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i. The Boy Who Lived
The journey started at the 31th of July.
It was a nice evening in the little village. The sky was bright and almost devoid of clouds, and the moon was shining like there would be no tomorrow. The stars sprinkled over the sky were set in a position that the centaurs would try to unravel for decades after.
Through this all, the first wails of a child resounded.
A red haired woman was smiling tiredly, panting at the same time. Her husband was cradling the wailing creature, laughing out loud.
Somewhere far away, a Riddle was torturing a muggle.
The baby screamed louder.
Ά
Halloween had never been scarier.
Two unharmed bodies lay amidst the ruins of what was once a home. Their eyes were staring into infinity, limbs carelessly spread. They didn't move.
There was a third body within the ruins. It also didn't move, but at least it was breathing. On his head was a new-formed scar, and his body was now shared by a second soul.
The sounds of a motorcycle echoed through the air.
Soon, the boy would wake up into a nightmare that would continue for ten years.
Ά
Little Harry decided that adults were horrible.
The teachers were horrible, never stopping Dudley and the others teasing him. Some even tried to get him kicked out of school. It wasn't his fault that trouble seemed to follow him!
His aunt and uncle were even worse. Harry couldn't be sure, but he had a strong suspicion that it wasn't normal to let your child sleep in the cupboard. Or ask him to do countless household chores. Or give him less food than an overweight kid. Of course, they weren't actually his parents, so he guessed he could cut them some slack.
That said, Harry did have mixed feelings over the other kids.
Some were monsters, without a doubt. Like Dudley. Hitting him, chasing him, stealing his lunch, faking his grades, throwing him into garbage bins... Yep, definitely monsters.
Others, however, seemed quite nice. Like Simon, the quiet one in the corner. Or Melinda, the smart class-clown. He would like to be friends with them, but they didn't seem to like him, so maybe he was doing something wrong.
One day, the boy promised, he would have friends. And when that day came, he would never, ever, betray them.
Ά
When the giant burst into the hut and told him he was a wizard, he had thought it was a prank. But let's face it, who wouldn't? Some weirdo bursts through your door, tells you you can do magic and gives you a letter saying you're going to a boarding school named Hogwarts, of all things. Sounds plausible, right?
Really, he couldn't be a wizard, of all things. That would mean being special, and he wasn't. Even his name was average. What could he possibly be other that little ol' Harry Potter, freak supreme?
Well, the Boy Who Lived, apparently.
Ά
His first friend was exactly like Harry'd imagined he would be.
Firstly, he was male. Secondly, his family loved him and seemed to like Harry too. Thirdly, he was a bit stupid, but funny all the same. And lastly, he was someone Harry could argue with without being afraid of actually being left behind.
His second friend, however, was not at all what he'd expected.
It was a 'she'. She was smart. She was serious. She was good in planning. She was hot-tempered. She was a know-it-all. And of course, she was surprisingly emotional at times.
Over the years, he had gotten more friends.
Harry treasured them all.
Ά
Naturally, he managed to get himself into trouble even at a school that thought magic.
A man growing on another man's head? Sure, why not.
Basilisk and a younger Voldemort? Dealt with.
A prisoner who turned out to be innocent, a rat that turned out to be guilty and a teacher that turned out to be a werewolf? Surprise, surprise... except nothing could surprise him at this rate.
It wasn't until his fourth year that he began to worry. His name was in the Goblet of Fire and deep down he knew that Sirius was right; whoever had done it didn't just want a show. He wanted him dead.
Turned out he was only partly right. They did want him dead, but not before bringing back his arch-nemesis.
They only succeeded in the second part. The reason?
Priori Incantatem.
God, he had never felt so horrible before. The faces of his parents seemed to say: Your fault. It's your fault this happened even if their mouths said something else. And Cedric... he could hardly look at him.
After he took Cedric's body back, he could only think one thing:
I couldn't save my friend.
Ά
When he found out there was a prophecy involving him, he wanted to laugh.
Just little ol' Harry, huh?
Not so much.
Ά
Remember when he said he could argue with Ron without having to be afraid that he would be left behind?
Wrong.
His heart was literally being ripped to pieces.
I never betrayed you. So why did you betray me?
Ά
Ron eventually came back, and he wanted to cry of relieve. His friend hadn't left him.
Others would leave him soon, though. And not by their own will.
Even more than already had.
Ά
James Potter.
Lilly Potter.
James Potter.
Cedric Diggory.
Mad-Eyed Moody.
Hedwig.
Ted Tonks.
Nymphadora Tonks.
Dobby.
Remus Lupin.
Colin Creevey.
Fred Weasley.
Sirius Black.
Albus Dumbledore.
Even Severus Snape.
Ά
Why were people even celebrating? Too many friends had died, too many lives had been reaped, too many innocents had turned to the eternal sleep. It may be a victory, but barely.
Why were they celebrating?
Deep in his heart, he knew the answer. They weren't celebrating victory.
They were celebrating the fact that they were alive.
Somehow, he felt it hard to that.
Ά
The first months after were the hardest. The pain of those who had just died was fresh, and the rebuilding was hard. The Ministry was in shatters, with no Prime Minister and no trust from the public. Hogwarts was a ruin, and it wasn't just an illusion to fool muggles this time. Harry himself had no home, no family, and was under huge pressure. The people were trying to get him to become the new Minister of Magic, and no thanks, he was not doing that.
