Chapter Text
His scar throbbed, but he didn’t look away from Percy, who waited in silence.
—You want the beginning?— he said at last, his voice low and tired. —Then let’s begin.
Hudson River, New York City, USA
Year: 2019 A.D.
The boat drifted along the Hudson, bathed in the first shimmer of Manhattan’s evening lights. Eight-year-old Harry leaned over the railing, wide green eyes fixed on the golden reflections dancing across the restless water. Dudley laughed beside him, tossing bits of bread at the seagulls that followed the ferry, delighted to watch them dive and squabble midair.
—I couldn’t be happier to have you both here,— said Petunia, her voice trembling with emotion as she adjusted her hat against the wind. She looked at Harry with genuine warmth. —Your mother,my sister Lily she loved New York. She always said she’d bring you here one day.
Harry smiled shyly, his chest warming. Petunia rarely spoke of her sister, but when she did, every word carried tenderness.
—I think Regulus went overboard with all his worrying,— Vernon grumbled, squinting toward the skyline as he adjusted his glasses. —Danger this, war that... rubbish. The only battle I see is New York traffic.
He chuckled at his own joke, but Petunia shot him a sharp look.
—Vernon!— she scolded. —Not in front of Harry. If you can’t say something decent, keep it to yourself.
Vernon cleared his throat, awkwardly softening his tone.
—Sorry, dear. But that man talks like there’s some secret war happening right under our noses. I know wizards see the world differently, but Harry’s just a boy. He deserves to enjoy a peaceful trip.
He sighed, realizing he might’ve said too much, then turned to Harry.
—Don’t take it the wrong way, boy. I’m grateful,truly,for what that Regulus Black fellow did. After your parents died, and his brother Sirius too, taking you in was the right thing to do. And we’ve never forgotten that.
His voice hardened again.
—But honestly, he worries too much. This obsession of his,that the world’s falling apart,he’s stealing from you the little things you ought to be enjoying with your normal family.
Petunia rested a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, offering a small smile.
—What your uncle’s trying to say, dear, is that you should enjoy this trip in peace.
Dudley nodded eagerly, pulling Harry closer.
—I’m really happy we’re here together. Don’t worry, Harry.... I’ll keep you safe, okay?
Harry laughed, but inside he remembered Regulus’s last words before the trip:
"New York isn’t just a city of skyscrapers, Harry. It’s a battlefield. Promise me you’ll stay close to your aunt and uncle."
No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, that shadow of warning still echoed in his mind.
He leaned on the railing, letting the Hudson’s cold breeze ruffle his hair. Everything felt so ordinary,tourists taking photos, children racing about, Uncle Vernon complaining about the ticket price as if he were reading his own death sentence.
Then Harry noticed something odd in the water.
At first, he thought it was just turbulence from the other boats. But when he squinted, he saw the current moving in strange, deliberate patterns,perfect circles forming and breaking apart silently, as if invisible hands stirred the depths on purpose.
The river seemed to breathe.
Each gust of wind made the waves rise and fall like a living chest, carrying an ancient, sleeping power. Harry had the uneasy feeling that the water was watching him,a creature beneath the surface, patient and lethal, waiting for the right moment to rise.
A chill ran down his spine. He blinked, trying to convince himself it was only exhaustion,or a trick of the light. But something inside him, some wordless instinct, whispered that this was more than mere currents and reflections. Something powerful, deep, and hungry.
He drew a sharp breath to steady himself,then the pain struck.
At first, it was only a faint pressure in his scar. Then it flared into searing fire, burning beneath his skin like a brand. He doubled over, clutching his forehead, eyes squeezed shut.
The laughter of tourists, the hum of the engines, even the cool wind,all of it vanished. There was only pain, pulsing and alive, and a coldness blooming in his chest.
—Harry?— Petunia’s alarmed voice broke through the haze. —Harry, what’s wrong?
He couldn’t answer. The river roared in his ears, waves crashing against the hull in warning. His scar throbbed in rhythm with the water’s movement, each pulse of pain echoing like a distant drumbeat,until Harry realized: this wasn’t coincidence.
