synopsis: When Bellatrix Lestrange decides to test Percy Jackson's limits, only your courage and your unexpected love can keep him alive.
character: Percy Jackson x Potter!Reader
warnings: violence and torture
request: "Harry Potter x Percy Jackson! (Aged up characters but still from the TV show plz?) When Harry, Ron, Hermione, yn (Harry's sister), Percy, Annabeth, and Grover are forced to Malfoy manor while hunting for horcruxes, Percy is the one who's tormented instead of Hermione. Yn freaks out in the cellar. Yn rescues Percy while Dobby saves them. Yn leads him to bill and fleur's where he is taken care of. He has horrible nightmares of the previous events & yn is the only one who can calm him down."
author's notes: First I wanted to say that I'm sorry it took me so long to write this, but I've been very busy lately. It wasn't as long as I expected, but I hope you like it and that it meets your expectations!! (It is not yet reviewed btw)
The night was heavy, the air thick with that sense that something was about to go wrong.
You, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were in the middle of the hunt for the Horcruxes when everything fell apart. A well-planned ambush — Death Eaters appearing out of nowhere, spells whizzing through the air, and the desperate rush to react.
“Run!” Harry shouted, but there was no way out. There were too many of them.
Annabeth fought with a dagger in her hand, blocking curses with demigod reflexes. Grover tried to summon roots from the ground to hold the enemies back, but the dark magic of the wizards was hard to counter. You clutched your wand, your heart racing, casting defensive spells as chaos grew.
Among the captors, a familiar figure made Percy’s stomach churn: Luke Castellan. Your ex-friend, the traitorous demigod, now allied with the Death Eaters. He was the one who, in seconds, surrounded the group. And soon after, transported them.
Malfoy Manor appeared before your eyes like a living shadow. The dark mansion loomed against the night sky, its windows dimly lit as if hiding secrets no one should uncover. The gate creaked as it opened, and you were dragged inside, magically shackled. The marble floor reflected the flickering flames of the torches. The cold feeling of the mansion seemed to seep into your skin. You had only known the place from stories — but now you were there, a prisoner.
You were taken to the Great Hall. Bellatrix Lestrange appeared, her terrifying smile lighting up her pale face. You had always heard she was insane and cruel, but had never met her in person. Now it was time to see if the rumors were true.
“Look at what we have here…” she sang, circling you like a snake about to strike. “Harry Potter… and friends. Ah, and who are these others?”
Her eyes landed on Percy, Grover, and Annabeth. The intensity of her gaze was as if she already knew. But her hand rose to touch Percy’s face, and he recoiled.
“Hmm. Not all wizards, are they? There’s something… different about this one,” she said, closing in.
Then he appeared again: Luke. His presence made you roll your eyes.
“This is the famous Percy Jackson,” Luke said, his voice dripping with venom. “A demigod. Son of Poseidon. One of the forbidden children. Dangerous, powerful… and a pawn of the gods. He’s stronger than he looks, but not as clever as he thinks.”
Then she noticed the Sword of Gryffindor in the bag Percy was carrying — the same bag they had been using during the mission.
That’s when everything started going wrong.
“How did you get this?” Bellatrix screamed so loud you nearly felt your eardrum explode. “You broke into my Gringotts vault, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t!” Percy retorted.
“Liar!” Her shout cut through the room, followed by a spell that knocked everyone to the ground. “Luke was right about you, after all. A shameless thief… but one who will pay the price.”
Your heart stopped for a moment.
“No! He has nothing to do with this!” you screamed, but a Death Eater pressed a wand against your neck.
Bellatrix ignored your protests and raised her wand toward Percy.
“Take the others to the basement,” Bellatrix ordered, her voice low with a menacing smile — far scarier than if she had kept shouting. “This one stays with me. Let’s see how strong you really are…”
“Don’t touch him!” you yelled, your voice cracking, but it was too late.
“Crucio!” the woman screamed.
“No! Leave him!” you begged, but Peter Pettigrew and Greyback dragged you along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Annabeth, and Grover down into the dark basement.
