Siren's Call (PJO/HP crossover)

Chapter Three

ALBUS WULFRIC PERCIVAL BRIAN DUMBLEDORE

Albus dressed sharply in a plum velvet suit, knowing that Ms. Cole was not the most accepting woman and wanting to make her slightly uncomfortable. Minerva was giving him the end of her lecture about how "Perseus is just a boy, and you should not judge him on his grandfather."

Dumbledore nodded at her. "Calm yourself, Minerva. I know how it feels better than most to be compared with your family."

Dumbledore Apparated directly to the orphanage as soon as he made it off school grounds. Mallory Cole startled awake as the wizard appeared in front of her. "How the fuck...? Who the hell are you?"

Dumbledore sighed, feeling deja vu. He had had this conversation with this woman about three days ago. "That doesn't matter. Just show me to Perseus Jackson Riddle, if you would."

Ms. Cole looked like she was about to continue pursuing the subject, but apparently the mention of Perseus was so vile that she had to follow that topic instead. "Why would you want to visit that little shit? He's the worst kid in this bloody orphanage, I swear to god. All the other kids used to think so too, but then after one of their outings, suddenly there were some of them that do whatever he tells 'em to. He's a freak, that one. I tell you, I think he did something to 'em."

Albus blinked, not expecting the outpouring of vitriol from a fully grown woman. "I would still like to see him."

She scoffed. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn ya."

Ms. Cole led the wizard down the corridor, which got darker and darker as they moved along. Finally, at the very last door of the hallway, where it was almost pitch black, Mallory pulled out a ring of keys and, grumbling, found the one that fits in the door. Dumbledore disapproved of the thought that this child was being locked in the darkest room in the orphanage.

"Brat!" Ms. Cole shouted into the room. "You've got someone here to see you!"

There was a rustling and an opening and closing of a door before a boy appeared in the doorway. He looked unhealthily skinny, obviously not getting enough food. The most striking part of Perseus Jackson Riddle was his eyes. They were a strange blue-green colour that seemed to pulse with new shades every second. They were mesmerising, and in the dark, his eyes even seemed to be glowing.

Ms. Cole leaned into the room, yanking the boy towards herself. She whispered, in a voice that Dumbledore was obviously not supposed to hear, "This man might take you away from me. Better not mess this up, boy." She turned and stomped away back towards her office.

Perseus just sneered at her, the expression looking unnervingly like one the Headmaster had seen on Tom Riddle's face before.

But when he looked at Dumbledore, his expression became wary. "Hello, sir. I'm Percy."

"How do you do, Perseus? I am Professor Dumbledore."

The boy's nose scrunched up. "My name's Percy, not Perseus."

"You dislike the name 'Perseus'?" the professor asked after they had finished shaking hands.

"It's a weird name," Percy muttered. "No one else has it and everyone thinks I'm weird."

"The name of a powerful Greek hero. He killed Medusa."

Percy scoffed. "Like that makes it better." He kicked at the ground, then seemed to remember that the old man was there. His head shot up, and his odd eyes pierced into Dumbledore's own. "What are you here for? Did Ms. Cole send you to tell me I'm crazy? I'm not crazy!"

"No, my dear boy, I'm not here for that."

Percy's eyes shuttered, and he looked distrustful of the man. "I don't believe you. She's always wanted to get rid of me, and she's using you to do it, isn't she? Tell the truth!"

Dumbledore's infamous calm was already shaken by the conversation's eerie similarity to the one he had had with Tom Riddle so many years ago. From the child's dislike of his name to his fervent belief that Dumbledore was there to harm him, he mirrored his grandfather in many different ways.

There were two clear differences.

The first was obvious. Their dislike of their names was for different reasons. While Tom scorned his name because it made him too similar to others, Perseus– Percy– hated his name because it set him apart from others. It made him different, and it probably had made him feel alone.

The second was the power in this child's voice and body. Tom Riddle's command to tell the truth was like a vague mental push against Dumbledore's vast reserves of power. Percy's voice made him want to immediately tell him everything- about Hogwarts, about his grandfather, about his hopes for the prophecy and for the war. His eyes bored into the professor's, and Albus immediately began the process of Occlumency just to guard against the child's accidental magic. Dumbledore had never seen anyone with such an amount of power at such a young age.

It took Dumbledore about three seconds to realise that words– about Hogwarts, about magic– had been coming out of his mouth since the boy had commanded him to tell the truth. Percy now looked horrified, hands over his ears. "I'm sorry!" he yelled, "I didn't mean it! Stop talking, please!"

With some effort, Dumbledore channelled some magic to his mouth and forced it closed. He strode across the room and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Percy looked up at the professor with watery eyes. His mouth fell open in shock. "You're normal!"

"What do you mean, Percy?"

"The others... they kept doing what I told them too. But you're not! You can stop me!" Percy's eyes were alight with a manic glee. "Teach me how to turn it off!"

Dumbledore's brows furrowed. Tom Riddle would never have asked how to get rid of something that could give him more manipulative power.

"I can teach you how to turn it off, or failing that, control it," Dumbledore said. "Come, my boy-"

"I'm not your boy," Percy snapped, his eyes flashing. Then he looked down, contrite. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean that."

But Albus hadn't minded. "Come then, Percy. We will arrive shortly at Diagon Alley."

Thank you,

ATOTALMUSICALNERD