However, after a few years, it quieted down.
People stopped screaming that he should become the leader, finally seeing that he was of more use as a symbol than anything else. The new minister became an unknown wizard called Allen Havoc, and slowly but surely, the trust was rebuilt. Hogwarts was rebuilt with Minerva as its principal.
George was taking the loss of his twin hard. Sometimes, he would just stop what he was doing and stare into the distance. Other times, he would spontaneously burst into tears. There were days where he wouldn't even get out of bed.
Surprisingly, his biggest support was Percy. The guy was a lot less pompous now, and was always trying to get George to laugh again. He didn't go back to working for the ministry, and instead re-opened the Weasley's Wizard Wheezies. He more or less forced George to help him create new prank materials, and while people would still say that the best jokes had come with Fred and George running the joke shop, the WWW would always stay the greatest prank shop. Honestly, Percy did his job almost as good as Fred had done, to everyone's surprise.
When Ron once asked him how he had kept all that humor hidden for so long, Percy had just snorted.
'Well, I can hardly live in this house for so long without picking up something, now, can I?'
Harry was just glad that everything was going so swiftly.
Ά
He married Ginny, of course. His three children were the best thing that ever happened to him, and he vowed that he would be there for them as long as they could stand him.
He raised them on the stories he had never gotten, did all the things he had never done as a child, and smiled while doing it. Of course, he sometimes felt at a loss. Especially when it came to the practical way of doing things; should he allow them to stay up late on their birthday? What should he play with them? How do you change a diaper?
Luckily, Ginny always was there to pick up the pieces. Even when he felt at a loss, she was there to hold his hand and lead him through the dark.
Seriously, how had he done so long without her?
Ά
When his daughter finally broke the family tradition of getting sorted into Gryffindor, he couldn't have been prouder.
Hufflepuff was a house for the loyal, the hard working. Over the years, he had learnt that loyalty was often more important than bravery. Especially if that bravery was also tied in with recklessness.
So when she started apologizing in her letter, he sternly told her that being sorted into the nicest house wasn't a shame. He recalled Cedric's tale, and told her how important friends were. He wrote that his mother had saved his life, not through bravery, but through loyalty.
Finally, he wrote:
"Really, Lilly, I'm proud that I was a Gryffindor. But truth to be told, they lack a lot of things they shouldn't. Loyalty is one of them. Being able to work hard is another. Sadly, I wasn't always a hard worker myself, and now I wish I was. Otherwise I wouldn't have to call Aunt Hermione every time I needed a complicated spell, now, would I?
Love, your father.
P.S: When you're done with Hogwarts, can I count on you for those spells? It's getting embarrassing having to ask Hermione for them."
He smiled to himself by the thought of not having to rely on Hermione for those spells. It was rather humiliating, after all.
Ά
He was a grandfather.
He could hardly believe it. The little, red haired boy was like a miracle.
There had been days where he didn't think he would've lived to see this day.
James was smiling proudly at him, eyes sparkling with content.
'What do you think? Amazing, right?!'
And Harry smiled and let Ginny take the words out of his mouth.
'He's beautiful.'
Ά
Ron died first.
Hermione had just found his body next to her one morning, cold as ice. He had died in his sleep, peacefully. He was sixty-eight years old.
The funeral was supposed to be formal, but George managed to ease the tension with a speech that would've made the Marauders proud. Harry was happy he did. He highly doubted Ron would've liked such a stiff burial.
The church bells sounded in the distance when the chest was lowered into the ground.
Harry didn't cry until nobody could see him.
Ά
The girls outlived them both.
The Boy Who Lived finally managed to die at age seventy-two. The last thing he saw was his wife cooking diner before his head fell back into his chair.
The funeral was closed, because the whole country had wanted to come. Thankfully, Ginny had more than enough guts to stop the press from entering. Even at the age of seventy-one, she was still more than capable of shooting dangerous spells.
People gave speeches. Lilly cried. James did too. Albus didn't, but he was close. Ginny also didn't. When people asked why, she just stared at them and smiled.
The chest was lowered, and Harry was given Elysium at the same time.
He chose rebirth.
After all, he had never been the one to back down from a challenge.
ii. The Child of the Prophecy
It was storming when Perseus Jackson, formerly the Boy Who Lived, came to earth.
Sally Jackson had given birth to him in her own apartment, without the help of a doctor. She almost passed out, but managed to hold herself together for her child.
The boy didn't start crying, like the first time he had been birthed. Instead, he laughed and wiggled, as if he was trying to mislead people from the raging calamity that he would become.
His mother smiled and held him to her breast.
It was almost like he had found a loving family.
Ψ
But, as it goes, all good things must come to an end.
While Sally made the right choice by marrying Gabriel Ugliano, it was by no means the easiest one. Or the one that would bring the most joy.
But only one of the duo knew that, at the time. Percy clapped his hand with glee when he heard he was going to get a new father. Sally smiled sadly at her four year old son.
It wouldn't be too long before he would realize Gabe was, by no means, a father.
Ψ
Percy always got strange dreams. After a while, it became normal.
Sometimes, he dreamt of lighting, sea, horses, and shadows. (He didn't know if he liked those dreams.)
