Chapter Text
Rachel grinned as Dumbledore finished his speech, showing off constellations of freckles across her cheekbones as applause rang out around the pair in the Great Hall, echoing the look on her face a thousand times over.
Percy was having the worst day of his life.
-
All right, let’s backtrack.
Perseus Jackson, eleven years old and quite admittedly terrified, was seated in the most corner-like compartment of the Hogwarts Express that he could find; his bag plopped beside him and his knees drawn loosely to his chest. This was before anything went entirely wrong.
Of course, things had gone wrong during shopping a week or so before, but Percy had been willing to forget about that in hopes that his school experience would be better. …Really, though, who would forget the look of confusion upon Ollivander’s (the great wand-maker himself) face as he found Percy’s wand: cheery, sandy-gold colored wood, long—almost uncomfortably so—and, most disgustingly, carved with a very clear snake winding its way around the handle.
Ollivander’s expression told the situation perfectly: Percy Jackson, son of one of the eldest Gryffindor families, receiving such a… not Gryffindor wand.
He had felt his mother’s hand tighten on his shoulder, but she had smiled brightly, told him she was so glad (so proud, so excited), as she was that type of most perfect person, and they’d gone to Madam Malkin’s.
Now, on the train, alone with the loud, rhythmic clicking and chugging of the Express and his thoughts, Percy mulled over, for the hundredth time, what Ollivander had said about Percy’s wand.
“Cypress wood, fourteen inches long, Squppi scale core, and—ah, quite brittle.”
Percy couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach, looking at the wand when it had chosen him. Granted, now the feeling had lessoned some, but the memory still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The snake guarding the handle of the wand, who’s small, delicately carved head rested above the tip of Percy’s thumb when the wand was gripped, looked docile, almost sleeping. It had no fangs, only large, curious wooden eyes. Percy stared into the dark eyes of the detested snake for a second before making a quiet disgusted sound in the back of his throat and pushing his wand deeper into his pocket.
He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.
-
Percy woke to the doors of his compartment sliding open and a girl’s voice saying, “Can I stay here?”
His brain kicked into action with an embarrassing, strangled sound leaping from his mouth as he sat up and frantically tried to make it look as if no, he had not just fallen forward on his face, asleep, on a train.
Percy’s eyes focused to find the girl staring at him. She stood in the doorway, wearing completely normal muggle clothing that made Percy miss home just looking at them. (Really, how was he supposed to survive until Christmas holiday?)
She had a black messenger bag over her shoulder, and a grey sweatshirt that said (the best that Percy could make out on the wrinkled fabric while she moved energetically) The Hampshire School, Chelsea. She was wearing jeans, which made Percy remember his own stiff black dress pants in distaste.
Curly, blonde, princess-like hair dropped over her shoulders, and her skin was tan enough to make her look like an American.
As Percy gaped, not sure what to say, the girl’s intense grey eyes assessed him.
“Hi?” she said, after Percy went another thirty seconds without saying anything.
When Percy managed to clear his throat and say, “Uh, yeah, hi,” the girl shrugged.
“Look,” she said, “I can leave if you don’t want anyone to sit with you. S’just I used to be up near the front until some stupid twats moved into my compartment. And I’m feeling remorseful today, so I left.”
Percy said, “Oh.” He then thought of a million other, more clever things he could’ve said.
The girl took that as an invitation and put her bag next to her on the seat across from Percy as she sat down.
“Anyway,” she said, professional once again, and extending a hand, “I’m Annabeth Chase.”
Percy shook her hand. “Percy.” Then he added, “Jackson.”
Annabeth Chase nodded, there were a few seconds of silence as she dropped Percy’s hand, and then she said, “You know, you drool when you sleep.”
Percy wiped his mouth, and by this point could imagine that he had flushed. He didn’t quite know how to respond to what Annabeth had just said, so he settled for, “Yeah. I knew that. Sorry.”
Annabeth then said, “Are you Welsh?”
Percy was now completely sure that he’d gone red. He managed another, “Yeah,” quickly tacking on, “Problem?”
