Fanfic #22 The True Half-Blood Prince by lildrummerboi(harryxpercyjackon)

This is a fanfic with an adult Percy Jackson showing up to investigate Voldemort's reappearance. Kind of a fix it fic, but has interesting world building.

Synopsis: While Magical Britain may be content to ignore warnings of Dark Lords the ICW takes such threats much more seriously. They dispatch an investigator to look into the claims, and what he finds will shake the bedrock of the Magical World.

Rated: M

words: 108k

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12861458/1/The-True-Half-Blood-Prince

Here's the first chapter:

Contrary to popular belief the International Confederation of Wizards was not incompetent. To be able to monitor and govern the entirety of the wizarding world and the millions who inhabited it was no small order and thus, some things tended to fall through the pipes. Occasionally, issues arose that were either too minor for the Confederation to deal with, or were simply the product of an overworked bureaucracy. The situation at present however, was not such an occasion.

About two months ago there was an incident in Britain, during an event known as the Triwizard Tournament, two of the participants were portkeyed away from the final task. They were gone for nearly an hour and when they finally returned, one boy, a seventeen-year-old by the name of Cedric Diggory, was dead. As tragic and potentially preventable as his death was, what happened next was much more important. The other participant, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, claimed that the dark wizard Voldemort, a man who had been believed to be dead for fourteen years, had killed the young Diggory.

The response to the accusations had been…lackluster. The Prime Minister of magical Britain, Cornelius Fudge, immediately ignored Potter's assertion, and began attempting to minimize the damage done to his administrations already tarnashed reputation. He discredited Potter, labeling him little more than a pampered brat wishing to maintain his diminishing fame and status. No investigation was launched, and the only man who could have leant any information, Barty Crouch Jr., was dead. Administered the kiss by Azkaban's dementors on Hogwarts' grounds on Fudge's orders.

Wizards, like all people, have an annoying habit of ignoring realities when it inconveniences them. Whether Potter was telling the truth or not, the Confederation had not decided yet. But, that's where the he came in. After the second World War and the subsequent civil war in Britain fourteen years ago, the ICW decided that it could no longer have a "hands off" approach to potential world conquering megalomaniacs. The wizarding world was too small and too frail to allow itself to be fractured by civil wars. So, a few years ago, the heads of the ICW took advantage of the growing world consciousness for dragon conservation, and slipped in a neat little addition to a bill-outlawing dragon poaching. The addition stated that the ICW held the authority to launch investigations into matters potentially dealing with megalomaniacs bent on world domination. Furthermore, it allowed for the investigations to be conducted by a neutral third party of the ICW's choosing. Should sufficient evidence be found that proved the existence of a new dark lord, the ICW held the right to intervene and put down the bastard with extreme prejudice.

So, when word about Potter's claim of the resurgence of Voldemort reached the ICW, wheels began to turn. While the Fudge administration was doing its best impersonation of an ostrich, the ICW was busy collecting information and resources and determining who would be sent to investigate. The burden ended up falling to an independent national agency. The agency in question was the Department of Special Investigations or DSI, in the United States. As one of the most modern, well-funded, and well-equipped police agencies on the planet, Percy hadn't been too surprised that it was the one picked. He also shouldn't have been surprised when he was the one chosen to lead the investigation. Though that didn't mean he was any less annoyed about it.

It was a confusing bit of international law. Essentially, the members of the ICW Security Council presented members of their nations to act as international agents for the ICW. The agents were on call for whenever the ICW needed them, and the rest of the time these agents were assigned to whatever their regular duties or careers happened to be. The chief duty of these agents were ensuring the separation of the magical world, or the supernatural world at large, from the normal world. This was where Percy came into the picture. Percy might not have been a wizard, but as a demigod, he fell into the broad spectrum of the supernatural world.

Especially since his kind were at the top of the damn thing.

Percy hadn't been brought into the fold of the greater supernatural world until he was nineteen. It was a long story, but he had been a little lost in life. Hadn't been doing well in school, had a bit of an incident with some shapeshifters in northern Michigan and had gotten involved with the DSI. The ICW had discovered him, and they were loath to miss an opportunity to have a demigod as one of their agents. Let alone one with his background. He'd been with the DSI, and by extension the ICW, for close to five years, and he regularly enjoyed it and his work.

Didn't mean wasn't annoyed at the moment however.

He was of the opinion that there was probably nothing to the rumors, and sending him all the way out here was a waste of his time, and of valuable resources. Normally Percy wasn't so cynical, he liked to give others the benefit of the doubt in most instances, but he was tired. He'd been coming off a hard case in St. Louis, and all he had wanted, had been to go home, have a beer, and watch the Pinstripes put the beatdown on the Sox. But nope, the top brass had decided that they had wanted himon this.

