Percy Jackson and the Triwizard Tournament (Goblet of Fire)

Chapter 47: The Pensieve

"The heck with laurel wreaths. I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

Percy frowned, still glancing back towards the metal can stuck in between some stones in the riverbed, "You make it sound like you're leaving."

The boy's face formed into a wicked grin, "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say good-bye."  

Harry decided to attempt calling out his name, "Percy!" he shouted with hands cupped around his mouth, but it had no affect. Whatever was happening, Harry had a gut feeling it wasn't going to end well.

Just then,  the person snapped his fingers which magically ignited flames right next to Percy's shoes. Harry was now extremely puzzled. 'How can someone so young use wandless magic?' But he didn't think he knew any spell which summoned a scorpion with a pure black, glittering surface. At least he wasn't the only one surprised, because Percy had the look of utmost shock when it began to crawl onto his shoe.

That's when it hit him. 'They can't even see me, so I must not actually even be here...

This is a memory.'

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Harry noticed the young Percy's hand slowly reaching for something in his pocket, but the other person did as well,

"I wouldn't. Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"Luke," so that's who the stranger's name was! "What-"

Percy froze, slowly piecing something together whilst looking back towards Luke in horror, just then daring to avert his eyes from the pit scorpion momentarily.

"You," Percy said again, his tone turning cold and accusing.

Luke wasn't fazed, "I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy. Didn't you feel it—the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

"Luke... you're talking about our parents."

Harry was taken aback. 'Luke's a demigod! Merlin's Beard, how many of them are there?'

The scorpion began crawling onto Percy's leg slowly, now just above his ankle, and Harry took that moment to finally step out of the lake. He pushed himself up the rock, after slipping only once, and stood over the two sitting figures. He tried a final time to intervene, but when he had tried to swat away the scorpion, his hand passed through like one of Nico's ghosts.

Luke scoffed, paying no attention to Harry like usual, "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

"You're as crazy as Ares," Percy spat, with a surprising amount of courage with the scorpion clicking its pincers menacingly.

 "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

Percy paused for a moment, giving the scorpion another cold glare. His eyes widened again in realization as he spoke, "Kronos. That's who you serve."

The air felt cold, almost as if Dementors were approaching. Luke had felt it too as he replied through gritted teeth, "You should be careful with names."