Sometimes he dreamt of what would happen next week. (Sadly, it was never the important stuff, say, like, the test's answers.)
Sometimes he dreamt about horrible monsters that tried to eat him. (He DEFINATELY didn't like those.)
And sometimes, he dreamt about a boy with green eyes and glasses. He dreamt about wands, wars, friends, Weasleys, children, and Hogwarts.
Every time Percy woke up from one of those dreams, he swore it had just happened.
Ψ
One school, two school, red school, blue school.
Three school, purple school.
Four school, green school.
Five school, white school.
And so on, and so on.
Percy didn't know how he managed to get kicked out of so many schools. Even the ones designed for 'troubled children' couldn't handle him. He never even did anything, it just... happened. He was almost proud of it.
(If it weren't for his mother's disappointed gaze, he probably would've been.)
Ψ
Despite the enormous amount of schools he'd been to, he had never once made a friend.
He didn't know why. He always helped those who got bullied, was nice to (almost) everyone, and really, really tried not to cause problems. Yet, no one could stand him.
It hurt.
After the fourth school, he stopped trying. He stopped trying to stay there for longer than a year. He stopped trying to make friends. It didn't work anyway, so why bother? He still helped those who needed it (he couldn't stand bullies), but stopped talking to the victims.
The boarding schools were the worst. No one to talk to, for almost a full year.
It was a lonely life, but hey, hakuna matata, right?
Ψ
He had been walking through the hallway of - what was it? – his sixth school, when he suddenly heard 'Hey, hold up!'
Surprised, he had turned around, and seen an boy with crutches trying to catch up with him. He raised his eyebrow. What now?
'Hey,' the boy puffed. 'you're Percy Jackson, yes?'
He blinked surprised.
'Yes, I am. Why? What's it to you?'
The boy seemed to study him, with gaping mouth. Percy grew annoyed.
'Look, if you're not planning to say something, I'm going back to the dorms. Smiths gave more than enough homework as it is, and I still need to do Math. So, erm, bye, I guess.'
He put his hands into his pockets and wanted to turn around when he heard 'Stop!'.
He turned back, annoyed. He opened his mouth to snap at the boy, but he didn't get the chance to.
'What you did in class, today... That was cool. Huygens was being an ass, and you really showed him.'
It took a moment to process that. Someone was... praising him? For telling off a teacher?'
He shrugged. 'It was nothing. Marissa hadn't done anything, he was just looking for someone to give detention to. Might as well get it myself. I would probably have gotten it, anyway, so...' His voice trailed off, and he scratched his neck sheepishly.
The boy in front of him smiled broadly, showing slightly crooked teeth. 'Dude, you've gotta be kidding me! Nobody would've had the guts to tell him to go fuck himself, but you did! Got detention for a week, too. That's not "nothing".'
Well, if I'm going to get kicked out anyway, might as well go out with style.
'I'm Grover. Grover Underwood. Hey, you got dyslexia? I can help you with Smiths's homework, if you want to.'
Percy looked at him suspiciously. 'How did you know I have dyslexia?'
'Come on, let's go! Hey, how do you sneak the candy in that you sell? I've tried, and it didn't work. Also, did you know...'
Grover Underwood blabbed on, all the while dragging Percy along with him. Who was completely overwhelmed.
He thought that maybe, just maybe, he had just found his first friend. Or rather, he found him.
Ψ
He swung the sword as if he was made for it. In front of him, his former math teacher combusted into dust.
He was trembling on his legs. Percy tried to remember if he had ever eaten magic mushrooms, or something.
This is real, a small voice in his head mumbled.
Great, not only am I delusional, I'm also schizophrenic. Just great.
(Somehow, the weight of the sword felt familiar.)
Ψ
'MOM!'
Oh, Hell no. Nobody hurts his mom. NOBODY. Not even if you're half bull.
She's my mother. She is all I have! Give her back! Give her back, NOW!
And without thinking about the consequences, he ran headfirst into the fight.
Ψ
He was taking this way too calmly.
There were a few reasons he should freak out:
1) His best friend was half goat.
2) His mom had just disappeared right before his eyes.
3) He had killed a bull-man with his bare hands.
4) He had been unconscious for a few days.
5) A few weirdoes were telling him that Greek gods existed.
6) Apparently, one ran the camp he was in now.
7) His teacher was half-horse.
Way, way too calm.
Yet, he didn't have it in him to shocked. He felt like he had already gone through something like this, and really, that there was a little bit more didn't surprise him.
Number two of the list was the only one that really upset him. And he was going to get her back. He was going to get his mother back, even if it was the last thing he did.
He was going to see her smile again.
Ψ
Son of Poseidon, huh?
Well, that sucked.
Ψ
Prophecy?
Well, that sucked even more.
Ψ
The lightning bolt was returned, the world was saved, la die da die da.
Really, he was just glad that his mother was back. He had done it for her, after all. Not for his father. Not for Grover. Not for Annabeth. Not for Zeus. Not for Chiron. Not for the world.
For his mother.
Always his mother.
Ψ
Oh no he didn't that sunofabitch I'm gonna kill him slowly and painfully I'm going to rip his hands off eat his eyeballs dismember him how dare he hurt his mother how dare he HOW DARE HE!
'Percy, this is my fight. Let me do it.'
And Percy took a deep breath and gave his mother the tools for her abuser's demise.
