Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy had been through enough Capture the Flag games to know that this one might have easily been the worst.

Getting attacked by Clarisse, jumped by a hellhound, and then claimed, all in the time frame of less than five minutes? A memorable moment, sure, but he wasn’t complaining. The time he and Thalia tried to kill each other? Okay, that was a little scary, but they’d made up since then. Saving Beckendorf from the Myrmekes? Difficult, but by this point, he’d faced way worse.

But being kidnapped by a glowing net mid-game? Absolutely not.

It was August 17th, nearly two weeks after the end of the Giant War, and Percy was finally having some hopes that things would go back to normal (or about as normal as the life of a demigod could be). He and Annabeth were going to go to New York to finish their senior years, and after that, head to college in New Rome together. It was a small victory, but after everything they’d been through, Percy couldn’t help but feel like things were taking a step in the right direction.

Naturally, that was when everything went wrong.

Not long after the Romans packed up and headed back to Camp Jupiter, the Hunters of Artemis arrived. Their visit was unexpected, but as a ruffled Thalia had explained, Artemis had been called to Olympus for an urgent matter, and the Hunters decided to come to Camp Half-Blood in her absence. "We wanted to make sure everything was okay," Thalia added as everyone gathered in the rec room for an impromptu meeting. "We didn't hear from you guys after San Juan, and, well..."

She didn't have to finish her sentence. Everyone had a pretty good idea that what she'd meant to say was, We figured that Dirt Lady killed you guys and destroyed the camp, sorry!

After a quick catch-up over the fates of Gaea and the Giants, the Hunters integrated into the daily life of Camp Half-Blood as if they'd always been there. They helped where they could, held archery contests with the Apollo kids, and contributed to the general chaos that Camp Half-Blood was built on. One night, Percy noticed that Thalia had abandoned her spot with the Hunters in favour of sitting at the Zeus table with Jason. Catching up on years of brother-sister bonding, no doubt.

Then came the dreaded game of Capture the Flag. Hunters against campers, as per tradition. Even though Camp Half-Blood had a losing streak of 57 games, energy was running high as they dispersed into the woods, as per Annabeth’s orders.

Percy, who had been in charge of guarding their flag, was about to go to his position when he felt a hand snag at his elbow. He turned and found Annabeth stopping him, a spark in her stormy eyes, accentuated by the sharp lines of her plumed helmet.

Her sharp eyes flickered over his face, and Percy’s heart might’ve stopped beating. Then she smiled, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards, and Percy’s heart definitely stopped beating. Her grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly as she spoke, her voice teasing, “Don’t make us lose, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy could’ve died happy, right there and then. Instead, he forced himself to stop staring at her and actually respond, unable to stop the crooked grin from forming on his face. “Anything for you, Wise Girl.”

And since it probably would have been inappropriate to drop everything and just start kissing right there and then, the two separated, heading to their respective posts. Still, Percy couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face as he made his way to the flag.

The conch shell sounded, echoing through the vast forest and into the night sky. Percy staggered through the woods until he came upon the small clearing where the flag stood, tall and proud, glittering with the symbol of Athena. And next to it stood the last person Percy would’ve expected.

Nico’s Stygian iron sword seemed to drain the clearing of whatever little light filtered through the leaves. His eyes were nothing but dark-circled spheres of night under his slightly too-big helmet, locking in on Percy as soon as he stepped into the clearing.

Percy froze. He hadn’t spoken to Nico, since, well… since he’d confessed that he used to have a crush on him. Not that Percy cared- why would he? He just figured it was a little difficult to act normal while Nico was still staring at him as if he was debating on whether or not to skewer him.

“So,” Percy said finally, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over them, “Annabeth put you on guard duty, too?”

Nico paused, then slowly relaxed. “Uh, yeah.”

Percy nodded, noting that although things still were incredibly awkward, there was a significantly less amount of tension lingering in the air. He took his stance opposite to Nico, standing on one side of the flag while Nico stood at the other, and uncapped Riptide. The gleaming bronze instantly lit up the space that Nico’s sword had previously been sucking the life out of.

The two of them fell into silence, surveying the forest around them as they waited for an attack. Once or twice, there was a loud cry and the two tensed, but the sound quickly faded away and there was not a single rustle in the bushes surrounding them. Percy wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he soon found himself feeling restless.

