my way out of the hotel, and went back in to formulate a "plan." I couldn't exactly attack like this like I did. Times have changed.
Looking through my options, I couldn't decide if applying as a student was a good idea or not. For someone who looked like my age, I wouldn't be able to stroll in with first year students. A magical test would definitely be given, and I'd have to pass it just well enough to be enrolled in a relatively "easy" year.
Even after that, pretending like I haven't been at least somewhat educated would be an obvious lie. Transfer papers, better yet, international student transfer papers were definitely in order. It's simple. I, a young, nubile, aspiring Percy (whose mother was French but my father was American) felt as though Hogwarts was not a good fit for my delicate sensibilities. So I have returned to the motherland to continue my education with my fellow comrades. Okay perhaps that's the plan if I were to attend Drumstag. But the principle is the same. Now I just need to go forge some documents.
"Look, I honestly have no idea who those upper years were alright? They were Percy's friends, not mine." I threw my hands up in exasperation as I repeated basically the same phrase for the fifth time in a row. I really can't convince people who don't seem to want to be convinced.
Hermione simply said nothing, scrutinizing me with her piercing gaze, one that she must've inherited from the devil himself. The number of painful hexes she knew were surprising. Ron rolled his eyes once more, before continuing.
"Do you expect us to believe that? She had a spear Harry! A spear! And that Slytherin bloke looked like he was going to lop somebody's head off!"
I groaned once again, how did he expect me to explain Percy's weird cousins when I couldn't even explain them myself?
They held me there for another half hour before finally giving up. As we simmered down, Hermione very quietly thanked me and Ron for coming to her aid, much to Ron's surprise. I thanked her and swiftly left to my dorm, leaving her and Ron to talk it out. After the night I've had, I really don't have any energy left for that conversation.
By the following morning, the rumor mill had done its job. Suddenly, everyone and their cousin seemed to know exactly what had happened "in the dungeons." I think I've heard everything ranging from Professor Snape calling upon a giant vampire bat to fight the troll, all the way to Dumbledore himself transfiguring himself into an even larger troll that won in hand to hand combat. I honestly didn't know which was more ridiculous.
Unfortunately, those rumors extended to the three of us as well, seeing as how the Gryffindor prefects noticed we were the only ones missing. The boy who lived taking on the troll rumors were also floating about.
"You know; they aren't entirely wrong," remarked Hermione. At this I raised an eyebrow.
"Really? You and I remember last night very differently in that case."
"You know what I mean; you and Ron got to me first before Percy did. And you did confuse the troll long enough for it to not kill me. I never did thank you personally for that."
I scoffed at that, "I think Ron confused the troll more than I did. I'd be confused too if a first year was throwing rocks at my 2-ton body."
She laughed at that, just as Ron joined us at breakfast. From there, the conversation resumed about non troll related things, mostly Ron talking about this year's potential Quidditch team. I sighed, the initial broom lessons weren't exactly fun, nothing really memorable except for Neville falling off. Draco, with all his bragging, wasn't actually half bad from what I remember, but he wasn't great either.
Unfortunately, my broom was old. Like, really old, one of the severely outdated Comet series that handled like a double decker bus. I'm hoping that the next lesson later today, I could snag one of the newer Nimbus 1000 models to use.
My thoughts were interrupted when Thalia's black hair came into my view. She sat down across from us, directly in front of me, which unsurprisingly shut up both Ron and Hermione as they cautiously stared at her.
Ignoring them, she flashed me a smile and helped herself to some of my bacon. She spared a glance toward the Slytherin table, where Nico somehow turned his head to acknowledge her stare as if he telepathically knew. She turned back in a flash and kept eating.
"So, Harry. How'd your first trip on a broom go?" I shrugged and absentmindedly played with my eggs with my fork.
"Not bad, I suppose. Madame Hooch was nice enough, I think I rather like flying." Thalia grimaced at this, and shook her head.
"Eh, I don't know how you do it. I don't think I'll ever get on another broom in my life. Percy can make fun of me all he wants, but never again."
"Wait you fly? Percy flies? How come he's never told me?"
Thalia shook her head and laughed,
"No, no, no, definitely not. Percy would never get on a broom if he didn't have to. And ever since I tried that one time, neither would I."
Hermione tilted her head to the side quizzically,
Thalia shrugged and continued eating, talking between bites.
"Flying has never really agreed with him. He enjoys solid ground more. Actually, strike that. He enjoys the water above all else, but I'm sure you know that. Death breath over there is the one that loves the ground."
Ron somehow gathered his wits and started asking his own questions as well. A part of me let loose a breath in relief. Maybe these two will stop asking me questions I couldn't answer.
"Why do call him that? What does Death breath even mean?"
Thalia just looked at Ron for a solid five seconds before seeming to think her answer over. Finally, she just shrugged and shoved more pancakes into her mouth.
"Have you seen the way he dresses? Guy looks like he's on a first name basis with the grim reaper himself."
All three of us turned to look at the Slytherin table to get an eyeful of Nico's clothing choices. Black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, skull ring, and what looked like a chain running off his belt loops. Wow. I'm not sure what muggle style that was, but it's no wonder Ron thinks he's a dark wizard.
Thalia suddenly got up from her seat, seemingly in a hurry.
"Anyway, I'll see you three around. I've got uh, things to do. Divination homework and all that."
Hermione perked up at this,
"You're taking Divination? I've heard from the Ravenclaw upper years that Professor Trelawney isn't the greatest teacher, what's your opinion on her?"
Thalia seemed to keep a straight face while swallowing her laughter,
"She's uh… an interesting woman. Says a lot of funny things about Jupiter, Neptune, Pluto and all that."
"The planets? Well yes of course, they play an important role in Divination and its related skills."
