03. on second thought, Percy will not be fine

· · ─────── · ❆ · ─────── · ·

"It's the damned hounds," she gestures to the window at Hermione's question of her entrance through the fire escape.

"Those dastardly beasts are back again?" Mrs. Fitzgerald's mouth twists in disdain. "They must have escaped the pound."

Percy grabs the escape quickly enough, "Yeah, yeah, that must be it. Great big beasts—I swear they're gonna eat me someday."

Sally doesn't join her daughter's chuckle and swats away her hand when she reaches her a cookie. "Don't jinx it. Shower first, Percy."

Paul offers a towel and a sanitizer he had grabbed from the kitchen to her. "Thanks Dad, you're the best." His smile grows softer.

Harry thinks that she could give Ron a run for his money with the pace she cleans her hands and chomps on cookies.

"So you came that way?" Ron's incredulous flailing of hands points to the fire escape.

"Yeah, I don't think I'd make such a good dinner for them," Percy shrugs almost sadly. "I'm all just skin and bones after all."

"Percy," Sally warns, swatting at her. "Slowly now, don't choke on them."

"Alright, cool," she gives her mother a thumbs up before looking at the wide-eyed guests, "Who are you people?"

There was a strange air about her that made them hesitate. Even though, she resembled any other eighteen year old with chopped raven hair, tanned skin and shocking green eyes, there was something about her that was unnerving. Poised casual as one could be, she twirls a ballpoint pen in her hand yet they wouldn't doubt that she would strike right back if they did.

"Percy," Minerva begins, taking a measured sip of her tea. "have you ever had anything unusual or weird happen to you?"

"Uh," they aren't sure if she pauses to shove the cookie into her mouth or if she's contemplating the delivery of the answer.

Percy knows though. She is aware that this group of guests were here to take her far away from home and out her in a comfy little place where her schedule would be filled with not dying even more so than usual. Yet, she does seriously think about the answer.

Five months ago, she crawled out of hell, she fought Mother Earth herself, she has a cyclops for a younger brother (he's an angel), satyr for a best friend (he's too), a hellhound for a pet, several national monuments were destroyed by her and there were monsters that hunted her and turns to dust upon killing them with a special metal because they were the children of the gods. Oh, and she had just lost a bet against a pegasus on who could finish a burger quicker (dammit, Blackjack).

"No?"

"That depends on what your definition of weird is," Percy rephrases at the Professor's questioning eyebrow.

"Weird as in, strange unusual things happening around you when you're being emotional," Hermione jumps into explain. "Like has things exploded around you all of a sudden it has anything levitated around you?"

"Uh,"

Harry sees her start to twirl the pen she had gotten out of nowhere (he doesn't think that anyone would be holding onto a ballpoint pen while being chased by dogs and climbing through a fire escape). Percy looks over to her mother who shakes her head. He isn't so sure if that was to not call upon the mental health services on them, yet.

"What're you getting at?" Percy sighs.

Seeing that was the closest they could get to a honest answer, Remus leans forward, "Do you believe in magic?"

"Magic?"

At their serious affirmation, Percy pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Right, let's say I believe in magic, now what's that gotta do with you?"

"I'm the Headmistress of a school that teaches magic."

She gives them a long look, somewhere between 'oh wow, you guys are so cool!' to 'oh wow, you guys are insane!', Harry can't tell.

"By Hades' helm, of fucking course." she runs a hand through her hair, musing it up further. "Magic is real, why not? The hat really sets the thing."

"Percy, honey, I think they're being real here."

Harry sympathises with her at the way her reality literally crumbles as she shoots an incredulous look at her mother.

"Tell me you're not believing this utter shit."

"Hey!"

Paul pats her arm comfortingly. "Honey, you know with everything, why could this not be real?"

Remus files away the teensy slip up in his mind for future use, letting the girl have her existential crises.

"Okay," Percy breathes. "Was there any purpose to this truth or was it to just give me an existential crises?"

"There is," Kingsley leans forward, eager to get to the matter. "What do you know about your grandparents?"

The pen starts to twirl again in her hand, the traces of confusion draining away to be replaced with composed caution.

"My side, Percy."

The girl's thumb stops the pen and she pockets it. "They were killed in a plane crash when my Mom was five."

"What if I tell you that Jim Jackson is not your real grandfather,"

The confused furrow of the eyebrows is identical for the mother and daughter.

Minerva trudges on, "Sally, you come from a line of a family of wizards. The Jacksons are a pure blood family, said to have existed since the beginning of the Wizarding World."

The Jackson matriarch grapples for the last bits of the reality she's known. "Wha—but my uncle never told me this!"

Paul inhales deeply.

Surprise colours the Professor's words, "Sam Jackson lives?"

"No," Percy shakes her head, holding onto her mother's hand. "Uncle Sam passed away when my Mom was eighteen due to cancer."

"Oh," Minerva dabs at the corner of her eyes with her kerchief. "I'm sorry. Sam used to be my student. He was a brilliant kid."

