#percy: i haven’t had time to stop by a lake to fix it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wasithard · 4 years

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Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday in his own bed.

One year ago today, he’d woken up in a room at the Plaza Hotel from a vision of the Titan Lord Kronos planning his attack on Manhattan. One year ago today, he’d woken up in the middle of a war – and that’s not even the most recent war he’s fought.

Percy wakes up on his seventeenth birthday and immediately goes back to sleep.

His day goes like this: waking again to blue pancakes and waffles and eating them with his mom and Paul. Having a picnic lunch with Annabeth and Grover in Central Park, then driving with them to camp for dinner and a bonfire with their friends. Roasting marshmallows and singing songs and kissing Annabeth by the fire. Getting too lost in the way the firelight tinges her grey eyes red to notice the rest of the campers gathering around them before they pick them up and throw them in the lake, just like last year. Sitting around the dying embers of the fire, remembering the friends they lost in the war that ended one year ago today, the heavy silence of that moment burying itself in the middle of his chest, sitting there like a weight. Going to bed in his cabin, Tyson snoring in the bunk above him, wishing the love he’d felt from his friends that day would be enough to silence the voices in his head yelling it should’ve been me.

Percy wakes up on his nineteenth birthday, three years after the war.

He wakes up and wonders if he’ll ever stop thinking of it as the anniversary of the war instead of a celebration for another year he’s lived, or another year he’s spent with Annabeth.

Annabeth, who’s living on campus in the city they almost gave their lives defending three years ago now and comes over for breakfast that morning with Sally and Paul. He’s sitting at the table with them all, laughing and grateful to have them, but wondering if he should be worried that it’s been three years and he still wakes up on August 18th with a tightness in his chest at the thought of getting another year older than his friends who will never see another day. He knows they’re in Elysium. The thought should bring him peace.

Breakfast trickles into the afternoon and he and Annabeth go for a walk in Central Park before driving up to Camp. On the way there, Percy takes a detour to a small beach he’d scouted out a few weeks before and surprises his girlfriend with a picnic on the sand. He helps her build a sandcastle that’s almost taller than he is, holding the waves back so that they can use the hard, wet sand near the shoreline to make their castle stronger.

By the time they get to Camp they both smell of salt and seaweed and his spirits are high. It makes it worse, somehow, when they have their annual memorial to those they lost three years ago that he’s had such a nice day so far. Annabeth notices his change in mood, presses a kiss to his shoulder as she entwines their fingers.

After the campers start to trickle off to bed, Chiron catches his eye and Percy follows him to the Big House. They are sitting on the balcony, crickets chirping around them and a glass of cool blue Coke in Percy’s hand when Chiron fixes him with a stare that has seen countless tragedies and asks him if he still blames himself for being alive.

It’s jarring to hear someone so bluntly say out loud the thoughts he hasn’t dared to speak for so long. He swallows, can’t bring himself to hold Chiron’s gaze so flicks his eyes down to his feet instead, the only part of his body that doesn’t feel like it’s shaking. His fingers clench around the clear glass in his hand and he watches beads of water slide down the outside of it. Chiron doesn’t speak, but the silence is heavy and Percy feels like it’ll suffocate him if he doesn’t break it.

“I don’t– ” he clears his throat. It sounds too thick. “I don’t blame myself.”

He takes a sip of his Coke, swallowing it completely. “I don’t blame myself. I just don’t understand…”

He doesn’t want to finish the sentence, doesn’t want to say the words, I don’t understand why it wasn’t me, but when his eyes meet Chiron’s again he knows the centaur understands. How many other heroes has he seen feel the same way? Does he feel the same way?

“Percy,” Chiron says, his voice steady and deep with thousands of years of wisdom and loss and hope. “You help no one by holding on to guilt that isn’t yours.”

Percy exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. In his head, he understands this. He just doesn’t believe it. If he had been a little bit better, in any sense of the word: faster, stronger, smarter. Maybe Charles wouldn’t have gotten caught in the engine room of the Princess Andromeda. Maybe Michael wouldn’t have been caught in the earthquake Percy had caused on the Williamsburg Bridge. Maybe Clarisse could have been convinced to fight in the war earlier, so Silena wouldn’t have had to impersonate her.

“Percy.” Chiron repeats, voice firmer. “You might be a hero, but you are also a person. And all a person can ever do is their best.”

Percy closes his eyes, bows his head. Chiron continues speaking. “The gods have done wonderful things, but they have also made many, many mistakes. More and far more devastating mistakes than the ones you have made in your short life. The benefit and curse of immortality is seeing how the actions of a moment can fade over time. How they can be made up for when a similar situation arises in the future. How it is not one’s past that defines them, but how they learn from it.”

Percy doesn’t want to look up at Chiron now, because there are tears in his eyes and it’s embarrassing, frankly. But he owes it to him.

He looks up. Chiron’s gaze is as steady as before, and Percy exhales one more time, releasing air all the way down to his belly. One tear slips down the side of his face and stops at his upper lip. He licks it away, using a hand to wipe his eyes as he turns his face to the now quiet camp. He can see the volleyball court, the rock climbing wall, the smoking embers of the campfire and the beginning of the circle of cabins. He sees his home: safe, intact. Filled with his friends, the survivors. He breathes it in.

“Thanks, Chiron.” He says, turning back to the centaur who gives him a soft, understanding smile in return.

Percy finishes off his drink and leaves the empty glass on the same wooden table he saw Chiron and Dionysus playing pinochle at when he first arrived at Camp, all those years ago. He stands up, wishes Chiron goodnight and starts walking back to the cabins.

Cabin 3 stands there: dark, alone and familiar. He feels tiredness tug at his eyelids and muscles but inside he still feels too wired to lay down just yet. He heads for the beach.

Annabeth is already there. Her legs are bent in front of her, arms tucked underneath them and chin resting on her knees. He sits silently beside her and they stay there, no sound between them except the gentle crash of the waves on the shore. After a few minutes she leans her head against his shoulder and he rests his atop hers, closes his eyes.

“Do you remember when we were in the Sea of Monsters and I wanted to hear the Sirens?” Annabeth asks, voice quiet. “I would’ve killed myself on those rocks swimming to their island but you dove into the ocean and pulled me out of their range, even though I was kicking and screaming at you to stop. We were thirteen.

“And remember in Mount St. Helen’s? I know you didn’t have a plan, but you made me get out anyway. You made sure that I was safe before even thinking about how you would survive.”

He feels her weight leave his shoulder then, glances over to see her sitting up and turning towards him, crossing her legs under her. The light of the full moon washes her in an ethereal glow, and her eyes are gleaming wide and bright as they lock onto his, pinning him in place. Annabeth is always beautiful, but when she’s determined – whether in battle or in convincing her boyfriend that he doesn’t deserve the pain he inflicts on himself – she has a face that could launch a thousand ships.

“And in Rome,” she says, her voice catching. “You wouldn’t let me face Tartarus unless we could face it together. I don’t know how many times you saved my life down there…” Percy sees her eyes begin to well with tears. “When we were fighting the arai…” She closes her eyes as a few tears escape them. Percy reaches forward and wipes a few away with his thumb. She opens her eyes into his again and gives him a small smile.

“My point is,” she continues, her voice thick. “Being a demigod is a high risk life that none of us asked for. An occupational hazard of us just being alive is death by monster attack. This is the first thing we learn when we find out who we are. All the friends we’ve lost over the years…they knew that too.

“And that doesn’t mean that their deaths were ok or justified or that we can forget about them, but I think that shouldering the burden of their deaths is stopping you from remembering the beauty of their lives. And it’s stopping you from remembering all the people who haven’t died because of you. Every single person in this camp owes their life to you, either directly or indirectly. Yes, a lot of people died on this day three years ago, but even more people were saved, and you had more to do with the last thing than the first.”

Percy’s getting teary again, but he doesn’t feel embarrassed this time. Annabeth shuffles closer to him on the sand and grabs both of his hands, squeezing them tightly, bringing them up and pressing her lips against them. “Percy Jackson, you have the purest heart of anyone I have ever met. It’s glaringly obvious to anyone who knows you – except yourself, apparently. I will spend the rest of my life trying to help you see it, but until then you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

Her face changes. It goes from open and pleading to playful, one eyebrow raised and a challenge in her eyes that makes his heart skip a beat, even when the rest of his system is in emotional overwhelm.

“Do you trust me, Percy?” Annabeth asks him.

He lets out a laugh, shaky from tears, and nods, “Yes, Annabeth. I trust you with my life.”

She beams at him, sitting up on her knees to bring her face closer to his, until it’s close enough that he can feel the warmth of her breath as she speaks, her eyes still locked onto his. “Then believe me when I tell you that you deserve forgiveness. And you need to give it to yourself.”

It’s too much. Percy swallows, jaw clenched and glances down. Annabeth releases one of his hands and grabs his chin, not letting him get away that easily.

“You. Deserve. Forgiveness. More than anyone in this world.”

He’s searching her eyes, frantically almost. It feels too easy. There has to be a catch.

“Ok?” Annabeth prompts, her voice still soft but firm, uncompromising.

He opens his mouth to speak but any words get caught in the knot at the base of his throat. Tears are leaking down his face and he can’t. He can’t. It can’t be that easy. It shouldn’t be.

Annabeth exhales, removing her hand from his chin and instead running it through his hair, stopping at the back of his head and bringing it forward until their foreheads touch. She doesn’t say anything else, just sits there with him.

With him, while he closes his eyes and thinks about the Minotaur choking his mom when he was twelve. Thinks about imaging Tyson drowning in the Sea of Monsters when he was thirteen. Thinks about losing Bianca di Angelo and Zoe Nightshade later that same year. He thinks about the campers that fell in the Battle of the Labyrinth whose names he didn’t know, and the campers that fell in the Battle of Manhattan whose names he made sure he did. He thinks of a Titan and a Giant at the Doors of Death, sacrificing themselves so that he and Annabeth could get to safety.

Percy sits on a beach at nineteen years old and thinks of all the death he’s seen in such a short time, all the death that’s been haunting him for years.

A cool breeze passes by him, coming from the water. As it brushes his skin, he comes back to the warmth of his best friend’s forehead pressed against his, her hands: one clutching his, the other tangled in his hair. He feels her soft exhale of breath and thinks about how she is alive, here, with him. Against all odds. He thinks of the campers asleep in the cabins just metres away: alive, here, with him. He thinks of his mom and Paul and Rachel, his friends from Camp Jupiter, all the people he cares about who are alive, here, with him. He thinks about the fact that they outnumber the dead, and realises he’s never really thought about that before.

Percy lifts his head and looks at Annabeth. She cups one side of his face with her hand, eyes still trained on his intently.

“I love you.” He says. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Her smile is small and bittersweet, her eyes wide grey pools of understanding.

“Me too,” is all she says.

It is enough.

#i woke up yesterday not expecting to create original content for percy's birthday and instead #here is the longest coherent thing ive ever written #percy jackson #pjo #percabeth #idk what's happening with the form at the beginning #and no estelle is not valid in my universe sorry #its 1:19am i have no business being up so late for this but its percy......i love him #ok bye #hi i wrote a thing #tw death

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sincerlypadfoot · 3 years

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Running Around (1)

~After sneaking out of your house for the summer you sneak to the borrow, seeing Molly first and giving her the occasional hug and telling her about everything, then seeing everyone else around, then Fred who faces lights up when he sees you.

Word Count- 1450

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I grabbed handfuls of clothes out of my closet, tossing them into my enchanted bag, taking everything I could find that I could bring, I got out of my closet, walking around my room and tossing books and other miscellaneous things into the bag

“I’m off mom, I’ll see you when I come home,” I yelled knowing I wouldn’t get an answerback. “I love you,” I called out walking out of the house, grabbing my broom from the side of the house and taking off to the borrow.

As I flew over the river, I raised my hands up, holding my bag and screamed at the top of my lounges, excited and just being in a happy place, I looked down just above where the lake ended.

I flew myself up into the bushes, making myself boost a bit more, landing in the field, I flicked my broom up, holding my broom in one hand and the other my bag filled with all my things.

“Dears please come downstairs!” Molly yelled as I walked in, I smiled placing my bag on the couch and walked into the kitchen. “Oh dear Merlin, you almost gave me a heart attack Maileen,” Molly said dropping everything onto the table. “What are you doing here?” She asked grabbing me and pulling me into a hug.

“I thought if it was okay with you, I could stay here for the summer since your house is better than mine,” I chuckled hugging her back. “If that's okay with you?” I said with a smile.

“Oh dear it’s more than okay, does your mom know your here?” She asked letting me go. “Because if she doesn’t I don’t want no three am knocks on my door,” Molly chuckled.

“Yes my mom knows I’m here, she hasn’t talked in years though, so you won’t be having a three am knock on your door,” I chuckled letting go of Molly.

“Oh hello there Maileen,” Arthur said walking into the kitchen. “What new thing have you brought me today,” He chuckled getting a look from Molly.

