Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar

1) "9-1-1, What is Your Emergency?" "Non-Alcoholic Beer is Assaulting Me!"

I had walked that very street several times before, but it always seemed more monstrous during the night. The streetlights stood too tall and too far apart.

Maybe everything just looked a little more monstrous after the war.

"Would you do the honors, Mr. Jackson?" Dumbledore held out a small silver lighter in his left hand. I knew his right to be burned and blackened. I'd been much too exhausted to ask him what had happened.

"Sure," I said quietly, taking the lighter, and giving it a flick. The street lamp nearest number four, Privet Drive darkened abruptly, the light falling away from it like a drip of water, shrinking as it was sucked into the Deluminator.

As we walked down the garden path just a day after we had won the Second Titan War, I looked up at one of the second floor windows, catching a wide-eyed expression belonging to my good friend, Harry Potter.

"I'd bet you anything that he hasn't packed at all," I said, a flicker of amusement igniting in me as Harry darted away from the window.

"Yes, that does sound like Mr. Potter. It is hard, for some, to believe something good will come their way when all they've known is bad, even when good tells them the time and date of their imminent arrival."

"No need to get all philosophical, Professor, just sit back and imagine how he looks running around his room. I'm picturing a baby harpy looking for her mother.... Does that make Hedwig his mom?"

"But of course," Dumbledore said, one long, crooked finger pressing against the Dursley's doorbell. It was a falsely charming chime, not at all reflective of the family that lived there.

Faintly, I could hear the patriarch of the house call, "Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?" The door opened, revealing the man who had always, at least to me, looked like a walrus. It was the mustache, I think, because that's where the true similarities ended — a walrus was much better looking.

"Wassup?" I held up a peace sign.

"Good evening," Dumbledore bowed slightly, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. "You must be Mr. Dursley. Percy has told me much about you. I daresay Harry has told you we would be coming for him?"

I snorted at the look on Mr. Dursley's face, shocked and full of detest.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said politely. "However, let us assume that you have invited us warmly into your house. It is unwise to longer overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

That's what the pamphlets the Ministry, under the guidance of their new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, had said, anyway. They seemed a little ridiculous to me, and definitely caused more panic than any peace of mind.

Dumbledore casually walked through the door, and I was left to follow after him, shutting the door behind us.

"It is a long time since my last visit," Dumbledore paused in his movements, staring down Mr. Dursley. "I must say, your agapanthuses are flourishing."

"Is that some sort of disease?" I mused, shrugging off my backpack and letting it slam against the floor. "Or some Greek dude? It sounds like the name of an Ancient Greek dude."

"The blue flowers outside are agapanthuses. I believe  you grew some for Professor Umbridge."

"Don't call her Professor, Professor. And those flowers were Lily of the Nile."

"Same plant, different name."

"Oh," I looked up, past Dumbledore and Mr. Dursley, and saw Harry. He was standing on the stairs, face shining with disbelief at the sight of us. He seemed to be going through the motions, expressions shifting so rapidly I couldn't make them out, until he settled on pure elation, eyes boring into mine. "Hiya, Harry."