Things of Fire and Ash (Percy Jackson Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Hello...and enjoy the story! :D

Chapter 1: The Fire in Their Eyes

August 18

Creak...

Creak...

The willow trees practically sang as they swayed side to side, creating an unkempt melody as uncheerful as the place itself. It was not necessarily the place that dampened the spirits of every child to set foot in the little stone building, but rather the Keeper there, the one that ruled with an iron fist. While the place once had grass, the sole's of many children's feet had trampled it to nothing but hard worn dirt, rather like the hearts of them who'd trodden on the grass. Crushed to the ground before they could ever truly bloom.

But this night was different; the willows sad song seemed different, lighter, perhaps even lilting. They seemed to be rejoicing almost, as if something good was about to happen.

And then something did happen. Not what Matilda, the Keeper, would have defined as "good," but rather amusing, as she looked down upon it with her beady eyes.

It was a woman in her early twenties with messy brown hair but with eyes the color of steaming coffee that shone with goodness and fierce determination. She had crawled up the porch stairs desperately in need of attention, as she looked ready to conceive her child at any moment.

"My baby...will you help me?" it was a hoarse plea, one that Matilda was about to laugh at, slam the door, and leave the lady to her miseries. But something shinned in her dark eyes; and they spoke of years and wisdom beyond her age. And in a flash, Matilda saw the determination, she would not give up—ever, and nothing Matilda could do would stop her. Matilda knew the look, for she had worn it long ago, when she herself was in desperate need of attention.

Matilda took in a sharp breath, and if ever questioned, would never admit to it, but she took the young woman in, determined to do some good before her old, grey bones crumbled to ashes, and were then thrown in a fire to be burned into nothingness.

The wails of a newborn shattered the night in Matilda Mariette's Orphanage for Orphaned Children. Matilda had taken the new mother to her own bedroom and helped her through the difficult labor. They herd not a peep from the other children, awakened by the screams, but as uncaring as the mice that stole bits and crumbs of food from the pantry.

Matilda knew the mother, Sally, had not much longer left, as her breath was faint and her eyes dimmed by the second. She turned around to let the new mother coddle her child in her last few seconds, busying herself with folded towels.

But Sally's sharp call summoned her back.

"Listen," and she chuckled softly," I know I don't have much longer left...you don't have to tell me..."

Matilda could only stare into the fearless eyes before her for so long.

"Listen!" she suddenly said when Matilda awkwardly turned her head, with the fire of a protective lioness, "his name...Perseus...for his father...Rydall...for his grandfather...and Jackson...for me..."Sally said on the tails of her exhales. "Watch him...for me..."

"But I—I...I'm too old," Matilda protested, "I'll die before the child's tenth birthday, most likely before that! I cannot promise to still be alive, or to take care of him!"

Sally just smiled a knowing smile, and tilted her head up wistfully, "Don't worry...you will...be alive...as long as he needs you...

"Promise to me!"

Matilda half jumped back; astonished at Sally's sudden fierce desire and will.

"I—I...promise..."

And then Sally Jackson was no more, the rains fell, and she was buried between the willows.

Twelve Years Later

His eyes, the one aspect of him Matilda could never truly understand. They were quite scary, reflecting his mood in sea green frothing fires and waves. They were like emeralds, except twice as beautiful and much more captivating, showing determination much like his mother's had. In fact, they were much like his mother's, almost replicas besides the colors.

Matilda sighed; she'd kept her promise, if giving the little Percy the last bits of wilted brown broccoli counted...which it probably didn't.

He was an oddball, keeping to himself in the twenty or so children that roamed the brick building. He scared them, Matilda knew as much as that, but he seemed so sweet, and the one girl that got to talk about him just said, "Oh no ma'am, no ma'am at all, he's not mean or anything, just different, and nobody likes different." Which was hardly a satisfying answer.

Even at school he was a loner, playing by himself a recess, eating alone. He was definitely not the brightest kid, being diagnosed with both ADHD and dyslexia. A C- on his report card was considered, "An exemplary achievement worth celebration," by his teachers.

And he'd gotten in more trouble than one could imagine, giving the class an, "Unplanned swim," once and being the subject of many tall men in brown suits, all who came and stared at him before being threatened by the teachers.

Percy had been expelled six times in six years, which on its own was a worthy-some achievement, but when stacked up gave Matilda a terrible headache. She was running out of public schools, and no one seemed willing to offer him a place at their private school.

Oh Percy, what am I going to do with a rascal like you...?

Matilda's old bones croaked in protest as she stood up to watch Percy fly out the door and into the woods, which called him as the willows called to his mother.

She was worried about him, but he'd always come back, right?

But as the sun slowly set she became more anxious, hiding it under a practiced frown. She gathered up the children to go looking for him, but they couldn't find him, he'd left not a trace. Disappearing off the face of the earth, it seemed even, when she contacted the police.

Matilda was deeply troubled; had she'd broken her promise? Was the child gone because of it?

She continued to regularly scan the newspaper, desperate for some trace, some clue as to where he could be. But nothing came, and as Matilda lay on her deathbed, she felt remorse as she'd never felt, and it was tearing at her heart.

Creak...

Creak...

It seemed as if the willows mourned Perseus Rydall Jackson as well, the same willows that once called out so forcefully to his dead mother.

April 18, 2015

—Jay