Nexus

The Great Hall

The rest of the Feast is just as awkward. Throughout the meal, Percy sees various students turning their heads to look at him. If they aren't eyeing him, though, they are certainly staring at Harry. His cousin is seated at the Gryffindor table, next to Ron and diagonal from Hermione. He holds Ginny's hand across the table as he eats his pudding, taking silent comfort from the contact. He seems quiet, listening to Ron and Ginny argue about something with a withdrawn expression. Although he should be relaxed, with the threat of Voldemort finally gone, Harry still seems on edge. Percy understands that. After being in danger all his life, Harry must be having trouble in a society that no longer wants him dead.

Percy makes conversation with the other professors at the table, deliberately engaging them in ways he knows they will be receptive to. He didn't realize until Annabeth had mentioned it to him offhandedly this summer, but he can actually be a very manipulative person. He talked his way out of many monster fights when he was younger and has been able to use tactics to get almost anyone he has ever wanted on his side--Nico, the Amazons, Ethan Nakamura, Rachel, the Romans...

His charms work on the other teachers. At first, they are reluctant and nervous to do so. But Trelawney jumps right in and they slowly warm up to him. By the end of the Feast, Professors Flitwick, Trelawney, Slughorn, and Sprout all insist that Percy call them by their first names. He even has an invitation to join Horace and Filius at the Three Broomsticks that Sunday.

The Prefects lead the first years out to the dormitories first. Percy feels bad about missing the Sorting. That has always been his favorite part of the welcome feast. The Sorting Hat has always been a magic that confuses him. He has never understood how magic can make an object so sentient and insightful. Sometimes, however, Percy wonders if it made a mistake with him.

***
"Jackson, Perseus!" Professor McGonagall called out loudly, her pointy hat wobbling precariously atop her rigid bun.

Percy walked up the steps and sat down nervously on the stool. His hands were shaking slightly. He caught the eyes of Fred and George. Their last name is W, so he was the first of their newly-formed trio to get sorted. What if the hat got him wrong? What if he wasn't placed in the same house as Fred and George and he had to start all over again with making friends? Every person in the Weasley family was in Gryffindor, the twins had bragged on the train. They will be as well. What if Percy got put somewhere else?

The hat grumbled inside his head, shocking Percy. Hmmm, a strange combination here. A wizard, yes, and something more...

You're a loyal boy, aren't you? I can see your devotion to your mother, and your friends. Yes, very loyal indeed. You have a cunning mind as well. Clever, certainly. And brave. Very brave. You would do well in any of the houses, I think. But where to put you...

Please, Gryffindor, Percy thought desperately. With Fred and George.

Gryffindor? The hat rumbled. Just for the sake of two friends? I should place you in Hufflepuff just for that.

Please no! I don't want to be alone.

Slytherin, then?

No, no. Gryffindor.

The hat seemed to sigh. If you insist. You would do well in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, you know. But if it is Gryffindor you really want, then you shall be in "GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted that final declaration aloud.

Percy hopped off the stool, his heart hammering in relief. Fred and George beamed up at him in glee. Sure enough, they bounded over to him, sliding onto the bench at the Gryffindor table next to him a few minutes later.
***

He comes to with Sibyll rambling to him—he has no idea what she is on about but tries to act like he was present for it all. After the students have all filed out of the hall, the teachers go up to their respective studies, needing to prepare their lessons for the first day of classes tomorrow. Percy has his plan already--which is the most he has ever prepared for anything academic, he thinks.

McGonagall grabs his upper arm before he can turn to leave. He turns to look at her. She doesn't say anything but jerks her head as she exits through a different door in a gesture that Percy knows he is to follow her.

The Headmistress strolls through the halls, heading towards the towers for classes--the opposite direction that the students are going. They walk in silence, side-by-side, for a few minutes until McGonagall seems satisfied that they are in private.

She stops in the hall and rounds on Percy, her stern face illuminated by the torchlight. "You have been gone all summer, Jackson."

This is true. He was at Camp Half-Blood, and told her this through Hermione. They had been in contact over owl while he was gone, going over logistics that he needed to weigh in on.

"The Sorting went well, then?" He asks in attempt to lighten the conversation.

She does not smile. She never does, really. There is too much pressure on her now to be very jovial. "I hope you have a good excuse for being late."

He actually does. "We got a distress call from a satyr an hour before I was meant to leave," he shrugs. "I had to go save a twelve-year-old daughter of Hermes from an empousa." Percy shudders. "I never want to go to a movie theater again."

McGonagall looks at Percy like he's speaking another language. He actually checks himself silently to affirm that he was, in fact, speaking English and not Latin or Greek...before he realizes that she probably does not understand anything about demigod culture. Just because she knows that the Greek Pantheon exists, as well as summer camps for half-bloods, does not mean that she actually understands anything else about how his other world works.

Percy clears his throat awkwardly. "Sorry. Uh, demigod business," he summarizes instead.

She purses her lips. "Well I at least expect you have a plan for your class. Defense Against the Dark Arts must be taught differently after last year. Everything has changed."

Everything has changed. Chiron had said that to Percy months ago, when he had first talked to the centaur about his growing power. Against his will, he falls against the stone wall as a new memory drags him under.

***
Chiron's hands had stilled on the arms of his chair, which was not a good sign. He often tapped his fingers on the metal, or perhaps clicked his nails, but they only ever stilled when he was truly shocked or worried. Or scared.

It was one of the first few days he was back, and Percy had just finished telling his mentor a summary of what had happened while he was in the Wizarding World, with particular emphasis on his power. He told Chiron of how it had changed. How Tartarus had been like a catalyst, growing his strength and the darkness inside of him. He spoke of how his power had always been like a wrenching in his gut, whereas now it was like an endless well to draw upon whenever he so pleased.

"I could reach the creek from here, easy. I could flood the camp with half a thought, Chiron. I could reach out my hand and control every demigod here. I could make them hurt, if I want." He spoke not to be arrogant, but with fear. Fear of the danger and darkness at his fingertips.

Chiron was stunned into stillness and silence. He seemed at loss for what to say--Percy realized this had never happened before. In all his years, Chiron had never encountered a demigod with this much power.

Percy briefly called that he was almost made a god. Was this why? That was what had happened to Dionysus and Hercules. The gods had recognized that they were very powerful--too powerful--and gave them godhood. They had tried to do so for Percy. He had denied them. Was this his consequence? Unchecked, growing power because he insisted upon remaining mortal?

"You must be patient with me, Perseus," Chiron said at last. "I do not have experience with this. But do not fear--we will figure this out. The first thing to do is to train. You need to learn to control these new and grown powers, as you first did years ago."

That was the response Percy had been expecting. Train.

So they did.
***