Ψ
The years that followed passed with a rhythm.
Summer: save the world.
Rest of the year: bore to death in a classroom.
Only one time, in the winter, was this rhythm broken. It was the same winter Bianca died.
Ψ
When Athena announced his Fatal Flaw, he didn't get it. He didn't get how loyalty could be bad. It was something too many people missed, and he was glad he had too much of it.
It would take years before he finally understood why it was so dangerous.
Ψ
Then, it became serious.
Before the war, he had never really feared for his life. He always knew he was going to escape, some way or another. But now... it was war. War meant death. War meant loss.
Lilly Potter.
James Potter.
Cedric Diggory.
Mad-Eyed Moody.
Hedwig.
Ted Tonks.
Nymphadora Tonks.
Dobby.
Remus Lupin.
Colin Creevey.
Fred Weasley.
Sirius Black.
Albus Dumbledore.
Severus Snape.
The names just popped into his head, and somehow, he knew they had died in a war.
It made him scared of who would follow them.
Ψ
Nico's betrayal hurt almost more than the Styx did. Even if he came back.
Ψ
This was it. The Prophecy.
It said he was going to die.
He didn't want to die.
You won't.
Shut up, voice. I'm not schizophrenic.
Deep in his heart, he knew it was right.
Ψ
This was It.
The Choice.
He looked from Luke to the knife in his hand.
His logical mind screamed not to do it. Don't give the knife to him, it said, he betrayed you. He will betray you again. Do. Not. Give. It.
But there was a reason Annabeth called him Seaweed Brain. His logical mind sucked.
That's why he trusted his instincts and, begging that he was right, gave the knife to his former enemy.
Ψ
In the end, he wasn't the Hero. He was just the Child.
He could've cried.
Ψ
Of all things, the Gods thought he would want immortality? Really?
He had seen what power did to people. They go crazy, crazy for more, more, more. Every single Immortal he ever met told him that it was horrible to live forever. Either that, or they threatened to kill him.
He wouldn't be allowed to see his kids.
He would be forbidden from interacting with humans.
He would have to live while his loved ones died.
And he knew, he just knew, that he would go insane from it, until there was nothing left of his heart, and he would turn black.
So he declined, and asked for some things that would prevent a second war.
Maybe he would finally be able to live a peaceful life.
Ψ
Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.
To storm or fire the world must fall.
An oath to keep with a final breath.
And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.
Peaceful life, huh?
Nope.
Ψ
Annabeth.
Annabeth.
Annabeth.
Annabeth.
Amnesia was horrible.
Ψ
Romans.
He wasn't Roman. He just knew.
So what was he, then?
Ψ
Jason Grace.
Piper McLean.
Leo Valdez.
Hazel Levesque.
Frank Zhang.
Annabeth Chase.
Let's just hope they all return.
Ψ
Tartarus. Youp-die-doop.
Well, he did promise himself he would walk through hell for Annabeth, right?
Ψ
They all got back.
And Nico went away.
Octavian killed him.
Now the murderers body was lying lifeless on the ground.
Percy smiled.
Ψ
The world had changed.
Like, really changed.
Technology had turned useless. During their fight with Gaea, the continents had changed. England was now next to Amerika, without the Ocean, and Germany had crashed with Ireland. Holland had completely disappeared, along with Belgium and pieces of France. Japan was now trice as big, and China was half as small.
Everything was fucked up.
But, slowly and surely, things started to look up.
Humankind bounced back like a skippyball. Steam engines were brought back, some children of Hephaestus/Vulcan managed to create artificial limps for the many wounded, old countries fell apart and new ones formed and before long, the mortals discovered something unexplainable. It worked from out the Law of Equivalent Exchange, as they called it. Everything has its price, basically. With it, mortals managed to do something like magic, but not quite. It had three faces:
Understanding.
Deconstructing.
Reconstructing.
And it was exactly that. Acquired through transmutation circles, they used it to rebuild their homes, streets, everything, and later, they started perfecting it. They still couldn't see through the Mist, though.
They called it Alchemy.
When after three years it was still quiet, Percy laughed relieved. Everybody stared at him like he was crazy, but he didn't care.
He could live a peaceful life.
Ψ
His mother wanted to start writing, and she did. With the help of Percy, who had told her about these weird dreams of the boy with glasses, she wrote seven books. The books were about a boy named Harry Potter, who lived in this magical world and had to save it.
They became a hit.
Soon, the money started flowing in. Sally gave most of it to charity, of course, but still, they were filthy rich.
His mother was happy, and so was Percy.
Ψ
Annabeth and he moved to New Rome and, not soon after Percy turned twenty-four, had their first children. They were twins, boy and girl. The boy had blonde curls and green eyes, and the girl had green eyes and black hair, just like her father. They called the boy Nico Charles Jackson, and the girl Bianca Zoë Chase, to make sure both names would live on.
Two years after that, they got a lovely baby girl with black hair and grey eyes named Silena Lilly Jackson-Chase, as they had only married a year before that.
He had never been so happy in his entire life.
I'll never abandon you guys. I'll make sure of that.
Ψ
They had been visiting his mother when he doorbell rang.
Nico was yelling at his twin that he wanted to read, while Bianca was trying to get him to play with her. Silena was sitting at Annabeth's lap, eating a cookie. Percy was trying to get his two twins to calm down and had just managed to get Bianca to play with him when his mother walked through the door. She was frowning.