Something was coming.
He struggled to breathe, sweat beading on his forehead. The Hudson no longer looked like a river,it raged like a chained monster fighting to break free.
The boat lurched. First a light jolt,nervous laughter from the crowd. Then a violent shudder, as if something enormous had struck the hull from beneath. The tour guide’s voice rose, shaky, trying to calm them. Just a strong current,nothing to worry about!
But Harry knew better.
The river rose.
A wall of water surged upward, towering higher than the ferry itself, blotting out the view of the shore. The setting sun lit it gold and crimson, turning it into a living wall of glass. And within that shimmering mass,something was taking shape.
At its heart stood a boy.
His body seemed carved from the current itself,broad-shouldered, strong, dark hair slicked to his brow. He wasn’t swimming. He stood upright, as if the river itself obeyed him. Currents bent and coiled around his arms; every droplet answered his command.
Bolts of pale blue light flickered along the wave’s edge, as if the ocean had swallowed the sky. His eyes glowed the same stormy blue,so fierce that Harry felt small, exposed.
He stumbled backward, heart pounding, his scar blazing.
The entire deck fell silent. Tourists stared, frozen, too stunned to scream. Petunia’s hand clutched his arm, trembling. Vernon muttered something about "reflections in the water", but his voice shook too much to sound convincing.
Petunia stepped forward instinctively, shielding Harry.
The river reacted instantly, as though provoked. Water rose into twisted columns, forming shapes before their eyes,two translucent hippocampi, their bodies sculpted from pure current. Muscular and wild, their manes foamed white, and their jaws,dripping with water,revealed liquid fangs gleaming in the sunset.
With a guttural shriek that seemed to echo from the riverbed itself, they struck.
Before Harry could move, the creatures lunged, seizing Petunia as though she weighed nothing. She screamed,a piercing, human sound that sliced through the chaos. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t block out the cracking of wood, the crash of waves, or the spray that rained down on them,water mixed with something thicker, warmer.
When he opened his eyes again, his blood ran cold.
Standing at the center of the deck amid the red mist was the young man. Bare-chested, jeans drenched, his skin glistening with power. His eyes burned with fury,and grief so raw it made him almost beautiful, terrible and divine all at once.
Harry understood then. This boy had lost something sacred. He had been betrayed,and now, blinded by rage, he was unleashing his pain on the world.
Because there was nothing human left in his gaze. Only the raw, unstoppable wrath of someone who carried the sea within him.
The Hudson boiled around the ferry, the air thick with salt and magic.
—I came here to kill the traitor,— the boy growled, his voice rough, breaking on grief and hate. —And all I find is a useless child who looks like him.
Every word dripped venom. Harry didn’t understand, but fear rooted him to the deck.
The river answered his rage,water coiling into massive tentacles that reached for the passengers. Screams erupted. Some ran, others froze. The air filled with panic and the crack of splintering wood.
Beside him, Vernon was still in shock, face pale after witnessing his wife’s death. A tentacle wrapped around his waist. He barely had time to shout before being yanked into the dark. One splash,and silence.
Harry was alone.
The demigod stepped closer, fury crackling in the air like lightning.
—He betrayed me,— he muttered, almost to himself. —He took everything my father and I held dear... and hurt an innocent. And now,fate brings me this.
He stopped before Harry, studying him. Sea-blue eyes met bright green, and confusion flickered across his face.
—Who…— he whispered, voice trembling between rage and disbelief. —Who are you?
His wet hands shot out, shoving back Harry’s hair. When he saw the scar, the breath left his lungs.
—It can’t be…— he breathed. —The Sowilo rune…
The deck trembled, the Hudson roaring in fury. Percy,frozen before the boy,was still staring at the scar, his eyes burning with confusion and rage, when the air erupted in golden light.
Figures apparated through the mist,Aurors. Wands raised, they shouted in unison, spells cutting through the night. Beams of magic tore into the living water, shredding the tentacles, lighting the chaos like a storm.
