Having a god for a parent must be cool right? Especially for downtrodden Harry P. Wrong! It just made life more complicated. Especially when you run across the Olympian Gods in both their Greek and Roman forms, not knowing where he fit in. Then throw in wizards lead by a senile old man, Magicians, the crazy Egyptian Gods, Valhalla and the Norse Gods, and survival seems impossible.
Crossover - Harry Potter & Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rated: T - English - Fantasy/Adventure - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4,600 - Reviews: 34 - Updated: 9/7/2012 - Published: 9/7/2012 - [Harry P., Rachel D.] [Annabeth C., Percy J.]
Have you ever had a day that was just so odd you try your hardest to forget it? A day that is so odd and full of confusing occurrences that your mind makes up excuse after excuse to explain them away?
If you have… continue your ignorance… as the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. You don't want to find out you're one of us.
If strange things are happening around you that no one else seems to notice, it's probably a better idea to follow their lead and forget about it. The mist will help. Even we're susceptible. What's the mist you might ask? Its best you don't.
I started asking questions.
Most days I wish I didn't. Some days I just want to scream at the world. WHY ME…! but I know I'll never truly get the answers that I'm looking for.
You're destined for great things.
Not likely, it would just be a huge lie anyway. I'm just me. Some kid born from a myth that few believe in any more. It's a shame things don't turn out the way you would like them too in reality. Anyway, from my experience, reality's a sham. Just a figment of our own naivety. A novelty I sometimes envy.
If this is sounding familiar so far maybe you should just avert your eyes now… stop reading and continue with your mundane life now, and be thankful. Enjoy what you have while it lasts.
Before they find you!
If they find you… I suggest you run. Run far away and never look back… find us as we can help… we maybe your only chance.
Learn to fight.
You're a hero in the making, so survive! The world may depend on it!
If you're still reading, I guess it doesn't matter. You can just believe that this is all a work of fiction, and that we don't exist. That there isn't a blurry line between fact and fiction. Or that I wasn't forced to kill the Skipper of the ship from Liverpool to New York. That he didn't turn into a monster.
If you do believe.
Wish you didn't.
The first time my eyes were truly opened and I began to see was when I was six years old. I had just started infant's school as a first year.
It was my cousin's fault really. See, we're the same age and attended the same school: Nestle Street Junior and Infants. I was excited to be starting school. Finally, I would be getting clear of my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon Dursley for a few hours during the day. Unfortunately, however, they were sending my baby whale sized cousin to the same school as me, and he's in my year. But at least I would be free of my aunt and uncle so I was happy with the arrangement.
You might be wondering why I would be so pleased with going to school over staying at home with my 'loving family?' well you've probably already guessed, and guessed correct. My family is anything but loving when it comes to me.
I've lived with my aunt and uncle since I was about fifteen months old. Apparently, someone delivered me to them the night my parents had died in a car crash, and burdened them with the responsibility of taking care of me. They had said its how I got the lightning bolt-shaped scar on my forehead. I was in the car with my mum and dad, and I had survived.
They said my parents were drunk, and my father was drinking while driving the car. They said my father killed himself and my mother. I never believed it. They said it with so much joy it had to be a lie meat to hurt me.
That is all they had ever told me about my parents. After that they forbid me from ever asking them any questions no matter how mundane. I still remember the pain from disobeying that rule of theirs, and I learnt quickly, from a very early age that it was so mush easier to just obey their rules, and despise their cruelness behind their backs.
I remember I some time's wished and even prayed for someone… anyone… some long lost relative to come and rescue me, but deep down I knew I was all alone.
They fed me… scraps or meagre helpings. Sometimes it seemed barely enough to survive on. If anybody ever noticed how I was treated, or found out since I had arrived at the Dursley's my room was a tiny cupboard under the stairs, or that I didn't know my name until I was sent to school and they were forced to call me by it instead of their more favourable: freak, or boy! They had never done anything about it, just remaining ignorant to the mistreatment of an innocent little boy.
