When Wand and Sword Collide || Percy Jackson/ Harry Potter

Sandwiches and an Altered Fate

With the aid of Zephyros, god of the west winds, the Argo II had surged through the sky twice as fast as they were going before. The sails were down, the rudder left on lock, the powerful gales of the west boosting their speed and tickling at the bronze edges of the ship. Festus whirred in appreciation multiple times during the trip, but his mechanical voice was barely a whisper over the sounds of whipping breezes flowing like sea tides.

In fact, Lips' brother had caused such strong winds that Harry could no longer stand on the upper deck anymore, much like how it was almost uninhabitable when Lips had control. The gods had power, Harry would give them that.

He had temporarily retired to his room to rest before they arrived at this Camp Jupiter – which was going to be even sooner now that they had help. Harry wasn't sure what to expect… He'd only been at Camp Half-Blood for about a day, and, although he had a tour, he didn't really intake much of the views while he was there – a tad more concerned with who he was to care about strawberry fields and lava lakes of death. Still, from what Annabeth had told him, Camp Jupiter sounded much the same: lots of demigods, activities, dead languages, food, nutters with swords... except this camp was Roman, not Greek. What was the difference anyway? Harry reckoned his inexperience with both cultures wouldn't really go well if he asked the question. So, the boy was left to his thoughts, to sprawl across his bed and stare aimlessly at the low-tiered ceiling.

To be honest, Harry was just feeling tense. The prophecy still loomed over his head like a plague – and the 'misfortune' he was due to be 'mired' with. Each second was ticking – he didn't know when, or why, or how, but somehow, something was going to swamp the Argo II in flight at night with less than benevolent intention.

Part of him just wanted it to be over.

Harry's thoughts battled with his fatigued mind for so long he lost track of the time, so much in fact that when Leo knocked on his door to tell him they had arrived at Camp Jupiter, he believed it was still early afternoon.

"Dude," Leo said, a sympathetic smile curling his elfish face, "It's, like, half six."

No wonder Harry was a little peckish – although he'd eat anything but chicken for supper.

"Yeah, we've got about ten minutes left, so I'll be parking the ship soon – don't worry, I'm a qualified driver," Harry decided not to reply to that, "And then we disembark and say hello to the war nuts."

Again, Harry knew better than to question Leo's sense of humour.

"Alright. I'll be up in ten," he informed Leo, who nodded.

"Gotcha', Ted," he said with a salute.

"Not you too," Harry muttered.

Leo just laughed, "I think it suits you! Hahah… Ted… where does the coach come up with this gold?" He laughed all the way back down the corridor, his voice eventually becoming an echo against the walls. Harry shut the door, deciding to peek outside of the window.

He couldn't see much as the twilight hour had descended and everything beyond his window was coloured in an indigo hue. Still, California was a scattered state, and the buildings that would tower like giant trees if he were on the ground were no bigger than pinheads now, merely dots on his vision.

This was San Francisco, he remembered – Camp Jupiter's home city. Stretching in the distance, Harry could just make out a mountain the size of fifty Argo IIs. And there – his eyes widened – the giant thread of a bridge erect above a wide river eating through the city. The Golden Gate Bridge… it was a marvel for Harry to behold.

As the ship lowered in the sky, details became finer in Harry's poor eyesight. He was pretty sure now they were heading right towards a tunnel.

The intercom buzzed, "Yo, yo, yo! Jupiter is inbound!"