He stood up from the floor, where he had been kneeling. 'What is it, mom?' he asked, concerned.
'Percy, would you come? There is someone for you.'
Percy frowned and walked into the hallway. In the doorframe, there stood a man with green eyes and glasses, but with red hair, and not black as in his dream. Percy smiled the young man.
'Can I help you?'
The man just kept staring. Percy was growing uncomfortable.
'Erm, is there something?'
The man cleared his throat and spoke for the first time.
'Excuse me, I hadn't wanted to bother you, but I get that you are the one who came up with the ideas for the Potter-books?'
He raised his eyebrow. 'Well, yes, they're based of my dreams, but my mom wrote them. You sure you don't want to talk to her?'
The man shook his head and smiled slightly. 'No, I want to talk to you. Can we do it in private?'
Percy's alarm bells ringed through his head. What if this was a monster, or worse, a crazy psychopath? He folded his arms.
'Everything you have to say can be said in front of my mother. Now, spit it out.'
The man stared at him, before taking a deep breath. His eyes flitted towards Sally.
'Can I come in, then? It's kind of a long story.'
Percy looked at the man for a second before nodding. The man stepped in and closed the door behind them. Then, he followed them to the living room.
'Daddy!'
Bianca ran up to him and locked her arms around his hips. He smiled down at her and ruffled through her hair.
'Hey, squirt, glad to see you too.'
She peered at the stranger. 'Who's that?'
Before Percy could answer that question, the man smiled at her and sunk to his knees.
'Hi, there, little girl! I'm Charles. What's your name?'
Bianca quickly forgot her father's hips and grinned at the man.
'I'm Bianca and I'm not little! I'm eight already. Your name is Charles? That's awesome! My brother's second name is Charles, too! And his first name is Nico! And that,' she pointed towards the remaining child. 'is our little sister, Silena Lilly! She's the little one here, she's only six!'
'I'm not little!'
'Are too!'
'Am not!'
'Are too!'
'Am not!'
'Alright you two, that's enough. Bianca, Silena is only two years younger than you, so she's not little. Silena, stop fighting with Bianca,' Annabeth chided, before pushing Silena of her lap. Silena pouted and glared at Bianca, but stopped fighting. Bianca huffed, but did the same.
Annabeth stood up and offered her hand to Charles. 'I'm Annabeth Jackson-Chase, Percy's wife and babysitter –'
'Hey!'
'Nice to meet you.'
Charles smiled and shook her hand. 'The pleasure is all mine, Annabeth.'
'Sir,' Percy cut the meeting short. 'with all due respect, but why are you here?'
Charles dropped his hand and sighted. He ran his hand through his hair. He looked at Silena.
'You called her Lilly?'
'Apparently,' Percy said rudely. 'Sir, if you would –'
'After your fictive character?'
The words died on his lips. How could he tell him he named her after his dream-mother?
After a short-term silence, the man smiled. 'Thought so,' he mumbled. Then, he straighter his back. His green eyes seemed to pierce through Percy.
'I'm here,' he spoke in a clear voice. 'because my full name is Charles Harry James Potter, and you, Percy Jackson, basically rehearsed my grandfather's life story in the books.'
Silence spread through the room. Sally spoke first.
'Sir, this isn't funny. I think you should leave.'
Charles smiled at her. 'I thought you might react like that, so I brought a family heirloom with me. Wait, let me get it...'
He reached into his pocket and, through magic, a full cloak came out. He swiftly swung the cloak around his body.
Only his head could be seen.
Bianca screamed and Silena joined her. Nico looked up from his book, irritated, and stared with gaping mouth at the bodyless head. Percy's expression mirrored his. Sally held a hand for her mouth in shock, whilst Annabeth just stared calculating at the non-body.
After a few seconds, Charles put the cloak back in his pocket and calmly said:
'Believe me now?'
Again, silence met his question.
Annabeth broke it.
'Percy,' she whispered. 'where did you get those ideas?'
'Dreams,' he could barely bring out, still staring at the man.
She took a deep breath and stated:
'Well, it looks like we figured out who you were in your first life.'
Ψ
They talked long with Charles. He explained about how the whole Wizarding World had been in a state of shock by the books. Mostly because they were written by a muggle. More than once, the idea had been suggested to just ask the writer, but it was too risky. If they didn't know about the world and it was just some huge coincidence, then they were screwed.
But Charles was a Gryffindor and, therefore, reckless, so he couldn't care less about 'risky'. Thus he had flown to the house of Sally Jackson, and, well, the rest was history.
Annabeth and Percy, on their turn, explained about their world. About the Gods, the monsters, the wars, the dreams and, most importantly, the Underworld. They explained that, if someone reached Elysium, they could choose to be reborn three times, to try for the Isle of Bless.
'I think that is what your grandfather did,' Annabeth said. 'I think he chose to be reborn and got reborn as Percy.'
'His life must really suck,' Percy added dryly. 'First life: prophecy and war. Second life: two prophecies and two wars. Seriously, how bad can your luck be?'
And Charles had laughed and, when the time came to say goodbye, he drew Percy into a strong embrace.
'You better send my grandfather to the Isle of Bless,' he warned. 'Otherwise I'm personally going to haunt your arse.'
