Adele Black: The Sequel (Percy Jackson/Harry Potter Crossover)

This Is A Pen

I don't own HP or PJO, sadly.

Adele Black: The Sequel

This Is a Pen

As I walked out of the office, the thought of the list suddenly got pushed into the back of my head.

At the momment, the thoughts of my parents saying I could not go to Camp. Or to Italy. Or to Greece.

Well, that's a suckish thing for them to say, since Hermione invited me to go on that trip to Italy for this summer. Oh well, I mean, I'm Divergent. I can't be controlled.

Unless your an Euridite- then we might have a problem.

Anyway, as I wandered through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I began to notice that the familiar air of magic was weakening.

I mean, sure Dumbledore's a geezer- he's like two hundred or something- but he's really powerful. And you have to admit, he has style.

It was more like... Restricted. A restricted magical feeling. Yeah, that's it. The rule of not being able to use magic in the Toad's class. I mean, what an idiot she is.

She... Then it really hit me. It has had suddenly hit me like a bunch of bricks. (JASON GRACE, ANYONE?)

The Toad broke my wand; does she not realize that it is my only defense, besides my sword?

I just can't draw my sword out though, now can I?

I wish I could.

-----

Harry and I, ever so reluctantly, knocked on the door to Professor Umbridge's classroom door.

"Come in." A sickly sweet voice giggled.

I took a deep breath. Calm down.

"You can't kill her right on the spot, Adele," Harry told me in a patronizing manner.

"I know," I sighed, "I wish to, though. She broke my wand!"

My god brother sighed, "I know, but don't act so rash."

I snorted. Him, Harry James Potter telling me not to be rash?

Shouldn't I be the one telling him not to be rash? Whatever.

Anyway, Harry and I walked in; I sat at the desk that I had sat in earlier when I set hers on fire.

"I brought a pen, Toad." I said, smirking.

"Oh I already have one." She sickly smiled.

She held up a quill.

I said to her, "This is a pen, lady. That's a quill. Siriusly, learn what your writing materials are!"

"Sit down. Write the words... I shall not tell lies."

"How many times," Harry dumbly asked.

"Until it," she giggled, "sinks in."

I began to write, grudgingly.

Then my hand started to burn.