Heyo! I'm AliCloud and this is my first story ok, so be nice. If you really feel the need to spend your time bagging out others who are really trying their best then feel free to flame me, I really don't care. Even if all I get is flames I'm still gonna keep writing and there's nothing you can do about it. Take that!

But seriously, I would appreciate some constructive criticism from those awesome enough to feel like contributing. So on that note... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Now as much as I'd like to take credit, there is no way that I own either Harry Potter or Percy Jackson. Rick Riordan and J.K. Rowling own everything.

The Lies We Believed

Chapter 1: Secrets in the dead of Night.

The first night of term was not a good one for Harry Potter. Despite getting to bed late and being extremely tired he had still managed to have one of his worst nightmares yet. The screaming of his parents was relived again in Harry's unconscious mind.

The result of this was Harry waking, drenched in sweat, scare burning, with his sheets all at the bottom of his bed. His chest heaved as the beating of his heart slowly calmed down, with Harry fighting to control his panicked state. It was alright, it didn't happen. Well... it did, but not just then. He was in his dormitory, in his own bed, with Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean just across the room. Nothing could hurt him. He couldn't possibly be reached here. The dream meant nothing.

Resigned to the fact that there was very little chance of his resumed slumber, Harry donned his glasses and sat up. Silently, he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and carefully made his way across the slightly creaking floorboards, towards the window. It had a nice view of the grounds and, although it was night, the scenery could still be seen thanks to the moon's eerie glow.

Harry settled onto the small ledge next to the window. He could clearly see the lake from here in all its terrifying glory. The moon was directly above it and a glistening, silver sphere was reflected onto the lake's seemingly innocent surface. Harry, however, knew what lay below that crystal surface and from what he'd seen, the giant squid was the least of the terrors.

Water, he concluded, was not a thing to be trifled with.

Harry let his gaze slide lazily to the side. There was the tree, the one where he, Ron and Hermione spent so much of their free time. Recent discoveries had also shown that it was a favourite spot of his father's too. Harry shuddered; his father's image brought back many things he would rather forget. Like the flash of green light or the high pitched scream.

Then his gaze moved on and Harry pushed everything to the back of his mind. It hurt less that way. No use fretting over spilt milk and the like. At least that's what he told himself.

Harry hadn't noticed them at first. They were moving silently to begin with and all except one of them were dressed in black. They were walking in a tight huddle with their bodies bent towards the ground in supposed stealth. About six of them faced the outside, as if searching for attackers, their wands raised. A further four were hauling some sort of package between them.

By the time Harry noticed them the mysterious group were already halfway across the grounds. Harry probably wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't been looking in their direction and he was almost sure he was the only one to be awake at this hour. Everyone else was blissfully ignorant that something was being smuggled across the grounds.

Even as Harry watched, the 'package' which Harry now concluded was a teenage boy sprang to life, kicking and screaming, trying to break free of his captors. He managed to free himself but Harry watched in dismay as the boy was grabbed again by his arms. The mysterious teenager elbowed his opponent in the stomach and hurled himself at the circle of enemies in hopes of making an escape. Through sheer force the boy managed to break free just long enough for him to unsheathe a thin sword from Merlin-knows-where.

Harry stared in fascinationas the sword glittered in the moonlight. It was, in itself, a sight to see, even without the amazing skill this boy obviously possessed. The sword twisted and arced under the boy's careful instruction. It looked like an extension of his arm, not just a thin piece of metal.

As the boy took down his attackers, Harry was sure the boy would escape. Spells seemed to have no effect on the boy, they simply glanced off. His captors had no way to compete with the sword and were suffering as a result. Despite the odds, Harry was sure this young individual would have no problems beating these larger opponents.

But even as Harry was considering the odds a man came up silently behind the surrounded youth. The man didn't attack from behind or try to tackle the boy to the ground, like the others did. No. He simply tapped the boy (if rather hard) on his back, as if he expected something significant to happen.