Or perhaps they did. They tried to get me the help or rescue I needed but something odd happened and the knowledge left their minds… they somehow forgot, or their minds created an excuse to explain away the possibility that they have neighbours like 'that'. Or perhaps they had a visitor one day, and suddenly they no longer cared about the mistreatment of an innocent child, and no longer knew they even had a visitor.
Whatever the excuse the neighbours might give if it were too ever come to the light of day, it doesn't matter any more I try not to think about it. Some time's things are best left to the dark recesses of your mind to fade with time, if they ever will. I doubt most of my misery will ever be forgotten.
Dudley my cousin and I went to school for the first time ever. I hid my excitement well that day, through fear of angering my uncle as he and my aunt were to take us to school for our first day… for their 'Ikkle Duddykins' special day. I had grown used to hiding my emotions, especially when I was happy. They hated it if I were too ever smile; a smile was like blasphemy coming from me. They seemed to think I might be up to something freakish, what ever that might have meant.
They had just packed Dudley into my uncle's silver Vauxhall, and buckled his seat belt around his large frame. I climbed in the other side buckled my belt, and was about to close the door when I noticed my uncle at my door sneering down at me. His gigantic size had always scared me and made me wonder whether he could truly be human.
"BOY!" he bellowed making me cringed at the pure venom lacing his booming voice.
He moved in closer, presumably so only I would hear him. But I knew that would be no use, it never was. His large, angry purple face was inches from mine, his greying brown hair neatly combed back like a respectable, and might I add 'normal' person. Unlike my own unruly, and quite messy black mop of hair that stood out brilliantly on my pale skin, a constant annoyance for my aunt. I had never been out much to have the luxury of a more natural skin tone.
Uncle Vernon's bushy grey moustache twitched with his annoyance, and his blue eyes stared into my green with malice, satisfaction, and triumph. I can only imagine the fear he must have seen their. The fear that gave him so much pleasure… if I had the power I would have ripped his face off, that's how much I hated him.
"Now you listen here boy!" he began in a low voice, which wasn't very low at all, but I suppose it was low for him. I don't think he had ever gotten how to speak quietly. His rancid breath made me want to retch, but I kept my face as neutral as I could, and held my breath knowing he'll be finished quickly or be late. "We shall be having none of your freakishness! If we get one complaint about you from anyone, you'll be sorry!" he glared dangerously, making me wince as if he had physically struck me. I could still feel the lingering pain from several nights ago.
Uncle Vernon had returned home from his job at a drill manufactures in a steaming temper. The fury in his eyes and the redness of his face told me he had been drinking too, something he often did when something had not gone his way. If was just a shame he hadn't gotten stopped for drink driving because then I wouldn't have had to suffer, at least not then.
He then began ranting about some huge and wealthy client he had lost earlier that day. I didn't catch most of what he was saying; as I was afraid. His anger would soon be turned to me as it always did when he had been drinking, or something had not gone his way, and that evening it had been both, meaning double the anger and hate if that's at all possible.
It was. He turned and saw me. He blamed me for loosing the client somehow. I tried to flee but my short and weak legs were no match for his larger. He grabbed me and slammed me into the hallway wall. I hit my head and lost consciousness. I woke up in my cupboard room in pain with my body bruised, and with a few cuts. I have no doubt he beat me while I was out cold.
"And keep away from the normal kids!" he almost yelled this part in his anger at having to speak to me at all. "If we could get away with it we wouldn't be sending you at all. As if a freak like you could learn anything at a school for normal kid!" he added proudly before pulling back and slamming my door closed.
I sighed in relief and hung my head sadly, but no tears feel from my eyes. I will never cry in front of them. They shall never have that satisfaction ever again.