“Oh your gonna love this one, you talk about it all the time, so I had to grab it for you,” I chuckled walking out of the room, I grabbed my bag and reached in, pulling out a yellow rubber duck.

“Exquisite!” Arthur chuckled walking over. “All you do is use these as bath toys?” He asked, I placed the duck into his hand and watched him examine it.

“Yes, it’s for kids so they have something to play within the bath,” I chuckled placing my bag back down.

“Is that who I think it is!” Ginny Weasley called out, running down the stairs and involving me in a hug. “I missed you and I only saw you like a week ago,” I chuckled letting me go. Ron and George also ran down, pulling me into a hug.

“Where's my favourite Weasley,” I joked as Ron and George had let me go, Molly smiled and looked at me as Ron and George had taken offence.

“He’s sleeping, of course, why don’t you go wake him up, I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you here,” Molly said pointing to the stairs. “The last door on the top floor,” She said with a bigger smile on her face, Arthur pulled her into the kitchen and I just chuckled walking up the stairs.

I walked up the stairs, forgetting how many stairs were in this house, I smiled looking at Fred's door, notes saying do not disturb hung up on his door.

“Fred Weasley wake up from your slumber,” I whispered walking into his room, not bugging one bit. “Fred Weasley your knight in shining armour is here!” I yelled jumping onto his bed, his little brown eyes opened up and a smile appeared on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Fred asked looking up at me. “I don’t have a shirt on, what are you doing in my room?” He asked lifting his leg up, kicking me and causing me to fall down beside him, I just laughed.

“Ran away from home, you're stuck with me for the whole summer now,” I chuckled leaning my head up and looking at Fred with a smile. “You act like I haven't seen you barely naked in the common room before, I chuckled crawling over Fred’s legs and tossing my bag on the extra bed. “I’m crashing in here, since I hear George got Percy's old room when he moved out,” I said tossing my books out of my bag,

“Slow down there Maileen,” Fred said wrapping his arms around me. “I missed you,” he whispered leaning against me.

“Not a one time thing huh?” I chuckled turning myself around to face Fred who smirked on his face. “I know what your thinking,” I whispered feeling the grip of Fred's hand get tighter, both our bodys were pressed against each other.

“Your too hot to have a one time thing with,” Fred said pulling his hands up onto my head and pulled both our heads forward, our lips connected and my hands dug into Freds shirt slowly pulling it up.

“Are you unpacked yet!” Ginny yelled from the other side of the door. “And Fred you better be awake mom wants you downstairs,” Ginny called out, Fred and I both pushed away from each other fixing our clothes and looking at each other with a smile.

“Yeah i’m unpacked Ginny,” I chuckled opening the door. “Fred was just telling that I could stay in here, since Percy moved out,” I smiled opening the door, Fred was slipping a sweater on acting normal.

“Okay well breakfast is gonna be ready soon, mom just sent me up here to see if you guys had seen each other yet,” Ginny smiled. “I’ll see you two downstairs then, hurry up now,” She said turning around and walking down the stairs.

“Our dirty little secret,” Fred said shutting the door and pushing me against it. “Thats hot,” He whispered pushing his lips against mine, my hands found a way inside his shirt again slowly pulling it off but stopping myself.

“We can wait till tonight,” I muttered between kisses. “You have me for the whole summer Freddie, come on i’m starving,” I chuckled pulling his shirt down and walking over to my bag. “This year was stressful huh, we’re sixth years now,” I said grabbing a large sweater that Molly had knitted me for my birthday and tossing it on.

“Yeah tonight,” Fred said walking over towards me. “I’m not sure i’ll be able to wait tell tonight,” He whispered slipping his hands around my shirt before I could slip my sweater on.

“Freddie,” I whispred leaning back into his shoulder. “Your sisters gonna come back up here if we don’t get down there, we don’t want her thinking anythings going on,” I chuckled feeling his arms move from my waist.

“Your right,” Fred whispred leaning down and kissing my lips. “We’re keeping it a secret, just until it’s the right time,” He said with a smile.

“Come on now, i’m starving,” I chuckled grabbing Fred's hand, forgetting about my sweater and running down the stairs with him. “Hello Weasley family, i’ve come baring another gift,” I chuckled walking into the kitchen with Fred trailing around me.

“Boy you are in trouble,” Molly said standing up, I looked at Fred with a smile then sat down at the table beside Ginny who gave me a soft smile. “I’ll deal with you later,” She muttered looking at the family owl that flew into the window, Molly ripping open the letter. “Hope you haven’t gotten to comfortable Maileen, we’re going for a bit of a travel,” Molly said handing the letter to Arthur.

“What can I say, i’m up for a adventure,” I chuckled digging into the food that appeared right infront of me.

“Everyone quickly finish eating, we’ll be traveling by floo, so just gather what you’ll need for the summer dears,” Molly said walking out, I quickly followed her out. “Dear you should be eating, you need some meat on those bones,” Molly joked turning around.

I didn’t say anything to her but walked over and wrapped my arms around her, some odd tears fell down off my face but I shook my head and leaned my forehead on her shoulders.

“Molly i’m glad i’m staying with you guys this summer, i’m sure one more night in my house and I would have gone crazy,” I chuckled looking at her, Molly had tears going down her face as well. “Whats wrong?” I asked putting a serious face on.

“Nothing nothing Maileen,” Molly said taking me into a hug again. “Stay safe this summer okay, I know how much you mean to the boys, your like family to us,” She whispred in my ear making me smile.

#Fred weasley #FredWeasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x oc

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bodytoflame-ao3 · 4 years

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it’s brighter now

absolutely no one prompted this but it’s my birthday and i get to choose the self indulgent fanfic so here’s some early relationship wlw percabeth

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i don't wanna look at anything else now that i saw you

i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you

daylight ..//.. taylor swift

Percy won’t stop holding her hand.

It’s still summer, and her palms are a sweaty mess, but Percy’s still holding her hand through camp, every chance she gets.

Annabeth loves it. Loves that she gets to walk around with Percy’s fingers entwined in her own, without thinking twice. The breeze flows through her hair — it's a crisp August night — but the only sensation she can pay attention to is the connection between them; palms together, arms tangled up. She still has no clue how to act around Percy — the dynamic between them completely shifted in the new light of their relationship — but this, this feels natural; her hand finds Percy’s without even thinking.

They don’t talk about it much. Instead, they spend every minute they can of each day with their hands linked; sometimes a still-awkward meeting of lips stolen in silence. She clings to Percy’s side with a newfound dependency — something she’d be embarrassed of if it didn’t give her such a thrill. Even though she knows she’s strong enough to face the world herself, there’s something oddly comforting in being protected by the girl who saved Olympus. Almost as if she could keep her safe from the gods themselves.

She feels like a child (and maybe she still is) trying to navigate this; new, and unexpectedly confusing, since it’s Percy — who was once so innately familiar — now such a new concept quite literally at her fingertips. Annabeth stops, pulling Percy back when she continues walking, turning to face the lake together. This place is… calm. It always has been. She knows, especially so, for Percy. And calm is good.

Percy’s the first to speak. “You know, last time we were here I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

“I wish you had,” she says, “I wouldn’t have had to sulk over you for a year.”

“I thought you didn’t know—?”

Annabeth laughs, leaning her head against Percy’s shoulder. “I’m a smart girl, Percy. I would’ve figured it out.”

She is — smart, that is — and it makes her wonder how she could’ve been so ignorant for so long. That it was not only to protect her friendship, and Percy’s feelings, but also for herself. Her pride. Because that’s hard to admit to herself, still. She thought she’d figured herself out by her seventeenth year. To feel something so different, so new, throws her so far off track.

And Percy is someone she trusts without hesitation; she doesn’t have to think twice about how her hand fits into hers, and so gently. More than herself, she admits. Annabeth would reach for her hand before trying to save herself — not because she doubts her own strength, but because she believes in Percy’s. She believes in her loyalty; her mind; her heart.

So she’s not sure why they’ve been sneaking around like they’re some sort of clandestine secret. They were both sure Clarisse would have told someone by now, after all, it’s been two weeks. They haven’t told anyone either. Of course, Grover probably knows, what with the whole empathy link deal (and Percy had mentioned he'd been goading her about it for years). But… even Sally doesn’t know yet; and Percy tells her everything. Annabeth wonders if she’s worried about what she’ll say, or just dreading the inevitable onslaught of questions. It’s not to say people haven’t noticed them, holding hands all around camp. And she’s not sure if they’re too intimidated by both of them to say anything, or actually unaware it’s evolved into something more.

Some part of her just wants to just kiss her in the light of the campfire, and say fuck it. But it’s hard to know that other people knew her feelings for Percy, when even she didn’t know herself. Like, somehow her opinions are invalid, because she wasn’t smart enough to see the feelings hurtling towards her like a damn freight train. After all, how could she be a competent leader if she couldn’t even deal with her own problems? It’s hard to get over without internalizing it so completely that she genuinely feels wrong for even thinking it in the first place.

Percy’s arm wraps around her waist; Annabeth turns to look at her, shaken out of her spiraling thoughts — and she laughs, remembering the words that sent her there in the first place. “You can, you know that, right?”

“What?”

Annabeth answers, quiet. “You can kiss me.”

Percy chuckles, and she does. Quickly, right on the corner of her lips, but long enough that Annabeth can melt into her embrace.

When her heart's stopped pounding in her chest, Annabeth takes a step forward, pulling Percy with her, towards the dock. “Come sit.”

She follows, and they kick off their sandals, legs dangling off the edge of the dock and into the water, taking in the last minutes of the sunset, warm oranges and purples melting into deep, burnt reds and desaturated blues.

“We have to tell people eventually.”

“I know.” Percy leans against her, slouching; her hand finding Annabeth’s once again by her side. “It’s awkward though,” she adds.

“Percy, I like you, I’m not afraid to admit that.” Not anymore.

“I mean… I don’t know,” Percy sighs, “It’s not that, it’s… I don’t want things to change.”

“Practically everyone here adores you.”

Percy’s head tilts up towards her, a cheeky grin on her face, “Aw, practically? You trying to tell me you don’t?”

Annabeth chuckles, nudging her, “Jerk. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” The smile falls from her face. But it’s hard to put into words. There’s a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that feels foreboding and bad, though she can’t pinpoint why, or what it is.

“As fun as it is sneaking around — and I don’t even know if they’re completely fooled — I want our friends to know.”

“I like you. You know that; I really like you.” She’s such a clingy girlfriend. But, wow, she’s her girlfriend. She sighs, “It’s stupid.” Before Annabeth can chime in, she continues, “No, really, it is. I… don’t want anyone to treat you differently. And that’s dumb because, well, you pretty much saved all of their lives at least once and there’s no way they’d ever not be grateful for that, plus, like, we’re demigods, so who even cares if we—”

“Hey,” she raises her eyebrows, “Different… isn't exactly a bad thing. If it'll make the boys stop trying to flirt with me…”

“…I’d be quite grateful.”

She scoffs, and shoves Percy, inadvertently a little too hard, sending her tumbling into the water. It's not enough warning for her to deflect any of it; she surfaces a second later spitting out water and pushing her wet bangs out of her eyes. She doesn't even bother with drying herself, since before Annabeth can react, Percy's pulling her in by her foot, and sending herself into a fit of giggles.

“This is not a fair fight,” she remarks, pulling her barely-saturated curls into a lumpy bun on the top of her head, a quick dip not enough to soak her hair, but enough to be incredibly annoying.

Percy manages a response as her laughter subsides, “You should've thought of that when you decided to push a daughter of the god of the sea into the water!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Annabeth laughs, blushing furiously.

Treading water, Percy swims closer, flicking droplets of water into her face with a mischievous smile. “I still deserve a bit of revenge though, don’t I?”

Annabeth lets out a frustrated sigh, mainly towards herself for finding it so endearing. She can feel her clothes getting stiffer in the water, rough against her body as she treads. But still — Percy’s right here in front of her, with that charming grin. Against her better judgment, Annabeth seeks out these moments; moments she used to find annoying; or at the least, frustrating. It’s nice to see her smiling; the levity in her laugh making everything feel so much more normal. For a second, she can almost forget they’ve saved each other’s lives far too many times to count.

Her hands seek out Percy’s face with outstretched arms, bridging the last few feet between them, and kisses her. The lake is fresh, but somehow Annabeth can still taste the sea on her lips. She pulls back, hands still bracing Percy’s cheeks, letting a teasing smile grace her lips, “You’re infuriating.”

“Yeah?”

Annabeth pulls herself back up onto the dock, helping Percy up with a hand. “Yeah.”

She tries, desperately, not to focus on the way her camp shirt sticks to her body, suppressing a laugh when she sees Percy’s eyes dart away in the same way.

Percy doesn’t fix her hair or her clothes. Instead, she lays back on the dock without another word, staring up as the first stars start to appear in the sky, the mugginess of a lukewarm night setting in. Annabeth follows; it doesn’t help a bit. Her shorts are heavy, her shirt feels like it’s cemented to her body, and the air is murky. It’ll take all night to get dry, if at all. She stays anyways.

“What if we don’t tell anyone?” she asks.