Annabeth shook her head vigorously. “No! I just…” she trailed off, pausing. “Your voice.”
“You’re leaking London,” Percy commented.
Annabeth grinned slightly. “Even I can hear it, yeah.” She shifted slightly in her seat after a few seconds of silence, before adding, “I just wanted to make sure… because there aren’t that many Welsh wizards, you know.”
Percy shrugged. “I live with mostly muggles. So, no, I don’t know.”
Annabeth wrinkled her nose. “Where do you live? London’s crawling with muggles, but there’s still plenty of wizards.”
Now, when you live in a town barely tipping fifteen hundred people, it’s never wise to give out the name of said town. But Annabeth didn’t look anything close to the malicious type (besides her rather terrifying eyes).
“Llaneilian,” Percy said.
Annabeth looked confused. Percy added, “In Ynys Môn.”
Annabeth continued to look like Percy was just sneezing random Welsh words into her face. He sighed and tried to clarify, “Anglesey.”
Annabeth nodded slowly, as if she were trying to trick Percy into thinking she understood. Percy responded with an unsurprised, “Whatever.”
“Sorry,” Annabeth said. Then she smiled. “But I don’t think this is the first time someone’s said they’ve never heard of it.”
Percy laughed. “Not nearly.”
The train turned between some tree-shaded hills in Scottish farmland, drawing shadows down through the windows. Percy couldn’t quite catch what animal was grazing before the entire window turned towards the edge of a forest on the other side.
“Well,” Annabeth said, settling back into her seat and finally letting go of the rope to her messenger bag. Any awkwardness had been broken. “Trolley’s coming soon. Wake me up, yeah?”
Percy was sure he nodded, but before long his forehead was back up against the window, and everything went away.
-
“Percy.”
Percy only half-registered the hand shaking his shoulder.
More insistently, “Percy! Percy Jackson! Percy, we’re here.”
Percy was now awake. When he finally remembered where he was, he saw Annabeth in front of him, now wearing her robes and shouldering her bag again.
Percy dragged his hand across his cheek groggily before noticing that the carriage was seemingly empty, and he shot up. Annabeth gripped the end of Percy’s sleeve before starting to tug him towards the exit.
“They said we had two minutes,” Annabeth explained. Percy was tripping over his too-long robes behind her and cursing so godlessly he was actually a little glad the train was empty.
They stumbled out of the carriage. The air was chilled, and only grew worse when Percy and Annabeth joined the back of a throng of students, maybe fifty or sixty children around Percy’s same age.
The express made various train-ish noises, finally letting out its hooting whistles and pulling away from the station.
The sky it left behind was a gradient of navy to scarlet; instead of marring it, the smoke added to it, something that shouldn’t have been beautiful but was. Percy was busy taking in the view when someone pushed him forward.
A deep, gruff voice from behind him said, “Ah! Sorry, I always forget yeh young ones fly all ‘bout.” Percy was picked gently back up by the hood of his robes and set right. He turned around to face his accidental offender, who turned out to be an enormous man with a fluffy dark beard mixed with furs and bits and pieces of leather. He was more than twice Percy’s height, and although Percy had always known that such giant people existed, he had been raised by one witch in a community of muggles and thus had never seen one in the flesh. He was now quite startled.
“Yeh’re Perseus Jackson?” The huge man asked, either ignoring or not noticing Percy’s obvious surprise.
“Y-yeah,” Percy said. “And…” he pointed over to Annabeth, who was weaving her way to the front of the group of kids expertly. He almost lost her except for her honey-blonde hair. “And that’s Annabeth Chase.”
The man smiled brightly, cheeks bright with cheer or cold, Percy couldn’t tell. “Well, you two were the last of ‘em.” He picked up a gigantic lantern from beside his even more gigantic boots. “Means we can start goin’ in.”
The man shouted (or, not shouted, as his normal speech was loud enough), “First years, ter the lake!”
The crowd started to move, the man moving to the front, and Percy still stuck at the back. Within a few seconds, Annabeth had dropped back beside him again.
“Don’t know anyone else, do you?” she asked.
Percy shook his head. “No. Never even seen anyone before. Guess you were right.”