Which was how he found himself wondering the streets of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. His first step in the investigation was to interview Potter and get his view of the events that happened on the night in question. With a little truth potion and maybe some memories, the whole thing could be wrapped up nice and tight in a neat little bow and he could be stateside in time to catch the Yankees game the following night. At least that was what he kept telling himself. But his stomach kept clenching an unclenching, and the hairs on the back of his arms were standing on end. His instincts were telling him, against his better wishes, that perhaps things weren't what everyone was thinking. But he shoved those feelings aside for the moment, and he just chalked up the sensation to his exhaustion. It had been over a year since he'd had a proper vacation.

Privet Drive was a very boring and unassuming neighborhood. A product of the postwar boom that saw massive outward expansion with the influx of foreign investment and the sudden return of thousands of soldiers who needed new homes for their new growing families. The results were neighborhoods like Privet Drive, massive suburban development products that were thrown together very quickly, and cheaply. In short, everything looked the godsdamned same.

He had only walked about a block before he stopped in front of one of the cut and paste houses, the large number plastered to the side of the mailbox. Nodding to himself, Percy strode up the up the extremely well kept, if slightly parched looking front lawn and up towards the door. Just as he stepped onto front porch however, he stopped. A wave of protective magic flowed over him, and he took an abrupt step back in surprise. The feeling passed as quickly as it arrived however, leaving only a light tingling sensation over his skin. Percy took a second look at the house, scrutinizing it closely. There had been nothing in any of the preparation briefings about the house having protective enchantments. Which meant either the ICW records were incomplete, which was unlikely, or nobody had registered the protections with the government.

Which was problematic.

Taking a breath, he tried to think through the situation logically. The kid was something of a celebrity, and was bound to have some old enemies, especially now that he was seemingly trying to stir the pot and cause his government trouble. It made sense that his home was going to be more protected than initially thought. Perhaps a bit on the paranoid side, but demigods didn't live as long as Percy had without a healthy amount of paranoia. For the average demigod, any situation could potentially escalate from harmless, to life and death in a heartbeat, anything that seemed out of the ordinary, likely was. Unfortunately, where magic was concerned, out of the ordinary was annoyingly ordinary. Keeping one hand on the service pistol on his hip, he raised his hand to knock on the door.

He had been just about to knock when several things happened in very rapid succession. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and goosebumps erupted down the sides of both arms. An unnatural cold and fog, fell on the neighborhood. The kind of cold that could only be created artificially, and through magical means. At once, every streetlight in the entire neighborhood shut off and the sky was covered in blanket of darkness. It was as though someone had hit a kill switch and just turned off all of the light. Not even the glow of the moon was shining through the dense fog.

Then, he felt them. He was too far away at that point for any of the more drastic effects but a person can feel the effects of dementors for up to five miles away. It was an overwhelming sense of dread and desperation, as though all hope and happiness in the world had suddenly vanished. It was a feeling he was depressingly familiar with.

Turning on his heel, he concentrated. Reaching out with his senses as he tried to feel where the sensations were originating. He didn't have to look too long before a sudden blast of magical energy erupted from a few blocks away from him and the sky was suddenly lit by a brilliant white light. He smiled broadly as he realized what it was. Given that Potter was the only registered magical in the area the source of light had to be him.

Percy took off at a dead sprint towards the source of the light; cutting through front lawns and backyards and hopping fences in order to minimize the distance to the dementors. He hurtled himself over a large white fence and landed with his legs churning. He rounded the corner and saw them.

Two large, floating, figures. Drabbed in flowing black cloaks with gray skeletal hands sticking out of the sleeves. A figure, which he assumed was Potter, was standing several yards further down the street, wand outstretched and a brilliant white, ethereal buck was positioned in front of him. There had been rumors that the kid could produce a patronus, it looked like those rumors were well founded. One of the dementors was bearing down on him but movement out of the corner of Percy's eye caused him to shift his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he saw a second dementor floating towards a large, unmoving mass on the concrete.

Percy turned to ran towards the body with the intent of stopping the monster before it could do any more harm but he was stopped before he could take even a few more steps. The second his foot entered the street both dementors stopped what they were doing and turned to him.