Percy turns her head. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing has to change… we can just be a couple without announcing it.”

“I… yeah, I guess we can?” She hadn’t thought of it like that. It’s immensely appealing, much better than any other way she’d considered.

“Good,” she says, “I don’t want to be a big deal.” I’ve had enough of that the past five years.

She takes Annabeth’s hand again, against the worn, splintering wood of the dock. “Me either, gods. I mean, at all. Not just with—”

“I feel the same way. I just want to be… invisible for once.” She catches the irony before Percy can point it out, “And — don’t you dare. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Percy admits. “You know I actually had a crush on you for years?”

She squeezes Percy’s hand, letting the action speak for her.

“That night in the rain. You asked me when I knew.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and I kinda gave you a half-assed answer,” Percy laughs.

Annabeth chuckles in response, rolling onto her side to face her, and listens intently.

“There was this girl from school — middle school — and… I mean we never talked, not really, but that’s when I started wondering…” As much peace as she’s made with the fact herself, it’s a million times harder to explain it to Annabeth. “And then it was another two quests, and I just… let myself forget, or… whatever.” She trails off, sighing. No, she never really forgot. But staying alive was more precedent; so it took a backseat in her mind’s list of important things. (Numbers one through one-hundred: don’t die. Number one-hundred and one: Deal with the fact that you’re in love with your best friend.) “Then there was Rachel, and she was always flirting, but I didn’t know if… if that was something I wanted too, or just…” She pauses. “I still don’t know if it was.” Rachel was a great friend; fun to be around — she still is. But Percy isn’t sure if she just wasn’t into her that way, or if her feelings for Annabeth were that overpowering. She figures she’ll have to be okay with never knowing. “And then there was Mount St. Helens, and — that’s when I knew. That’s when I really knew. But even before, I—”

“You don’t have to explain it, Percy. It doesn’t matter about all that. Not now.”

“But it does.” She doesn’t justify why. There’s no concrete reason in her mind, just that… it does, somehow — it’s a part of her.

Annabeth sits up, and pulls her up by the hand. “I was so dense that I thought you couldn’t possibly like me, because I would’ve noticed it; because I kissed you, and you never said anything about it.”

“I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Neither did I,” she admits.

“You mean…” It really was a heat of the moment thing.

“I didn’t… not for a long time. There were so many things that didn’t make sense. They do now.” She shrugs, like it isn’t a problem. “Don’t get stuck on that.”

“I’m trying not to.” In the silence, she sees Annabeth fiddle with the hem of her shirt, trying to unstick it from her skin. She dries them both off without a word.

“Thanks. That was getting—”

Percy breaks into a smile. “—Kind of gross. I was trying to live in the moment, but…”

Annabeth laughs, agreeing. “We should get back before the harpies try to turn us into their dinner.”

“Good idea.”

She walks Annabeth back to the Athena cabin in silence, still not letting go of her hand. Percy stands awkwardly in front of her, fiddling with her hands, as they reach the door. “‘Night,” she says, sheepish.

Annabeth grabs her by the shoulders, and kisses her square on the lips, disappearing behind the door to cabin six with a quiet “Goodnight, Percy,” and an amused shake of her head.

Percy’s eyes dart around; there’s no one she knows very well, but come morning, she knows everyone will have heard. She blushes all the way back to her cabin, hands smug in her pockets.

#fic #wlw percabeth #~2k words #pjo #pjo fic #made #annabeth chase #fem!percy

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hpdabbles · 5 years

Text

The Difference Between Living and Not Dying 2

PART 2 OF THIS

Somehow, Draco builds a reputation over the course of the year. He never set out to make one himself, but he soon finds himself labeled “Nicest First Year Wizard”.

He wants it to be perfectly clear he never wanted that title nor does he enjoy it overly well yet he found that most students approached him with various problems he could solve easily. It was after all the problems of children.

“Malfoy I can’t find my class”

“I’ll walk you. It can get confusing with the staircases disappearing”

“Malfoy, I don’t understand the potion homework”

“Pull up a chair. I can explain it to you.”

“I-I can’t sleep. I’m scared..”

“I’ll ask one of the castle elves to make us some tea. In the meantime would you care for a story? I find reading helps me rest at times”

And the list of request only extended from there. At first, it was only his fellow first years that dare approach him which he didn’t mind too much but soon second, third and even some fourth years have wandered close. Each smiling at him like he was capable of good; like they couldn’t think of a Hufflepuff ever being vile.

Draco was nearly at his wit's end. Where was the hostility he was used to? Shouldn’t these kids be wary of him not follow him around at each given second? He couldn’t even walk to class without stopping ten times by students whose names he couldn’t remember.

His second title was as illy welcome as the first but he did take some pride in “Smartest 1st year”. Granger struggle to keep up and he applauded her efforts, but she was an actual child. It would hurt his pride far too much if she scored better then he.

Besides everything was so easy. Draco hoped that his teachers would soon realize this and have him skip a grade or two because going to Hogwarts for the next seven years sounded like torture.

There were some technicalities. After all, the excuse of his father buying the best tutors money could buy before he started school could only go so far- most likely till someone bothered asking the said man which tutors he hired and learning there were none.

Which wouldn’t be a problem at all if he thought about it. His parents have taken to pretending he doesn’t exist the moment they learned of his new sorting. Besides the howler, his father sent him- sitting in silence while it screams and spat at him in his dorm and then shrugging when it finishes- was the last time he spoke to his parents since the year started.

He couldn’t really blame them in all honesty. There were still some morning were he stumble over his tie, expecting to see green instead of the eye-watering yellow.

It was rapidly approaching Halloween now though and their silence hurt. Maybe it will always hurt regardless of his age.

Draco quickly learns one thing in his do-over. Children were great, teenagers not so much. Oh, he still liked them well enough, but he could do without the teenage angst they all went through. Especially in the third years. Thirteen-year-olds are some of the meanest people out there. Vicious little beast tears each other apart for no reason other then they can.

Already he’s had to put himself between three different groups to get them to leave the younger kids alone. Ironically this was how he meets the Weasley Twins, or as he secretly called them, the Terror Twins.

Draco remembered them as the pranking duo who had a vicious streak against Slytherins. George and Fred Weasley were names hissed and sneer in the snake common room, spat with as much venom in the syllables as physically possible. Having been caught in some of their pranks, Draco hated them too once upon a time.

But for all their faults they seemed like amazing brothers and that was something he envied the Weasleys greatly. What must it be like to be part of a family that loved each other unconditionally? Often he wondered if he would trade all his wealth for that small sense of warmth that surrounded the family

Imagine then, his surprise when he came across a sobbing Percy Weasley on the lake bank one late night on one of his walks. Draco had a hard time sleeping ever since the war. often times sneaking out to take strolls to the lake and get some fresh air. He knew the Perfects routes well enough and found it was easy to speak about.

When he arrived to find the fifth year sobbing into his hands he almost turns right around having enough of being Class Mum but Draco’s mind flashed back to his own sixth year. He couldn’t just leave him like this when all he wanted back then was someone to notice Draco Malfoy slowly falling apart.

He found himself flopping down by the Weasley and spent the rest of the night probing him until the physically older boy admitted it being family troubles that had him here. Knowing just how tricky family drama could be, Draco changed the conversation attempting to distract him.

He picks the first thing that popped into his head, asking the Perfect on advice on what classes he should take and right before his eyes watched the Weasley come to life. It wasn’t too long before the redhead was babbling away about subjects, an air of excitement around him as he spoke. The lad barely took breaths between words.

Draco struggled to keep up with the speed but he paid as much attention as he could. It was the right thing to do when a child talks about their passion, after all, even if said passion was a bit on the dull side.

Sometime later, however, Weasley cut himself off looking ashamed. “Sorry I got excited.”

Draco frowns. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for being excited over something you like.”

Weasley’s face broke into such wonderment, the blond nearly stood up and ran right then but he held his emotions under a tight grip and firmly added. “You enjoy something. Be proud of it. ”

“I am” The redhead chokes “I really am”

Nodding Draco leans back on his hands “Good, now keep going. I want to hear your theories.”

It took some proper probing but soon Weasley was back on his explanation on why potions was an under-appreciated field, which Draco wholehearted agree with. The kid was brilliant. But then again what else would one expect from a student that graduated with twelve OWLS and had a ministry job line up the moment he finished to boot.

It seems someone had to tell the poor guy he was pretty impressive more though. Obviously, not enough people told him that.

Later the Perfect walks him back, taking two points from Hufflepuff for being out of bed past curfew though he seems regretful to do so. Draco didn’t mind too terribly. After all, Weasley was only doing his job and he could have taken far more points plus he hadn't given him detention.

After years of people watching his every move to catch the slightest of mistakes and handing harsh punishments, the boy's soft rebuff was sweet.

Once he was inside however he tracked down the reason Weasley was crying. The Terror Twins are in need of a good verbal lashing and Draco was ready to do the whipping. He finds them with a burning passion to protect the nerdy kid since he gets it from a personal level. He too is the black sheep of his family after all.

“Leave him alone” He starts staring up into amused thirteen years olds. “Stop bullying your brother Percy.”

“It’s just some jokes,” One of them says rolling his eyes. The Malfoy bristles at the careless attitude. “Icky Percykins-”

“Is more than a joke to amuse you. He’s a person with feelings and I like you to stop bullying him” He cuts in a voice hard and cold, all his pureblood power behind each word.

“Hey, hey, hey” the other twin says angerly “You don’t say that! Percy isn’t a joke to us!”

Draco’s eyes cool a few extra degrees, refusing to raise his voice. “When you only talk to someone to prank them and mock what they enjoy then they turn into jokes. You make them think they’re nothing but a joke. Eventually, the joke stops being funny. Eventually, the person either breaks or leaves; either way, you lose a brother to death or distance. Cut that shit out.”

Not giving any time to do nothing but gape he turns, walking away with a high held chin. He’s said his piece. Now it was up to them to fix things.

He couldn’t really tell them what to do. His house was made of glass when it came to dysfunctional families and he wasn’t about to start throwing stones. He would, however, keep an eye on Percy Weasley. Wouldn’t do for the lad to burn out or fall apart on his watch.

Sitting with Potter at dinner had been sort of awkward that evening. The Terror Twins had eye him all through the meal with thoughtful frowns and glimmering eyes. His hand had hovered over his wand, twitching with the urge to defend himself.

Potter quickly distracted him with potions questions and he pushes them out of his mind. The boy still seems to jump whenever Draco got to close and he was grateful for one content thing about this time traveling business.

A week later however the twins pull him into an unused classroom. Expecting retaliation Draco finds himself blurting out. “I’m not scared of you.”

The left one- Fred?- raised an eyebrow “Why’s that?”

A mockery of a smile curls Draco’s lips. “There’s nothing you could do to me that hasn’t already been done”

The twins had never looked distressed in his memories pre-Fred death but now they did. “Blimey kid, that’s not okay. Are we really that awful you think we’re going to hurt you?”

A quick shrug has them wincing. “We just like pranks. We never meant to hurt. Especially not our family.”

The right one- George right? Yes, that one is George- gives him a wobbly smile. “We had a little chat with Percy about what you told us. Turns out, we haven’t been the best of brothers to him. We’re going to change that.”

Draco couldn’t keep the surprise off his face and that makes them more upset. They were going to try and change? That far more then he could ever imagine possible.

“Look we just- if you need something let us know.” Fred places a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have known about Percy’s....dangerous way of thinking. He could have done something to himself and we wouldn’t have been the wiser. We could have been the extra push he needed to...to do something”

Ah. So Percy had too many similarities to Draco’s sixth year to be comfortable. He’ll make sure to keep sharp things away from the Perfect then.

“I will thank you”

“No, thank you.” George breaths while Fred squeezes his shoulder. Just like that their gone and Draco waits a little while before slipping out.

Only to run into Potter who looks like he has bitten into a lemon. “Why were you alone with Ron’s brothers?”

“Hmm? Oh, opportunity maybe.”

Potter’s frown is more profound for the next three hours or so. The Malfoy heir has an essay he needs to finish so he doesn’t care. He’s made it his life goal to not care what Potter is up to. Maybe his life will be easier this way.

A week later, however, find Draco bursting into the girl's bathroom after hearing Granger was still in here when the Troll was loose- someone had to make sure kids stop dying in this stupid school- and came upon Potter and the future Mr. and Mrs. Weasly cowering/standing there ground before the beast.

He hesitated long enough to have a deep intake of breath, because honestly why is this his life? And then he was throwing himself into the fray. His magic was still nearly nonexistent but he could throw rocks really well.

Nicest and Smartest first year his ass, this shit was so not worth his thesis paper!

#Dabblecentral #Harry Potter #The Difference between living and not dying #Part 2 #draco malfoy #Hufflepuff Draco being the best Class Mum he can be #Depression #hinted suicide #dysfunctional family #Honestly Draco stop caring three or so years ago #Draco's new rep process him #cursing

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perryjohanssennnnn · 5 years

Text

The Gods. Pt2 Leo Valdez x reader

Paring: Leo Valdez x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: so i have no idea why i never posted this, so if there are any issues... oops haha sorry.