Annabeth smiled, but Percy could barely see her in the dying light. “I don’t want to say I always am, but…” she was cut off by their combined laughter.
She shrugged, still talking as they walked. “I know a few people, but none very well.”
“Who?”
Annabeth gestured vaguely in front of them. “Up there. Blond hair. Name’s Jason, I think. His mum is friends with my father, but I don’t think he has one.”
Percy simply responded with, “Oh,” because none of that meant anything useful to him, besides the boy’s name.
They stopped talking, of the lack of Welsh wizards or otherwise, when the cobblestone under their feet turned to crunchy, rocky sand, and Percy felt water seeping into the hems of his robes that dragged below his feet, weighing them down.
The creaking of old, waterlogged wood drew Percy’s attention to the boats floating across the lake in front of him, their forms barely illuminated by the cast-off lighting from the massive castle that Percy knew to be Hogwarts.
Annabeth took hold of the edge of Percy’s sleeve again. “You’re going with me,” she said, and Percy didn’t bother to say otherwise. Annabeth brought them both through the crowd again with that weaving talent of hers, until they were the first children standing on the shore of the lake.
The large man with the lantern from earlier told them that the boats would take them to the entrance to Hogwarts and instructed them in how to climb into the boats safely. A few moments later, Percy, Annabeth, and a few kids Percy didn’t quite catch the names of were in a small self-rowed boat, headed across the enormous lake in front of Hogwarts castle.
It was on this boat that Percy realized that he had forgotten all his belongings on the Hogwarts Express, which was now a good twenty minutes away from Hogsmeade station. Not really knowing anything useful to do, he turned to Annabeth, who seemed to be a very clever, responsible type of person.
Very panicked, Percy said, “I’ve left all my things on the train.”
Annabeth barely glanced up at him from where she had been looking: the shimmery water below the boats that only grew more reflective as they neared the castle. “No, you haven’t,” she dismissed. Tacking on an explanation, she said, “I put them all in my bag.”
Percy turned his attention to the limp, unassuming, and rather unimpressive black messenger bag that Annabeth had had within reaching distance ever since Percy first saw her. He pointed to it, saying, “That one?”
Annabeth snatched up her bag, sending Percy a hurt glance. “Yes, this one.” She hugged the bag to her chest, explaining, “It’s magic, gift from my mum. S’got unlimited space.”
“Don’t you lose things in it, then?”
Annabeth shook her head. “If I want something I’ve put in there, I’ve just got to think about it, and it’ll be the first thing I pull out.”
“Lush.”
Annabeth looked at him again, strangely, almost smiling with amusement the way people do when they see a particularly adorable crippled bat at the zoo, and shook her head, turning back to the water.
-
Percy hadn’t even entered the majority of Hogwarts, and he was already intimidated. He was standing in what he guessed could be called the entrance hall, although it stretched out magnificently to either end and up to an invisible ceiling, eyes flitting between the portraits on the wall that were talking to each other in pleasant conversation. (This came as no surprise to him, as he lived in a household where it was commonplace for him to talk to the portrait of his great-great-grandmother over their mantle, and still quite commonplace for her to respond.)
He was even more intimidated when a tall, dark-haired woman entered from the right corridor.
“Hagrid, all first years are present, yes?” she asked upon entering. Her long, emerald-green robes stopped billowing as she came to a halt, but she was still quietly impressive without them. Percy suddenly had the thought that she would be a very, very bad person to make angry. (It was akin to the feeling he got from Annabeth, but to a stronger degree.)
“A’course, Professor McGonagall,” the large man—Percy now knew his name was Hagrid—answered. “Wouldn’ want ‘em ter get lost.”
Professor McGonagall smiled tightly as she straightened her spectacles—not like she was angry with Hagrid, per se, more like she was just quite stressed. Percy understood the feeling.
“No, we wouldn’t,” she said. Then she turned to the group of first years. “I’ll take you all from here, follow me.”