"I don't understand," Sally holds out her hands helplessly. "I mean—"

"Mom, it's fine." Percy scoots closer to her mother to wrap an arm around her mother's shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

Paul offers silent comfort from her other side, his arm around her waist.

"We know it's a lot to take in Mrs. Jackson," Remus takes hold of the woman's hand. "But, it's important that you know this."

Sally nods. "So, my mother was a witch?"

"Mom, I know that this is a great secret that was kept from you, but that is no way to refer to your mother."

"'Witch' is what we use to refer to female users of magic," Hermione explains.

"Oh."

Sally smothers a smile.

"Yes, Sally," Minerva agrees with an amused smile of her own. "Your mother was a female user of magic."

"My father-in-law, was he a wizard?" Paul ponders out loud.

The light air vanishes at the question. A suffocating silence engulfs the room, the anticipation of another secret to be revealed crackles around them.

"What? What is it?"

"That's where the problem lies, Mrs. Jackson," Ron exhales.

"Jim Jackson doesn't exist. Your father is You-Know-Who?"

"I know who?"

"It's You-Know-Who," Kingsley reiterates.

"I don't know who."

"Percy, it's He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

"Okay, what is up with the made up names?"

"Mr. Jackson, it's the Dark Lord."

"For Merlin's sake, it's Voldemort!" Harry explodes.

"I understand the pseudonyms, the name sucks."

"Percy, he sounds dangerous."

"He is," Kingsley agrees with Paul. "You-Know-Who is obsessed with blood purity and soughts to get rid of all the muggles and muggleborns."

"What?"

"Muggles are what we call non magical people," Remus elaborates. "Wizards are born with the ability to perform magic. A division exists where wizards are distinguished by their family. As in, a wizard born to a non magical family is known as a muggleborn and one born in a magical family is referred to as a pureblood." Although he lectures with an air of indifference, he allows an exasperated exhale to escape him at the end.

"And when a wizard or a witch," Hermione continues, "is born to a magical and a non magical parent, they are called as half-bloods."

"Half-bloods," Percy echoes.

"Yes," Kingsley affirms, rather troubled with the way she takes it all in. "You-Know-Who has and continues to commit atrocities against muggleborns."

"Thousands have been killed," Remus breathes, "in the name of seeking victory for the purebloods who claim to be the ones intended to be true wielders of magic. Muggleborns viewed as pests, even mistakes to be disposed." His fingers twitch where it rests on his knees, appearing troubled.

"My grandfather's a genocidal maniac," she concludes. "Awesome."

· · ─────── · ❆ · ─────── · ·

04. if I had wanted to take over the world, I would have

· · ─────── · ❆ · ─────── · ·

"You think You-Know-Who is a maniac?" Hermione treads.

Percy furrows her eyebrows again, wondering if she had gotten it all wrong.

"I mean, it sure damn sounds like he is," Paul voices his daughter's thoughts.

"That he is," Harry confirms.

"Hermione means to ask if you completely disapprove of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," Remus takes over, smiling over at his former student.

"Yeah," their target agrees without a moment of hesitation. "He is killing people unprovoked and that is bad."

"He has orchestrated a whole war too,"

Percy points at Kingsley, nodding, "Yeah bad bad."

"Even though there might be actual differences in magical capabilities between the separate groups," Sally offers her own take, "he has no right to actually kill people."

"Is there a difference?" Her daughter ventures. "You know between the purebloods and muppet borns?"

"Muggleborns, honey," Paul amends.

It is Hermione who answers, firm and defended by her entourage, "No, not at all."

"There it is then, I have another insane grandpa." She shrugs.

"My mother's family was a supporter of his ideals?"

"Oh no Sally," Minerva hurries to protect the honour of her former student. "The Jacksons stood at the front lines in the fight against blood purity and You-Know-Who." She pauses to inhale deeply. "It was what got Laura's family killed in fact."

Sally copies the older woman, breathing in shakily. "Then why would she..."

"You-Know-Who sexually assaulted Laura and she fled to America with you."

Percy holds her mother firmly while she gestures for them to go on. Paul offers her a glas of water.

"We always assumed that it was because of the ongoing war that Laura fled and we never heard from her after that."

Kingsley takes over. "We only got to know about it very recently and we have an offer for you."

"What is it?"

"Every witch and wizard is required to have a magical education of seven years. Although, it's late, we accept Percy into Hogwarts."

"Hogwash?"

"Hogwarts," Minerva repeats more slowly.

"Hold up," Percy makes a 'time-out' sign. "The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, that Hogwarts?"

"How do you know about Hogwarts?" Harry asks, his hand hovering over the wand in his pocket.

"Camp," she is quite confused as she answers. "Stories told around campfire. A legend of Hecate's pet world and wizards and broomsticks. It's just a fictional story—or it isn't?"

"It is not." Hermione curiously continues, "What do you know about Hogwarts?"

Percy throws up her hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. "You know as I said, it is Hecate's pet world, all I know is that few mortals helped her, the Goddess of Magic and they went on to spread the magic and create their own world."

