Demigods in Britain - [Percy Jackson and Harry Potter Crossover]

Chapter Three

"So. Percy... that's a nice name."

Percy tore his eyes away from the passing scenery, turning back to Arthur. "Yeah, it is." he said slowly, once again finding himself wondering what these wizards truly wanted from him. Arthur, so far, was a nice guy. Talkative, cheery. He hadn't done anything magical yet, but Percy could hardly wait to see what their magic was like. Even though he doubted it would have anything on the Hecate cabin. "It's short for Perseus, Perseus Jackson."

"Oh," Arthur responded, sounding strangely relieved. "Would you mind terribly if I called you that instead? You see, I have... a son, named Percival. We call him Percy."

Percy grimaced mentally - he would mind, but it was in his best interests to be polite. Annabeth had drilled that into his mind. And Nico's. Gods knew the two of them needed the reminder.

But she was alone in the back row, silent as she scribbled down notes and routes. He didn't think she was even listening to the conversation. Way too busy with her tourist pamphlets. She'd already amassed a small hoard of them, noting down important landmarks and historical sites.

Percy just wanted to get this journey over with and get on with his life, but Annabeth wasn't about to let the opportunity to explore London slip away. And, well, it wasn't like he could ever say no to her. He might not find any appeal in the old architecture dotting this city, but seeing her smile was more than enough reason for him to visit.

"Sure," he answered finally, turning to look out the window again. Brits were weird, driving on the wrong side. He didn't think he'd get used to it anytime soon. "I prefer being called Percy, but if you think that'd be easier for you, you can just call me Perseus."

Arthur loosed a weary breath, tired and jaded and unexpected. That was new. It seemed there was more to the man than met the eye. "I - I'll call you Percy. My son's his own man. He makes his own choices. I shouldn't let it get to me."

Was he sensing some resentment there? As well as some sadness, a bit of annoyance, more than a little regret. The hell'd this Percival do to his dad?

"Thanks," Percy muttered, grasping and squeezing Arthur's shoulder. He stared at him in visible surprise - what, weren't they friends? "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, what - what'd Percival do?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. Beneath his fiery hair, Arthur looked almost despairing. But not angry or annoyed with Percy for asking. "He, well... to put it simply, my son doesn't believe Dumbledore. When he learnt we were supporting him, Percy said some horrible things, and then he left... left the family. And now he's working with the Ministry."

Huh. There was a lot of information packed into that sentence. A lot.

Annabeth set her notebook down, leaning forwards intently. So she was listening. He wouldn't have put it past her to be completely engrossed in those booklets. "Doesn't believe Dumbledore about what?"

Arthur looked back at her jerkily, eyes wide. "That You-Know-Who returned, of course." he whispered, casting a furtive glance towards the driver. "Well, barely anyone does, if I'm being honest."

"Who's You-Know-Who? Is that the one who's targeting Harry?" Annabeth asked quickly, a furrow in her brow. Percy understood her confusion - no, he didn't 'know who'. Were wizards so secretive they didn't even say names in public? More likely, wizards were aware that names had power. They always did, no matter what the mythology was. So, what was this guy? Some type of monster? Seemed more and more like a possibility. It would be another good reason for Dumbledore to ask for a demigod.

"And what do you mean, he returned? Where was he?" Percy asked, leaning towards Arthur. "He lost the first war, right? How is he back?"

Arthur stared at him. And continued staring.