Magic Meets Might

Chapter 11

Written by Moh (jasongrace567)

Harry Potter

            Harry had never given much thought to America. In retrospect, he probably should’ve; it was only one of the largest and most powerful countries in the world. However, he’d lived in England all his life, and had attended Hogwarts for nearly half of it. The outside world had never appealed to him much.

            However, Percy seemed right at home here. He interacted with the Muggles as easily as if he were one himself, though they both knew he wasn’t. How this simpleton was a son of a god, Harry didn’t know. How a god could even have a child, Harry didn’t even want to know.

            “Come on,” Percy said, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. The demigod was halfway across the lobby with multiple pieces of paper in his hand. His eyebrows were raised. “Harry?”

            “Coming,” Harry muttered, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the clutter of thoughts and worries in his mind. He followed Percy into an elevator; the ride to the hotel room Percy had gotten for them was silent, and very, very awkward. Percy seemed right at ease, though, humming quietly and looking very pleased to be back in America. Seeing him grin the way he did now made Harry want to punch him right in the nose, much like Hermione had done to Draco Malfoy in their third year. The memory still brought a smile to Harry's face.

            “Stop grinning like that,” Percy muttered. “It’s weird.” The elevator had stopped, and the demigod was walking out; Harry hastened to follow close behind. He didn’t want to get lost or be left alone in America.

            “What’s our plan, then?” Harry asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans (he was wearing Muggle clothing today) and glancing sideways at Percy with his eyebrows raised.

            “I haven’t thought about that yet,” Percy admitted, sliding a key card into the lock of their hotel room door and opening it. “My girlfriend – Annabeth – is the usually the one with the plan.”

            “Don’t you have any way to contact her?”

            “I do, but McGonagall said it’s better if we don’t talk to anyone. Communication is traceable,” Percy explained, looking around the room. “I’ll be taking the bed by the window, if you don’t mind.”

            Harry didn’t really care, but he was tempted to argue with Percy just for the hell of it. However, he held his tongue and watched as Percy dumped the carryon bag he had onto the bed. Harry did the same with his own bag and bed; he noticed that his bed was smaller than the one Percy had chosen.

            “So, we don’t have a plan,” Harry said, sitting on his bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched Percy dig through his suitcase for something; God knew what it was.

            “We do,” Percy said calmly. “It’s just not a very good plan. People say my plans are suicide missions most of the time.”

            “Funnily enough, mine are the same.”                                               

            “Then we’ll be fine.” Percy flashed Harry a grin and pulled a piece of parchment from his bag, grunting triumphantly. “This is our plan.”

            Harry raised his eyebrows, but said nothing; he’d learned long ago that sometimes a simple piece of parchment was much, much more than it seemed. It could be a map, a list of the members of an illicit defense group, or even a hidden message. Therefore, he didn’t feel much shock or scorn when Percy unrolled the piece of parchment.