Hi. I don't own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

Okay, some people say that Percy & Harry have a lot in common- maybe a little too much. Well, let's see how much of that is true.

And yes, it'll be VERY close to canon in the beginning but it'll be going equally as off the rails soon enough.

EDITED by Mellie Erdmann.


Chapter One: I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

Harry Potter woke up, his head hurting like Dudley had smacked him into the ground again, on a beat-up bus. He was sitting next to a rather strange pre-teen: one with baggy jeans, crutches in front of him, acne, and a bit of hair on his chin.

"Percy? Are you okay?" he asked. Harry blinked, baffled. "Yeah, sure."

"Good, because- ack!" went the other pre-teen as a piece of sandwich hit him. And then another. Bewildered Harry looked around and saw a brown-haired girl with lots of freckles preparing a third piece of sandwich to throw at him. Picking up the first bit, Harry realized it was peanut butter and ketchup.

"What on Earth?" he asked. And then he repeated himself: "What on Earth?"

Because he was now speaking with an American accent instead of a British one, which made no sense. Taking a deep breath Harry turned to look out the window and nearly screamed.

His hair, while still black, was now neat. His eyes were sea green opposed to vivid green, and his lightning bolt scar was gone from his forehead. His facial features were less narrow, and he looked easily a year older. Maybe he was a year older. Furthermore, the view outside was of a city with tall buildings and bright lights.

"Percy… you're not okay, are you?" inquired the other boy, ignoring the piece of sandwich that had just landed in his hair.

"I'll be fine," Harry smiled weakly as the bus came to a halt before a large building. "Where are we going again?"

"The Metropolitan Museum of Art," he replied, studying Harry closely. "Mr. Brunner the Latin teacher and Mrs. Dodds, the pre-algebra teacher, are the chaperones."

"Oh, yeah," Harry nodded as if this wasn't new to him. He wasn't sure if the other boy was convinced.

Staying close to the other boy and away from the sandwich-throwing girl, who looked a bit like a female version of his cousin Dudley, Harry followed a greying man in a wheelchair and a wiry petite woman into the museum to the Greek art exhibit. While the man- Mr. Brunner- talked about Greek funeral art the sandwich-throwing girl kept talking. Mutely Harry just squirmed his way closer to the teacher and away from the girl to hear better. Whatever was going on, he'd better figure out fast before everyone realized he wasn't this Percy person.

"Ah, Percy," Mr. Brunner noticed him. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

Harry studied the image the teacher had gestured to. Luckily he had already learned some Greek myths. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner nodded, still looking at him expectantly. Hastily Harry racked his head. Mr. Brunner added, "And he did this because…"

"Um, Kronos had gotten a prophecy one of his kids would overthrow him like he had his dad so he ate them. But his wife didn't like that and fed Kronos a rock instead of Zeus and hid him. Later, Zeus tricked Kronos into throwing up his older siblings and there was a huge war where the gods won." Harry gulped after finishing, wondering if he'd gotten it all right.

"Throwing up people, gross," muttered someone. The sandwich-throwing girl grumbled, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job application, 'please explain why Kronos ate his kids'."

"And why, Mr. Jackson, to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," smiled the boy Harry had been sitting beside. Not that Harry could blame him; he had often wished for Dudley to get into trouble. And it looked like he'd gotten the first question right anyway.

"Shut up," hissed Miss Bofobit.

Taking a deep breath Harry stated, "Um, that trying to avoid prophecies coming true can make them come true?"

"Sometimes, yes," smiled Mr. Brunner wistfully. "Half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

Harry stayed put as everyone else drifted off, following the other teacher. Mr. Brunner wheeled up to him.

"Yes, Mr. Brunner?" Harry tried out the name. Mentally he tried out 'Percy Jackson'. It didn't feel right to him.

Steadily looking into his eyes Mr. Brunner informed him, "You must learn the answer to my question."

"About Kronos? He ate his kids…"

"No, about real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Um."

"What you learn from me is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

Yeah, that name wasn't his. And why did the Greek myths matter so much today, in distant America? And yet… maybe it could help explain why his hair grew back so fast after a haircut, why he found himself on the school roofs once while being chased by Dudley's gang, why he could shrink an ugly sweater. Harry nodded firmly.

"I will try my best, sir."

Mr. Brunner smiled tiredly before shifting his direction to a girl's stele, looking at it as if it was the headstone of someone he had known.

"Very well, Mr. Jackson. You're free to go outside and eat your lunch."

Nodding, Harry made his way outside. Overhead there were looming storm clouds, making Harry nervous and almost missing his lightning bolt scar. Some of the other students were pelting pigeons with crackers, Miss Bofobit was pick-pocketing a lady's purse, and the guy that seemed to know 'Percy' well was sitting on the fountain's edge, his crutches lying beside him. Harry wondered what sort of school he was attending as he joined him at the fountain.

"Detention?" he asked worriedly. With a wan smile Harry shook his head. "No. He was just… intense about me knowing all of this."

The other boy was quiet for a while. Even so, Harry liked the feeling of having a friend.

"Can I have your apple?"

"Sure," smiled Harry, passing it over. His stomach was in knots anyway as he watched all the traffic go by. He wondered what was going on. Suddenly he wished that his parents hadn't died in that traffic accident. At least he wouldn't have to live with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley anymore.