With that, they said farewell, and they never saw each other again.
Ψ
Six years later, at the age of thirty-eight, Percy Jackson died.
Really, he was surprised he had lasted that long. But when the shots had rang through the mall and he had jumped in front of Bianca to protect her, he had known he was done for.
And he was.
The bullet hit his right-lung, which collapsed. There had been an ambulance, but even the hospital hadn't been able to save him. He died a slow and painful death.
While the doctors had tried to save them, he knew this was his end. He closed his eyes and scraped his last strength together to say into the air: 'I love you,' which he had always wanted to be his last words.
It was worth it, were his last thoughts before he began his journey to the underworld.
Ψ
His body was burned just outside of Camp Half-Blood, so his mother could also attend the cremation. He held Riptide in his hands as they burned his blue-with-dolphins-and-horses shroud. The whole of Camp Half-Blood attended, as well as most of the Romans. In the front rows, his family was seated and next to them, his best friends.
When they tried to give Sally his ash, she had refused with tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. She passed it on to Annabeth.
'He never chose me as his mother,' she said. 'But he did chose to spent his life with her. Let her have his remains.'
Annabeth filled four medallions with the ash and poured the rest into the sea. She gave three of the medallions to her children, and requested she'd be cremated with the third one. She wore it for the rest of her life, on her Camp Necklace.
Meanwhile, Percy waited in Elysium for his turn in the Lethe.
iii. The Hero of the People
The third one was significantly different from the first two, but still, at his core, the same.
Firstly, the pause between the second and the third life was a lot longer than the pause between the first and the second life. Apparently, it had been a very busy season in Elysium and Percy couldn't swim in the Lethe before it was, say, fifty years later. Then, it took Hades another three hundred fifty years to find a child that was similar enough to both Harry Potter and Percy Jackson that he could bear their souls.
Secondly, he was way smarter than the first two. While they had had an average intelligence at best, he was undeniably a genius. (Later, he wouldn't know whether he had to be thankful for that or not.)
Thirdly, his looks were different. He didn't have black hair and green eyes, as the other two had, but golden hair and eyes. It didn't really matter, but was still remarkable.
And last, but sure not least, his powers were learnt, not born into his body. Sure, he also had talent for it, but not enough to say it was born into him.
But, deep in his heart, he was still the same. He had a temper, even more so than his ancestors, he was stubborn and, most of all, loyal.
Hades, Artemis and Apollo saw all of this and decided that this child was worthy of those important souls.
And so, the third reincarnation became Edward Elric.
Ω
It was day when Edward Elric was born. The sun had shone and the pregnant Trisha had been sitting in front of the house when contractions had begun. Her husband had rushed her to the Rockbells, who helped bring this child to the world.
Trisha smiled caringly at the wiggling baby in her hands, while her husband stared at him with a mixture of melancholia and love. Mrs. Rockbell smiled proudly at the baby, while Mr. Rockbell couldn't stop grinning. He was almost as lovely as their own baby.
'What do you want to name him?' Trisha asked her husband.
Hohenheim looked at her. 'You want me to name him?'
'Of course,' Trisha smiled. 'I'll name the second one, alright?'
Hohenheim didn't smile back, and instead looked at his son.
'Edward. I want to name him Edward.' A normal name, in hopes of his child living an normal live.
Mr. Rockbell grimaced. 'Such an ordinary name,' he whined. 'If we want our kids to marry later, we'll need to give them equally weird names! Maybe... ow!'
His wife had shushed him with a wretch to the head. Trisha looked at her little baby child.
'Edward,' she said, tasting the name at her tongue. 'I like it.'
Names have power, but they can't defy destiny.
Edward, while his name may be ordinary, would, by no means, have an ordinary live.
Ω
A year later, a second boy was born into the same family. His name was Alphonse, and as promised, Trisha made it up.
The two normal named boys that were doomed to an extraordinary life.
'Look, Ed, this is your new brother. Say hi to Alphonse, sweetheart.'
And Ed looked at the baby and pronounced happily:
'Al! Al!'
Ω
The father hadn't known what he had condemned his boys to the day he walked out of the door.
And even if he had, he wouldn't have stayed.
After all, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
Ω
The boys had been messing around in the study of their missing father, when an book had fallen open at exactly the right place to start a snowball effect.
'Look, Al!'
And before long, they were studying alchemy like nobody's business. Books were laying around them, and crayon was in there hands. Their mother walked in and looked at them in surprise.
'Oh you boys... Are you in here messing up your dad's study again? And Ed, you know better than to scribble on the floor.'
'Yeah, but it's not scribbling. Here, watch.' A transmutation light could be seen as the boys preformed their first transmutation.
'Oh my, that's Alchemy, isn't it? Did your father teach you that?'
'How can he teach us anything if he's not here?'
'Right. We read about it in the books.'
There, it became apparent that the boys were geniuses.
Ω
Ed knew what dead was. He knew that Mrs. and Mr. Rockbell had died in the war, and that meant they were never coming back.
But still, he had never been more scared then when he found their mother fallen to the ground.
Ω
Trisha only grew sicker and sicker and while Alphonse and Edward did everything they could to come into contact with their father, it just wasn't meant to be.
'Your father always used to transmutate them for me.'
And with those words, the brothers were officially orphans.