If not significant, it was a bit weird.

Harry was sure the boy would just turn and bring the man down. He was certain that this captive would see the man brought low. The result was more puzzling.

The boy screamed in agony, his head whipped back and he howled, as if he'd been stabbed. The boy collapsed to the floor as writhed in uncontrollable pain. Harry was relieved when the boy stilled, unconscious.

The man placed his foot on the boy's body in mock triumph. It was clear that he did not care about the boy's suffering and apparently neither did his comrades as they laughed and joined in mocking.

After a minute or two, the men seemed to come to themselves and they picked the boy back up, continuing in their former formation. They were holding the boy by his arms so his legs were left trailing behind over the uneven ground. Harry could see the boy twitch and moan every now and then and it chilled him to the bone. After a particularly loud scream escaped unbidden from the youth's lips, the group stopped in its procession and the man from the previous incident, lay the boy down with his back facing the night sky.

To Harry's horror, the man brought his hand back, as if in preparation and after a moment's hesitation, brought it back down... hard. The fist smashed down on the teenager's back, causing him to scream in pain, curling up into a protective ball. The man must've muttered something because the rest of the group laughed, heads back, with their faces caught in the reflected moonlight.

Harry couldn't believe that no-one was witnessing this crime. Surely someone had been awoken by the disturbance. Maybe that last scream had shown someone the possible danger of this cruel group. Why hadn't Ron woken up yet? He couldn't possibly sleep that deeply that he didn't hear this. But the dormitory remained silent, broken only by the steady breathing of Harry's fellows.

Harry briefly considered waking his friends but couldn't bring himself to take his eyes off the slowly progressing group.

Suddenly, Harry jumped up off the window seat, mind made up. He rushed across the room to the door and yanked it open as quietly as possible. He only half heard the fat Lady's protests as he hurled himself through the portrait hole and down the corridor. Harry ran, in a fury; around bends and jumping down stairs two at a time, towards the bottom floor. He figured that was where the intruders would enter the castle, where else would they go? It was just as Harry had reached the top of the great staircase when he screeched to a halt. There they were.

The group had now almost reached the front doors and were still as silent as ever. Just as Harry was sure the group would continue into the castle unnoticed, the great doors opened to show a lone figure.

Harry saw the familiar long white beard and half-moon spectacles. It seemed Dumbledore had also been awake, watching the procession. Harry was sure he had never seen the old professor look so angry. He sure hoped the headmaster would never look at him like that. If looks could kill...

A man from the group, the same one as before, stepped forward into the light streaming in from the entrance hall. He muttered something before holding out his hand for Dumbledore to shake. Whatever the professor said next must have been harsh because the man's hand quickly dropped to his side. The man signalled to the group behind him but still didn't break eye contact with the headmaster.

The men brought their captive into the light and for the first time Harry could clearly see the boy. He must have been around 16, maybe slightly younger, with black hair that hung a bit over his eyes. Harry couldn't see what colour those were, as the boy's eyes were closed. He was wearing an orange T-shirt, with writing on it that Harry couldn't quite make out, and jeans that looked as if they'd had a disagreement with a cat, or maybe Fluffy.

The group hauled the boy roughly up the steps, towards the door. They passed Dumbledore without even looking up. The group continued on into the hall, taking their captive with them. Soon, all Harry could see was Dumbledore come up, who was looking out at the lake, lost in thought.

Taking one final look at the grounds, the headmaster walked back into the silent castle, swinging the huge door closed behind him and leaving Harry to wonder what he could possibly have witnessed.

Percy Jackson, welcome to Hogwarts.

Yeah, so that's about it. On the topic of Updates, I might be able to update again before the end of the hols but only if I finish the six massive assignments burning a hole in my desk. If I don't get time by when school starts I will do my best to post by week 2.

All reviewers will have my eternal gratitude! : )

AliCloud