Tides of Magic: The Enchanted Alliance

Savior

In a small, cramped house on Privet Drive, little Harry Potter, only four years old, sat huddled in a corner of the dusty cupboard under the stairs. His small frame shook with quiet sobs as he listened to the angry voices echoing from the kitchen.

"...that freakish boy! He's nothing but trouble," Vernon Dursley's booming voice filled the air, punctuated by Petunia's sharp retorts.

"He's not like us, Vernon. He's dangerous, I'm telling you!"

Harry clutched tightly to a worn fish plush and a simple necklace, his only comfort in this cold, unwelcoming place. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in the plush, seeking solace in its softness.

"Please, someone," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible over the commotion outside his sanctuary. "Please, save me."

He closed his eyes tightly, gripping the necklace in one hand while the fish plush pressed against his chest. It was his ritual, his desperate plea to the universe for deliverance from the harsh words and colder stares that surrounded him every day.

Outside the cupboard, the voices continued, but Harry focused on the warmth of the plush against his cheek and the gentle weight of the necklace in his palm. They were his lifeline, his symbols of hope in a world that seemed determined to snuff it out.

As he prayed silently, a faint glimmer of light seemed to fill the dark corners of the cupboard. It was a fleeting sensation, but in that moment, Harry felt a whisper of reassurance, as if someone had heard his plea.

With a deep breath, Harry clung tighter to his treasures, his silent guardians in the storm of his young life. He knew, somehow, that he wasn't truly alone—that there were forces beyond his understanding watching over him, even in this tiny, hidden space.

And as the evening shadows lengthened, Harry whispered one final prayer, his voice trembling but resolute, "Please... send someone to save me."

In a moment of cosmic alignment, as Harry Potter's whispered plea for salvation echoed through the walls of his cupboard, Percy Jackson felt a stirring in her heart. Deep within Camp Half-Blood, amidst the laughter and celebration of her fellow demigods, Percy's senses heightened with an urgency she couldn't ignore.

Ignoring the disapproving glances of her friends, Percy excused herself abruptly and darted towards the camp's boundary. With determination propelling her forward, she summoned the power of her divine lineage and leaped into the sky, her sandals carrying her swiftly across the vast expanse.

Meanwhile, in the quiet confines of Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry's tear-streaked face turned towards the faint hope glimmering in the shadows of his cupboard. He clutched the fish plush and necklace tightly as if they were his only lifelines in the storm of fear and despair.

Outside the door, the voices of Vernon and Petunia Dursley grew louder, their harsh words like venomous arrows slicing through the air. Harry flinched at every syllable, his small form curling tighter into itself.

Then, in a burst of thunderous force, the door to the cupboard burst open, splintering off its hinges. Percy Jackson stood in the doorway, her eyes blazing with fury and compassion. Her presence filled the room with an undeniable power, and even Vernon and Petunia, with all their bluster, recoiled in shock.

"You two," Percy's voice rang out, cutting through the oppressive silence that followed. "You dare treat this child like this? Like he's some kind of burden?"

Vernon bristled, his face turning red with anger. "Who do you think you are? This is none of your business!"

Percy took a step forward, her expression steely. "It's everyone's business when a child is treated like this. Especially by the likes of you."