The Oddity (A Percy Jackson/Harry Potter crossover)

Chapter 1

Harry bathed in the sight of the bustling people on Platform 3/4, the shiny red paint of the Hogwarts Express, and the mothers fussing over their children. Despite the war against Voldemort, he couldn't wait to be back at his first home. The Dursleys had made it quite clear how they felt about him, Grimauld Place had a subdued air around it, and despite the Weasleys nurturing of him, it wasn't quite the same.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had already sent letters to Neville and Luna to meet up on the train. As Harry dragged his trunk down the corridor, people were shamelessly pressing their faces against the windows, trying to get a peek of the "Chosen One." Frankly, he did not enjoy being in the spotlight, and even worse was the way people were treating him: like some angel that desended down from Heaven to save them all. He felt more like a zoo animal that little kids tried to touch with sticky fingers and viewed with facination. He was as normal as the rest of them, for Merlin's sake! Sort of.

"Harry!"

The before mentioned person turned around with a sigh a relief. It was not a vicious fan, but instead, a slightly round, chubby teen by the name of Neville. And following him was a girl with misty eyes and long, blond hair.

Harry smiled. "Hi Neville, Luna. Fancy finding a compartment?"

"Yeah, sure Harry. All the ones down their are full or filled with snobby girls. Everyone keeps looking at me now. It's quite unnerving."

Harry grimaced. "Everyone's heard of our little Ministry adventure by now. You'll just have to get used to it."

While the quintet moved down the corridor, Harry felt like he was forgetting something. Stopping Neville in his blabbering about his new wand, Harry asked, "Does anyone else feel like something's missing?"

The rest of the group exchanged glances. Ron spoke up. "It's Percy, mate. He's been gone, remember?"

Harry felt a pang in his heart. He felt so used to Percy's horrible puns, outrageous stories of American life, and his everlasting, contagious, cheerful mood that lit up the entire environment. Without their last member, the air around them didn't have the same feeling to it. Instead, it seemed . . . depressed.

"Let's keep going," Harry continued, half-heartedly. In silence, the group checked the compartments around them. It wasn't long before Hermione noticed an availability.

"There's only one person in here. He looks like a older student, like a sixth or seventh year. But I don't recognize him, so he's probably a seventh year. Doesn't have his robes on so I can't tell what house he's in. Do you think he'll let us barge in on him?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Probably. We've got bloody Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived. The guy would probably stumble over himself to speak to the Chosen One. Unless he's a sneaky, conniving Slytherin snake. Then he'd probably report everything back to You-Know-Who."

Feeling uncomfortable about the casual mentioning of his titles, Harry suggested that they go in and ask. "Excuse me. Do you mind if we sit here? All the other compartments are full." Hearing no reply from the stranger, Harry decided to do what Ron had suggested and throw his name out there. "Uh . . . I'm Harry Potter, and these are my friends Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood."

The dark haired stranger chuckled and Harry startled at finally getting a sound out of the assumed seventh year. "Resorted to using your fame, have you Harry? Didn't know you were the type to do that. Or have you changed during fifth year?"

"What do you know about . . . me?" Harry angrily asked before trailing off.

The stranger had turned his head away from the window he was staring out of, and as Harry got a good look at his face, he discovered that he wasn't really a stranger at all. Windswept, black hair falling into his face and powerful, sea green eyes like the ocean peaking out from under the fringe. There were those odd beads strung by a string of leather around his neck and his speech stood out by his American accent.