Percy Jackson-The Grandson of Voldemort

Chapter 26.

Percy Jackson-

I have no idea how exactly I ended up here. Well, I do. But at the same time, I don't.

The old headmaster dude called me to his office about twenty minutes ago. Thalia offered to come with her bow and an arrow notched about nineteen minutes who. Nico, the good cousin he is, offered to restrain Thalia. I took him up on his offer about eighteen minutes ago. About ten minutes ago, I arrived. He told me to come in and sit down. I did. He hadn't spoken a word since. For ten minutes, he's been silently staring at me. It's really creepy. As I think he's really creepy for staring at me, he is still currently staring at me.  Confused? Yes?  That's the point, I think.  So am I.

Is he trying to make me confess to something? I wasn't the one who put the dangerous (not totally lethal) traps/pranks in the Slytherin common room. That was my delightful cousin. Both of them, in fact. I totally have an alibi.

Of course, I can't exactly tell him that I was beating up the youngest Weasley...I can't tell him that she asked for it (even though she literally did) so, if that's what this was about, I was totally screwed. Over five years of non-stop monster fighting/war/being a Greek God/Goddess' errand boy—it ends like this. With an old man and a stick. Annabeth will kill me if he kills me.

...you know what I mean, my loyal fandom.

Another two minutes of awkward silence and intense staring later...and nothing had changed.

I had been fidgeting the entire time, but now I literally could not stop moving. This was torture. I had to get up, speak, uncap Riptide—something.

Suddenly, Albis Dumbtydore spoke.

"I...wish to apologize."

I stared blankly at him.  What?  I am fifty-nine percent positive that I didn't hear him right.

"Excuse me?"

Drumblemore coughed and adjusted the spectacles resting on his slightly crooked nose, looking what can only be described as bashful. "Mr. Jackson," he said in a somber tone, "I wish to apologize for my treatment of you upon our meeting and your arrival to Hogwarts."

It was my turn to stare at him now.  I blinked at him blankly.  I wasn't sure I was hearing this right.

Taking my silence as cue to continue, he spoke again.  "Tom Riddle- that is Voldemort...your grandfather- he was a student here.  I was his professor, in fact.  I was also the person who retrieved him at the orphanage he resided in so many years ago.  I was the one who introduced him to the world of magic and wizardry.  And, I must confess, in many ways, once I learned of your lineage, I believed that you would be very much like he was when he was young.  Perhaps not to the same extent, but it was fully what I was anticipating when I first met you.

"My first impression of you was that you were very much like him.  Handsome and sure, confident and a degree of cunning.  And then you spoke to me, and your differences became very much apparent.  Tom craved power- you rejected it when it was offered to you.  Tom repelled people.  You draw them to you.  I admit, it did indeed take a while.  Too long, but I finally see the error in my assumptions.  I pushed you away, and that resulted in myself not being included in the people that you drew to you, and trust.  For that, I am truly sorry."

I took a breath.  "So...you called me up here to apologize for thinking I'd be like my grandfather?"

"That's right."

"You know, I was never actually mad about that.  I'm used to people assuming things about me before getting to know me.  That's nothing new.  The only thing that you really did that pissed me off was butchering my name when you introduced me to the motley crew at that grim and old place."

Was it just me, or was it really weird when his eyes twinkled like that?

It was really weird.

"I see clearly now that you are a very enlightened youth."

"Enlightened?  No.  My girlfriend happens to be a genius, though."

"Of course," he laughed merrily.

And so, I wouldn't call us friends, or anything close to mentor and pupil, but we have now clarified that he didn't despise me for my lineage, and I didn't dislike the old coot. Glad we got that cleared up.

...

Later, after the whole office debacle, I found myself clashing blades with my second favorite redhead.

"You're movements are becoming sluggish," I taunted Ginny. 

She sneered at my mocking, and pressed harder, slicing her weapon at me angrily.  I disarmed her with one move and knocked her to the ground with another.

"You can't let emotions get the best of you like that.  Enemies will use anything and everything against you to lower your guard, and they aren't above any kinds of cheap shots.  Whatever your opponents say, you have to keep focused.  If you don't, you die."  I offered her a hand once I had said my piece. 

"Bastard," She muttered, but with no real bite.

"That's not exactly fair, now is it?  My dad is kind of Immortal.  And he has a wife, already.  She doesn't like me.  And he has a lot of other children.  A lot of them don't like me, either.  And neither do my uncles- they quite often like to attempt to kill me.  Some of my cousins are like that, too.  Mr. D still says he would like to turn my into a dolphin.  And don't get me started on my grandfather.  Or, for that matter, apparently both my grandfathers...wow.  Now that I think about it, a lot of people don't like me.  I wonder why that is.  I think I happen to be a very modest and approachable demigod.  What do you think, Gin?"

She was looking at me weirdly.  "I think you're weird." Well, at least she is open about it.

"Thank you.  But, don't flatter me.  You haven't met Leo, yet.  You don't know the meaning of weird."

"My brothers are Fred and George.  I think I've got a somewhat decent idea."

That made me laugh.  Weird?  Fred and George were weird, no doubt about it.  It's why I liked them so much.  But weird is a horse that eats gold, and grapes with little grenade launchers, and Travis and Connor and a pink Big House, and Leo, and Leo's pet metal dragon.  And paintball-wielding Centaurs.  And that time I caught Nico humming 'Under the Sea' after I forced him and Thalia to watch The Little Mermaid, while I laughed about my brother's inaccuracies.  And three children drowning in a very large bathtub, and Italian suits.

And basically every single near-death experience I've ever had.  And I have had quite a lot of them.

My going a length of time without a near-death experience?  Now that's weird.

Honestly, I don't even want to update this.  When I update, I try to do so with a chapter that I feel (at least somewhat) good about.  I've been looking through my account, and I realized that I already had this written, and even though I haven't added anything substantial to it, I figured that I might as well publish it for any of you who still care about this Fanfiction.  I can't promise any updates in the near future, and I have been writing a lot of poems and short stories and stuff (which I'm probably not going to post, but we'll see).  Look, for the last five years I have had a really difficult time, getting sick and then getting sick again, and again, and fluctuating recoveries.  This year, I feel better than I have in a long time.  And I am writing, and my writing has really improved, and it makes me feel really happy.  But, I come back to these stories of mine, and I can barely recognize it as something I wrote.  And not in a good way.  Have I completely given up on these stories?  No.  But I don't want to give you guys false hope, or keep you waiting in the dark for a few more years without word.  I know, a long message that most people aren't actually going to read.  And that's fine.  I hope all of you have happy holidays (have happy holidays), happy New Years, yadda, yadda.  Anyway, until next time,

—Book_The_Worm