"It was told as a campfire story, you say?" Kingsley inquires. "The muggles are not aware of our existence," he continues at her nod.

"Beats me, man" she says in response. "These are all age old myths. All sorts of these stories are told in our camp."

"Do you suppose there could be a wizard in your camp?" Remus ponders.

"No," her answer is immediate before she backtracks, "I don't think so."

"How can you be sure?"

Sally answers Ron. "She is the unofficial leader there. Everyone has to first get permission from her to go anywhere. She would have noticed if there was a Wizarding school mentioned in it."

"We follow a strict policy of secrecy, Mrs. Jackson, they could have lied."

"If they were following those rules, Mr. Shacklebolt, I don't think there'd be any campfire stories about the Wizarding World in great detail. I trust my campers."

"Great detail?"

"Yeah," she nods at Minerva. "there was something about a prophecy, wands, floating teacups and a shop—diagonally?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Yeah, that."

"The prophecy? What do you know about it?"

"It was like any other prophecy, I guess, like you suffer a tragic demise kinda thing."

"He's the Child of Prophecy."

Harry shoots a stink eye at his best friend, trying his best not to fidget or wish the couch could swallow him whole. Not again.

"Uh-huh, man, your life must suck."

"Percy," Sally chides.

"Sorry Mom. But the prophecy sounded real ominous."

"It is,"

"It might be," Minerva rephrases the Chosen One's answer. "The legend of prophecy could be simply that, a story."

"Yeah, maybe or maybe not, who the fuck knows?" Percy throws her hands in the air. "All we can be sure of is death."

"Percy, sweetheart," Her mother begins, unsure of what she should do for she rarely talks of the horrors of being chosen for prophecies. Paul could only sigh.

"And how would you know that?" Ron is suspicious, observant of her resigned state.

"I told you," she replies in a careless cadence of that of an annoyed teenager although her eyes resemble survivors of war, haunted and half dead. "stories said around camp, greek and roman myths about prophecies and shit."

Harry looks at their target and is surprised at himself at the new light he views at her. At the moment, she was a mirror to him—or maybe an embodiment of his deepest thoughts at the darkest parts of his mind. The unspoken place where he allowed himself to view what the deal about a prophecy was—a game of survival, not glory nor power.

"This is not a story however," Ron hisses, irked at something none of the others could see. "It is as bloody real as it can get."

"Yeah yeah, now I see that," she trails off, oddly looking reprimanded.

Sally is solemn when she says, "And she's not wrong about it."

Paul squeezes her hand as an act of comfort.

Silence engulfs the room until it is broken by the sole person who has been the cause of it. "Uncle Sam used to say stories about some prophecies when I was a kid,"

They listen, intrigued at the nostalgic and simultaneously resigned tone of Sally. Her daughter holds on to her.

"He always acted it out to me in great detail. It involved my supposed dead family numbers but I don't think they were as fictitious as I thought they were,"

Minerva nods, aware of the tragedies that have befallen the Jackson family.

"They always ended in death whether for good or bad. I learned early on that prophecies meant death," she grabs hold of Percy's hand on her knee. "and I taught my child the same."

She gives a lopsided smile with a raise of her shoulder. "You didn't teach me wrong." She squeezes her mother's hand in reassurance before turning to Paul, "Hey Dad, why don't you help Mom with that batch of cookies?"

The oven hasn't notified them nor were the cookies in the oven in the first place but Paul assents. "Sure thing, come on honey," with a nod to their guests, he moves with his wife to the kitchen.

"Oh and," Percy calls, "call Dad."

"Mr. Jackson's not your Dad?" Hermione inquires once the couple has gone.

"No, he's Mr. Blofis-Jackson actually," there is an upward tilt to her lips as she informs. "He's my stepdad."

"Ms. Jackson, we treasure secrecy within our community," Kingsley begins, "we warn you against conveying the existence of our world to your biological father."

"I'm not not telling my Dad about this," she gives an incredulous look.

"You cannot expect her not to," Remus agrees, supported by an eager nod from the girl. "Especially when she will have to move to another continent for the next year."

"That's not happening."

"For fuck's sake Percy, you do see how serious it is right?"

"By Zeus, yes I do!" She reflects Ron's exasperation. "But I can't leave everything here in a moment and haul my ass all the way to England!"

"It's Scotland actually."

"That's not in England?"

"No," Hermione gears up to elaborate. "England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are constituent countries that make up the United Kingdom."

"Alright, cool," she seemed more than enthusiastic to move on. "But I still can't leave everything here in a moment and haul my ass all the way to Scotland."

"School only starts on September," Harry contributes.

"Look man," she holds up her hands. "I understand where you're coming from, like you wanna make sure that I'm not gonna cheer for my grandpa and all. So you wanna keep me under surveillance but I assure you I won't."

Remus smiles. "You know very well we can't believe you,"

She heaves a sigh. Aglow from the sunlight through the windows with her head bowed, she seemed exhausted. "I swear I would have taken over the world if I had wanted to."

None had the response to it and they didn't have to since Paul peeked in to beckon her inside to talk to her Dad.