The last thing you saw was the spell cutting through the air like an invisible blade. Percy arched on the floor, his scream echoing through the hall. You had never heard a sound so horrifying. Percy trembled, sweat dripping down his forehead, muscles tensed in pain. Bellatrix laughed as if it were music.
You were thrown into the cold, damp basement, the walls echoing the distant sounds from the hall. You, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Annabeth, Grover, and, to your surprise, Luna Lovegood, Ollivander, and the goblin Grampo were piled together, trapped behind magical bars. Then a scream cut through the silence — Percy’s scream.
You slammed against the door, your hands hitting the metal bars.
“Percy!” Your voice trembled with desperation. “They’re going to kill him! We need to get out of here!”
“I know, but we need a rational plan. Just leaving and trying to fight them is dumb,” Hermione said, trying to calm you but sounding a little desperate herself.
“She’s right,” Annabeth added, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Besides, Percy’s really strong. He’s faced Titans, monsters, and worse.”
But none of that comforted you — it went in one ear and out the other. You still felt the warmth of Percy’s smile from hours earlier, when he told you about the sea, eyes sparkling, promising to take you to the beach one day. All you wanted was to run and save Percy.
You kept screaming for him, pounding on the door. Annabeth and Hermione had no choice but to pull you away, trying to maintain control — after all, acting out could bring more trouble.
But before being fully dragged away, you saw through a crack that Bellatrix grabbed a silver dagger, pulled his arm, and with her wand, burned letters into his skin. You saw blood start to flow.
The word glowed on his arm in bright red: FORBIDDEN.
Percy looked at you, a tear mixed with the blood running down his face.
Harry joined the girls to calm you, after all, he was your brother and knew you better than anyone. But he didn’t understand why you were so distressed over Percy. Sure, he had nothing against the demigod, but your desperation seemed over the top, since you weren’t usually so attached to people, especially so quickly. Still, he didn’t fully trust Percy, and whenever Percy was alone with his sister, Harry made it a point to interfere.
In the hall, the torture continued. Bellatrix, with a sadistic gleam in her eyes, raised her wand over Percy again, his face twisted in pain.
“Crucio!” Bellatrix yelled again.
Percy’s scream was visceral, like every nerve in his body was on fire. He writhed on the floor, fists clenched, trying to withstand the unbearable pain of the curse. This was different from any battle he had faced — there was no sword, no sea to save him now. He was in so much pain, but he had no strength left to fight, not even to scream, not even to cry.
Bellatrix laughed, leaning over him.
“Luke said you were a hero, but you’re not looking like one,” she mocked, taking a knife and deepening the bloody letters on his arms. “I thought you were stronger than this.”
Time seemed to drag in the basement. Each second of silence, broken only by Percy’s screams, was torture in itself. You could barely breathe, your chest rising and falling unevenly.
Harry held the Mirror of Sirius, whispering desperate pleas for help while Grover and Ron thought of a plan.
Then a snap echoed, and Dobby appeared, his large eyes shining with courage.
“Dobby?” You asked, glad to see him.
“What are you doing here?” your brother asked, incredulous.
“I’m here to help the Potters and their friends, of course,” the elf replied firmly.
Grover narrowed his eyes. “Wait… you just apparated in here? Can you get us out too?”
“Of course, I’m an elf,” Dobby said, like it was obvious.
The entire group looked at each other, and for the first time since being captured, a thread of hope lit up the suffocating basement.
“All right,” Hermione said quickly, trying to stay in control. “Take Luna and Ollivander first to—”
“Shell Cottage!” Ron interrupted confidently. Everyone stared at him, confused by the sudden certainty, but he just said, “Trust me.”
“When you’re ready, sir.” Luna smiled sweetly at Dobby. The elf blinked, moved by the gesture.
“Sir?… I like her very much,” Dobby muttered, eyes sparkling.
He reached for Luna and Ollivander, but before disappearing said: “Meet me at the top of the stairs in ten seconds.”
And with another snap, he vanished.
Time seemed to drag. Then heavy footsteps echoed — Peter Pettigrew descending the stairs. The group pressed against the walls, holding their breath. Before he could see anyone, another snap came from upstairs: Dobby had reappeared.