Fiddling with the straps of his armour, he glanced towards Nico, whose posture was just as tense as it had been.. Five, ten minutes ago? Percy wasn’t sure. Either way, something about the way Nico held himself worried Percy.

“You alright?” There was an odd quality to his voice as it pierced the heavy blanket of silence surrounding them. Nico flinched, as if he’d forgotten Percy was there, turning to stare at him with a furrow in his brow. He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then hesitated.

“Something’s wrong,” Nico warned, his eyes flitting around the clearing almost nervously. “I don’t know what exactly, but-”

The words had barely left his mouth before something fell from the trees, wrapping itself around Percy and knocking him to the floor. He’d just barely processed that he’d been taken down by a net, of all things, before something else fell from the tree cover and landed before them.

Standing to her full height from a crouch with her spear in hand was Thalia Grace, her knees stained with dirt and a triumphant look on her face, as if she’d already won. 

Percy opened his mouth, probably to say something petty and/or sarcastic, but he was cut off when Nico stepped forward, practically melting out of the shadows, drawing all of Thalia’s attention to him instead. 

Thalia simply raised her brows, seemingly unimpressed. “Really, Death Breath? You know there’s no chance of winning against the Hunters, right?” 

Nico’s eyes flashed dangerously. Whether it was because of the offensive nickname or her lack of faith in Camp Half-Blood, Percy didn’t know. “I wouldn’t sound so sure if I were you, Pine Tree,” Nico shot back, fixing his stance as he got ready to fight. 

Thalia narrowed her eyes at him, her grip on her spear tightening. The tension in the air was electrifying- quite literally, considering sparks were flying out of Thalia’s hair and zapping nearby bugs. The ground beneath Nico shook ever so slightly, as if he were warning Thalia what would happen if she struck first. 

While the two of them were having their epic showdown, Percy was struggling to free himself from the net Thalia had trapped him under in the first place. He was so deeply entangled that he could barely tell where it started and where it ended, and he was pretty sure that a particularly tight knot was cutting off blood flow to his left leg. 

And since that clearly wasn’t difficult enough, the net started to glow as well. Typical.

At first, Percy thought the dull light was coming from Riptide, which was still in his hand as he hacked uselessly at the net surrounding him. But the light quickly grew brighter, enveloping him as if he were on fire, and Percy’s heart leaped to his throat.

”Guys?” He called out, trying to keep the note of panic out of his voice as he struggled even harder against his restraints. But the net held on fast, light growing ever brighter still, as if it was tightening the more he fought against it. “Guys, I could use some help here!”

The light was so bright now that a searing white took up most of Percy’s vision, making it difficult for him to see what was going on. He could just barely make out Thalia and Nico’s silhouettes as they rushed forward, their panicked voices seeming muffled as they tried to make sense of the situation.

”What’s going on?” Thalia cried, yanking a rope seemingly at random to free Percy. As soon as her fingers made contact with the thread, it wrapped around her hand, tangling itself over her wrist and forearm as it yanked her closer. 

Beside her, Nico tried to wear away the net with his sword, with no such luck. The Stygian iron was quickly overwhelmed by the light, and Nico’s eyes widened with panic as ropes wound themselves along his sword, creeping up to his hand. 

Entangled in the middle of the net, Percy could no longer see or hear anything. Blood roared in his ears, heart pounding a million beats per minute, but he could feel himself fading away, as if all his molecules were unwinding themselves and floating away.

The light soon captured Nico and Thalia as well, blinding them until the only thing they were aware of were themselves, the rush of blood through their bodies and the feeling of fear creeping through their bones. The light burned brighter, brighter, enveloping the clearing like a fire-

And then, all at once, it was over.

The light died away abruptly. Left behind in its wake was a perfectly ordinary net, a pen, a spear, and a sword. 

Chapter Text

When Percy finally came back to his senses, the amount of pain he was in made him wish he'd just stayed unconscious. 

His entire body ached, as if he'd been thrown into a laundry machine with the settings on heavy duty . His mouth must have been drier than the Sahara desert considering how his tongue had basically fused to the roof of his mouth. Worst of all, his head was pounding with the kind of ache that only came with a concussion– or an English essay induced migraine. 