Ω
'Al, let's bring mom back.'
With those words, Ed had unknowingly cursed them both to years of metal.
Ω
It was hard.
The boys lived on their own and, because he was the oldest, Ed was in charge of Al. It was a burden he had never wanted to carry. Not that Al was a bad boy, not at all, but Ed was still a kid. He wanted to play, not make sure that his brother went to school. He wanted to chase after Winry, not study alchemy in hopes of one day getting their mother back. Pinako may cook for him, which was good because Ed was rubbish, but it still was a burden way too heavy for someone so young.
But really, what choice did he have?
Ω
Teacher was... strange.
She was a master in Alchemy, without a doubt, but that didn't stop her from referring to herself as a 'housewife'. She was strong (her beatings really hurt), but at the same time so fragile. She had a huge temper, but seemed to have a weak spot for children.
She reminded Ed a lot of himself.
Ω
The funniest was probably how simple it was to buy a human body.
Everyone always was like 'oh no, Human Transmutation, that's bad, we need to prevent it', but at the same time you could buy the ingredients at the market for the pocket money of two kids.
And Edward new he shouldn't find that funny, but he did.
Ω
Water, 35 liters.
Carbon, 20 kilograms.
Ammonia, 4 liters.
Caustic lime, 1.5 liters.
Phosphorus, 800 grams.
Salt, 250 grams.
Saltpeter, 100 grams.
Sulfur, 80 grams.
Fluorine, 7.5 grams.
Iron, 5 grams.
Silicon, 3 grams.
And for the soul:
Human Blood, 2 drops.
'Ready, Al?'
'Ready, Brother.'
Ω
'Who are you?'
The boy directed the question to the black and white stranger in front of him. The creature had no eyes or nose, only a mouth, with which it smiled wickedly. The boy was confused. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
'I am called by many names. I am the world, I am the universe, I am God, I am Truth, I am all, I am one, and I am you.'
Ω
As it turned out, his ingredients missed the leg and body the transmutation would need.
It also missed the arm it would cost him to get his brother back.
Ω
It was Mustang who pulled him out of the depression.
Edward would never, ever admit it, but without the Bastard, he wasn't sure he would've been able to snap out of it. Maybe he would've, but it sure as hell would've taken a lot more time. A LOT more time.
If he was being honest, he owed the Bastard more than he could ever pay back.
However, he would deny that to anybody who asked. And maybe smash their heads in. Or send them flying.
Yeah.
Flying would do.
Ω
The exam was way too easy. Well, the practical part, anyway. The theory... not so much. He probably fucked that up. But hey, he managed to get through it anyway, so whatever.
Walking out of the building with his new silver pocket watch in his hand, he didn't know whether to feel ashamed or proud.
Ω
The next few years were tedious. Find a lead, trace the lead, lose the lead. Maybe blow some shit up. Endure the colonel's short jokes. Blow more shit up. Rinse and repeat.
During that time, he got a nickname. The Hero of the People. He was not impressed. He honestly didn't deserve the name; hell, he probably blew more stuff up than he repaired. He simply lived by the alchemist's code: 'Alchemist, be thou for the people'. If helping someone was all it took to be an hero, this world was beyond depressing.
But he was a vain bastard, so he never said anything.
This was how it continued for years.
Then, father Cornello came around.
In retrospect, Edward should thank the guy. After all, he was the catalyzer to getting his brother's body back.
Ω
'Stand up and walk. You got two good legs, don't you?'
Yes, Ed might have used the colonel's strategy on Rose. So what? It had worked for him, after all.
Ω
Homunculus: Artificial created human.
Seven Deadly Sins: The seven evils one must not get consumed by. They are:
Lust.
Gluttony.
Envy.
Greed.
Wrath.
Sloth.
Pride.
Mix them together, and what do you get?
Enemies that are extremely hard to defeat.
Seriously, fuck his life.
Ω
And now the Fuhrer is an homunculus.
If he dares to hurt Winry, he's going to die. He doesn't care if he has to slash him over and over and over, he will die.
Nobody hurts his friends.
(He'll leave the revenge for Hughes to Mustang, though. They were best friends, after all.)
Ω
The pole pierced through him like a stick would pierce through shish kebab.
And it hurt.
Motherfucking God and Jesus, did it HURT!
His breathing came in short, irregular breaths. The eyes trailed the iron sticking right out of his body, with some sort of gruesome curiosity. The blood flew from the stick to the floor, but his brain didn't really process it. It was too busy thinking jesusmotherfuckingchristfuckingassholesonofabitchTHAT HURTS!
Focus, Elric. You're going to die. FOCUS!
That did it. He tried to even his breath out a little and didn't squirm around. He knew that would only cause the blood to flow faster. He couldn't die of blood loss. Not here. Not now.
The two chimeras came out, debating on what to do before deciding to help him. He appreciated it, really, but there wasn't much they could do. He'd have to do it himself.
His brain was cracking under all the pressure he put on it to find a solution. He couldn't concentrate. Doesn't matter. He needed to concentrate. Fuck his brain!
A philosophers stone.
Edward froze.
Use yourself as a philosophers stone.
He didn't know where that voice came from, but it sure as hell came in handy.
'I need you to pull this pole out of me.'
They did, and he closed the wound with alchemy. Using himself as a philosophers stone.
