Percy Jackson X Harry Potter

TWENTY FIVE: Harry Dies In Hell But Actually Doesn't

Harry's POV

'SO YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT You-Know-Who is currently sailing across a river in hell on a- what was it? A dirt... duck float?' Hermione said, reclined in a library armchair with One Thousand Herbs and Magical Fungi open in her lap and a half-written essay about Mandrakes in her hands. He and Ron were both sitting on a leather sofa to her right, finishing their transfiguration homework on the coffee table.

Hermione had been asking questions like these since Harry had told her and Ron about Voldemort's plan. 

Of course, he hadn't told them everything; his demigod heritage would have to remain a secret for a while. But they did know that Voldemort was planning a return and Harry would be the main target in his killing spree – and that Hogwarts would probably end up in the crossfire, along with everyone in it.

'Yeah. Percy knows too.' he replied. 'Well, uhh, he's sort of the one who told me in the first place.'

His friend sighed. 'I see. Why haven't you gone to Dumbledore yet? He might have a way of sorting all of this out, if Percy miraculously turns out to be right.'

Harry nodded. The deadline was still approaching – deadline for what, exactly, he couldn't think of. And, when he thought about it, he didn't know exactly why he hadn't yet reported to Dumbledore about the matter. It felt like when you were in bed and you knew that you should get up, and tried to urge yourself to move, but you can barely stand the idea of emerging from the warm sheets. Dumbledore recognised that he, Percy, Malfoy, Neville and Luna were all demigods – the professor was a legacy himself – so there wouldn't be much reason why he wouldn't take his word for Voldemort's return.

Ron, who had been listening to their conversation while contentedly munching on a chocolate frog ('Dumbledore again!' he had said. 'That makes fifteen.'), remarked, 'How would Percy know anyway? You-Know-Who's literally in hell.'

Hermione frowned. 'Ronald does actually make a good point, for the first time in his life.' she said, a nervous laugh escaping her mouth. 'How could Percy possibly know what's going on in Hell? Besides, the concept of Hell is mainly a Christian belief, and isn't proven to be in any way realistic.'

They sat waiting, staring at him expectantly.

A second passed. Two. Five. Harry didn't know what to say. 'Honestly, I'm not sure. But I'm going to trust Percy on this. He has his... ways of knowing stuff.'

Lying was never really his strong suit; he didn't fancy his chances of being believed. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

Harry pointed at her essay. 'Your quill is leaking.'

'Oh, dammit!' A few people looked up from their books. It was common knowledge that Hermione wasn't much of a swearer, so other students were often startled when she did – even though this particular offence was barely profane.

As she fussed over her paper, trying to clean up the splatter of ink with a handkerchief (yes, she carried a handkerchief in her pocket), Percy walked in and sat on the arm of the sofa. Smudge the cat was nestled safely on his shoulder, purring against his neck.

'Hey.'

He looked up at him. 'Hi, Percy.'

Percy briefly looked around, then leaned in. 'I went to Dumbledore about the whole situation.' 

Harry blinked. Perfect timing. 'What did he say?'

'He said he'd look into it, but he told me not to tell anyone because he doesn't want the students panicking.' Percy said.