The boat groaned under its own weight. The river seemed alive, devouring the wood, dragging it down into its depths. Harry could feel something vast beneath them,waiting.
—Potter!— a familiar voice shouted through the din.
Harry turned in time to see Remus Lupin, still young, soaked to the bone, his face taut with urgency. With a flick of his wand, a spell snatched Harry off the collapsing deck and into his arms.
—Hold on, kid!— Lupin murmured, his grip firm as he prepared to Apparate.
In the instant before the world dissolved in light, Harry looked back. He saw tourists screaming, the swirling red water,and Dudley’s face, pale and terrified, eyes wide as he was dragged beneath the waves. Their gazes met for a heartbeat, full of fear and confusion,then he was gone.
Harry tried to scream. Darkness swallowed everything.
The last thing he heard was the distant roar of the river,and a voice, cold and echoing in his mind like a curse:
—We’ll meet again. Next time... you’ll drown.
And then,silence.
Harry awoke with a jolt. Faint voices murmured nearby, mingled with the crackle of a fire. Golden light flickered across walls lined with books and ancient medals. This wasn’t the Hudson. He was in Regulus Black’s office, deep within the Ministry of Magic.
The air smelled of smoke, ink, and freshly brewed tea. Near the fireplace, two men spoke in low tones.
Regulus,twenty-seven now,wore a plain black robe, his dark hair neatly combed, his pale face drawn and tired. His obsidian eyes burned with guilt and resolve.
Opposite him sat Remus Lupin, around twenty-nine, in a worn leather chair. His scarred face told its own story,deep claw marks slashed across his cheek and brow. His amber eyes were kind but heavy with sorrow, his tone sharp.
—I still don’t understand,— Lupin said, voice tight with reproach. —Why did you let Harry travel? You, of all people, know the danger. The war between demigods and wizards is on the brink of reigniting.
Regulus braced his hands on the desk, staring into the flames.
—An old friend of yours came to me,— he said tensely. —He asked me to let Harry go. Said it was necessary.— He drew a slow breath. —I just didn’t imagine Percy Jackson, the most dangerous demigod alive, would appear before the boy.
Lupin’s eyes widened, hope trembling in his voice. —If he asked it, Regulus,then he must have had a reason. You know James.
Regulus’s jaw tightened. He turned, eyes cold and glinting.
—That’s exactly what you need to stop saying, Remus. James Potter is not the man you remember. He’s unstable,he’s lost his mind since Lily and Sirius died.— His voice dropped to a cutting whisper. —And this time, he went too far. He used his own son as bait.
—That’s unfair!— Lupin shot back, standing abruptly. —James must have a reason,he always does!
Regulus stepped closer, eyes like black fire.
—A reason?— he said bitterly. —Would you call it a reason that an eight-year-old boy watched his entire family slaughtered before his eyes?
Lupin froze.
—They were good people,— Regulus continued, voice low and sharp as glass. —And they died because James told me to let the boy go. Because he said it would be safe.
Silence fell,thick, heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
—I’m done,— Regulus said at last. —I’ll never follow his orders again. From now on, Harry comes first,even if it means standing against James Potter himself.
Lupin shook his head, appalled. —You’re making a mistake, Regulus. If James finds out…
He stopped mid-sentence. Regulus’s gaze had shifted to the corner of the room.
Harry sat there, pale and trembling, just waking in the armchair where he’d slept, his wide eyes flicking between the two men.
—Harry…— Regulus murmured, his expression softening instantly.
He crossed the room and knelt, pulling the boy into a firm embrace.
—It’s all right now,— he said quietly, his voice breaking just slightly. —You’re safe. I swear it.
Lupin looked away, troubled, as the firelight danced in Regulus’s dark eyes,eyes that, for one fleeting moment, reflected as much love as guilt.
Neutral Zone — United Nations Headquarters— New York
Year: 2018 A.D.
A cold wind swept through the UN courtyard, washing the fading daylight into shades of blue and amber against the glass façades. The Non-Violence sculpture,the revolver with its twisted barrel,cast a long, distorted shadow over the rain-slicked ground.