They didn't mind when I was sad. In fact, it just seemed to brighten their day that mine was terrible. The main reason I had been looking so forward to going to school was that I might make a friend. But now I knew that couldn't happen. If I even tried to make a friend, Dudley would inform my uncle and I would be in for a new 'lesson'. Probably about not corrupting other kid's with my freakishness. How I hate my 'family'.
And even if Dudley were not to tell Uncle Vernon, he would probably make my friends life hell just like mine, just for being my friend. I should have expected this and not let myself get my hopes up.
The school's not too big, and only one storey with a few brick buildings scattered about with a large grass field and a concrete playground. It wasn't much but it was a place where I could get some peace, or where I wouldn't be looked at with suspicion and hate.
Things like this never turn out too bright, especially for me, but I was too young to know better yet.
I was led into the school, following in the stride of my relatives. I only got a few frowning stares that made me feel very self-conscious, uncomfortable and nervous. While my aunt, uncle and cousin all wore nice new clothing that fit them well, I was wearing my cousin's five sizes too large hand-me-downs.
My faded blue tee shirt hung down to my knees, and my green stretchy trousers were rumpled and baggy over my three sizes too big black tennis shoes, held up with some salvaged string hidden by my tee shirt. I tripped occasionally as I took my steps into the school, and I wondered what the other families thought of me. I bet they were probably already telling their kids to stay away from the troublemaker.
We soon entered the classroom, and the teacher: an old woman, maybe in her late fifties introduced her self as Mrs. Wester. She was nice when I first met her, as I was as polite and normal to her as all of the other children, even if I was wearing old, battered and baggy clothing.
I learnt later in life that people are fickle… fair-weather nice, relaying on the words of others over their own first hand opinions and impressions.
My uncle and aunt soon left the class, as the school bell was soon to ring. My uncle just gave his son a quick hung and walked out while my aunt hugged him and fussed with his blonde hair plastered over his fat-head. It was fare and thin like hers, and he had inherited her cold blue eyes too.
She gazed over at me before she left… her cold, hate and bitterness filled eyes saying more than words could. 'Do anything freaky and you'll pay!' Probably with a blow to the head with some kind of cooking implement.
The teacher having been totally oblivious to the exchange shimmied us all towards a carpeted area at the front of the class when the last parent left and had us sit in a semi-circle around her on the floor just as the bell finally rang, while she sat in a chair with a thin green folder on her lap.
I made sure to sit as far from Dudley as I could manage, which was thankfully quite easy since he wanted nothing to do with me. I was thankful he was sitting with a weasel(y) looking boy and they were talking a mile a minute. I was sure if Dudley sat next to me I would end up with several new bruises on my legs and arms courtesy of him. I don't think he would have stopped at me either.
The other kids would soon learn its not me they want to avoid like a skin eating virus, but Dudley Dursley soon to be school bully. Its odd how even though all of the other kids will know the truth, I'll be the one who shall get into trouble for most of Dudley's wrong doings… showing you that appearances matter more than they should.
If you look like a hooligan, dresses like one, and your family doesn't dispute it as a misunderstanding, you get treated like one whether you are or not. My family would never stand up for me. They would offer me up as a sacrifice to a fire-breathing dragon if it would save them. Well my life couldn't get any worse… or so I thought.
After Mrs. Wester had taken roll call stopping on each of us to stand and tell everyone a bit about them selves, conveniently forgetting me it was morning break. I had just sat, being left out of the conversations between the class and teacher. I was OK with this as I had been alone for most of my life, someday I knew I would be free if my Uncle hadn't killed me before I am old enough to survive on my own.
The mistake that led to my eventual downfall happened soon after that cursed bell rang. Mrs. Wester led us all out of the classroom towards the school playground for our ten-minute morning break when Dudley caught my eye. He was talking to his new friend: a boy named Piers and gesturing wildly in my direction.