The elf raised his hand and cast a quick spell, knocking the Death Eater to the floor with a thud. Without wasting time, the group ran up the stairs silently, hearts racing, hiding in the shadows of the upper floor, waiting for the right moment to act.
When they arrived, the scene was disturbing: Bellatrix was in front of the goblin Grampo, who had been taken from the basement a while ago, wand raised and a cruel smile on her lips. But the goblin didn’t seem scared — just bored, as if her threat were a minor annoyance. The witch, impatient, gave up and turned to Percy, who was on the floor, trembling slightly, body weak, eyes half-closed.
“I’ll take care of this one,” Bellatrix announced.
“No way…” you murmured, so low it sounded more like a promise to yourself than a response.
Without hesitation, you stepped out of hiding and cast the first spell at the witch. Chaos erupted immediately: spells streaked through the air in beams of light, ricocheting off the walls. You, your brother, Ron, and Hermione fought Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius, while Annabeth and Grover showed their skill against Luke and other Death Eaters.
Then a sharp scream cut through the battle. Bellatrix was back in the center, now holding Percy as a human shield, wand pressed against his neck. The world froze for a moment.
She said something — but to you, the words were a distant buzz. What really mattered was Percy’s lost gaze, the fear in his eyes, the blood running down his arm. Your chest burned with the need to save him. Then a strange sound caught your attention: a metallic creak, persistent, like screws giving way.
Instinctively, you looked up. And there was Dobby, balanced on the massive crystal chandelier, tinkering with the fittings. Then the structure gave way. The chandelier fell, shattering into a thousand pieces across the floor.
Bellatrix screamed, distracted by the impact, and instinctively threw Percy away, and he landed in front of you.
“Percy!” your voice broke as you knelt beside him. Your trembling hands touched his face with a tenderness almost unrecognizable amid the war.
“Percy, look at me,” you whispered, voice shaking as your fingers traced his cheek, now pale and slick with sweat. The blood still ran from the forearm where “Forbidden” was carved, a cruel scar pulsing with the pain he felt. Percy’s normally lively eyes were glazed, lost somewhere between agony and fear. He trembled, exhausted, but hearing your voice, he tried to focus on you.
“Hey…” he murmured, weak, almost a sigh. He tried to rise but collapsed into your arms, his weight supported by you. You held his hand carefully, avoiding the wound, as if a wrong touch could break him further.
“It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay,” you said, with a conviction hiding your own fear. You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, eyes locked on his, anchoring him to reality. “We’re going somewhere safe now,” you assured him.
Dobby reappeared with a snap in the hall. His large eyes shone with courage.
“Dobby doesn’t let his friends suffer!” he announced.
“Now!” Harry shouted, and the group moved in unison. Ron cast Expelliarmus, disarming Narcissa, while Annabeth threw her dagger, forcing Luke to retreat. You pulled Percy closer, helping him stand, even though he could barely support himself.
“Come on, Percy, just a little more,” you whispered, arm around his waist, guiding him toward the center of the group.
Dobby snapped his fingers again, and the air around began to swirl, the familiar pull of apparition enveloping everyone.
The cold sand of Shell Cottage touched your feet, the sound of the waves bringing momentary relief. You still held Percy, who collapsed onto the sand, body shaking from exhaustion and pain. His arm bled where “Forbidden” was carved, eyes filled with a void that broke your heart. But you weren’t going to give up on him.
“Percy, stay with me,” you whispered, fingers tracing his face gently, wiping sweat and tears from his cheek with care, contrasting the horror you had faced. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
He tried to respond, but only a low groan escaped. He held your hand weakly, as if it was the only thing keeping him anchored. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on your shoulder.
“It’s okay, Percy. I’m here.”
Annabeth and Hermione ran to you, eyes wide seeing the word carved on Percy’s arm.
“He’ll be fine,” Hermione said, voice trembling but trying to stay calm. She knew the curse cast on him was extremely powerful, but she also knew Percy was strong.
“He needs care,” Annabeth added, voice firm but full of emotion. “Let’s take him inside.”
You shook your head, eyes never leaving Percy. You carefully cleaned the blood from his arm with your sleeve, avoiding the cruel letters. Your fingers traced gentle circles on his back, and Percy, more vulnerable than ever, let out a low sob, face still buried in your shoulder.