“This is so cool!” Leo exclaimed. “Where are we going?” He choked as a pegasus feather flew into his mouth.

“A safe place.” Annabeth stated. “The only safe place for kids like us. Camp Half-Blood.”

“Half-Blood?!” Piper’s voice had a tint of offense. “Is that some kind of bad joke?”

“She means we’re demigods.” Jason said. “Half god, half mortal.”

You glanced at him. “You seem to know a lot, Jason. But, yes, he’s right, demigods. My father is Poseidon, god of the sea, Annabeth’s mother is Athena, goddess of wisdom, and Butch is the son of Iris, goddess of rainbows.”

Leo choked again. “Your mother is a rainbow goddess?”

“Got a problem with that?” Butch yelled through the wind.

“No, no,” Leo assured. “Rainbows. Very macho.”

“Butch and (y/n) are our best equestrians.” Annabeth said. “They get along great with the pegasi.”

“Rainbow ponies.” Leo muttered.

“I’m gonna throw you off this chariot,” Butch warned.

“Demigods..you think we are- you think-“ Piper’s stuttered sentence was cut short when suddenly lightning hit the chariot’s left wheel on fire.

“Why are they-“ Piper questioned the storm spirits new appearance, panicked.

“Anemoi come in different shapes.” You hurried out. “Sometimes human, sometimes stallions, depending on how chaotic they are. Hold on! This is going to get rough.”

The pegasi raced faster causing the chariot to blur. The scenery changed to left, the right, and below as you raced through the sky. The wheels fell of the chariot and everyone started to drop out of the sky.

“Aim for the lake!” You screamed.

The chariot crashed into the lake. The water felt refreshing however it must have hurt for the others. The small current didn’t hesitate as it pushed you to shore. Your clothes were dry as you walked out of the lake. Butch was reaching the pegasi and Annabeth was just reaching the shore with the two boys behind her. Piper was the last to pop up and you helped to her feet giving her a blanket. The campers arrived with the blow dryers and blew the soaking kids off.

“Annabeth, (y/n)!” Will pushed through the crowd of campers. “I said you could borrow the chariot now destroy it!”

“Sorry Will.” You apologized. “I’ll get it fixed I promise.” Before you could say anything else he turned his gaze to the three new campers.

“These are the ones? Way older than thirteen. Why haven’t they been claimed?”

“Claimed?” Leo asked.

“Any sign of Percy?” Will asked his eyes going to yours and Annabeth’s.

You looked down as Annabeth answered. “No.”

The campers exchanged nervous glances and whispers.

Drew stepped forward looking the new three up and down.

“Well, I hope they’re worth the trouble.” She said.

You have her a dirty look.

“Gee, thanks. What are we your new pets.” Leo snorted.

“No kidding. How about some answers before you start judging us. Like-“ You cut Jason short.

“We will answer all your questions. Drew,” You sneered her name. “Calm down, all demigods are worth saving.”

“However the trip didn’t accomplish what I hoped..” Annabeth admitted.

“Hey, we didn't ask to be brought here.” Piper said.

“And nobody wants you hon, does your hair always look like a dead badger?” Drew hissed.

“Does your face alw-“ Travis Stoll put his hand over your mouth before your retort could leave your mouth.

At the same time, Piper stepped forward ready to give Drew a nice one however Annabeth stopped her.

“We need to make our new arrivals feel welcome.” Annabeth glared at Drew.

“We’ll give you each a guide to show you around the camp. Hopefully by campfire tonight, they’ll be claimed.” Annabeth said.

“Would somebody explain what claimed means?” Piper asked.

The bright hue of holographic image catching your eye. People gasped as they recognized the firey sign of Hephaestus.

“That is claiming.”

“What’d I do?!” Leo backed toward the lake. “ Is my hair on fire?!” He moved his head all around.

“Wait what about the curse-“

“Shut up.” Annabeth said quietly.

You cleared your throat. “Leo, you’ve been claimed by-“

“A god.” Jason interrupted. “That the sign of Vulcan, isn’t it?”

“Jason,” Annabeth said carefully, “how did you know that?”

“I’m not sure...”

#Leo Valdez #leo valdez x reader #leovaldez #leo imagine #leo valdez imagine #PJO #hoo x reader #hoo imagine #hoo

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ink-splotch · 6 years

Note

Have you ever written about all the little moments that Ron realized he was falling in love with Hermione? Love your writing!

Probably the closest I’ve come to that is this excerpt from my “Ron as the Chosen One” fic (which I love quite a lot– Ron’s not any more or less loyal, tetchy, insecure, or brilliant as the Boy Who Lived and the youngest boy of the seven Weasley orphans than he was as Harry Potter’s sidekick. And he is a delight to write.).

This is Ron’s version of that bit in the seventh book, the bit in the Great Hall, and then the Stone in the forest, the walking out to die, and what came after– with Dumbledore and the train station. But for Ron it’s not Dumbledore and the train station, and it, among other things, ends up being about Hermione.

Er, warnings for spoilers about who I decided to kill v. not kill to match it up with a different protagonist’s emotional journey.

Ron did not see Bill go down. He wasn’t sure who did, or how it happened, or when– while Harry was racing up the stairs to find the diadem? While Ron was hissing open the passage to the Chamber? While he was kissing Hermione in an ankle-deep puddle of slimy water and dropped basilisk fangs?

Ron didn’t see Bill go down, he just stepped into the Great Hall and found him there, laid out and peaceful.

It had always been easy to pick his family out of a crowd– the hair, the sort of volume that Fred and George and Ginny had always carried with them, Charlie’s big friendly smile. It was easy to pick his family out of this crowd– the hair, the hands grasping hands grasping shoulders grasping elbows, the way George cried quiet and hard and familiarly.

Ron thought dully, At least this time we’ll have something to bury.

He stepped forward, past rushing young soldiers and past the tired teachers who watched their students go by, breathless, desperate. His family– and there was Fleur, laid out beside Bill, their hands almost touching. Her hair was long and mussed from the fight, the fall. Her face was pale. Ron tried to take another step forward.

Closer, and he could see them better. Closer, and he could ask how, and when, and why. Closer, and he could forget how to stand up at all.

A hand on his elbow stopped him in tracks. It was easy. He wasn’t sure he was touching the ground, except everything also felt so heavy, pulling his wrists down and down. He turned and Hermione was standing there.

Fred was gone, and now Bill was dead, and Fleur, and Hermione was standing there. Her hair was untamed, as it had been every day except for a ball once upon a time. She had put her wand away.

She had put her wand away and she was crying, and he always forgot how brave that looked on her. Hermione was crying, nose snotty and cheeks shiny, and she was going to save the world, this girl. She already had, and she was going to keep on doing it– waving petitions in peoples’ faces, and pulling things out of her magic bag like Mary Poppins, and never giving up, not even when things were impossible, not even on him.

When she reached out, Ron folded in, burying his face in her hair and crying until he stopped. Then he pulled back and scrubbed at dirty cheeks. He still had his wand fisted in his other hand. “We have work to do,” he said. “C'mon, let’s–” He scrubbed at his eyes with his fist again. “Let’s find Harry.”

Voldemort had already given his ultimatum– the Boy Who Lived, for all of you. Pansy had been all for it, and then Ron had let Hogwarts defend him.

Ron remembered Ginny’s dark robes and bright hair, lying on the Chamber floor, discarded like so much refuse. Tom Riddle had been young, translucent, and he had smirked over that barely breathing body, knowing exactly who would come for her.

Bill had cleaned all the picture frames hanging around the Burrow. He had hung up new ones, from the years spent bouncing from house to house, but he had kept up all their old ones. Their parents had danced above the mantle, Molly in gingham, and Arthur in a tux that didn’t fix him. They had held hands, beamed, and waved in the polaroid tacked up in the kitchen beside Bill’s postcards. Ron had heard their last words, echoing in his skull, dredged up by nightmares. He couldn’t even remember seeing the way they looked, fallen, the shape of their cooling bodies on the nursery room floor.

Which room had been the nursery, even? Which– Bill would know, but Bill was dead. Bill was another body strewn between Ron and the end of this. Charlie would know, or Percy, maybe, but Ron wasn’t going to have a chance to ask them.

George had stopped crying, mostly, talking quietly to Ginny. Charlie was laying wards down and down around the Hall with McGonagall. Harry and Hermione were with Neville, leaning over the Marauder’s Map rolled out over a bench at the Hufflepuff table, making battle plans. Ron went out through a side door and headed toward the Forest.

The trees were tall. The wind was cold. There were things that lived out here, spiders and nightmares, but he knew where he was going. If he was frightened, it didn’t matter.

Ron turned the Stone three times in his hand. Harry had the Cloak, and Hermione had won rights to the Elder Wand, disarming Draco in a skirmish– but Dumbledore had left Ron the Stone. He turned it three times and his ghosts stepped into view.

“Ron,” Molly Weasley said, squeezing insubstantial hands together, and Ron looked at her standing there. She was plump and short, with flushed cheeks and a wand shoved through her bunned-up hair. He had seen her in a dozen pictures, beaming and scolding and napping, and he wasn’t sure if this felt worse because it was just another picture, or because it wasn’t.

“Hi, Mum,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Molly said hotly, like she was Percy in a temper, and Ron almost smiled. “You haven’t got anything to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

Her hair– Arthur’s, Bill’s, Fred’s– it should have been red, but it was a listless silver. He could see the trees through them, the drooping pine needles and whispering leaves. Ginny could always tell Fred and George apart, but Ron never could– except that now Fred looked so young. George had been growing and growing, outliving him, and he would go on outgrowing him forever.

“He’s alright,” said Fred. “Isn’t he?” And Ron nodded, because he was bad at lying aloud.

“Take care of Art,” said Bill. The earring Fleur had talked him into getting glittered in his earlobe, the brightest thing in eyesight. “You will take care of him, won’t you?”

“You named him after me?” said Arthur. “Oh goodness. Dear,” he said, patting at Molly’s hand. “We have a grandchild.”

“We’ll take care of him,” said Ron. “He’s got so much family,” he said and his voice broke. “They’ll be there.”

“Chin up,” said Fred, a little wetly. “You’ve got work to do, little brother.”

“We love you,” said Bill. “It’s going to be alright.”

But Ron knew how to care more about what he needed to do than what he wanted. He dropped the Stone, round and grey and anonymous, to the Forest floor and he moved on.

When he reached the clearing, Ron did raise his wand. There was no old friend of his mother’s to tell him about the Horcruxes, about the way Dumbledore had been raising and raising him to die. But Ron had walked out into the Forest to die for his friends, his family, and that was enough for the magic. He raised his wand because if he could take out a few of them before he went, all the better.

Ron shot out an Avada Kedavra with all he had in him, but Voldemort’s hit first, and the Boy Who Lived fell down dead.

When Ron opened his eyes, the clearing was empty. The trees, which had been towering and grasping and dark, were peaceful. The Death Eaters were gone, Hagrid, flushed and sobbing, was gone. Starlight dripped down through the leaves. The shadows of the Forest circled round and round him, calm, all-encompassing. There was something twisted and bloody, tucked in the curve of some old roots across the leaf-strewn ground.

A Killing Curse must kill something, said a voice. But there were two lives in you. That is a piece of Tom Riddle’s soul.

Wind ran through the branches and it wasn’t cold. “This is a weird dream,” said Ron. “Am I dead?”

Not yet.

He blinked and he was standing in Ginny’s shed. It was all spare parts and clutter. The door of the Ford Anglia was unlatched, hanging open.

You do not have to stay, said the voice, and Ron thought about that. He thought about what he wanted.

He closed his eyes and the white queen stood over Harry, crumpled on the cold chessboard, eleven years old.

Ron opened his eyes and it was summer behind the Burrow. Ginny was balancing a box of tools on the edge of the Ford’s open hood, looking inside. He was fifteen, a Triwizard champion. She was thirteen, bare years away from the cold sludgy water of the Chamber floor. She startled at the noise of his step behind her and the tool box fell, shining wrenches going bouncing and banging all over the dirty floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut again. The sound reverberated through his skull, clashing and clinging, metal on metal on wood. His heart beat in his ears.

Ron wanted to lie down and sleep forever. He was done losing brothers. He was done watching Hermione cry. He didn’t want to see that ever again. Hermione looked so brave, even when she cried, especially when she cried, and he wanted to run away to some place where no one had to be brave.

What did he want? Ginny was fierce and terrible, but she was so scared when there was no one looking, and so Ron didn’t look. Harry had hung, bloated, in the cold water under the Lake, and it had been a game, just a game, Ron knew how to play games. George had cried out, Ron had reached out, when Fred fell softly backward through that archway into whispering veils. Ron had reached out, and now he could catch him, catch up to a fate he’d been chasing for years.

You do not have to stay.