Professor McGonagall led them to a corridor going past what Percy guessed was the dining hall, as voices leaked out, although Percy couldn’t quite catch and individual conversation. She took them to a room off the corridor, where they all crowded together. Percy could feel the electric crackle of nerves in the air.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice completely business-like. She continued, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting ceremony is very important because while you are here at Hogwarts, your house will something like a family to you. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your designated dormitory and have free time in your house’s common room.”
Percy’s mother had already told him about the houses at Hogwarts—how could she not? There was at least one piece of Gryffindor paraphernalia in every room of his home, including his own bedroom. His nerves decreased quite a lot when he remembered that every diviner in his family that had ever done a reading for him (either a silly one late at night on Christmas eve or otherwise) had told him Gryffindor, yes, certainly, without a single doubt.
“The four houses,” Professor McGonagall went on, “are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. All four have noble history”—but, Percy thought, Gryffindor is clearly the best—“and have produced outstanding witches and wizards.”
She looked over the group, as if trying to find which one of them would be outstanding. Percy suddenly felt very small.
Professor McGonagall stopped peering and started talking again, “Your successes will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will detract them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will act as a positive addition to whatever house becomes yours.”
“In a few short minutes,” McGonagall said, sweeping her eyes over the room again, “I will return for you to start the ceremony.” Her eyes stopped on Percy’s disheveled hair and the small puddle of muddy lake water that was starting to form, dripping off the edges of his robes, around his scuffed shoes. She sniffed. “I suggest you all try to tidy yourselves up before then. Please do so quietly and then wait without making too much disturbance.”
She left the room, and nervous tittering immediately broke out among the new students.
Percy caught snippets of conversation as Annabeth tried to straighten his hair (to Percy’s request), including:
“I heard it’s a huge test, and if you get any of the questions wrong, you get expelled.”
Percy’s heart seized at the thought. He was never one to read, nor one to study, and no one had bothered to tell him about any sort of test.
“No, my brother told me that if you can’t perform any spells, you can’t have a house.”
Percy had never cast a real spell. He’d done a few tricks before, on accident, but most of them including stupid, useless things like making lights flicker, or controlling glasses of water with his eye movements.
“They’re all wrong,” Annabeth murmured. Her robe sleeves formed a dark sort of curtain around the pair as she tried in vain to fix Percy’s hair, framing her own fair hair and determined face. The removal of all physical distractions calmed him, and he focused on Annabeth’s soft voice as she continued, “The Sorting Hat looks into your mind, and it finds which house would be best for you. It’s all very easy. At least, that’s what Hogwarts: A History says. And my dad agrees.”
Percy managed, “What house do you think you’ll be in?”
Annabeth shrugged. She glared resentfully at Percy’s nonexistent part before answering. “I don’t know. My mum’s a Ravenclaw, but it’s not really genetic—although a lot of people say it is. And my father, he’s a Hufflepuff, but he’s right clever.”
Annabeth sighed, finally giving up on Percy’s hopeless hair. She muttered, “Whatever,” before continuing, louder, “So, what about you?”
“Gryffindor,” Percy answered, without missing a beat.
Annabeth raised one sarcastic eyebrow. “Rather sure of yourself.”
Percy gave his first eye-roll to Annabeth, meaning he was officially feeling less nervous. “Yeah, I am.”
Annabeth nodded, breaking out into a grin. “Definitely Gryffindor.”
The conversation was broken—as was every other one in the room—when the door opened silently but suddenly.
“Form a line, form a line,” Professor McGonagall said, entering the cramped room again. “The Sorting ceremony’s about to start.”
Percy almost didn’t feel nervous at all, which was very odd for him. He guessed his calmness was a combination of Annabeth—who just seemed to unexplainably click with him—being near, and the fact of Gryffindor, yes, certainly, without a single doubt. It replayed in his head like a chant as McGonagall led him with all the other first years out of the room, down the corridor, across the entrance hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
The first thing that Percy noticed was the gold. There were five long wooden tables in the great hall, four put together vertically (if the bottom of the picture was Percy’s point of view), with a horizontal one stretched across the top. He guessed the top one was the staff table, as it was filled with adults, whereas the other tables were close to brimming with kids and teenagers. There were a smattering of empty places at four of the five tables, but every single person was set with glittering gold plates and goblets.