Thalia scoffed at this, before leaving Hermione with one last piece of advice.
"Look, take it from me. Don't let other people tell you what your future will be. Prophecies and riddles, whatever. I'm not saying you should outright ignore them, but all that junk is going to mess with your head if you think about it too much. Don't let it control what you do"
Sparing one more meaningful glance at me, she turned her strikingly blue eyes away and motioned with her head at Nico. The Slytherin nodded and swiftly got up and left the Great Hall with her, and the two once again disappeared into the halls.
Honestly, I've been staring too long. Have I been staring too long? Yeah, I've been staring too long. What can I say? Madame Maxine is an intimidating woman. I can't help it, when you've been a Greek hero for as long as I have, you have the urge to physically maim and/or kill anything that towered over you. But for the sake of international relations, I sat still, smiled, and nodded. And of above all else, I actively tried not to think about speaking French fluently as I spoke fluent French.
"It says here, in your documents, that your mother hails from France. However, I can find no mention of her name in Beauxbaton's school records. Would you care to explain?"
"Yes well, you see, my mother was actually educated in Hogwarts in her earlier years, before moving to America and meeting my father. When she returned to Europe, she wanted to give me a chance to attend her school, which I did for a few years. However, we both feel as though Hogwarts isn't the best fit for me, and so we arrived in France not too long ago."
The giantess nodded slowly, seemingly accepting my explanation. She rustled through a few more papers before bringing her eyes down to me once again.
"The rest of your documents seem to be in order Mr. Jackson. There will, as you know, be an entrance exam you must take in order for us to accurately place you at a suitable academic level. Beauxbatons Academy prides itself on ensuring a more practical level of teaching."
I breathed out a silent sigh of relief, masking it as nervousness before nodding eagerly.
"Of course, headmistress. That shouldn't be a problem."
Approximately a week later, I found myself on the verge of attending my first real class. Up until that point, I moved what few things I had into the school, met some friendly (and not so friendly) faces, and delved into the library. Oh, the library. Reading French gave me a headache, but so long as I didn't stare at the parchment for too long, I could manage. It wasn't hard to find mention of Flamel here. This school had partially been funded by their gold.
Figuring out where they were currently though, was impossible. Seriously, I've scoured every section under the guise of preparing for my entrance exam, and I've found nothing. Finally, I gave up and contacted Sirius to see if he knew anything.
"Perseus? What in Merlin's name are you doing in France?"
I looked at the two-way mirror with the most obvious look on my face,
"Uh, have you seen these rolling green pastures and beautiful French countryside? Why else would I be here, Sirius?"
I swear his eyes rolled so hard they got a good look at his brain.
"Hilarious. But really, what are you doing in France? I thought you'd be at Hogwarts with Harry."
I shrugged, not entirely sure what answer I could give him.
"I need to find the Flamels."
"The Flamels? As in the immortal Nicholas Flamel? Why in the blazes— "
I cut him off, growing frustrated with my inability to find an explanation that wouldn't give too much away.
"Look, I guess you could say it's for my personal curiosity. That's all I can really say alright?"
Sirius cocked his head to the side and stared at me for a bit, not unlike a dog.
"Perseus…you're not doing this for the stone are you?"
I stared at him.
"Stone? What stone?"
You know when you say something really, really stupid, and everyone looks at you like you're crazy? Yeah, he hit me with one of those.
"The stone Perseus, the bloody philosopher's stone! You know, the supposed reason the Flamel's are well established as the oldest witch and wizard to ever live? He's the bloody Alchemist for crying out loud. Potion master's practically worship the man!"
Huh. You know, that explains a lot. Like, so much.
"Uh. I mean yeah, of course. But that's not what I'm looking for—I just wanted talk to the guy."
"Perseus. Why would anyone want to talk to Nicholas Flamel if not to ask about his stone?"
"Hey, he's probably an interesting guy! I bet he's seen a lot while living so many years. You know. People like that could be interesting—I mean I know I'd want to talk to someone whose lived for centuries, who's seen probably more than anyone else on this forsaken planet has— "
"Are you okay?"
"Duh. I mean yes, I'm just tired and all. I've been studying at Beauxbatons and all that."
"And…why are you a student at Beauxbatons?"
I chewed on my lip thoughtfully for about three seconds before answering that one.
"Well, I mean I wanted a change of scenery for one…"
"I didn't even know you spoke French."
"Heh, neither did I." Sirius shot me that look again.
I played dumb. I mean, I may as well go all in at this point.
Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, I could tell I was getting on his nerves at this point.
"Look Perseus, if you want to get in touch with Nicholas Flamel, you're going to have to find your way into French high society. As far as I know, they have a rather closed social circle, and only the real higher-ups in the French wizarding government are in there. People like the Montague, Delacour, and Durand families. If you want your way in, you'll have to go through them."
I smiled my thanks, and nodded.
"Thanks a lot Sirius, that gives me somewhere to start. And I promise I'm not after the stone, I don't really care for that too much."
"Whatever you say Perseus, I won't question it this time, on account of you getting me out of Azkaban. But please don't do anything I would do."
"Of course, expect nothing less."
"But before you go Perseus, I need you to answer a very important question. I cannot stress how vital it is you tell me this."
My face grew serious; his tone did not waver in the slightest.
"What is it?"
Sirius looked at me dead in the eyes and nearly whispered,
"Are there really Veela in Beauxbatons Academy?"
I kid you not, I think the two-way mirror almost cracked at my expression.
A/N: Hi, I'm alive. Kind of. Thank you all for reading, even though I've been gone for quite a while. This story is still ongoing; I'm just looking for inspiration because I seemed to have misplaced it. Reviews are much appreciated.