Percy Jackson-The Grandson of Voldemort

Chapter 1.

Percy Jackson-

Okay, something I did not expect when I returned from Camp Half Blood was to see an old dude with weird clothing sitting on my couch.

"Uh...who the Ha-hell are you?"

He didn't seem put off by my strange behavior.  He just smiled at me.  I was tense, though.  My ADHD keeping me on overdrive, my eyes darting around the room, searching for exits if things get too nasty....

He may not be a monster, but in my life, I have learned you can never be too sure of anything.

"Hello, Perseus.  I am Professor Dumbledore."

"Percy." I said curtly.  "You said Professor...have I gotten kicked out of your school?  I honestly don't remember."

His smile didn't fade.  "Sit down." He said.

I gave him a look.  "You know this is my home, right?  You can't order me around."

He chuckled. "Merely a suggestion.  Please, join me.  We have much to discuss."

"All right, then, Teach.  Enlighten me."

He grinned at me.  "I am Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  You are a wizard."

I snorted and fell to the floor laughing.  Dumby Door looked at me quizzically.  "H-Hogwarts!  Ha!  Pig pimples!"

He chuckled and waited for me to stop laughing.

"So...I'm a wizard, huh?"

"You don't seem surprised." Dumby Door noted.

"Nothing really surprises me anymore."

"And why would that be, Mr. Jackson?"

"I've been through a lot.  None of which is any of your business.  Why did you come here?  It wasn't a social call, and me being a wizard isn't the only thing you have to say to me.  Spit it out."

I glared at him, and Dumbledore looked faintly surprised.

I'm not bipolar.  I just get really moody and edgy when people get close to the Tartarus subject...sort of like a Nico persona.  He doesn't like me calling it that, though.  I happen to think it is funny.

"I came here to offer you a place at my school."

"I'll save you the trouble, gramps.  Whenever I go to school, I tend to blow it up or get expelled...I'm not the sort of person who you'd want."

He looked surprised. "You are not interested in learning magic?"

"Not particularly."

"You'd turn down a chance at a magnificent power?"

"Uh huh. Don't want it, don't need it. I'm fine just the way I am, without an bibbity, bobbity, boo nonsense."

Dumbledore looked...what's the word? Conflicted. He looked conflicted, like I had just passed a test he wasn't sure he wanted me to pass.

"That is a great shame.  But there is another reason I am here, as you have already guessed.  And as you put it, I will 'spit it out'."

Then he started to explain everything about this Moldyshorts guy, and how apparently, he is evil, and I'm his grandson.

"And now that he knows you exist, he won't rest until he gets you to join him. You are in danger. Grave danger. We are the only people who can keep you safe. Don't you want to be able to defend yourself?"

"I can take care of myself just fine," I stared at him and licked my dry lips. "Try me."

It was a clear challenge. It was obvious this wasn't how he expected this meeting to go. But I didn't leave him a choice.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"You claim you are a wizard.  You claim you have magical powers and sticks—sorry, wands.  Shoot a spell at me, and I'll prove just have well I can defend myself."

I stared him down.  Part if the reason I was doing this because I was still angry from the subject getting close to Tartarus, and because he obviously expected me to be like this evil gramps of mine.

The term 'grandpa' is relevant.  Just because Kronos is my grandpa didn't make me hesitate to stop him.  And if an all powerful, Immortal, evil Titan Lord of Time and his wack-job mother who happens to be the Earth itself, along with his Step father, who also happens to be a Pit of Eternal darkness and evil can't get me down, I highly doubt an evil, stick waving maniac can do the job.  Ares and Dionysus as my cousins.  Zeus and Hades are my uncles.  Kronos is my grandfather.  Gaea is my great-grandmother.  I am probably related to the giants and other Titans somehow.  But does that mean I am like them?  No!  I've even killed a good bunch of them, and wounded Ares and Hades.  If all my experience with the Devine part of my family has taught me anything, is that your blood(or ichor) doesn't define you.  And I wasn't let it be any different with this Voldy-Moldy dude.

Dumbledore raised his wand/stick and said; "Stupify!"

Using my killer godly reflexes from years of monster fight, I easily step sided, elbowed the Professor back onto my couch, me holding his wand. I smirked, flipped the wand, and handed it back to him with the handle to him.

Dumbledore looked awestruck. "You—how did you—?"

"I told you. I can defend myself. But you know what, I'll go. Don't get me wrong. I don't need this. I don't necessarily want this. And I don't give a rat's rear end about this stupid noiseless grandfather you've told mr about. Honestly, I'm only going because you seem desperate for anything to give you the leg up on this loser, and clearly you need it, clearly, you need me." I smirked at him. "I will help you. But remember, I don't need you. If people treat me like I'm some kind of murdering scum because of Voldy, I will leave, a trust me, I won't look back. We understand each other?" He nodded, clearly intimidated by me. Who wouldn't be? I don't blame him. I was giving him my Lupa Wolf Glare.

I smirked. "Good. Because trust me when I say that I'm not one that sane people would like to mess with."

Gods, I was being such a badass. I guess Death Breath and Pinecone Face were rubbing off on me. That's what I get for spending time with my Greek cousins. Jason and Hazel weren't nearly as aggressive. Or badass. Although, they are still pretty awesome.

Where was I?  Whatever.  Wait...why haven't I gotten a blue cookie yet?  Blue cookies...yummmm.