Maybe it was just the purely magical atmosphere of the place, but the bright gold seemed to put dancing, smarting spots in the edges of Percy’s vision.
Thousands of candles filled the air above the tables, a good many meters up, but not high enough to touch the ceiling.
In fact, Percy wasn’t sure there was a ceiling. If he looked up, past the floating candles, there was nothing but the night sky. Maybe it was painted, maybe it was glass, maybe it was enchanted. He’d have to ask Annabeth later, although he wasn’t certain that even she would know.
Professor McGonagall led Percy and the other new students to the front of the hall, so the staff table was behind them and they faced the students.
This prolonged, silent, awkward staring was something Percy detested, so he simply decided to close his eyes. He prayed it would be over soon enough, and he could just sit down at the Gryffindor table. Or, better yet, go to sleep.
He opened his eyes when the setting of something upon the stone interrupted the silence of the hall. It was a plain, four-legged wooden stool that McGonagall was in the middle of placing a ghastly looking witch’s hat upon. It was ripped in some places and sewed over in such a way that it looked like unhealed stitches, covered in patches, frayed, and looked to be one-fifth fabric and four-fifths grime.
At least it would cover his hair.
There was silence in the hall.
Then the hat began to sing.
One of the rips near the bottom opened like a mouth, and words came out of it, set to a jaunty tune:
“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,
but don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself
if you can find
a smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
your top hats sleek and tall,
for I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
and I can cap them all.
So try me on and I will tell you
where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
where dwell the brave at heart.
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
where they are just and loyal.
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you’ve a ready mind,
where those of wit and learning,
will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
you’ll make your real friends.
Those cunning folk use any means
to achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands,
though I have none,
for I’m a thinking cap!”
Applause immediately filled the Great Hall when the hat had finished. It bowed its pointy tip in thanks, it’s torn mouth grinning madly. Then, as it had been before, it went completely still.
Annabeth tapped Percy’s hand through his sleeve. “You ready?” she whispered.
Percy nodded; he would’ve even if he hadn’t felt ready. “You?”
Annabeth shrugged. “All four seem good. But you’ll be in Gryffindor. I’m not quite sure if I’ll be cross with any of them.”
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and the pair fell silent. She stepped forward holding a roll of parchment.
“When your name is called,” she said, “you are to sit on the stool and put on the hat to be sorted. Able, Thomas!”
The sorting hat shouted “HUFFLEPUFF!” for Thomas Able, and after the first student was sorted and was accepted by his table with cheers and clapping, the nervousness level of the room seemed to drop significantly.
The list rolled on for a while, until, “Chase, Annabeth!”
Annabeth squeezed Percy’s hand through his sleeve for less than a second before going to take her place on the stool.
There was silence.
One second, five seconds, ten seconds. Percy saw Annabeth squirm in her seat. More silence. However, no murmuring broke out. It was like the entire hall was holding its breath.
Finally, since he and the other first years were so close, Percy caught the hat mutter, ‘I’ll go with’ followed immediately by a booming shout of “RAVENCLAW!”
Annabeth lifted the hat off of her head, and when Percy saw her face, she was grinning brightly. She went to go take her seat among the other Ravenclaw students, and when she sat down, she flashed Percy a quick double thumbs up.
More names blurred by, a few Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs, even a couple of Slytherins. The Gryffindor table on the far left was starting to look bored.
Then, “Grace, Jason!”
The blond boy that Annabeth had pointed out to Percy earlier stepped forward without a second to lose, his expression slightly nervous, if not unreadable. He sat on the stool, hardly wavering like the other students had been. In fact, he was completely still.
The sorting hat had hardly touched the highest reaching bit of Jason’s pale hair when it gave a great cackle and bellowed, “GRYFFINDOR!”
The previously listless Gryffindor table erupted with whoops and cheers, and Jason Grace quickly went to join them.
Percy felt a twinge of jealousy—he had wanted to be the first new Gryffindor—but he couldn’t possibly, since ‘J’ was practically in the middle of the alphabet.
No more than two minutes later, Professor McGonagall called, “Jackson, Perseus!”