But Hermione was going to save the world. Harry was going to tug at his already messy hair on late nights, studying to be an Auror like his mother, like his uncle, and he was going to help people. George was going to torment a whole new generation of Hogwarts teachers with the trinkets and tricks he’d sell to the schoolchildren. Charlie would burn pot roasts for dinners, years and years of them, and Percy, muttering, would fix them all as best he could.

Hermione was going to save the world, and Ron wanted to be there to see it.

They were going to lose things they had wanted to keep. He never wanted to see Hermione cry again, but he would, because he wanted to hear her correct his spelling, and to see her roll her eyes and to call giant old tomes “some light bedtime reading.”

He wanted to hear about all of the hazings Lily would gleefully concoct for Harry when he joined the Aurors. He wanted to teach Bill’s kid how to play wizard’s chess, and to see Charlie go back to school, and to argue with Ginny about comics. He wanted to know what Hermione looked like in the morning, sleep-mussed and soft, smiling.

Ron opened his eyes.

–excerpt from the last son by dirgewithoutmusic

#so this is really long and i apologize #but i really did want to put all of it down #i almost included the bit about draco that comes right after this #but i resisted #undiscoveredshades

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authormitchel-blog · 6 years

Text

COS: Part 4

The end of summer vacation came to quickly for Harry’s liking. He was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, but his time spent at the Burrow had been the happiest of his life. It was difficult not to feel jealous of Ron when he thought of what life was like back on Pivet Drive.

Mrs. Weasley made them a wonderful last dinner, though Percy in his continuing odd behavior scampered off to bed early. They were each given some hot chocolate and sent off to bed.

The next morning Harry realized what it was like living with a big family. While Millicent had been ready and dressed, prepared to leave, it seemed one thing after another was stopping their departure. First, Fred had forgot his Fillibuster fireworks, then Ginny didn’t have her diary, then Ron had to go to the bathroom. By the time everyone had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high. Not even Millicent was eager to poke at the Lions.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch then at his wife.

“Molly, dear…”

“No, Arthur…”

“No one would see…this little button here is an Invisibility Booster. I installed it myself. Once were up in the air, no one can see us. We’d be there in ten minutes, and no one would be any wiser…”

“I said no Arthur, not in broad daylight.”

Not in pitch black either, Harry thought. Mrs. Weasley was still upset about the fight between Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy.

They reached King’s Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get some trolleys for their trunks then they were truly underway. “Percy first,” Mrs. Weasley said, looking nervously at the clock.

Percy strode forward then vanished through the barrier. Mr. Weasley went next then Millie hopping in front of Fred and George with Ginny at her side.

“If my sister gets sorted into Slytherin my parents are going to burst,” said Ron then quickly looking at Harry. “No offense.”

“None taken,” said Harry. “It’s not what goes on at Hogwarts that makes Slytherin evil, but what happens at home.” Even as he said it he wondered what that made him. Then, Mrs. Weasley gave him a quick smile before stepping toward the barrier and he felt okay again.

“Let’s go together,” Ron said to Harry. “We’ve only got a minute.”

Harry made sure that Hedwig’s cage was safely wedged on top of his trunk and wheeled his trolley around to face the barrier.

The two boys ran confidently toward the barrier then CRASH! They were both knocked to the ground, trolleys and things strewn everywhere. Hedwig shrieked as a guard nearby yelled, “What in blazes do you think you’re doing?”

“Lost control of the trolley,” Harry said quickly. Ron ran to pick up Hedwig who was causing quite the scene.

“Why can’t we get through?” Harry hissed to Ron.

“I dunno….”

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

“We’re going to miss the train,” Ron whispered. “I don’t understand why the gateway’s sealed itself.”

Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling.

He wheeled his trolley forward cautiously until it was right against the barrier and pushed with all his might. The metal remained solid.

Three seconds….two seconds….one….

“It’s gone,” said Ron, sounding stunned. “The train’s left. What if Mum and Dad can’t get back through to us? Have you got any Muggle money?”

Harry gave a hollow laugh.

“The Dursleys haven’t given me pocket money for about six years.”

Ron pressed his ear to the barrier.

“Can’t hear a thing,” he said tensely. “What are we going to do? I don’t know how long it’ll take for Mum and Dad to get back to us. And we’re attracting a little too much attention.”

“We’d better wait at the car,” said Harry.

“Harry,” said Ron eyes gleaming. “The car!”

“What about it?”

“We can fly to Hogwarts.”

Harry shook his head.

“We’re stuck, right? And we’ve got to get to school, haven’t we? And I’d call this an emergency wouldn’t you, and if Bulstrode can drive it then I certainly….”

“But your Mum and Dad,” said Harry, pushing against the barrier fruitlessly. “How will they get home?”

“They’ll apparate,” said Ron like it was the easiest answer in the world. “The only bother with the Floo because we all aren’t old enough to apparate, but they’ll be fine…”

Harry’s feeling of panic turned suddenly to excitement. Is this what being a Gryffindor felt like, he wondered?

“Can you fly it?”

“No problem,” said Ron, wheeling his trolley around to face the exit. “Come on, if we hurry we might be able to catch sight of the train.

No problem, Harry thought as they made sure no one was watching and Ron hit the button.

No problem, Harry thought as the car around them vanished. No problem, Harry thought as he felt the car rise.

“Let’s go,” said Ron’s voice from his right.

And the ground and the dirty buildings on either side fell away, dropping out of sight as the car rose. In seconds the whole of London was beneath them.

No problem, thought Harry until there was a popping noise and the car reappeared in the sky.

“Uh- oh,” said Ron, and Harry knew for sure that there most definitely was a problem. Ron jabbed his hand at the Invisibility Booster. “It’s fault….”

Both of them pummeled it, and the car vanished once again. Then it flickered back.

“Hold on!” Ron yelled, and he slammed his foot on the accelerator, and they shot straight into the clouds.

“Now what?” said Harry.

“We need to see the train to know what direction to go in,” said Ron. “There,” he said a moment later. “I can see it, right there, ahead of us.”

Harry looked out the window and easily spotted the train.

“Due North,” he said.

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “We’ll just pop down every half hour or so to make sure that we’re still with it.”

It was as though they had been plunged into a fabulous dream. This, thought Harry, was surely the only way to travel, in a car full of hot bright sun, candy shoved in the glove compartment, and the prospect of seeing Fred and George’s jealous faces when they landed smoothly and spectacularly on the lawn. Malfoy wouldn’t be able to pick his jaw up for a month.

“Can’t be much further still, can it?” croaked Ron, hours later still, as the sun started to turn pink on the horizon. “Ready for another check on the train?”

The engine made a funny noise.

“Not far,” said Ron. “Not far now,” though Harry didn’t miss the nervous tone in his voice. And they both pretended not to notice the whining from the engine growing louder and louder as the sky became steadily darker.

When they flew back beneath the clouds a little while later, they had to squint through the darkness for a landmark they knew.

“There!” Harry shouted, making Ron and Hedwig squeak. “Straight ahead.”

Silhouetted on the horizon was Hogwarts castle, home.

But the car had begun to shudder and was losing speed.

“Come on,” Ron said cajoling, giving the steering wheel a little shake, “nearly there, come on.”

The engine groaned. Narrow jets of steam were issuing from under the hood. Harry found himself griping the edges of his seat very hard as they flew over the lake.

The car gave a nasty wobble. Glancing out of his window, Harry saw the smooth, black, glassy surface of the water, a mile below.

“Come on,” Ron muttered.

They were over the lake, the castle was right ahead, and Ron put his foot down.

There was a loud clunk, a sputter, then the engine died. Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it at the dashboard, but they were still plummeting.

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!” Harry bellowed, lunging for the steering wheel, but it was too late.

CRUNCH

With an earsplitting bang of metal on wood, they hit the thick tree trunk and dropped to the ground with a heavy jolt. Steam was billowing up around them, Hedwig was screeching in terror, and a golf ball sized lump was throbbing on top of Harry’s head where it had hit the wind shield. To his right, Ron let out a groan.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked urgently.

“My wand,” said Ron, in a shaky voice. “Look at my wand.”

It had snapped, almost in two; the tip was dangling limply, held on by a few splinters.

Harry opened his mouth to say he was sure they could fix it, but he never even got started. At that very moment, something hit the car with the force of a charging bull sending him flying into Ron. They were stuck in the Womping Willow.

“Run for it,” Ron shouted, throwing his entire body weight into the door, but the next second he had been slammed back his assault stopped.

“We’re done for!” he moaned as the ceiling sagged, but suddenly the floor of the car was vibrating and the engine started back up.

“Reverse,” Harry yelled and the car shot backward. The tree was still after them, it’s branches reaching out and lashing at them even as they sped out of reach.

“Well done, car,” said Ron. The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two sharp clunks, the doors flew open and Harry, Ron, and all their things were tossed from the car. Hedwig’s cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with an angry screech and sped off toward the castle.

“Come back,” Ron yelled at the retreating car. “Dad will kill me!”

Ron was breathing deeply as he bent down and picked up Scabbers.

They were lucky. The ancient tree, which was still flailing its braches threatingly seemed to be watching them.

“Come on,” Harry said wearily. “we’d better get up to the school…”

It wasn’t the triumphant arrival he had pictured. Still, cold and bruised, they seized the ends of their trunks and began the long walk up to the great oak doors.

“I think the feast has already started,” said Ron, dropping his trunk at the foot of the front steps and crossing quietly to look through a brightly lit window. “Harry, look, it’s the Sorting.”

Harry hurried over, and he and Ron peered into the Great Hall. They watched for several moments before Harry noticed something.

“Hang on,” he muttered to Ron. “There’s an empty chair at the head table, where’s Snape?”

If Harry hadn’t spent all last year in such close proximity to him, Harry might not have even heard the sweeping of robes that now meant someone was behind them.

Harry and Ron hadn’t even turned around before Snape had given them their marching orders. “Follow me.”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

Not even daring to look at each other, Harry and Ron followed behind Snape, the smell from the Great Hall taunting them as they made their way toward the dungeons.

“In,” Snape barked as they approached Snape’s office. He had avoided this room last year, and was glad now that he did. The fireplace was dark and empty and large glass jars dotted the shelves. Snape closed the door and looked at them.

Snape looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

“An explanation, Potter?” He turned to Harry only, like Ron wasn’t even in the room.

“It was the barrier at King’s Cross, it wouldn’t let us through.”

Snape silenced him with a look.

“I meant explain in a succinct way how on Earth you thought that it would be a good idea to fly a magical car to Hogwarts and then crash in to the Forbidden Forest!” Snape yelled at them.

Ron gulped. This wasn’t the first time Snape had given Harry the impression of being able to read minds. But a moment later, he splayed a copy of the Evening Prophet onto the desk in front of them.

“You were seen,” he hissed, showing them the headline that read, “ FLYING FORD ANGLIA MYSTIFIES MUGGLES”. He shoved the paper toward Harry.

“Read it,” he ordered, like they were in class instead of potentially getting kicked out of school.

Harry picked up the paper.

“Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower at noon in Norfolk…” Harry skipped forward. “Six or seven muggles in all….”

Snape cut in. “Doesn’t your father work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?”

Harry felt as though he’d just been walloped in the stomach by one of the mad tree’s larger branches. He hadn’t thought of Mr. Weasley, and what trouble he could possibly get into.

Snape looked like he was about to combust.

“You will wait here until I can fetch Professor McGonagall to deal with you Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter I shall deal with you.”

Ten minutes later, Snape returned with Professor McGongall, and with instructions to explain, Harry and Ron set to telling her what had happened.

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe you have an owl?” she said coldly to Harry.

Well, now that someone had suggested it, Harry felt supremely stupid.

“I… I didn’t think,”

“That,” said Professor Snape, “is obvious.”

There was a knock at the door then Professor Dumbledore entered the room, and Harry’s whole body went numb. Dumbledore was looking unusually grave. Harry wondered if taking on the Womping Willow again instead of the three of them were an option or not.

There was a long silence. Then Dumbledore said, “Please explain why you did this.”

It would have been better if he had shouted. Harry was used to shouting. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had pretty well taken care of that. It would have made sense to Harry. He had done something wrong so he should be yelled at, denied certain meals, locked away. Those were the things that made sense to Harry, but he told Dumbledore everything, knowing what happened when he tried to lie. Still, he left out the part about who the car belonged to. He could tell Dumbledore wasn’t fooled, but he didn’t say anything. When Harry had finished, he merely continued to peer at them through his spectacles.

Harry looked at his head of house, but the man was steadfastly looking at the headmaster.

“We’ll go and get our stuff,” said Harry in a hopeless sort of voice.

“What are you talking about Mr. Potter?” barked Professor Snape.

Harry straightened. He wouldn’t cry here, Millicent, at least, would never forgive him.

“We’re being expelled, sir, it stands to reason that we should be getting our belongings.”

Ron nodded his head, apparently the same thought having gone through his head as well.

Ron looked at Dumbledore, Harry looked at Snape.

“Not today, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore. “But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both of your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you.”

Just when Harry thought that the punishment was over, Snape stepped forward. “And you Mr. Potter will be facing more consequences than that, I’m afraid. For now, Quidditch has been canceled.”