Harry's eyes widened. Uh-oh, if he was Percy that meant Percy was him. Poor Percy. Troubled, he looked over to Mr. Brunner who was eating celery with a red umbrella poking up from the back of his chair while reading a novel. Would Mr. Brunner understand if he tried to explain? Or would he think that Harry had gone crazy?

Anxiously Harry began unwrapping his sandwich when Nancy Bobofit, with a few other girls behind her like Dudley's friends always were, came up and dumped the remains of her lunch into Grover's lap.

"Oops," she grinned at Harry, her teeth crooked. Clenching his fists, Harry glared at her. Even if he didn't know the boy's name, he was clearly a good guy and his friend. Suddenly he felt a wave roar through him.

Behind Harry the fountain exploded with water, soaking everyone in a ten foot radius. Everyone except for Harry.

"Percy did it!" screeched Miss Bobofit. Mrs. Dodds appeared out of nowhere next to the group.

"Did you see-"

"-all that water-"

"it like exploded-"

Harry didn't understand what had just happened; all he knew was that nothing like this had happened in public before. Breathing heavily, Harry tried to calm down. At least he couldn't get locked up in the cupboard again.

Once Mrs. Dodds had assured herself that Miss Bobofit was alright, she turned onto Harry. There was a disturbingly triumphant gleam in her eyes.

"Now, honey, come with me."

"Wait!" yelped the boy. "It was me, I pushed her."

Mrs. Dodds stared down haughtily at the preteen, causing his chin to tremble.

"I don't think so, Grover Underwood."

"But-" Grover protested. Mrs. Dodds overrode him, saying, "You- will- stay- here."

Panicked, Grover looked over at Harry. Running a hand through his now-straight hair Harry assured him, "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"Honey, now," barked Mrs. Dodds. Miss Bofobit smirked, making Harry glare at her back. In the meantime, Mrs. Dodds had gotten herself to the museum entrance at the top of the stairs. As she gestured impatiently for Harry to follow, Harry found himself wondering what exactly he had awakened into.

Hiding his nerves, Harry followed her deep into the museum, not looking back. Even here, he doubted anyone would or maybe even could come to his aid. Mrs. Dodds stopped in the Greek and Roman section, letting Harry catch up with her in the empty gallery.

Her arms were crossed before a large white frieze showing the Greek gods, a growl deep in her throat. Bug-eyed, Harry stepped back. He had a bad feeling about this.

"You've been giving us problems, honey."

"Oh." Harry suddenly realized that maybe there was a reason Percy was at this school. Uh-oh. Tugging at the cuffs of her leather jacket, Mrs. Dodds continued, "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

"Maybe you could clarify," Harry commented cautiously, edging back half a step. The look in her eyes was far more malevolent than anything-

A flash of pain from his subdued headache made him recall a pair of pure red, pure evil eyes. Okay, Mrs. Dodds' look was the second most malevolent thing Harry had ever seen. Silently Harry waited.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson. It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

"Uh…" Harry was really not liking this as he kept backing.

"Well?"

"Um…" went Harry as he kept backing away from the teacher.

"Your time is up," she snarled. Then things got really weird. Her fingers turned into talons, her eyes started to goal like embers, and her jacket grew into leathery, large wings. Worse of all, her face was definitely inhuman complete with fangs.

"What ho, Percy!" shouted a voice from the doorway of the gallery. Wheeling around, Harry saw Mr. Brunner in the doorway, pen in hand. Then he tossed the bronze-hued ballpoint pen to him, Harry catching it. As he did so, it also transformed- but into a bronze sword.

The former Mrs. Dodds headed towards Harry, murder clearly in her eyes. Harry shot a look at Mr. Brunner.

"Trust the preteen with the sword? What!"

"Die, honey!" shouted Mrs. Dodds, her claws outreached as she flew towards him. Both hands clamped on the sword Harry ran her through. The blade went right through her stomach. Mrs. Dodds fell apart like yellow sand, screeching as she died.

Then Harry was alone, ballpoint pen in hand. Shakily Harry went outside, where it was now raining.

Grover was still sitting by the fountain with his brown paper lunch bag over his head. Miss Bofobit stalked up to Harry, mad as a wet hen.

"I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

"Who?" blinked Harry. Hadn't there been only two chaperones?

"Our teacher, duh!"

"What are you talking about?"

Miss Bofobit just stormed off. Wearily Harry returned to Grover's side. Plopping down he sighed, "Hey, Grover."

It felt good, knowing the other boy's name. But he didn't dare ask about Mrs. Kerr; Harry realized she was probably some sort of instant replacement for Mrs. Dodds. Harry wasn't going to question it, especially after slaying the nonhuman pre-algebra teacher. Looking down at the ballpoint pen, Harry got to his feet.

Soberly he walked over, finally getting wet, to Mr. Brunner. "Your pen?"

"Ah, yes. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

"Hopefully I won't need to borrow yours again," nodded Harry as he handed over the pen. Mr. Brunner looked seriously at him as he tucked the pen into his tweed jacket pocket.

"I quite agree, Mr. Jackson."

As he once again headed back over to Grover, Harry felt very tired. Apparently this Percy was just as strange and as much as an outcast as him. But at least he had Grover, that was something. And maybe Harry had Grover too now… for a little while, anyway. Until Grover figured out the truth about him, whatever it might be.