Two Secret Worlds (Cross-over FanFiction)

Percy Jackson is not your average boy: he is a demigod, son of Poseidon. Neither is Harry Potter: he is a wizard and famous for surviving the killing spell.
What happens when one day the two boys wake up in new beds in new places? What happens when their souls switch bodies? **This is my entry for the Cross-Over FanFiction Competition**


1. Prologue

Harry’s P.O.V

Five years ago I was nothing special. I was just an ordinary 10 year-old boy, a muggle. I had been living with the only family I had left: The Dursleys. I wouldn’t say that they hadn’t treated me right, but compared to my aunt and uncle’s spoiled son, Dudley, you could say that I was more of a house help. For our birthdays, uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia would give my cousin at least 30 marvelous presents. Me they would give a pair of Vernon’s old socks. But even though they sometimes treated me like dirt, I was thankful to live with them. My stomach was mostly full and I had a bed to sleep in. And after all, they were the only family I had left (at least that’s what I thought back then, but how I met my godfather Sirius is another story).  

My parents died when I was just a baby. As many would say: Lily and James Potter had lived the perfect life. Having great careers, falling in love and building up a life together that in the end resulted in a child. Me.

But the joy and idyll all ended when they were brutally murdered by a dark wizard in the blink of a night. His name was Lord Voldemort. He had tried to kill me, too, but he hadn’t succeeded. The killing spell he had used on me shot back at him, and he only survived the incident hanging onto his life in a thin thread. Voldemort had killed my parents and every moment I could have had with them if they were still alive this day. As Voldemort took off, I was left back in the trauma of the killings. The spell he’d tried to kill me with had left a clear mark on my forehead: A lightning. The events made me famous in less than a day—I was from then on known as the boy who lived. I was the only wizard ever to survive the killing spell.

And if you haven’t figured out already, I will tell you. I’m a wizard.

I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England. Here young wizards and witches are educated in magic throughout seven years of school—I am now on my fifth. The Dursley family’s house back in Privet Drive 4 is no longer my home. Ever since I first came to Hogwarts as an 11 year-old boy, the beautiful, big castle had been my true home.



“Harry?” Someone snapped their fingers in front of me. I squeezed my eyes tight and quick and my surroundings went clearer. I was in a classroom. I recognized it as the one of History of Magic. Professor Binns, our teacher, was talking about the goblin rebellions in his usual slow voice in front of the blackboard. Beside me was Hermione Granger. She had her bushy, brown hair hanging loose and her brown eyes were filled with abandonment as she looked at me.

“Harry,” she whispered through the almost silent room. The only sound was Professor Binn’s talking voice and now and then a silent snoring. “You’ve got to stop doing that!” Hermione looked beside me at our friend, Ron Weasley.

“You too, Ron!” she hissed at him. His red hair almost hid his blue eyes as he turned to look at Hermione.

“Huh?” he managed to get out. She looked at us both in disbelief.

“Oh, come on boys! Take some notes and listen to Professor Binns. This is something you might meet in the exams. Concentrate!” She angrily took her quill and looked back down on her parchment. Her hand moved quickly as she started to write notes down. Ron looked at me.

“One more year. Then we’ll be finished with this bloody class.”



Percy’s P.O.V

I am a demigod. I know, it sounds crazy. But this is who I am—half god, half human—and even if I wanted to, there’s nothing I can do about it. Three years ago I found out that I was son of Poseidon, the god of the ocean. For my whole life I hadn’t known my father, but when I suddenly knew who he was I was surprised. Honestly, if you wake up on a normal day that’s not what you expect to hear. My mother and my best friend Grover—by the way he’s a satyr—had in a rush driven me towards Camp Halfblood, the place where demigods like myself practice fighting, socialize with other camp members and do other Olympia-minded stuff.

I’m usually only staying at Camp Halfblood in the summers, but this year it’s different. I came here already in March. My reasons for a longer staying than usual weren’t that good. I had just got kicked out of jet another school and I’d quickly decided leaving for the camp early. My mother told me to stay in school until the summer, but I had already set my mind on leaving. I’m dyslexic and have ADHD, so three months less trouble in school couldn’t be that bad. When I got to the camp Annabeth was already there—maybe I shouldn’t use the word “already”. She had practically lived in Camp Halfblood since she was little. Annabeth is daughter of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, battle and strategy. When you know her you truly know where her bright skills come from.

In Camp Halfblood we have an oracle. One of the really old and creepy kinds. The reason for our whole training in fighting and strategy is because some of us one day might be lucky enough to get a quest by the oracle. This has happened to me. Thrice already, even though I’ve only been in the camp for three summers. I hope this summer will turn out to be normal: It would be great to have one without any life threatening quests and dangerous, old monsters. Well, at least as normal as a summer in Camp Halfblood can be.

The days went with hard training and when I finally let myself fall into my soft bed in the Poseidon Cabin, I was exhausted, completely drained of energy. The night outside my window would be dark and cold like it was trying to remind me of the winter.

This night I was just as tired as the many others, but when I looked out of the window, I just couldn’t get myself to sleep. The sky was like painted with stars. Thousands and thousands of them where glittering in the dark so high above. As the time passed more and more of them popped out on the black that seemed to be endless.

Tyson was snoring like a caveman. My half-brother’s Cyclops eye was closed and buzzing around like crazy. I yawned as I saw him in his sleep. I felt like I could sleep for a hundred years, but sadly sleeping in is not something you do in Camp Halfblood. I rolled around in my bed and flipped my pillow to its cool side. As I slowly fell into sleep, I had no idea of what was to come. 

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