My heart caught in my throat for a moment. Dudley had been taught well by his parents… taught how best to hurt me when he had the chance. I gulped and looked up towards the teacher and considered moving closer hoping that he would leave me alone if I were walking with Mrs. Wester. However, I quickly shook that idea down as Dudley would no doubt find some way of hitting me whether she was near or not.
I was quite sure Dudley's loudness would drown out any protest that I didn't start anything and I wouldn't be believed anyway. The world sucks big style, I've gotten used to it. But now I was outside, so I knew I could flee.
I frantically looked around hoping to find a quick escape. A place I can hide until morning break is over. That's when I saw a pathway between two school buildings on the way to the playground.
My eyes flickered back to Dudley quickly. He had looked away back to his friend: a smirk on his face. I took my chance while he was temporarily distracted and sprinted down the other path, glad to hear the other kids' voices getting fainter.
I only stopped my sprint when I came to a freshly painted fence with a double gate. It stood next to a small brick building with dark curtains blocking off the inside. The gate had a red sign on it with something written in red on it, but I couldn't read what it said even if somebody had taught me how. The letters to me seemed to jump and dance around the plastic in confusion. I just couldn't seem to concentrate on them either.
I have always had a problem with concentration and sitting still for too long unless I tried extremely hard under threat of punishment. It could put a real hamper on me not getting the crap beaten out of me.
I had never told anyone that I couldn't make out the shapes of the letters. They wouldn't care even if I did. I just know it probably wasn't normal as Dudley had never said anything about it, and I would know, he's very vocal about all of his shortcomings that his parents try to explain away to placate him. Not that Dudley would ever read a book even if he could read. Why read when you have a TV? He would probably say.
The Dursley's have came up with excuse after excuse just to explain away Dudley being a moron. They had even tried blaming him. Its seriously stupid, and even as a kid I knew it was.
I suddenly heard a quick shuffling of feet behind me. Without looking round I pushed through the gate. I knew my cousins footfalls, I have hidden from them for so long.
I stopped in surprise as I let the gate swing closed behind me. I stood in a large courtyard with a rectangular swimming pool in the centre surrounded by the fence. It wasn't very clean and had yellowing leaves on the surface of the deep green mucky and cloudy liquid.
I had always enjoyed the water. Bath and shower times were when I could think clearly, letting the water wash away my problems just for a while. It had been like the water was comforting me, loving me like a parents should. I had always wanted to learn to swim, but my aunt and uncle would probably hope I'll drown or something so would never allow me to learn.
With a longing sigh, I moved closer, near to the edge, careful too not let my too big shoes trip me here. I didn't want to fall in and drown to death, even if that would have solved my 'Dursley problems'.
Looking in the water, I could just make out my reflection in its murky depths. I wished I didn't have to live as I did. I looked a mess. It was no wonder the teacher had ignored me in class. For a brief moment, I even considered jumping in, to be free like the murky green liquid.
Sighing I lifted my fruitless gaze towards the horizon and started taking a half step back. On the opposite side of the pool, it stood, or floated, I wasn't sure: a figure in a long black cloak staring at me. Its hood covered its head, and its face in shadows. It stood massively tall at about eight feet.
I could make out the glare it held for me with certainty, and hear a chilling rattle coming from it. The person's breath came out in the warm air as frozen bursts clearly visible before its hood. And I noticed the man or woman didn't seem to be touching the floor but rather floating with only the hem of its cloak skimming the tiled ground, and it held no reflection in the pool below.
Its look sent could chills of dread running viciously down my spine, but it seemed like more than just that. This person's very presents radiated emptiness and a loss of hope. Every sense I had at that moment was screaming at me to run. To flee, and never look back… and hope… no pray that I never encounter this person ever again. However, I was too paralysed with fear for my brain to relay the message to bolt to my legs.
It was as if my mind had frozen over and only my fears and doubts were left. I could hear whispers slowly creep up upon me, and images inside my head as if on a faulty television: fuzzy with wavy lines across the screen. All I could truly make out was the flashes of green, along with the screaming… no, it was pleading, and the coldest laugh I had ever thought possible.
