[1] New Beginnings: Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and the Philosopher's Stone

27: challenges of the trapdoor and the truth

"Ron!" Hermione started to walk forward, towards Ron, but Harry stopped her. Percy couldn't do anything but stare at where his friend had fallen.

"Hermione, no! Remember, we're still playing. Percy, go." Percy nodded again and walked toward the remaining white bishop. Unsure of how to get rid of it, he tapped it lightly on the arm. It nodded its head politely and moved off of the board. Percy raised his eyebrows, surprised, then turned to face Harry. One of the remaining white pawns destroyed a black pawn - it didn't really do much. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He moved forward, towards the white king. Once he was close enough he said, "Checkmate."

Nothing seemed to happen for a moment. Then slowly, ever so slowly, the white king's sword fell from its grip, signaling defeat. Immediately they ran over to Ron. He was laying unconscious next to his fallen horse. Hermione checked his pulse. "He's still breathing." The other two breathed a sigh of relief. "We'll come back for him. We'll come back for him after this is all over," she said. Percy and Harry nodded their assent. Before they moved on, they dragged Ron to the black side of the chess board, out of harm's way if the pieces started moving again. Then, with a final glance back, they crossed the board and went through the next door.

The next room was nothing special. It was rather small and the only thing in it was an ornate wooden box about the size of an adult man's head on the floor. Being the first one to enter the room, Percy reached the box first. He reached down to pick it up, but as soon as his hands touched it, he was frozen. He physically could not move a muscle, stuck crouched down with his hands on either side of the box.

He was dimly aware of Harry and Hermione panicking beside him, Harry trying to pry his hands away from the box and Hermione scolding him for being so stupid. But his attention was focused entirely on the box. The top of it was slowly rising upwards, swinging back on invisible hinges. Inside, there was what looked to be a human brain made of porcelain. Percy couldn't tell for sure, as his hands were still glued to the box. Harry and Hermione had gone silent and still beside him.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, the brain began to swing open, splitting down the middle and moving to reveal a hundred minuscule bronze gears. The smallest of the gears was about the size of a toddler's pinky fingernail, and the largest the size of a grown man's eye. Then the gears started turning and a series of images started flashing through Percy's head.

Where do your loyalties lie, the box asked him.

With my friends.

Who are your friends?

Percy showed the box images of his friends and who they were.

Who are you?

Percy didn't really know. He knew that his name was Perseus Jackson and that he was a wizard and that his brother was Harry Potter and that he was adopted at the age of seven by the meanest family of muggles he would ever meet, but other than that, he really didn't know. He didn't know where he came from or who his parents were. He didn't even know if he had a family before the orphanage and if he did, why did they leave him there? Percy really didn't know much about himself.

No. Percy knew all that he needed to know. My name is Perseus Jackson. I am a wizard, and so is my brother. I was adopted when I was seven, and I'm happy that I was. And I'm happy. I'm happy with the way my life is, and I don't need to know who my parents are, or what they looked like. I am Perseus Jackson, and I'm fine with not knowing.