Beyond the constant pulse of pain in his head, Percy could just barely make out a soft murmur of words coming from his left. The words were practically unintelligible to his poor brain, but even if he did magically manage to make out what was being said, he doubted it would have made sense. 

"... poor lad, took quite a fall out there..."

"... all because of those ruddy dementors!..."

"... are you kidding me? That was all Grace's fault..."

Grace. Percy's eyes fluttered open weakly, and he winced as the bright lights filled his already blurry vision. Thalia, he thought, already beginning to feel his heart race, Where is she?

To his left, someone gasped. "He's awake!"

Percy blinked, and turned to find six people, all muddy and wearing yellow robes, looking at him with matching expressions of concern. Six people who he was very, very sure he had never met before. 

"Perce?" The boy closest to him asked, his blue-grey eyes bright with worry, "You alright?"

Okay. So, apparently, these people knew him, even though he knew for a fact he’d never seen these people in his life . A barrage of questions flooded through his mind, most of them being something along the lines or who the hell are you? Or, where the hell am I? But there was one question on his mind that he really needed an answer to.

Unsticking his tongue from the top of his mouth, he managed to force out, “Where’s Thalia?” 

The strangers stared at him as if he were crazy, varying expressions of worry and confusion written all over their faces. The one closest to him cleared his throat awkwardly, then nodded to something on Percy’s right. “She’s, uh, there…”

“Not sure why you would care anyway, mate,” another one of the strangers muttered as Percy turned, heart hammering in his throat. “She’s the one who knocked you off your bloody broom…”

Percy ignored what was being said as he laid his eyes on Thalia, laying on a cot next to him. And- oh, gods. 

His stomach flipped uncomfortably as he took in Thalia’s appearance. She was still unconscious, lips slightly parted, and the bruise blossoming under her eye made sure that she wouldn’t have any more fun waking up than Percy did. On top of that, a bandage was wrapped around her head, splattered with little red dots that Percy could only hope wasn’t blood.

“What happened?” He asked hoarsely, barely thinking before he dared to speak. His head was throbbing uncomfortably again, making the room spin and forcing Percy to lay back in his own cot, dizzy. The strangers were glancing between each other and Percy again, clearly unsure about what to do. 

“You don’t remember?” A different person piped up- a girl, this time, with auburn hair and freckles. Once he laid eyes on her, Percy was sorely reminded of someone- someone who, at the moment, he couldn’t even remember. 

He shook his head, dazed. More anxious glancing. Except this time, one guy stood up and loudly announced, “I’m going to find Madame Pomfrey,” before hurrying away so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet. 

Which still left five people staring at Percy like he’d lost his mind. Which, honestly, he might’ve. 

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened before this… but it was all a dull blur in his head. The memories were right there- he could feel them, lingering just out of reach, needing something to trigger them into motion. 

“Percy?” He opened his eyes slowly and found the boy with blue-grey eyes looking at him carefully, like he was a bomb about to detonate. “What… what do you remember?” 

There was the question that Percy had been dreading. Because now everyone was staring at him expectantly, almost hopefully , waiting for him to give them an answer he didn’t have. Slowly, he shook his head.

“I don’t remember anything,” he confessed, and someone gasped softly. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his memories to come back to him, but they were stubbornly locked away. Not stolen, not gone, just... slipping through his grasp constantly, as if he were trying to grab a cloud. That frustrated him more than anything, because they were still there. It was as if he was holding a box containing his most prized possessions, but he didn't have the key to open it. 

Percy was beginning to wish he had a metaphorical sledgehammer to smash open his metaphorical box when a loud voice cut through the stunned silence. “And just what, exactly, are all of you doing here? This boy needs rest! Shoo, shoo!”

“Sorry, Madame Pomfrey!” One of the strangers yelped, and Percy watched, bewildered, as an elderly woman in a nurse’s uniform shooed them all through the door. Everyone was sure to file out quickly, but not without throwing a few glances back at Percy, who waved awkwardly as a goodbye. The boy with blue-grey eyes caught his gaze and gave him an assuring smile before Madame Pomfrey shut the door in his face. 

