Rise of The New Order (A Percy Jackson and Harry Potter Crossover Fanfiction)

Dumbledore's Army

On the Saturday night before the first Hogsmeade weekend, lightened by the demigods' advice, Harry went to sleep with a skip in his step. Even the dour looks his housemates threw at him weren't enough to dampen his mood, though it did sting a bit.

These were the people who were supposed to have his back - that's what Gryffindors did, for Merlin's sake! But here he was, shunned by all save his best friends and the new-found bond he had with the foreigners.

He staggered back to his bed, trashed after a day of having his hand cut open, grueling double-potions with the snakes, and Transfiguration with McGonagall, where they were practicing large animal transfiguration, which was the first step towards becoming an Anigmagus.

On top of all that helping out Ron and Hermione in their duties, and in helping them set the decorations around their table. Dumbledore had graciously given them permission - at least, that's what his friends told him.

He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother with de-robing. He fell on his bed, tired to the bone.

'Goodnight, Ron.'

''Night, Harry.'

With that, he slipped into the blissful realm of dreams, which, he hoped, were filled with fluffy clouds and unicorns - as they were supposed to be - rather than the Voldemort-infested shitshows they had been.

Of course, his luck didn't hold.

But Harry found it fair since he didn't have much of that anyway.

He opened his eyes to a large beach, tall dunes littering its boundaries. The crescent shore sloped into large hills that ringed the sides of a city. Beside him was a signpost that declared it to be a coast of Cornish.

He turned his gaze to the sky, where dark, gloomy clouds hid the moon. A few slivers of light escaped, casting shadows on some areas of sand.

Then even that light was snuffed out. Harry sniffed, and a metallic smell filled his nostrils, followed by a strong smell of musty, salty air. Then came a stench. A horrible, rotting smell, and he gagged, trying to swat it away.

The wind, previously a pleasant breeze, picked up around him. Faster and faster it blew, stirring up the sand, blowing it into his eyes. It whipped around, stinging through his clothes, biting his skin.

And only when the light show began did he realize that the metallic, burning smell in his nose was electricity.

The darkness that had blanketed the area lifted, burning away as lightning wreathed the air, splitting apart the clouds as it crackled in the air. The smell increased as a stream of lightning shot forth from a single point in the sky, ripping across the beach and air as it made for the city.

Harry raised his wand to try and stop the destruction that was surely headed for the people of Cornwall, but he realized it was idiotic even to try. Not least because what could he do as a mere dream presence, but what could he do against such reckless hate, such power?

The sea frothed and churned, spinning faster and faster. From the whirlpool rose Percy, arms raised. The cyclone rose all around him, enveloping the son of the sea.

So he watched as hundreds of thousands of gallons of the ocean were lifted into the air. The water near the shore receded as far as Harry could see, all of it powering the storm.

He tried so desperately to will it away. But Percy let it loose, and tidal waves hundreds of meters high battered the shore, washing it away, cutting a path to the city, swallowing the earth, the hills, and the people.