I then jumped out of my dazed state after a few moments of my staring match as I heard a noise behind me, and span round fast on reflex still terrified.
"I saw the freak come in here!"
It was Dudley's loud voice as he and Piers came waltzing in through the gate as if they owned the place. They both smiled widely as they saw me. As the saying goes there is a first for everything, and today was the first time, I had ever been glad to see Dudley Dursley, and the last. His timely arrival had jogged my mind back into gear. The image's and sounds leaving my mind as steadily as they came.
"See mate!" exclaimed Dudley excitedly. "Told you I saw him coming in here to hide from us!"
It was then that I noticed that I was breathing heavy and rapidly, as if I had just ran around the school a few times as fast as I could manage. And I had beads of ice cold sweat running down my face, and I could feel that same sweat covering all of my body under my clothes, making me shiver as if I had fallen in the pool.
I must have looked as bad as I felt because of the look of utter glee to cross Dudley's face, and I couldn't stop shivering no matter how hard I tried. I felt like I was ready to die, and I felt that I had no hope. I was ready to die.
Dudley just pointed a chubby finger at me and laughed.
"Look at you freak, you look like you've seen Caspar," he giggled with his friend. "You little coward, you're always trying to hide from me… wimp."
I gulped because that reminded me of the person the other side of the pool. Not even the Dursley's could scare me as that… that thing had. I decided then and there, it could not have been human. And that was my mistake. I should have just let my muddled brain make up some lame excuse for what I had felt, but instead I had decided it was not actually a person, but a monster. Call it childish fantasy, or horror, but from that moment onwards. I believed in monsters and I would always see them.
I quickly turned back round, but the monster had disappeared as if it had never been there to begin with. Dudley and Piers had never even glimpsed it, and no matter how hard I looked, it was gone.
I even questioned whether it was just my imagination for a brief moment. I have heard that sometimes too much heat can make people see things, but it wasn't a very hot day today, and I could still feel my cold sweat and the evil in the air. It was real, and it had attacked me somehow.
"You look like you could use a wash… you stink," giggled Dudley in amusement.
Suddenly I felt his fat hands on my back before I was sailing through the air over the pool, and plummeting in slow motion towards the cold surface. I hadn't even had time to yell out in surprise before my weight exploded into the ice cold and filthy water below making me loose all of my breath as I screamed into the water because of the stabbing cold.
I panicked as I slid through the surface, sinking downwards in the frozen fluid. I managed to break back through, maybe two times trying to yell out for help even though I knew it unlikely to come. Dudley had been taught no moral boundaries when it came to me. And no matter how much I wanted to get away from my family, I didn't really want to die.
As you can imagine I swallowed a lot of water in my vein attempt to stay above the surface and get to the edge. I may have even vomited from the foul taste but I couldn't tell you for sure, as I was more interested in my survival to take note or care.
My too big clothes were soaked through and dragging me down, tears were probably leaking from my eyes into the frozen pool.
I was getting tired, and loosing the fight against the might of the dirty pool water. I was feeling light headed from trying to hold my breath for so long. I was sinking… my body so numb with cold it slowed to a complete stop as I drifted further down into the murky depth.
My limbs limp and immobile, I had just run out of strength, and even if I could move them, my brain was no longer working correctly to send the correct signals to my body.
I was going to die.
The last few bubbles of air escaped my mouth and lips being pulled by the pressure of the water from my frozen lungs. I felt my eyes slowly drifting closed as the last of my strength left my ice-cold body, my baggy clothes just drifting around my scrawny self.
I felt selfish dying. It was the easy way out, but I couldn't help it now. I should have just stayed with the other children and taken my beating, but now it's too late, fate has spoken.
My last thought as my eyes fully closed went something like this: 'I expected Vernon to kill me, not him.'
Though, I wasn't really surprised.