Almost as soon as she had closed the door, Madame Pomfrey rounded on Percy, her eyes narrowed. Whatever incoherent thoughts were forming in his brain were quickly replaced by the knowledge that messing with Madame Pomfrey meant messing with his life, which he was in no mood to do in his current state. 

“Lost your memory, then, Jackson?” Madame Pomfrey asked, moving towards him like a woman on a mission. Percy just nodded quickly, then winced as his head throbbed in protest. Madame Pomfrey stopped in front of him, lips pursed, and Percy fought back the inexplicable urge to shrink away. 

But Madame Pomfrey only sighed deeply, heavily, like this was a problem she was all too familiar with. “I’ve healed many different injuries in my life, but memory loss is always a tricky one.” Then, under her breath, she added, “And it’s not everyday that you fall out of the sky after being knocked off your broom… why they haven’t banned that sport yet, I don’t even know…” 

Percy, beyond confused by Pomfrey’s cryptic muttering and everything else going on, could also feel himself getting more frustrated as time went on. He’d been here for gods know how long and he still hadn’t gotten a single answer from anybody. He didn’t even know where he was, much less what he could possibly be doing there.

”Would somebody please just tell me what's going on?" Percy demanded, although his raspy voice chipped away at his frustration and made him sound more desperate than anything. Once he started, Percy found he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. "I don't know where I am, or- or what I'm even doing here, and nobody has told me a single thing. Instead of helping, they all just look at me like I'm the crazy one, and not to mention the only person I know here is Thalia, and she's unconscious!-"

There was a series of loud pops! as Percy's temper got away from him, and a shelf lined with different kinds of bottles all exploded suddenly, splashing strange smelling liquids all over the floor. Percy froze, half expecting Madame Pomfrey to freak out, but she merely glanced at the mess before focusing her gaze on Percy. When she spoke, her voice was much gentler than it had been earlier. 

“I know it’s frustrating, but regaining your memory is going to be difficult,” she said, although there were still hints of sternness in her voice, as if she were comforting Percy and scolding him all at once. "I'm not sure how much the information will help you, but I will answer your questions as best as I can."

Once Percy heard those words, those oh-so-very-kind and utterly simple words, he felt as though he could cry from relief. Finally, he thought, Answers!   

Then the door flew open, and two people walked in.

Madame Pomfrey’s ability to switch personalities at the blink of an eye was admirable. The strangers had barely stepped foot through the door before she had turned around, threatening loudly, “If this is another Quidditch-related injury, I will be filing a report to Dumbledore to ban that ridiculous sport once and for all!” 

The man stepping through the doorway didn’t even flinch, though the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that made it difficult to tell if he was going to smile or scowl. His hair hung around his face in a greasy curtain, and his voice was almost as oily as his hair when he spoke. 

“Fortunately for you, Poppy, there were no brooms involved in this accident,” the man said drily, stepping aside so Madame Pomfrey could see who he’d brought in with him. Once Percy saw the boy, recognition hit him like a truck. 

“It seems here that Mr. di Angelo is having trouble with his memory-” the greasy man started, but no sooner than he had uttered the words di Angelo did Percy jolt forwards. 

“Nico?” He blurted out, ignoring the man’s surprised expression in the background as he was suddenly cut off. Sure enough, Nico stood in the doorway, his features tight with barely restrained panic as he met Percy’s gaze. For a few fleeting, worrying moments, Percy was sure Nico didn’t recognize him, but realization quickly dawned on his pale features. 

“Percy?” Nico asked hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure if what he was seeing was real. Then his eyes found Thalia on the next bed over, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Thalia? But- what happened?”

By this point, Madame Pomfrey was looking rather frazzled. “Leave him here, Severus,” she ordered, not wasting a second before ushering Nico to one of the empty cots. He took a seat on the edge, absently fiddling with his skull ring as Pomfrey turned back to the greasy-haired man— Severus, she’d said. 

”As I was saying,” Severus told Pomfrey slowly, shooting a venomous glance Percy’s way, “Mr. di Angelo seemed to be having some sort of… episode during Potions. He claims he’s lost his memories, now, with no idea where he is.” 

“Well, he’s certainly not the only one,” Madame Pomfrey sighed, shaking her head. “Thank you for bringing him here, Severus. I’ll do what I can.” 