Harry and Percy sat on the stone steps before it. Neither spoke for a long time. Harry’s last words still hung in the air between them,ancient, heavy, impossible to dispel.
Percy leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching the city lights tremble in the puddle at his feet. The air around him seemed to hum faintly, as if the distant Hudson itself responded to the storm of emotion within the demigod.
Harry rubbed his hands together for warmth. The chill of the evening reminded him of the hollow ache he’d felt waking up in that office years ago, after the massacre. He glanced sideways at Percy,the young man’s face was half in shadow, his blue eyes catching the sunset’s last orange light like twin blades.
— So that’s how it happened…— Percy broke the silence, his voice rough, almost a dragged-out whisper. — That’s how we met for the first time?
Harry drew a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the fabric of his coat. The cold wind blew harder, carrying with it the scent of saltwater that seemed to emanate from the demigod himself. He lifted his weary, bitter green eyes and met Percy’s gaze with an honesty that was almost painful.
— Yeah…— Harry said, his voice low but steady. — But that was only the beginning. You didn’t stop there. You took control of the wizarding realm in the U.S. in 2021… and that same year, you marched with your army into the U.K.
The memory made his throat tighten. — I was in my first year at Hogwarts when I got the news… the news that you’d captured, tortured, and killed my uncle Regulus on the Waterloo Bridge.
He looked down, fists clenched, the words scraping out of him like broken glass.
—I never got to say goodbye,— he whispered. —I never even got to understand why.
Silence settled heavy between them. The twilight wind whistled through the courtyard as Percy absorbed every word, his face pale, jaw rigid.
—I’m just… trying to understand,— Percy said at last, running a hand through his hair in a nervous, helpless motion. —How anyone,how I,could do what you described. What could possibly drive me to,— He faltered, the words catching in his throat. —To something that monstrous?
Harry met his eyes, the wind ruffling his dark hair.
—Sometimes,— he said, voice low but steady, —it’s not what we want to become. It’s what time makes of us.
Percy said nothing, staring up as the sky deepened to indigo. A single star blinked through the clouds. When he spoke again, it was almost to himself:
—What kind of loss makes someone want to drown the world?
Harry’s gaze fell to the twisted revolver before them.
—The loss of everything that makes you human.— Harry murmured.
Percy went still. The words hung between them like an incantation. The cold wind struck his face, but he didn’t move. Something in Harry’s tone,the exhaustion, the quiet sorrow,cut straight through his defenses.
"The loss of everything that makes you human."
He repeated it in his mind, once, twice… until comprehension struck like lightning. Percy’s eyes widened, his fingers trembling against his knees. The air shifted,sharp and salt-heavy, as though the sea itself had crept closer to the building.
—The loss of everything… that makes you human…— he whispered, barely audible.
Then, louder,his voice cracking under the weight of realization:
—The only thing… the only thing that could make me do something like that…
He gripped his hair, as if trying to tear the thought from his skull. Harry watched in silence, startled by the sudden anguish etched across the demigod’s face.
Percy turned to him, eyes glistening,an almost feverish blue, reflecting the city lights.
—It would be… if someone took my family from me,— he said hoarsely. —That’s the only thing… the only thing* that could make me want to drown the world.
A gust of wind swept across the courtyard, scattering a fine mist of rain. In the mirrored glass of the UN façade, Harry saw Percy shudder,not in anger, but under the unbearable weight of understanding.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry —Scottish Highlands
Year: 2006 A.D.
The dungeon corridor was cold and damp, torches flickering as they cast long, restless shadows across the stone walls. The distant echo of footsteps and student chatter drifted through the air ,Gryffindors laughing too loudly, Slytherins moving in tight clusters, the thick scent of potions and sulfur clinging to the corridors like fog.
Snape strode quickly, his emerald-and-silver robes immaculate, his cape whispering against the floor. His dark eyes were narrowed, simmering with irritation ,though not only because of the noisy corridors.
He was still replaying what had happened in the Headmaster’s office.