Percy froze, the air left his body as a shaky breath escaped his lips. His chest began to constrict, and breathing became a monumental task, that he was uncertain he could overcome. A mountainous pressure built around his ears. It felt and sounded as though he'd stepped into a wind tunnel. The scene on the street shifted, and suddenly, Percy was no longer in some suburban neighborhood in England, but was back home. He watched, helpless, as the man he once called friend, plunged a dagger under his left arm. The floor moved beneath his feet, and Percy was standing over an enormous black pit. He watched in mounting horror, as a woman, grey eyes wide in terror, and blonde hair falling beneath her, as she was dragged into the darkened depths of the pit. There was a tug around his naval, as he was dragged to another scene. A woman, long red-pair pooling around her shoulders. Her body cold, and lifeless, as it lay on the pavement. Blood pooled around her body, as the red essence of life, eked from the grotesque wound in her chest.

Screwing his eyes shut, Percy reached a shaky hand into his pocket, and gripped a small golden pen. Yanking the pen out, he flicked the cap off. The pen was replaced by a large, bronze sword. Twisting the blade, so its edge ran against his skin, Percy slashed a small cut into his arm. As warm blood ran down the length of his arm, the sensation of standing in a wind tunnel stopped. Replaced instead, by a nagging pain in his arm.

There were not many known counters to dementors, and they were some of the few non-mythological creatures able to physically harm a demigod. For the wandless, there was not much that could be done to counter the effects. Absent a wand, there were only two proven methods. First, oddly enough, was the ingestion of chocolate. Having encountered the creatures in the past, and having been especially susceptible to their effects, Percy had made a habit of taking candy with him wherever he went as a precaution. It would be his luck that he would have left it in his car the one time he actually needed it.

The only other method for removing oneself from the grasp of a dementor was far more grisly. The right amount of physical pain, could snap a person away from the throes of the nightmares they were trapped in. In Percy's case, the trick worked, as he was brought headlong back into the waking world.

The creature's turned their attention toward him, and were rushing forward at a considerable speed, desperate for the delicious meal that had gifted itself to them. Choosing his course of action, he took the initiative. Charging forward, he closed the distance in just three strides. His right hand on the hilt of his blade, held down and away on his right side with his left hand on the pommel. He ducked under the outstretched hand of the monster, and slashed diagonally upwards across his body. He caught the dementor clean across what might have been its chest. A bright light erupted from the point his blade made contact with its skin and foul black smoke began pouring out of the wound.

He didn't hesitate and followed the momentum through from the previous strike with a horizontal slash across the midsection. Starting from the left side of Percy's body and cutting in an east-west fashion, he cut into the monstrosity a second time. A similar wound opened up on top of the first and more black smoke pour out of the creature. The dementor let out a terrifying, blood-curdling screech. It grasped at where Percy had struck it, a disturbingly human motion, before turning on its proverbial heel and fleeing upwards into the night sky, screeching and crying the whole way.

The sudden disappearance of its comrade caused the second dementor to pause in its pursuit, giving Percy the opening he needed to close the distance and deal with it in a similar manner. He didn't have to though, because just as he was about to step into the remaining dementor, it was sent sprawling through the air as Potter's patronus rammed into the creatures back. Percy could barely make out Potter's shout of

"Get it!"

Before the buck gave chase and slammed into the dementor once more. Recognizing a lost cause, the dementor turned where it was and flew off in the same direction as its companion.

An eerie calm fell over the street. The fog and cold lifted and the street lamps along the sidewalks suddenly came to life. The whooshing in Percy's ears completely cleared, and was instead replaced with the panting and heavy breathing of Potter and himself. He idly noted that the shirt under his jacket was soaked with sweat and was sticking to his back. A warm summer breeze blew through the street and he closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths trying to calm himself down. When he opened them he saw Potter staring at him. It was Percy's first real look at the kid outside of the photos in his profile and Percy had been unimpressed. He was rather average in height, roughly five foot six or so but seemed to be in the middle of a growth spurt so that may change relatively soon. He was pale, but no more so than your typical Anglo-Saxon. The only thing really noteworthy about his appearance was how thin he seemed. He wasn't exactly malnourished but he was definitely smaller than someone his age and height should have been. His clothes didn't help much. They were old and ratty, and clearly belonged to someone who was much larger than he was, because they hung off of his proportionally smaller frame like child in a bed sheet.

He kept glancing between Percy, the sword in his hand, as well as the large wound on Percy's left arm. His mouth was working slightly as though he was trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Luckily he was saved from trying to figure out what to say but a loud, pathetic whimper from over his shoulder. Percy felt himself relax slightly as both he and Harry remembered the figure prone on the street. Since he was making noise he clearly still had his soul. Whether or not he would retain any sort of permanent psychological damage was yet to be determined. Dementors have been considered some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet for a reason. Not only could they leave a person without his or her soul but the psychological and emotional damage dealt to a person after prolonged exposure could drive them to utter insanity.

