》Riptides《 A Harry Potter Percy Jackson Crossover

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Harry's POV:

"So are we going to act like you weren't just trying to poison me, or what?" Percy asks, leaning against his doorway and glaring.

What?

What?!

Does that mean he knows?!

Harry couldn't believe it, how would he know? The door was locked, Hermione had put up some spells for privacy, and we only came up with the plan 10 minutes ago! There's no way.

Unless he is more advanced at magic than Hermione... The only way that could happen is if he...

was a DEATH EATER!

I absolutely knew it, he's a Death Eater-

Harry suddenly yelped.

There it was again, the pain clamping around his neck and wrist.

What's happening to me?!

Is it Voldemort?

Or is it the Death Eater- right in front of me?

Again, the agony digs into him. And it seems to be getting worse.

Harry cries out and backs away, dropping the tray and scrambling down the hall, his mind repeating the same thing over and over again

Percy's a Death Eater.

Percy's a Death Eater.

Percy's a Death Eater!

The torture only increases and Harry collapses, falling right on his wrist. He can only gasp now, the pain making his almost numb

Percy runs up to him, probably to finish him off, when Harry blacks out.

Percy's POV:

Well then.

That just happened.

I guess I have to help him since I basically caused this.

But how would I know that he would reach the conclusion that I was more advanced than Hermione because "I'm a Death Eater."

And that he would proceed to repeat that same fact over and over and over again?

Therefore triggering the enchantment that brings him pain, that grows every time he calls me a Death Eater?

Who would've thought?

Oh yeah, me.

Why did I do that?

He had to learn his lesson(s), keep your promises, don't label people you don't know as something bad, don't go around giving truth potions to people you think are suspicious.

And I know that the broken wrist will only take a few hours for Mrs. Weasley to heal him, and the pain will stop as long as he never calls me a Death Eater again.

I dissolve us both downstairs and leave Harry in Mrs. Weasley's care.

When she asked what happened, I just told her I heard Harry scream and collapse in the hallway. I wonder what he will tell her when he wakes up.

I go back up to my room, picking up the sandwiches in front of my door.

I open the window and sit on the sill, my legs dangling out of the house, and stare at the stars.

I don't sleep.

Or I can't sleep.

Maybe gods don't sleep.