At first glance, Percy Jackson is the son of Poseidon, the Hero of Olympus, survivor of Tartarus, the defeater of Monsters; but deep within his roots stems magic that reaches into another world: the world of wizards and witches and dark lords and on...
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The letter from Dumbledore was the deed of the Jackson Estate. On the line at the bottom, Percy's name was written in neat curvy writing: Perseus Achilles Jackson. He hadn't known his second name before. Perseus Achilles Jackson. For a long moment, Percy thought Dumbledore had given him the wrong scroll. That was until it clicked in his mind and he remembered that it was actually him.
Getting to the house was a trial in itself. The protective charms were so strong that an outsider couldn't get within a mile of the place without the express permission of those living there and as it was abandoned, left standing empty to collect dust, Percy was left to hike through a mile of shrubbery to reach it in the first place.
As he walked, he went over the plans of the Estate in his head, what he had read from the parchment Dumbledore gave to him the previous day. The Jackson Estate consisted of two whole miles of land, making them one of the most wealthy families in history, however unknown. Only half of the full land was used for the home and gardens, the other was used for defense and protection - from what, Percy could name multiple things. That was what he was here for: to find out. According to the plans, the house was quite large, spanning to three floors as well as having a tower. There was supposedly a whole Quidditch Pitch and a swimming pool. Percy would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit excited to see it, especially as it was all in his name.
Percy finally stumbled over the last hill and saw a large building in the distance. He made sure to take note of the crumbling tower. He couldn't help the small smile on his face though; was this where he came from? Had he been born within those walls? He knew for sure his mother -Sally, that was- had grown up here, and for a moment Percy wondered what his life would be like had he grown up here too.
It took another ten minutes before he reached the gate. It was a plain, wooden gate that was only half his height, clearly there for display rather than security, but who needed tall walls when there was magical enchantments protecting you? Percy hoped those wards would keep monsters away too.
Shaking his head, Percy refocused on his task. He looked up at the tall house; its walls were made from thick bricks and plastered over with a beige-grey paint and covered with overgrown ivy. Cracks split the paint, all varying in width and length, and Percy was sure he could see shadows from within the walls through them. The windows above him on the second and third floors, all jutted into the walls in odd patterns, had crumbling shutters, although it was a miracle that none of them were broken and that the glass looked oddly clean.
Percy made his way through the path of thick weeds to the oak door in the front centre of the house. He turned the rusted knob and ended up having to push the door open with his shoulder, bursting through on the third try.