Percy went to take his seat on the stool, and when the hat was on his head, it slipped over his eyes.
The now tiny voice of the hat began to speak in his ear, and Percy was sure he was the only one who could hear it.
“Ah,” said the hat, “I didn’t want to assume which Jackson family, but it seems you’ve got strong Gryffindor blood, of the very same.”
Percy couldn’t stop himself from grinning.
“But,” the hat added, “do you have a Gryffindor heart?”
Percy tensed on the stool. He was aware by now that he was taking a very long time.
The hat continued in Percy’s hear, “Let’s see, let’s see… quite brave, yes, very nice. Loyal, kind, and not dull, either. But where do you best belong?” The hat tutted before continuing quietly, “Oh, here we go. I spy, with my little mental eye, cunning, a need for true friendship, loyalty to a fault. Ambition. Oh, Jackson, you’ve got a hunger. I think we both know what that means.”
They both most definitely did know what that meant, and Percy’s blood seemed to freeze.
Please, he thought in his head, but he didn’t know what to say. Obviously the hat had its mind made up.
“Please what? Don’t tell me you don’t want this. You’d be one of the greatest of your year! You don’t want me to put you where you don’t belong, do you?”
Percy almost answered, yes, yes I do, but that would be admitting that he didn’t belong in Gryffindor.
“So you admit it,” the hat whispered. Percy flinched. He had forgotten that the hat could hear his thoughts. “You’re not exactly the Gryffindor type of Jackson, are you?”
That was by far the worst thing the hat could’ve said. Percy felt his eyes prick.
“Oh, but you’re strong, boy. You have nothing to fear now. There will be things, later, where you will have many more reasons to cry. You are strong, but Slytherin will make you even stronger. You’ll thank me then.”
There was nothing Percy could do to stop it, his tears or the hat. The hat said, “I’ll give you a moment,” and it almost sounded like it was chuckling. When Percy had finally stopped crying, and he was sure that when the hat lifted he would look as fine as ever, the hat said, “there we go. So, it’s decided.” There was a pause, followed by the hat shouting, “SLYTHERIN!”
There was silence in the hall for a few seconds, as Percy had just taken three minutes to get sorted, the longest out of the previously sorted first years by far. Then, he heard a few claps ring out, gradually joined by more, mostly coming from his right side. The hat was lifted from his head; he blinked even in the dim light of the Great Hall, and made his way, his mouth tasting of phlegm and disgust, to the Slytherin table.
Head down, he put two clenched fists in his lap, and tried not to look at any members of his new “family”.
-
The Sorting ceremony went by in a blur after that, as Percy wasn’t really paying attention: his head down, occasionally muttering curses (the non magical kind) at himself or at the hat, with a few people asking now and then if he was alright, but giving up when he didn’t answer after their few attempts.
At last, when the ceremony had finished, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster (because Percy had most definitely heard of him) got to his feet and spread his arms, looking out over the students and beaming.
“Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! And to a few of you, welcome to your first! Let’s begin our banquet!”
Food appeared, filling the serving plates and pitchers in front of the students, and although Percy was starving, the last thing he needed right now was that his comfort food was nowhere to be seen. (Rather unsurprisingly, he would admit), none of the food on the table was blue.
Percy didn’t put anything on his plate, only filled his goblet with pumpkin juice and nursed it throughout the entire meal. Even that tasted like liquid lead. Again, a few people asked if he wasn’t feeling well, but this time he answered by waving them off. Thankfully, the people that asked either didn’t care, or didn’t see through his flimsy, “I’m fine.”
Eventually, the girl that used to be sitting next to him—a third year that was looking rather uncomfortable by the personification of storm clouds brooding right next to her—moved a few seats down and was replaced by a red-haired girl that Percy recognized from his boat.
“You were right chipper earlier,” she commented. Her voice was softly Irish. “I remember from the boats. You wouldn’t shut up.”
Percy scowled at her. She just regarded him coolly, and didn’t back off, which is what Percy normally achieved with his glare. Instead, she said, “What’s got your wand in a knot?”
