Little Tricks (PJO x HP) DISCONTINUED

CHAPTER ONE: I Accidentally Vaporize My Prealgebra Teacher

CHAPTER ONE: I Accidentally Vaporize My Prealgebra Teacher

Ara snorted.

Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood.

"Same," The demigods muttered. All the gods and deities (bar Circe, Hermes, Artemis and Apollo) looked at each other 'Surely it couldn't be that bad?' Oh were they in for a treat.

If you're reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary.

Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

The demigods who were present in the war looked down remembering the screams, the cries for help, the pain...

Meanwhile the light wizards looked confused. "I don't understand." Granger voiced out "Ara Is a half-blood and she's fine." She continued glancing at Ara. Said girl glared at her causing Granger to quickly look away.

(For those of you who wonder why I didn't say wars remember Ara is 16 at this time the second war/prophecy hasn't started yet)

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think it's fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages-if you feel something stirring inside-stop reading immediately.

You might be one of us.

And once you know that it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you. Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Percy Jackson.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?

"Yes." Ara responded immediately. Percy stared at her with the most offended look he could muster.

"Ara, how could you?! After all we've gone through, you betray me like this!" Percy wailed. Ara raised an eyebrow "Percy, my dear honorary brother, tell me who blew up a national landmark?" Percy's dramatic sobs stopped abruptly as he slowly turned to face her. "Touche..." He said slowly.

Meanwhile the light wizards were blinking rapidly trying to process what they were seeing.

'How was Ara Potter close with these people? And since when did she display emotion?'

Yeah. You could say that. I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it,

"Wow Percy, dramatic much?" Ara snickered, "Your one to talk, I saw you sobbing over a piece of food falling on the floor!" Percy shot back. Ara scoffed "Of course I would sob! It was one of Mama Jackson's cookies. Who the fuck wouldn't sob?" Percy grumbled slightly but he had to agree... His mom's cookies were a true gift to the world.

but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan-twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff. I know-it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were. But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep. I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.