Percy was carried inside, limp in the arms of Bill and Harry, and passed out almost instantly when they laid him on the couch.
Without wasting time, everyone moved. Dobby appeared beside them, small hands preparing compresses and healing spells, using all the knowledge he had absorbed over the years as a house-elf.
Grover approached quickly, muttering ancient words. A smell of wet earth and forest filled the air as he channeled nature’s blessings, trying to ease Percy’s pain and slow the bleeding.
Annabeth, hands steady despite her panicked expression, pulled a small golden bottle from her bag. It was Nectar, a very powerful healing potion for demigods, she explained.
You knelt beside him, holding Percy’s hand the entire time. Every tremor of his body cut through you like a blade. Hermione, Ron, and Harry watched, ready to help but knowing you were handling this perfectly.
Harry, seeing you — his sister — holding Percy so carefully, with a tenderness he rarely saw in you, something shifted. He realized how much Percy meant to you, and how you were the strength he needed now. For the first time, Harry felt that maybe Percy was more than a dangerous ally — he was someone who made you happy. He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could ease up on both of you.
That night, the silence was broken by a scream. Percy woke from a nightmare, body drenched in sweat, eyes wide with terror. He saw Bellatrix, the knife, her sadistic laugh mixed with Luke’s betrayal, the fire of the Cruciatus curse burning every nerve.
Percy suddenly rose, chest heaving as if he had just surfaced from the bottom of the ocean after being out of air. A scream escaped his throat, but was muffled as he brought his hands to his own arm, where the red letters still burned.
You woke instantly and ran to the next room, Percy’s room.
“Percy! Calm down, what happened?” Your voice was steady, though your own breathing was rapid.
His eyes were now glassy, watery. He seemed lost, as if still trapped in Malfoy Manor, hearing Bellatrix’s laugh echoing in his mind. His entire body shook, every muscle contracted in reflex to the never-ending pain.
“She…” his voice faltered. He swallowed hard, trying again. “She wouldn’t stop. I thought… I thought I wouldn’t survive. That I would die there.”
Your chest ached so much it felt like it would break. It was a nightmare. Unfortunately, you and your brother were used to them — nearly every night. But that meant you knew how to handle them.
You held his face in both hands, forcing him to look into your eyes.
“You didn’t die. You’re here. With us. With me.”
For a moment, Percy seemed to waver between belief and disbelief. But when his fingers found yours, squeezing weakly but desperately, you realized he needed this anchor more than anything.
You could feel others in the house approaching, peeking at the door, curious. But you just gave them your sternest look, telling them to leave. And in an instant, there was no one left in the room but the two of you.
“It’s not just the arm that hurts,” he said, almost a whisper. “It’s in here.” He placed his hand over his chest, as if trying to pull the pain out.
You pressed your forehead against his, breathing deeply to stay calm.
“I know. But you won’t carry it alone. I’ll be here. Always.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but not empty. Percy closed his eyes, body slowly yielding against yours, as if finally allowing someone to share that weight. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling each tremor, each uneven breath.
The sea crashed against the rocks outside, cold wind entering through the cracks of Shell Cottage. But there, on that bed, you were Percy’s safe harbor.
“I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” you whispered, almost inaudibly.
Percy opened his eyes just a bit, gaze softening when it met yours. His lips moved, forming a word so quiet only you heard:
You stayed there, just feeling each other’s presence. Percy had regulated his breathing and was no longer crying. Instead, you heard a muffled sound, like a laugh.
“You probably think I’m an idiot,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I’m already old, and I’m still crying over a nightmare.”
You laughed softly, but without a trace of mockery. You brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"You're stupid to think that. There's no age limit for pain, Percy. You've been through hell. Anyone would have crumbled."
He took a deep breath, trying to hide his shame, but the way he gripped your hand gave it all away.
For a moment, Percy just stared at you, as if trying to believe what you were saying. His chest rose and fell slowly, and you could feel each rapid beat against your body. But then he closed his eyes again.
And then, finally, he fell asleep again, his body heavy against yours. But this time, it didn't feel like a faint from pain—it was more like someone exhausted who had finally found a place to rest.
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