Percy took a step toward the prone boy, who he could now make out in the light was roughly the size of a baby humpback, when Potter abruptly barred Percy's path, his wand pointed directly at Percy's chest.

"Who are you?" he said, his voice was quiet but assured. The tip of his wand glowing slightly with magic, prepared to answer the call of its master should the need arise. Percy slowly raised his hands in the air, wincing slightly as the effect of his self-mutilation was taking effect and with his sword still secured tightly in his right hand, he pointed with his left at said weapon.

"I am going to slowly put this away and reach into my pocket for my identification. Is that ok?" He spoke slowly and softly, trying to let his honesty flow into his words. Potter considered it for a moment and then nodded his wand never once leaving Percy's chest. Slowly, Percy reached his left hand down into his holster and withdrew the cap to the pen. He put the cap on top of the weapon and stored it safely and securely back in its place, clasping the security strap over its top. Then, he raised his left hand back into the air again, and reached with his right into his jacket pocket. Potter tensed but relaxed slightly when Percy withdrew a black wallet. With a flick of his wrist, Percy opened it, letting his identification card, photo, and badge be seen clearly and openly.

"My name is Percy Jackson, I'm with the United States' Department of Special Investigations. I'm in England on behalf of the International Confederation of Wizards investigating the events of last June. I was on my way to your home to interview you when I noticed the telltale signs of dementor activity. I came running here as quickly as I could." He nodded at Potter's wand and let a lopsided smile plant itself on his lips, "But I guess shouldn't have worried about it huh? You're pretty good with that patronus charm, not many fully-grown wizards have a shaped spell. It's impressive."

Potter shifted uncomfortably, clearly unaccustomed to praise. Something Percy found remarkably relatable. His eyes then widened as he fully processed what Percy had said.

"Does that mean you believe me?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful, "Does that mean you're here to help us fight Voldemort?" His voice was excited and he was speaking fast. Percy didn't respond at first, instead he gestured to his hands, a silent request to put them down. Harry looked confused for a moment, and then sheepish as he realized he was still pointing his wand at Percy. He nodded and lowered it, and Percy gratefully lowered his own.

"I don't know if I believe you or not just yet, that's what I'm here to do. With your permission I was hoping to ask you questions about what happened and based off of what we discuss we can determine what can be done." The hope in his eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared and he scowled darkly, anger written clearly on his features.

"Of course you don't believe me." He said bitterly, "No one does," Percy sighed quietly,

"Look kid-Harry," he amended when it looked like he was about to interject, "Look at it from their perspective for a second, you claim that one of the most dangerous men to live in the last several decades is seemingly back from the grave. It seems a little far-fetched and more than a little worrying. This is something that has to be handled with care all right? There's a process. But-" Percy said before Harry could interrupt, "From what I've seen here tonight, it certainly looks like someone is trying to shut you up, and given what little I've seen of you here tonight, you don't strike me as the type to just say stuff that isn't true. So let's get out of here, could your buddy-"

"Cousin" he interjected hotly, "Just my cousin,"

"Alright," Percy amended slowly "Then let's get your cousin back to your place and we can talk. I want to help you Harry but you need to hear me out and let me do my job. If you're telling the truth then we can start working towards something but until then my hands are tied by the powers that be."

Harry thought for a long moment. Biting his lip as he thought about what Percy had said. He finally nodded again and said,

"Ok. Let's get Dudley out of here and then we can talk." He paused for a moment and grim look came onto his face. "If my Aunt and Uncle let you anyways. There aren't exactly fond of magic."

"You let me worry about that" Percy smiled, "Now c'mon, let's get out of here." He walked over to the baby beluga and grabbed an arm and hoisted him up and over his shoulder rather effortlessly. He turned around and saw Harry gaping at him.

"What?" He asked confused. He turned around and looked to see if there was anything hiding behind him in the shadows, or coming up the street but when he didn't see anything he just turned back to Harry, thoroughly confused.

He clamped his mouth shut, and just said, "Nothing, don't worry about it."

Percy shrugged but ignored it. He turned and began walking back toward Harry's house as Harry went to put his wand back into his pants pocket. He stopped however when a voice called out,

"Don't put it away silly boy! What if there are more of them. Dementors! In Little Whinging! Oh, I am going to KILL Mundungus Fletcher! And who the devil are you?"