“Piss off,” Percy said, trying to turn away from her. She grabbed his shoulder.
“No,” she said, “really. Is it because you don’t like Slytherin? Because if you need convincing, I can make sure you know it’s not that bad.”
Percy lowered his voice, because even then, he didn’t want to offend anyone. “Yes,” he hissed, “it is that bad, because my family’s probably going to disown me. Now could you please—piss—off.”
The girl rolled her eyes. “They’re not going to disown you just for being in Slytherin—well, unless they’re stupid—and I’m not going to leave you alone. You need friends—I saw you with that Ravenclaw girl, but she’s not going to cut it. You need Slytherin friends.”
Percy snapped, “You can be friends with people outside your house.”
The girl snorted. “ ‘Course you can. But it’s good to have a friend inside your house.”
Percy glared at her. “I suppose you’re offering to be that friend?”
She grinned. “Yeah.” She reached for Percy’s hand, and Percy flinched away before realizing she just wanted to shake. “My name’s Rachel Elizabeth.”
“Percy,” Percy said.
Rachel cocked her head. “Thought it was Perseus.” Percy rolled his eyes, and Rachel continued, “But Percy does suit you better. All right, Percy. Stop being a pissbaby. I’ll tell you why being in Slytherin is great later. I don’t think I’ll get through to you quite yet.”
Percy shook his head, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was feeling better about Rachel. “I don’t think so.”
Rachel patted Percy’s shoulder so hard it was almost painful. “Well,” she said, “enjoy your…” her eyes strayed down to Percy’s empty plate. “…Food.”
Rachel went back to eating, and Percy went back to staring at his lap. He made have made a friend, but he still was in Slytherin. He still felt absolutely awful.
-
Percy hadn’t been paying attention to which courses everyone else had been eating, so he jumped when the food all disappeared, the hall fell silent, and Dumbledore started speaking again.
“Ahem,” Dumbledore said, “just a few more words. Everyone should note, first years especially, that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. I have also been asked by our caretaker, mister Filch, to remind you all that no magic should be taking place in the corridors between classes. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house’s team should approach Madam Hooch.” Dumbledore smiled. “And now, before bed, the school song!”
Dumbledore cast a delicate golden ribbon out of the end of his knobbly wand, creating words floating in the air. They took Percy a few seconds to decipher, and by the time he got the first sentence, the multitude had already started singing. Everyone was at different tunes and speeds, complete disgusting cacophony, but Dumbledore still wiped at his eyes when the last few people had finished.
“Music,” he simply commented. “Now, off to bed, all of you!”
He waved his wand in farewell as the students stood up.
A tall boy, maybe fifteen, with a green badge showing off a large letter “P” said, “First years, over here!” and made conspicuous waving motions. Percy moved towards him.
“I’m Evan,” the boy said, clearly, painfully Welsh. Percy winced: not only was he giving a bad name to the Jacksons, he made it look like all the Welsh students were Slytherin, too. (He was very eager to see how Rachel would manage to prove to him that Slytherin wasn’t so bad. He wanted something to laugh at.)
Percy had missed the rest of what Evan had said, but he started following the other Slytherin first years anyway, blocking out Evan’s familiarly accented droning on the way up.
Percy wondered if he could ask for a house change.
Percy wondered how terrible he’d feel if he was rejected.
Percy wondered what his mother would say.
Percy wondered how Jason Grace felt right then.
The jealousy was much more than a twinge.
Percy remembered hearing from Evan at least the Slytherin password: ivy and bramble, and that he was never to give it to anyone. Ever.
Percy was most certainly going to give the password to Annabeth.
Percy went to the first year boy’s dorm, and realizing he had no things, simply claimed a bunk and sat down on it. There were a few other boys taking bunks around him, talking and joking, and preparing for sleep, and Percy figured he would ask Annabeth for his belongings back the next day.
For now, he had to sleep. Unless he couldn’t sleep, then he got to brood.
Percy sighed, drawing his dark, blackish green curtains around his bed. He needed the privacy and the darkness. He glared at the back of his eyelids.
He remembered thinking on the train that it couldn’t get any worse than his wand.