'It'll probably take a few years of my lifespan.'
It didn't. It took a soul out of his body.
And so, Harry Potter, the original soul, went on his merry way to the Islands of Bless.
After all, saving a child's life definitely counts as a hero's death.
Ω
Punch.
It was almost an anticlimax. All that work, and it only took one punch to finish of the mastermind, the swallower of God, the Dwarf in the Flask, the First Homunculus, whatever you wanted to call him. Only one punch.
Edward wanted to laugh.
Sure, it had taken them ages to get to this state, but now it was over in such a short time. No epic strategies, no epic battles, just plain ol' wearing the villain out so that you can get in the kill. It was pathetic.
Though, granted, they did take numerous casualties. Not counting Mustang's eyesight.
Or his brother's sacrifice.
Because it wasn't really a sacrifice if the human was brought back, now, was it?
Ω
He knew exactly what he was going to give for his brother's life.
'This.'
He pointed to the Gate of Truth behind him. The large mouth of 'God' fell open. Ed grinned widely and explained his reasoning.
The creature started to laugh.
'Well done, alchemist! You've beaten me!'
And so, Edward Elric's last transmutation was also the first fully successful human transmutation.
Ω
They had a long road to go.
After Alphonse had been brought back from the dead, he barely managed to stand. He was skinny, dangerously so, and lay messily over the full length of his back. All with all, he looked like someone who had been terminally ill for some time. Dead except for dying. Which he was, in a way.
Though, the brilliant ecstasy on his face made up for that.
Ω
Physical therapy was boring. Really, really boring. Especially if it was someone else undergoing it.
He waited for his brother outside of the physiotherapist's room, fiddling with his – flesh – fingers, clicking annoyed with his tongue, and basically showing all signs of ADHD. Finally, the door cracked open.
'Brother?'
Edward jumped up with a grin on his face, successfully matching his brother's.
'And?'
The grin became wider.
'He said I was free to go, as long as I keep performing my exercises and use the crutches.'
'YES!'
Ω
It was Al's idea.
For two years, he had been just fine in Resembool. Al was healing, and after he was healed, they spent their days relaxing, just trying to rest from the years they had been on the run.
However, soon, they grew restless.
This life just wasn't for them, at least, not yet. There was still so much more to see, to discover, and they wanted to experience it all. Travelling was in their blood, and they didn't like wasting their time in one place.
So when Al proposed the idea to research alchemy, he jumped on the idea.
It was a bit hard to swallow that they'd have to split up, but it wasn't like they hadn't done it before
Before leaving, he confessed his love to Winry (in a very alchemy-y way).
The Gods above were all sighting: 'Finally.'
Ω
During his journey, he saw many things.
He saw flying machines.
He saw a totally purple bird
He saw complex forms of alchemy that he could barely understand.
He saw a place full of kids that were fighting each other with swords.
He saw a girl use fire without a transmutation circle, or clapping.
He saw the sea (and felt a strange pull in his chest, towards it, as if it was trying to tell him something).
And last, but sure not least, he saw a group of girls. Which, in itself, wasn't all that weird. The weird thing was that they had encircled him by the time they woke up, and all had pointed bows at him.
It was scary as fuck.
One of the girls came forward and looked him right into the eye.
'Who are you, and what are you doing here? Don't you know that this is our territory?'
Edward scoffed.
'You're threatening to kill me. I ain't gonna tell you anything.'
He looked her over. His mouth began moving on its own.
'Also, you haven't changed in four hundred years, Pinecone Face.'
The girl froze. Then held up her hand, to which the others lowered their bows. She stared at him with a look that reminded him too much of Olivier Armstrong.
'So, it's you.'
Edward had no idea what she – or he, himself, in fact – was talking about, but before he could ask, the Hunters had taken off.
Ω
It was exactly like they said: coming home was the best part of traveling.
Ω
Becoming a father was the best feeling in the entire world.
He held his first child in his arms and promised himself he would be the father he never had.
Ω
By the time Ariana was seven and Micheal four, Edward received an invitation. It read:
Dear Edward Elric,
You have just officially received the invitation to the presidential party, which it thrown in honor of our soon-to-be Fuhrer, Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist.
Dress code: formal, tie required.
We hope to see you soon.
Sincerely,
Riza Hawkeye, personal secretary of the future Fuhrer.
Underneath, there also was a p.s. scribbled, that appeared to be handwritten:
P.S: You owe me 520 cenz, Fullmetal.
He couldn't help the grin spreading over his face.
Ω
In the end, he had three children, and died in his sleep.
It was almost an anticlimax. Later, people would say that the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, died sleeping because he had used enough energy while awake. Those who knew him, however, said laughingly that it was fitting. After all, he did spent the majority of the day sleeping.
The funeral was small, personal, and informal. People were shocked when the Fuhrer personally attended, along with his secretary. The team also came. Winry was there, of course, along with May and Al. His children were there, too. Ling had tried to come, but found that simply couldn't leave his empire alone. He did send his condolences. Even Scar came, not even trying to explain himself.
After a few eulogies, a lot of short jokes (even though he wasn't short anymore, it was still funny) and some tears, the sixty-two year old body of Edward Elric was sunken into the ground.
And, somewhere far beneath them, Edward Elric, Perseus Jackson and Harry Potter were bragging about their adventures together.