Percy Jackson, the Rise of the Dark Lord

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was dead.

.. Right?

He was gone forever was he not? The Dark Lord was no more. He had not risen from the grave. He had fallen, was slain, obviously he was. What happened on the night of the Quidditch World Cup had simply been the act of rogue deatheaters out for revenge.

The idiots in the ministry patted themselves on the back for their pathetic little reassurances that somehow managed to quell some of the rising panic in England. Whatever, it was not Perseus's responsibility to convince them or the Wizarding World of what was inevitably coming and hold their hands until it gets better. That was all on old twinkle eyes and his merry band of saviours.

No, he has other worries now, namely the Triwizard Tournament.

With two different schools coming to Hogwarts, it was the perfect time to socialize and network. Perseus needed his own inner circle, needed to build his influence within his own house and within Hogwarts. It was the time to strike, as his father would say.

The Dark Lord isn't the only one rising this time around.