“Sir,”

“Mr. Potter, you have flouted the Decree for the Restricition of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree, and if it were up to me you would most certainly be expelled.”

“But, Professor,” Ron said moving to take up for him.

“Oh no, Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. Potter is in Professor Snape’s house and is therefore his responsibility. You, however, are mine and will be facing some more punishments of my own making.”

Harry felt a little relived. He had lost Quidditch, but at least he didn’t have to deal with whatever creative punishment Professor McGonagall was going to cook up for Ron.

It was better than expulsion. As for Dumbledore or even Snape’s writing to the Dursleys, that was nothing. Harry knew perfectly well that the most extreme emotion they would feel would be disappointment that the Womping Willow didn’t finish him off.

“You will eat in your dormitories,” said Professor McGonagall. “Mr. Weasley, your sister has been sorted into Gryffindor and the rest of your family will surely be wondering about your little adventure so I’d advise you to get back to the tower.”

She ushered Ron toward the door. “And Mr. Potter, please return to the dungeon where your meal and a very perturbed Ms. Bulstrode are waiting for you.”

Harry moved to follow Ron and Professor McGonagall out of the room, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I’d mind yourself, if I were you, Potter,” said Snape. He looked him over, before removing his hand from his shoulder. He looked disappointed, whether from Harry and Ron being allowed to stay and kind of relieved that he hadn’t been the one who had to make that decision in the first place.

“Go to bed, Mr. Potter.”

And that was that.

Harry’s reception in the Slytherin common room was a lot different than usual. He was a second year and he knew where he stood on the totem pole, and that meant that while everyone might have known his name, not many of the upper years or people in his year took much notice of him. That changed when he walked into the common room.

The students that were still up and it looked like more than normal, looked at him like he had sprouted another head. Some looked impressed, some looked annoyed, and some looked personally offended, but it was Millicent who shooed them all back. Her broad shoulders nudging the few out of the way who hadn’t seen her glare.

It was a quiet sort of consciousness, sort of awe, but Harry felt more of a quick in his step until Harry saw Marcus Flint. Apparently, news traveled fast, and while McGonagall was a creative punishing genius, Snape was quick and deadly.

“Less than a year, Potter, and you throw it all away because what, you wanted to impress a Weasley?”

Harry shook his head.

“I’m….”

“Potter, apologies mean nothing. You will come to practice and you will come to tryouts and you will assist in finding a new seeker.”

“I thought Snape said that I couldn’t fly.”

“Nonsense,” said Flint immediately. “If you have the quaffles to drive a magical car and pick a fight with the Womping Willow then I’d say not much can keep you off a broom.”

Flint clasped him on the shoulder and then turned and walked away. Did he sound impressed? Whether he did or not the look on Millie’s face let him know that she, at least, most assuredly was not.

She just shook her head, her wand waving menacingly in his direction as she directed him to the boy’s dorm. He opened the door and was immediately pulled into the room.

“Tell us everything,” Blaise yelled.

Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, even a slightly interested looking Draco all rallied around Harry demanding to know what exactly had happened and if the stories that had been going around the Great Hall were true or not.

“Did you really have a run in with the centaurs?” Nott asked.

“Of course, he didn’t,” Draco said immediately, but he didn’t look to sure about that when Harry gave him a look.

Harry moved to his bed, and sat down, his dorm mates all around him as he set to telling them all about the magical car and the tree that tried to eat them.

#Slytherin!Harry #Slytherin Harry #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets #Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets rewrite #Harry Potter rewrite #cosp4

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percy-the-sorcerer · 7 years

Text

Interrupted

So this fluffy Percabeth oneshot is for @percyyoulittleshit! I hope you like it Mari! :D

Honestly this was quite a lot of fun to write, so I hope everyone enjoys reading it!

“It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” Percy complained, as he walked through the cabin area of Camp Half-Blood. It was a sunny August day, and many campers were milling about.

“I know, Seaweed Brain, but you know I’ve been so busy helping with the New Athens plans. And you’ve been doing a lot of training sessions. Besides, that’s why we’re having our picnic today!” Annabeth said happily.

Percy nodded, his usual smile returning to his face. He grabbed her hand, ready to take her to the beach, where he had planned on having their picnic, when someone interrupted them.

“Percy! Annabeth!” Piper shouted from behind them, panting out of breath. “We need you.” She was dressed in shorts and a blue t-shirt, and Rachel was next to her, a small smile on her face, dressed in her usual paint-stained attire.

“For what?” Percy asked reluctantly. “We were just about to--”

“There’s a meeting in the Big House,” Rachel said, interrupting Percy. “Chiron says you guys need to be there. There’s no time for you to go to the beach--you need to come now.”

Percy looked at Annabeth, disappointment written on his face. “I guess we have to go.”

“It shouldn’t matter too much.” Annabeth smiled. “How about afternoon tea?”

“Who has sandwiches for tea?” Percy grumbled halfheartedly.

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” Percy turned to Rachel and Piper. “We’re coming.”

“Great,” Piper said, her eyes brightening. “Let’s go.”

Percy and Annabeth followed them, now focused fully on what this emergency meeting would be about.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Percy said in annoyance, as he and Annabeth walked out of the Big House over an hour later.

Annabeth nodded in agreement. “Did Chiron really have to hold a meeting just to discuss the summer’s strawberry quotas?” she wondered. “Seems a little overboard to me.”

“Oh, was that was it about?” Percy said dryly. “I fell asleep.” Despite his joking tone, Percy had drifted off for a few minutes when they were discussing the mathematics of the ratio of substance to camper for each strawberry.

“Anyway,” Annabeth said, looking back to ensure neither Piper or Rachel were running to them to call them back to another futile meeting, “how about we go on that date now?”

Before Percy could agree, he felt someone clap him on the back.

“Percy,” Grover bleated. “Annabeth. What are you guys up to?”

Percy grinned. “Grover! What’s up? I thought you were spending today in the woods?”

“I was,” Grover agreed.

“We were just about to go on a--” Annabeth started, but Grover didn’t let her finish.

“I need help,” Grover confessed, a pleading look plastered on his face.

“With what?” Annabeth asked, unable to help herself.

“The dryads,” Grover muttered. “They started a fight again, and things have become a... bit out of hand. I tried to stop the--but they’re not listening.” He sighed dramatically.

“You’re the Lord of the Wild though,” Percy said skeptically. “Why aren’t they listening to you?”

“Oh, you know,” Grover shrugged. “I guess they’ve seen me on all my dates with Juniper, so they don’t really view me as an authority figure. You guys on the other hand…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Annabeth sighed. Percy’s stomach rumbled.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait till later.” Percy patted his stomach.

Ten minutes later and they were trekking through the woods. “Just like old times, isn’t it?” Grover joked. “You guys wanting to be alone, while I’m on a quest with you.”

“Grover!” Annabeth reprimanded him. “You know it’s never been like that.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Grover said, holding his hands up. “But it is like old times, just us three--”

Grover was mid-sentence when a dryad came flying towards them, bolting through the woods in panic. Before they knew it three others had come out too in a scuffle. Percy noticed that the lake nearby was also very noisy… three dryads had somehow ended up in it, and the lake nymphs had been dragged into it too. Soon the noise was unbearable--the noises of them all screeching, the splashes of the lake and the general shouts of confusion.

Percy and Annabeth quickly dragged two of the dryads off each other and tried to separate them to calm down the situation. Unfortunately, no matter what they did it didn’t seem to be working, and more and more nymphs were joining the fray. The new campers, having heard the commotion, had gathered outside the wood to find out what it was all about--they weren’t used to the nymphs’ fighting yet. Some of the more adventurous ones had ventured into the wood to find out what was happening.

“What are they fighting about, Grover?” Percy asked desperately.

“I don’t even know,” Grover said helplessly.

“She started it!” One dryad hissed, before jumping on the other dryad that she had been pointing about.

“Where’s Juniper?” Annabeth asked.

“Oh, she’s sleeping, we kind of had a late night and I didn’t want to wake her up,” Grover said casually while a lake nymph caused a massive splash to his left. Suddenly, a camper ended up in the lake and another found herself in the middle of a large group of dryads.

Annabeth doubted any of them were aiming at anyone anymore, and that they were now just fighting for the sake of it. As Percy rescued the camper and dryads who had found themselves in the lake, she suddenly lost her patience with the whole ridiculous commotion.

“Everybody! STOP!” Annabeth yelled, her grey eyes glaring at them all. Everyone froze. “What on earth is all of this about?” Annabeth asked, daring someone to answer her.

One of the dryads started to accuse another, and then the other accused her back. Soon, everybody was accusing everyone and whilst no one had jumped on another, it was clearly all about to kick off again.

“QUIET!” Percy yelled, realising what was happening. “She asked a question--so can one person calmly answer her please?”

Nobody spoke. Some of the nymphs drifted away inconspicuously.

“Well, perfect. It seems like you guys don’t have a problem, so that means you should stop fighting.” Annabeth clapped her hands together. “If there’s no issue, we’ll be on our way.”

Percy and Annabeth started to walk away, Percy picking up their lunch, which fortunately was still intact, when Percy turned round and warned, “And don’t cause Grover anymore trouble, else we’ll be back!”

He shook his head. “Those nymphs will be the end of me,” he muttered.

“Both of us,” Annabeth agreed.

“Finally some peace and qui-”

Percy was unable to finish his sentence when Jason sprinted towards them. “Percy, Annabeth!” he called out.

Percy sighed. “What is it, Jason?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jason said, an awkward face crossing his look. “We need your help. Leo was working on the 3D printer we received to model some of your newest designs, but it--”

“Look, Jason, can we deal with it after we’ve eaten?” Percy said, gesturing to the food in his hand. His stomach growled in agreement.

“No, Percy, I need to fix this,” Annabeth said reluctantly. “We need to start modelling those designs.” She looked him in the eyes apologetically. “I’ll need your help too. We can make it dinner, ok?” He nodded slowly, knowing she was right.

Jason smiled. “Cool, I’ll show you the way.”

“What do you mean it’s not working?” Annabeth asked in a low tone to Leo. Leo gulped, and Percy didn’t blame him.

“It just stopped working!” Leo exclaimed. “We were doing what you asked, and modelling some of your latest designs for temples and houses in New Athens. I was processing them, and Jason, as a good Pontifex Maximus does, was helping fetch them for me.”

“Until it stopped working,” Jason said sheepishly. “I think it might have had to do with a static electricity shock or something.”

“What static electricity shock?” Percy frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Leo was annoying me with his jokes,” Jason said defensively.

Annabeth scowled. “And why haven’t you fixed it Leo?” she asked. “Why do you need me, you’re surely good enough?”

“The designs for New Athens are your area,” he explained. It was true, Annabeth had been working on them carefully for weeks now. “I didn’t want to break it any further, and potentially mess up the models. You’d kill me,” he muttered.

“I haven’t ruled it out yet,�� Annabeth warned him, before leaning over the machine to have a look.

Five minutes passed and Annabeth was examining the diagnostics of the machine. “I don’t understand,” she said in frustration. “The machine’s not broken in anyway. The graphics board is calibrated at 98%, easily within the correct range. Even the communications is set to 820 Hz which is within 5% of typical diagnostics. Why isn’t it working?”

Percy turned around, a plug in his hand. “I think I’ve found the problem.”

They all turned to him.

“It wasn’t plugged in,” he explained, with a shrug, plugging it in. It switched on and whirred into life.

Annabeth turned to Leo and Jason, her grey eyes flashing dangerously. “What’s going on?”

Leo’s face was that of a deer caught in the headlights. “Oops,” Leo squeaked. “Uh… I don’t know how that happened…Accident?”

“What do you think that was about?” Annabeth asked in a low voice, as they once again walked through the main cabin area. The sun had turned orange now, and was nearly dipping below the horizon.

“I don’t know--Leo’s an idiot?” Percy smiled, trying to lighten the mood. They’d both been waiting for this date for a long time now and it had so far been delayed again and again by seemingly silly things.

“I know, but don’t you think something’s going on? Chiron would never normally have such a useless meeting and even if he did he wouldn’t call us to that sort of thing. Grover normally has everything under control in the woods and honestly they didn’t seem to be fighting over anything. And now this--Leo must have realised it was unplugged.”

“I don’t know, Annabeth.” Percy sighed “Maybe it’s nothing?” He shrugged. “Either way, let’s forget about it and enjoy our picnic dinner!” He smiled at her.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Annabeth smiled. “Even I’m starving now.” They slowly made their way towards the beach, catching up with each other.

Suddenly Nico popped out of the shadows in front of them. “Hey guys.”

Annabeth looked at Percy, determination on her face. Her lips pressed thin, she shook her head at him. Percy agreed silently.

“Guys?” Nico asked.

“Yeah?” Percy asked, a little more angrily than he had meant.

“Uh, probably not a good time--”

“It’s not,” Annabeth muttered.