Dumbledore was not a man easily shaken, and yet, at the sight of him, the old wizard had looked genuinely startled ,the kind of shock Snape had never seen before. The way the Headmaster had stammered over the boy’s name… there was something profoundly wrong about it.
And the boy himself ,Albus ,had gazed at Hogwarts with a wonder that was almost painful to watch, like someone glimpsing a long-lost home. The image of him smiling at the moving staircases flashed in Snape’s mind, and before he could stop himself, a thought slipped through:
"He has a beautiful smile."
Color rushed to Snape’s face. He scowled and quickened his pace, as if speed alone could erase the thought.
"Idiot. He’s just a student. A very suspicious student… with the face of a likely serial killer."
He descended the staircase toward the lower dungeons ,and, against his better judgment, recalled how he’d first found Albus days earlier: collapsed in the gardens, caked in blood and dirt, his clothes torn as if he’d crawled out of a war. And yet, even half-dead, there had been something about him…
Snape froze mid-step, heart pounding.
"Sweet Merlin… if I keep thinking like this, I’m doomed."
— Snape !!!!!!!!!!
The voice startled him. He turned sharply, frowning.
Regulus Black ,fourteen, slim, sharp-featured, with dark, aristocratic eyes ,was hurrying toward him. Beside him was Garreth Weasley, a redhead with shy freckles and a perpetually ruffled look. Garreth opened his mouth first.
— Snape, have you seen…
— Snape, is it true?— Regulus cut in, ignoring his friend entirely. His eyes gleamed with curiosity. — That the new boy made the Marauders back off? And that you’re… friends with him?
Garreth tried again, — I heard he…
— Garreth, hush,— Regulus snapped, and the redhead immediately deflated.
Snape raised a brow, both irritated and intrigued. — How do you know about that?
— It’s the talk of Hogwarts,— Regulus said with a faint, knowing smile. Then, with a polite nod, added, — In case you haven’t heard, I’m Regulus Black. And this is Garreth Weasley.
Garreth sighed, half a second too late to bother with introductions.
— ‘Friends’ is an exaggeration,— Snape said curtly, folding his arms. — I found him, that’s all.— His tone dropped a notch. — There’s something about him that doesn’t feel right.
Regulus tilted his head. — You think he’s lying about who he is? A mysterious Potter who appears out of nowhere, it does sound like family drama.
Before Snape could respond, a calm voice interrupted them.
— You’re talking about me again, aren’t you?
All three turned. Albus stood a few paces away, his Slytherin uniform clinging damply to his frame. His black hair dripped water onto the flagstones, and a faint, knowing smile curved his lips. The torchlight caught the green in his eyes, making them glow like polished glass.
Snape’s stomach lurched. For a heartbeat, he forgot how to breathe.
The uniform looked tailored to him,broad shoulders, lean build, he looked more like an Auror than a student. The contrast of wet hair and easy confidence gave him an edge that was almost dangerous.
Heat rushed to Snape’s face again. And then, like a bucket of cold water, the realization hit him:
He’s in my House. He’s going to sleep in the same dormitory as me.
He groaned inwardly. Merlin’s beard, I’m utterly doomed.
Albus stepped closer , far too close , and before Snape could react, the boy slung a heavy arm over his shoulders. The weight of it was casual, possessive, utterly inappropriate.
—Can you believe it?— Albus said, his voice bright with excitement. —Dumbledore finally changed his mind! I’m officially a Slytherin now!
Snape went rigid under the unexpected touch. The scent of rain and something faintly metallic , maybe potion residue , clung to Albus’s robes.
The boy grinned wide, eyes gleaming with genuine delight. —So now we’re not just friends,— he added, giving Snape’s shoulder a playful squeeze, —we’re House brothers.
Snape blinked, stunned. His brain short-circuited somewhere between friends and brothers.Snape shoved his arm off, scowling to hide the flush creeping up his neck.
“Fantastic, he thought grimly. Now everyone will think we’re inseparable.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. Garreth tried, and failed, to suppress a snort.
Snape finally managed to speak, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. —If you value your arm, Potter, you’ll remove it immediately.