Severus only nodded and turned to leave, but not without shooting Percy yet another dirty look over his shoulder. Percy wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to make the man hate him, but knowing himself, it was probably deserved. 

“Alright, then.” Madame Pomfrey turned back to Percy and Nico, hands on her hips, like she wasn’t quite sure where to begin with them. “Before I tell you anything, you should know that it is going to sound quite unbelievable, but I would like for you to save your questions for later.”

The preface of the conversation basically told Percy everything he needed to know: he was really, really not going to like what he was going to hear. Still, he wanted answers, so he forced himself to pay attention while also fighting off the growing feeling of dread in his stomach. 

Madame Pomfrey spoke like she was ripping off a band aid. “You two are wizards.”

From the corner of his eye, Percy could’ve sworn he saw Nico’s jaw drop, but Pomfrey continued without hesitation. “You are currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the finest wizarding school in the United Kingdom. Hogwarts is home to four houses— Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for the wise, and Slytherin for the ambitious. School begins at age eleven and ends at seventeen, which is when wixen are considered legal adults.

“You, Percy Jackson-” Hearing his name, Percy jumped slightly, though he wasn’t sure why. “-are a Hufflepuff student in your sixth year. And you, Nico di Angelo, are a Slytherin student in your third year. Your friend, Thalia Grace, is a Gryffindor in her sixth year as well. 

“As for how you and Thalia ended up in the Hospital Wing, Mr. Jackson-” Madame Pomfrey suddenly took a deep breath, like she was trying to stop herself from saying something rude. “-you two collided on your brooms during the most recent Quidditch match, which was a disaster for a multitude of reasons. That accident, I'm assuming, is also the reason why you are having problems with your memory. 

"Now," Madame Pomfrey said after a beat of silence, "Questions?" 

The silence that filled the Hospital Wing after Madame Pomfrey’s brief explanation was almost deafening. Percy’s mind was buzzing with questions he didn’t know how to voice, but worst of all was the steadily growing pit of dread in his stomach. He’d been expecting Pomfrey’s words to help him remember something, anything, but instead, they only left him feeling more confused than before. Pigfarts? Wizards? Quidditch? None of it made any sense. 

“You’re lying.” Nico’s voice cut through the silence and promptly put a stop to the beginning of Percy’s spiral. He was giving Pomfrey a withering look, but the waver in his voice made it all too obvious that it was only a front. 

Madame Pomfrey only raised a brow as if to say, Really?, before pulling out what could only be an actual magic wand and pointing it at the remains of shattered glass from Percy’s earlier outburst. Without so much as a word, she waved her wand, and the mess disappeared entirely. Percy was pretty sure it was his turn for his jaw to drop. 

“I can assure you, Mr. di Angelo, I am not lying,” she said smoothly, “Although, I can’t expect you to believe me so easily after suffering memory loss as severe as this. Confusion is a common symptom, I assure you.”

Nico stayed silent for a few moments, his jaw tense as his eyes flickered back and forth, as if he were connecting imaginary dots. Slowly, he began to speak, “But… you said I was in third year. That doesn’t make any sense. I’m fourteen.”

“Fourteen?” Now it was Madame Pomfrey’s turn to look confused. 

All at once, Percy could feel his heartbeat start to rise steadily, his palms sweat and his eyes smart, as if his entire body was screaming at him, this is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.  

Madame Pomfrey frowned at Nico. “My dear, your birthday is in January. It’s only November.”

No, Percy’s mind screamed, although he couldn’t figure out why. No, this is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong! 

“But-” The desperation in Nico’s voice mimicked the voice in Percy’s head when he finally spoke, eyes wild, like he was only one step away from unlocking the truth. “But it’s August, isn’t it? It was just August.” 

“August 17th.” The words left Percy’s lips without him even knowing where they came from. Pomfrey turned to him, her brow furrowed, and Percy couldn’t stop himself from adding, “It’s the 18th today, isn’t it? Today.. Today’s my birthday.”

Madame Pomfrey looked between the two of them, bewildered, and the chorus of wrong, wrong, wrong in Percy’s head only grew louder. 

“August 18th?” The worry in Madame Pomfrey’s voice almost overshadowed her confusion. “I’m not too sure what you two are thinking of, but it’s November 8th. November 8th, 1993.”