“But I kind of need your help,” Nico told them. “I… I don’t know how to help Adam. I’m meant to be training him, but I just don’t know what to do and how to help him and you know I’m not very good with all this people stuff and--”

“Nico,” Annabeth said quickly. He stopped. “Don’t be silly. We all know you can do it. You’re as good as any of us. Just believe in yourself.” “But--” Nico interjected.

“No buts,” Percy shook his head firmly. “You can do it, Nico. You don’t need our help. Now, go, Adam needs one of the best trainers in camp, and you are.”

Nico opened his mouth to try and protest, but looking at the two of them he knew it was helpless. He scowled.

“Well, bye, Nico,” Annabeth smiled, before taking Percy’s arm and continuing down the path.

“Good luck!” Percy added.

Nico cursed under his breath. Panicked, he disappeared into the shadows. He had to warn them…

Percy and Annabeth walked slowly towards the beach, smiling at each other and looking at the stars which were starting to appear in the sky. “It’s such a beautiful evening,” Annabeth said in awe.

Percy had to admit that despite all their frustrating disturbances, the starry night made up for it. “Well, not as beautiful as you.” Percy smiled at her. She blushed.

“You’ve looked worse yourself,” Annabeth teased.

Percy placed his hand on his heart. “Wow, what a compliment!”

Annabeth laughed before turning to look at him again. “Okay, you look lovely this evening. Better?”

“Getting there,” Percy teased. “I wish I’d made something more than sandwiches, I’m starving.”

“So am I,” Annabeth agreed. Just as she said this she heard a slight noise from the beach.

“What was that..?” Percy muttered, looking around.

Another oddly muffled noise came from a different spot. Percy and Annabeth hadn’t yet climbed the last hill on the path to the beach, so they couldn’t see who or what was hiding there.

Percy drew out Riptide and they walked carefully towards the beach.

Slowly they climbed to the top of the hill.

“Do you think anybody’s ther--” Percy was interrupted mid-question.

“SURPRISE!” Leo yelled jumping in their face. Percy was an inch away from cutting Leo in half.

Suddenly loads of people filled up their vision as the beach came into view, and some music started. Lights adorned the beach and a table with two chairs and torches was now present on the soft sand.

“LEO VALDEZ I WILL KILL YOU!” Percy cried, his heart having leapt out of his mouth.

“You’ve already tried, Jackson,” Leo laughed.

“I think I’ll try again,” Percy muttered. Annabeth was laughing now. “Not funny.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. A little bit funny.”

Piper rolled her eyes as she put drinks in their hands. “Come on! We’ve got a table and food and candles and music and everything.”

“Food?” Percy’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good to me!”

“What’s going on?” Annabeth asked at the same time. She could see many people on the beach. “Is this--”

“A surprise date!” Piper said happily.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “It’s not a surprise date, we planned this.”

“No, you planned a picnic,” Piper corrected her. “But most of us--” she gestured at the many campers behind her--”thought, that after all the hard work you’ve done these last few weeks, you deserved a super special night. So we prepared the best date either of you will go on--Lacy’s words, not mine.”

Annabeth smiled--so that was what was going on…

“So the whole day you were distracting us so you could set up?” Percy asked.

“Yep,” Leo responded. “But you didn’t go with Nico, so he quickly shadow-travelled back to warn us you were on your way.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That’s why they’re still setting up the final bits.”

“You play a risky game, Valdez,” Annabeth said. “I was ready to kill you myself over that 3D printer.”

“That’s how I roll,” Leo said, sticking his tongue out.

They made their way over to the table.

Leo pulled Annabeth’s chair out for her, and Jason pulled out Percy’s chair for him, acting like a waiter.

Leo grinned at them. “My wish is your command.”

“Good,” Percy said, “Well, you can start by…” Percy found a lot of ways to make up for Leo scaring him.

After a few minutes a lot of the campers had withdrawn and Leo and Jason had gone to get their food.

“Well, this was a nice surprise,” Annabeth muttered.

Percy grinned. “Yup. Much better than sandwiches… even ones I’ve prepared.”

“You know, we’re alone now…” Annabeth said. “We might as well use the time while we’ve got it.”

Their food had arrived just as Percy and Annabeth broke apart from their kissing, something they hadn’t been able to do enough of in the past few weeks. Annabeth smiled.

“After food, you’ve got many more treats in store,” Jason promised them. “Grover’s even arranged a special pan-pipes performance.”

“I thought these were supposed to be good things,” Percy muttered. Annabeth smirked.

“Well, we’re looking forward to it,” Annabeth told them.

“You know,” Percy told Annabeth, after they had gone again, “a candle-lit dinner on the beach of Camp Half-Blood… I’m not going to lie, they’ve done a pretty good job.”

“They have,” Annabeth agreed. “Our friends can be pretty cool from time to time.”

Grey eyes met green eyes over the table. They were once again by themselves, and as they both leaned in for another kiss, needless to say the food was left alone for a little while longer.

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aidanchaser · 5 years

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Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Everyone Lives

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero

Chapter Seventeen The Heir of Slytherin

Lily Potter delivered the news about Ginny Weasley to a crowded Gryffindor Common Room.

One of the first year boys started to cry. Percy looked like he might be sick. Lavender Brown stifled a sob.

“Of course we are doing everything we can to find her,” Lily said quickly. “And we’ll safely see you all onto the Hogwarts Express first thing tomorrow morning. For now, we need you to stay in your dormitories where it’s safe. Listen to your Prefects.” She motioned to Head Girl Kit Cairn and two of the Prefects: Anne Thelborne, and her older brother Christian.

“Percy, Fred, George, and Ron —” she paused, realizing she hadn’t seen Ron. Or Harry. She scanned the room quickly. In a thin voice she asked, “Where are they? Where are Ron and Harry?”

No one had an answer for her. They shifted uneasily and whispered to each other.

Neville Longbottom finally said, “They weren’t in History of Magic class. We haven’t seen them since Defense this afternoon.”

Lily was afraid her heart was going to stop beating at any moment. Never in her life had she had to worry so much about Harry in such a small span of time. This week alone seemed far more stressful than eighteen months of hiding had been.

“Percy, Fred, and George, come with me. The rest of you — Miss Cairn is in charge. She’ll take care of you. And Miss Cairn, I’ll see to it a professor is posted outside your door immediately.”

Kit Cairn nodded.

Lily led the Weasley boys out of the portrait hole.

“Hey, Perce,” Fred said quietly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Percy sniffled. “I’m fine.” His voice cracked a little, but when Lily glanced back at him, he looked determined to be fine, so she said nothing.

“Ron went after Ginny, didn’t he?” George asked.

“We’re going too,” Fred said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lily snapped. “You’re going to meet your parents, and you’re going to stay with your parents until we find Ginny and Ron. You can’t imagine the stress your parents must be under right now, and I will not have you add to it by being reckless.”

Fred and George seemed to burn with anger as they followed behind her, and she thought perhaps she had been too sharp with her words. She knew it was not the time to lose her temper on these boys who just wanted to be brave and do the right thing. But she had said the words she wished she could say to Harry. She thought he had really understood her when he had apologized the other day. Clearly, she had been wrong.

She took the Weasley boys to Minerva’s office.

“Oh, thank you,” Minerva said. “Molly and Arthur are on their — Where’s Ronald?”

Lily took a moment to be sure she could get the words out without breaking into tears. Leaning on her anger helped. “He and Harry haven’t been seen since they were in my class. Gilderoy,” she spat his name out, “was supposed to walk them to History of Magic.”

Minerva sank into a chair. “Oh, dear. Where could they have gone?”

A hole had opened in Lily’s chest as the truth dawned on her. “They must know where the Chamber of Secrets is.” Was this her fault for not telling Harry about the basilisk? If she had told him, could she have prevented him from going into the Chamber? Would he have told her where it was? Did he know what he was facing?

“If they knew, I believe they would have told us,” Minerva said.

Lily wasn’t so sure. She had tried very hard to let Harry be at school as if she were not his mother. She thought his freedom was important to growing up, but so far it seemed Harry had done nothing but get into trouble and keep secrets from her. He’d kept the voices he’d been hearing a secret for so long, he’d gone into the forest to find Acromantula, and she knew Hermione’s accident hadn’t been a Transfiguration mishap. Human Transfiguration mishaps were rarely so specific. Lily was an expert in potions, and she knew what an incorrectly used Polyjuice Potion did. She just didn’t know what Ron and Harry had ended up using it for.

Lily swallowed her hurt and anger and turned to the Weasley boys. “Did they say anything to any of you?”

All of them shook their head.

“Believe me,” Fred said, “we’ve been looking for the Chamber of Secrets all year.”

“No luck, though,” George sighed.

“And you have no idea where Ron and Harry might’ve gone?”

The twins exchanged a glance.

“What are you hiding?” she shouted suddenly, and slammed her hand on Minerva’s desk. “Your brother and sister and my son are missing. If you know anything at all, you should tell us now.”

Fred, George, Percy, all jumped at Lily’s outburst. She no longer cared. Patience was not a virtue today. There was no time to waste. If her temper was going to get her where she needed, she would use it.

“I don’t know if it’s helpful,” George said.

“It might not even be relevant,” said Fred. “But Ron and Harry and Hermione spent a lot of time around Christmas in the third floor girl’s bathroom.”

“I knew it,” Percy said, but he didn’t look very cheered to be right.

“We saw Ginny go there a few times too,” George added. “We just didn’t think — We just thought they were talking to Moaning Myrtle.”

“Though I don’t know who would willingly talk to Moaning Myrtle,” Fred added under his breath.

“The ghost in the lavatory?” Lily said, a bit bewildered. “How is that relevant?”

“We told you it might not be,” George said. “But that’s all we can think of.”

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I’ll at least talk to Myrtle. Maybe they told her something, or she saw something.”

“Be careful, Lily,” Minerva said. “If you’d like me to alert Severus —”

“He needs to take care of the Slytherin students. And send Charity to the Gryffindor Tower, if you could.”

Minerva nodded. “I will see the students are taken care of. Be safe.”

Lily nodded. She thought about how fifteen years ago, jumping into the war, she would have smiled heading into danger like this. That was before she had a husband and a child and a family she was terrified to lose.

She made her way to the girls’ lavatory on the third floor. She remembered how often it flooded when she had been a student, but it was strangely dry today. Carefully, Lily pushed open the door. She opened her mouth to call for Myrtle, but before she could get the words out, she saw the sink.

Or really, the lack of sink.

Where there should have been a sink, there was a giant pipe that disappeared beneath the ground.

Lily looked down into the dark tunnel. Had Harry really gone down that? She thought he probably had. And Ron was probably with him. And there was probably a basilisk down there with them.

Lily took a deep breath and plunged into the hole.

It felt like it went on for miles. It was wet and slimy and Lily was glad she was not claustrophobic. Sirius and Remus would’ve had a hell of a time coming down here.

The tunnel shot her out along a cold stone floor. Her robes were covered in a strange and moist slime. She guessed by the cool air that she was somewhere under the Black Lake, far from the castle above.

When she stood, she was hit by the thought that she had no idea how to kill a basilisk. Maybe she could conjure a rooster.

She shook her fear away. The important thing now was saving Harry, Ron, and Ginny. The basilisk could wait, especially now that they knew where it was.

Lily started down the tunnel by the light of her wand. She noticed cracks in the ceiling and in the walls. Part of her hoped there was a cave-in ahead, and she would find Harry and Ron unable to pursue the monster any farther into the Chamber.

It turned out she was half-right.

She found the cave-in, and Ron carefully trying to clear out rubble to make a path.

“Ronald Weasley!” she shouted.

Ron froze, a rock still in his hands, and then slowly turned around. “Mrs. Potter — Er, Professor.”

“What were you thinking? Where’s Harry? Is he alright?”

“I think so….”

The she saw Gilderoy Lockhart sitting near Ron, nose still dripping black ooze, and beaming at her. “What a lovely young lady,” he said. “You have such beautiful eyes, you know. Is this your home?”

Lily frowned. Had Lockhart not learned enough after she nearly hexed his nose off? There was something seriously wrong with him. She decided to ignore Lockhart for the moment. “Ron, tell me what’s going on.”

So Ron did. He told her how they’d discovered the monster was a basilisk, and how the spiders had told them where they needed to find the Chamber. He told her about Lockhart being a fraud, and how they’d forced him into the Chamber with them. And he told her about the cave-in, and how Harry had gone on to save Ginny.

Lily quickly examined Gilderoy Lockhart while Ron told the story. Lockhart seemed enamored with her eyes and curious about the wedding ring on her finger, but all-in-all, he was in decent health. He seemed so dazed and confused, she decided to fix the jinx she’d put on his nose.

Then she began examining the wall. She thought if she could strengthen the ceiling, she might be able to clear away enough rubble to get through. She set her jaw and muttered a few spells at the ceiling.

When she was reasonably confident it would hold, she pointed her wand at the bottom of the rubble mountain and said, “Reducto.”

The stones shook and a few loosened. She and Ron managed to pull enough of the rubble aside to create a small hole. Ron tried to climb through, but she grabbed his robes and pulled him back.

“Go back and see if you can find a way out,” she said.

“I can help,” Ron said.

