PJO: A Professor of Hogwarts

Percy's POV

Oh, thank the Gods—someone was waiting for me." A wave of relief washed over me as I spotted a lone figure standing at the bottom of the cliff, clearly expecting my arrival.

After leaving New York, I had flown straight to Britain on Blackjack's back, the wind rushing past me as the ocean stretched endlessly below. But somewhere along the way, a troubling realization hit me—I had no idea who I was supposed to meet in Britain.

Dad hadn't given me a name, a description, or even a precise meeting spot. No landmarks, no instructions— as if saying "You'll know when you get there."

For most of the journey, I tried to push the worry aside, but as we neared Britain's shores, I started inwardly panicking. Should I head straight to Hogwarts and simply barge in uninvited? Or should I trust that whoever was meant to meet me would somehow be waiting the moment I set foot on British soil?

Thankfully, as I descended, I caught sight of the figure below—and, for the first time since leaving home, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding

Oh, how thankful I was that someone was actually waiting for me.

Just imagine the chaos if I had barged straight into that heavily fortified castle, completely bypassing its defenses as if they were nothing. The looks on everyone's faces would have been priceless—pure shock, maybe even terror. Some of the younger students might have been traumatized, staring at me as though I were some kind of monster.

Admittedly, the idea was a little tempting.

But I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to myself. At least, not yet.

.

"Well, took you long enough," the figure huffed, arms crossed as if my very existence was an inconvenience to her. "If you were a second later, I would've dragged you here myself."

Her tone was sharp, impatient—like she had far better things to do than wait for me.

As I took a closer look at her ghostly, almost eerie presence, a flicker of recognition stirred in my mind. Hazel had described someone like this before.

And now, standing before me, I realized exactly who she was.

"Hello, Hecate. Fancy seeing you here." I kept my tone casual, masking my surprise. Of all the people—or rather, deities—that could have been waiting for me, it had to be her. The patron of the entire magical world.

Hecate scoffed, her expression unimpressed. "Keep your pleasantries to yourself, Jackson. I don't like you, and I don't like that you're here."

Blunt as ever.

She crossed her arms, glaring at me as if my mere presence was offensive. "But considering the direness of the situation, I suppose I have no choice but to compromise." She let out a grudging sigh, as though the very idea pained her.

I raised an eyebrow. "Then let's get this over with."

I stood my ground, waiting for whatever briefing she had prepared. Whatever she had to say, I had a feeling it wasn't going to be pleasant.

For a few seconds, she just stared at me, her gaze unreadable. Then, finally, she spoke.

"Do not take this lightly, Jackson." Her voice carried an edge of warning. "You may be powerful, but even you should tread carefully in unknown lands."

Her expression darkened. "I designed this place to be treacherous—even for the Gods. If you wish to survive, be pragmatic."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off.

"I would tell you more, but I cannot stay here any longer than I already have."

She let out a small sigh, almost as if she regretted it. "I've helped enough just by doing this."

Then, without another word, an overwhelming surge of ancient power radiated from her. The air crackled with energy as divine magic gathered in her palms, a glow so intense it swallowed her hand completely.

She lifted it, aiming straight at me.

"Don't die, Jackson." Her voice was calm, yet laced with something almost amused. "Or I will personally escort you to the depths of Tartarus."

Before I could react, the world around me was consumed by darkness.