“Yes, and I just told you how. Ginny and Harry will be fine. Please, listen, and go back. Your mum and dad should be at the castle by now, and they’ll want to know you’re safe.”

Ron hesitated, an unusual fire in his eyes. She thought of Harry, and how Harry had looked when he’d asked her what was in the Chamber of Secrets, and instead of telling him she’d tried to protect him. She just wanted to protect Ron now.

“Please, Ronald,” she said desperately. “I’ll find Harry and Ginny. They’ll be okay. I need you to take care of Lockhart for me, and we’ll need a way out when I come back.”

“I’ll wait thirty minutes,” Ron said.

Lily nodded. That seemed reasonable. She climbed through the rubble.

It was a long walk through the tunnel still, until she came to the door inlaid with emerald snakes. They seemed to dance in the light of her wand and it terrified her. The door, however, was open. She stepped towards it, but stopped when she heard voices.

“And why did you want to meet me?” Harry’s voice echoed clearly through the tunnel until it reached her ears.

Lily began to run.

A voice answered Harry — “It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir.”

Every muscle in her body froze so suddenly she nearly fell onto the stone floor. She knew that voice. It was younger than she remembered but she knew it. Its cadence, its pacing was so familiar to her, but why?

“From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery — particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn’t much life left in her…. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last…. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.”

Oh, Merlin that voice — even though Lily couldn’t place it, it sent chills down her spine. Her very bones seemed to tremble, but she pushed herself forward, and a quick and quiet walk now, in case she needed the element of surprise.

“Like what?” Harry spat.

“How is it that you — a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent--managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

Lily knew suddenly why that voice was familiar. It truly was Voldemort’s voice. Younger, smoother, and far more charming than when she’d heard it, but it was the same voice.

She needed to get to Harry and she needed to get to him now! Harry couldn’t face Voldemort. Not now. He was only twelve. He was only twelve, she thought desperately. She began running again with a new strength, powered by fear and desperation, with no regard for caution or her own safety. Not her son. She wouldn’t lose her son.

“What do you care how I escaped?” Harry said. “Voldemort was after your time.”

“Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter. Imagine,” the young man hissed, “I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born? No. So I fashioned for myself a new name, a name I knew wizards would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

Lily reached the Chamber door and pushed it open. She saw Harry, kneeling beside Ginny’s pale, lifeless body, and a young man standing over them, wand in his hand. A huge statue of Salazar Slytherin loomed over them at the end of the chamber. She did not see Voldemort, but Lily ran towards Harry and Ginny. She was prepared to throw herself between any curse this young man threw at her son.

Harry said something so quietly she couldn’t hear. She ran faster. The young man looked angry. She had to just get between them.

And then, the young man shouted, “Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!”

“He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry shouted back.

The young man drew back the wand in his hand. Lily dove between him and Harry and grabbed her son around his neck. But there was no curse. Nothing happened.

Instead, an eerie harmony filled the chamber. It was an ethereal sound that sent a strange sensation down Lily’s spine, like a chill, but it wasn’t cold. She felt the song beat in her chest, and she looked up for the source of the music.

Atop one of the pillars, beside the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin, a golden flame appeared. In it sat a beautiful phoenix.

“Fawkes,” she breathed.

Harry squeezed her tight. “Mum, why are you here? What is Fawkes doing….”

The bird swooped down, dropped a piece of brown leather into Harry’s lap, and alighted on his shoulder. It nuzzled Harry’s cheek and regarded Lily with a suspicious beady black eye.

Harry picked up the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped. “The… Sorting Hat?”

It really was. The patched, frayed, and dirty Sorting Hat, straight from Dumbledore’s office.

“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender?” the Voldemort boy laughed. “A songbird and an old hat! And a witch who seems to know nothing of a protective spell.”

Lily got to her feet, ready to duel.

But the boy laughed again, and a shiver went down her spine that flooded out any warmth the phoenix had put in her. He truly was Lord Voldemort, but so much younger than when she had seen him.

“Stand aside, witch,” he said. “My business is with Harry Potter.”

“Your business is with me,” she growled.

His upper lip curled back. “Hom —”

“Protego!” she shouted over his curse, and it deflected off of her silver shield. “Reducto!”

He deflected it wordlessly by flicking the wand upwards. The explosion hit a pillar, which crumbled at Salazar Slytherin’s feet.

He brought his wand back down with a wordless spell that sliced through her chest. She saw no blood but she felt like she’d been run through with a sword. She fell beside Harry and only managed to support herself on one knee. She opened her mouth to curse him again, but he shouted, “Silencio!” and no sound came out of her mouth.

Lily curled her upper lip back and threw an Expluso at him. He seemed startled by the spell, but whatever it was that made him fuzzy around the edges made him impervious to the force of the spell. She tried to think of a spell that affected a non-corporeal form, but they were dark ones, far darker than she was used to using.

She started the motion for an Incendia Incendicum, but Voldemort threw a silent Expelliarmus at her. She had been unprepared, and the wand flew out of her hand. He caught it neatly, and used his wand to move her aside.

“To business, Harry,” Voldemort said. “Twice — in your past, in my future — we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? The longer you talk, the longer you stay alive.”

“I don’t know why you lost your powers when you attacked me,” Harry snarled fiercely, as he helped Lily stand, “but I know why you couldn’t kill me. Because my Muggle-born mother stood between you and me. Because my family fought you when you came for me. Because I’m loved, beyond blood or heritage. Where I come from doesn’t matter. What matters is that there are people who love me, and their love protects me.”

Voldemort’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I see. What an old counter-charm.” His eyes flicked between Lily and Harry. “But that means then that you are only a boy, a boy who can be killed. And there is nothing truly special about you.”

Voldemort walked towards the statue of Slytherin and began speaking in Parseltongue. Lily’s body went cold. It unnerved her every time she overheard Harry doing it to a garden snake in the backyard, but this was so much worse.

“Mum, he’s summoning the basilisk.” Harry pushed her towards the door. “Close your eyes! Run for the door.”

She wanted to tell him she couldn’t leave him and Ginny, but she still couldn’t speak. And she knew, as the statue of Slytherin opened its mouth, that the basilisk was coming. She quickly tried to mime waving a wand. She was sure Harry’d learned Finite Incantatem in her class, and he should’ve learned it in Charms class as well.

“Tom Riddle has my wand,” he said quickly. “Just go, Mum.”

Lily grabbed Harry’s hand and together they ran from the basilisk with their eyes closed. Lily felt Fawkes’s wings flutter past her cheek. She wondered where the phoenix was going. She hoped it was for help, or to get Ginny out of here. Could Ginny even be moved? Hadn’t Voldemort said something about a diary sucking her soul?

Now that they were running without looking, she couldn’t even be sure they were running towards the door. She kept one hand brushing against the wall on her left to be sure they were still close to it.

Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue again. Harry pushed her to go faster, but she tripped. Her chin hit the concrete floor and she tasted blood in her mouth. Harry pulled her to her feet and they kept going. There was no time to check her injury. She heard a hissing, different from the Parseltongue, and a spitting noise. Something large knocked her and Harry back against the wall. She could barely breathe.

“Are you okay?” she tried to say, and felt his arm quickly and gently for broken bones.

“I’m fine. Mum, open your eyes. Look, really.”

Lily did, and saw the twenty-foot long basilisk doing battle with Fawkes the phoenix. The snake’s eyes had been scratched out and its blood dripped along the floor. It snapped wildly at the bird with its fangs and flicked its tongue out desperately in search of its attacker.

“Leave the bird!” Voldemort shouted. “Get the boy!” He said something in Parseltongue, and Lily assumed he was repeating his command for the snake to understand.

Lily grabbed Harry’s hand and started for the door, but he pulled away and dove under the basilisk’s tail for the Sorting Hat.

“Harry!” she shouted at him, but no sound came out of her mouth. She wished she could scream, anything.

Harry crammed the old hat down on his head and pressed himself flat on the floor as the basilisk swiped its tail at him again.

Lily could only watch, wandless and voiceless, as Harry pulled the hat off of his head and grabbed a silver sword encrusted with rubies from inside. He held it in his hands and looked at her.

“Go,” he mouthed, and she shook her head. She would never leave her son, even if it killed her.

The snake snapped at Harry and he dove out of the way. The snake rammed its head into the wall instead. It lunged again at Harry and this time its tongue grazed his side. Lily gasped and ran towards Harry, but the snake was faster. Its mouth came right down on top of Harry’s arms, and Harry thrust the sword up through its jaw.

“Harry!” this time her scream broke through to Silencing Charm. She could see the wound on his arm where the fang of the basilisk had pierced him. Blood and venom soaked his robes and dripped to the floor. This — this was why she tried to keep him from fighting. He was her only son. She couldn’t lose him.

As Harry pulled out of the basilisk’s mouth, the fang came with him, still sticking out of his arm.

She caught him as he fell, whispering desperately that he would be alright, telling him she loved him. Fawkes fluttered down and settled on her shoulder. She could see tears in the bird’s eyes and sobbed even harder.

“Foolish Muggle-woman,” Voldemort snapped. “Harry Potter is dead. Even Dumbledore’s old bird knows it. I’m going to sit here and watch the life slowly leave you, while your filthy mudblood mother watches, then I’ll kill her as I kill little Ginny Weasley.”

Lily would have done anything for her wand, anything except give up Harry. She held him tighter and cried harder.

Then Fawkes left and Harry moved in her arms. She saw that his wound had closed. He saw it too, and the two of them started laughing, even though she couldn’t stop crying.

“What?” Voldemort shouted. “Phoenix tears —” He slashed at the bird with his wand. “How dare you —”

The bird ducked under the spell and grabbed something off the ground. It dropped it in front of Harry and Lily — the diary.

Lily didn’t know what the diary meant, but Harry didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the basilisk fang that had been in his arm and stabbed the diary.

Lily gasped as black ink shot out of the diary like blood from a beating heart. Voldemort screamed; a hole of bright light burned in his chest for each stab Harry made in the diary. He fell to the ground, writhing and screaming, until the holes burned up everything he was. He was only an echo of an image. And then he was nothing at all.

It was so violent, Lily nearly threw up all over the bloody diary. But that would have only made it worse.

Harry picked up his wand and Lily’s. He handed it to her but she took no notice of it. Instead, she threw her arms around Harry and only said, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mum,” he said.

She squeezed him for a moment longer, then pulled away to wipe the tears out of her eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

Harry grabbed the sword, the diary, and the Sorting Hat. Lily checked on Ginny. She seemed alright, perhaps a bit pale, but she returned to consciousness easily enough. Lily helped her to her feet. The moment Ginny saw Harry she began to cry — huge, loud gasping sobs. She threw her arms around his neck.

“Harry I’m so sorry — I tried to tell you — I s-swear I didn’t mean to — R-Riddle he was just s-so — oh, H-Harry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s over,” Harry said, and handed her the diary. “Riddle and the basilisk.” He even gave her the sword to carry. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

“I’ll be expelled,” Ginny wailed as they started towards the exit of the Chamber. She clutched the sword against her chest like a pillow and sobbed into her hands.

“You won’t be expelled,” Lily said encouragingly, and stroked Ginny’s hair as they walked. “You’ll be alright.”

Harry led them out of the Chamber and through the tunnels while Lily helped support a sobbing Ginny. She would’ve carried Ginny, but her ribs still ached from where the tail of the basilisk had struck her. She would not be surprised if Madam Pomfrey found a few broken bones.

They reached the cave-in and Lily helped Ginny crawl through to Ron.

“Ginny!” he shouted and squeezed her even tighter than she held the sword. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How — a sword — Where did that bird come from?”

“He’s Dumbledore’s,” Harry said as Lily pulled herself through the hole.

“Were you able to find a way out?” she asked Ron.

Ron shook his head. “The pipe back up is steep and slippery.”

Fawkes circled overhead, tail feathers brushing Harry’s shoulders. He chirped impatiently at them.

“Your bird wants something, Harry,” Ron said.

Harry grabbed onto Fawkes’ feet, and the phoenix gently tugged at him. “He’s going to carry us out,” Harry said. “Mom, you hold onto me, and hold Ginny with your other hand. Ron, you hold Ginny’s hand and my Mom’s robes, and let Lockhart hold onto you, okay? Fawkes will be able to carry us.”

Ron looked doubtful, but he did as Harry suggested. Lily did, too. When had her boy become so grown-up?

Fawkes lifted them all into the air like they weighed nothing, and carried them out into the bathroom. It was definitely the weirdest flight Lily had ever had. She had no intentions of repeating a phoenix flight with Gilderoy Lockhart hanging onto her robes. She found she much preferred a broom.

Once they were back on solid ground, Lily quickly took charge. With one hand on Harry and the other on Ginny, she led them to Professor McGonagall’s office. Fawkes floated just ahead of her, feathers casting a golden glow in the hallway. It made a pleasant light for them to follow.

They arrived at Minerva’s office, and Lily pushed in the door, where she found Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waiting with James.

#harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter everyone lives au #harry potter #hp fic #hp everyone lives

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