Percy Jackson And The Fates Who Undeniably Hate Him. (PJOxHP)

Chapter 9

The Living Grape's Rant

It had been ten years since the night our parents were killed.

Ten years since we'd been left at the Dursleys'.

Ten years since we'd had a loving family.

It didn't start out so bad, actually. At first it was bearable. We'd stay in our 'room' most of the time, coming out only for toilet breaks, food or a stretch.

You see. There wasn't much space in our 'room'. In fact, it wasn't a room at all.

It was a broom closet under the stairs.

Me and Harry called that our 'room' until we were five - When our spiteful old Uncle decided it was too small so he 'kindly' allowed us to have Dudley's old room.

Five was also the age when things started changing: we had to do chores - lots of them, we got less food (not that we got a lot in the first place) and if it wasn't illegal, I'm sure they'd call us 'slaves'.

I was used to this, due to my first childhood with Smelly Gabe, but Harry was not.

So I took the worst part: The hardest chores, the most dangerous or tiring ones, any hits Vernon attacked us with and less food.

So it wasn't the best for my health, but oh well.

I always had some slight peace though, unlike Harry. I was capable of not doing any accidental magic, whereas my twin (not knowing what it was) wasn't.

This made Petunia dislike him very, very much. She liked everything to be normal. And perfect. The house always had to be perfectly clean, the garden mowed, the flowers bright, the porch immaculate and the car sparkling.

She wanted to be seen as perfect.

It worked.

Unfortunately.

Outside, she was this popular, kind, up- to- date lady who cared for her family so much.

And she wasn't having anyone ruining it.

Especially, not weird- freaky- Harry- with- the- strange- scar- that- would- be- cool- if- he- was.

So she kept him locked up. I couldn't recall the last time he'd been further than the garden.

I, on the other hand, wasn't so bad. According to her.

In reality, I was much much worse.

But for now, I could keep pretending I was a perfect little angel who was only rude to my ginormous uncle and his even more ginormous son.

They knew I hated them.

They were, dare I say it, slightly scared of me too.

Well, my glare not me.

It was funny watching them squirm and shudder when Petunia wasn't around.

Of course when she was, I was 'Good Little Percy'.

I had never performed magic and was 'as normal as can be'. I'd proven it by falling down the stairs a few times. (More like pushed by my cousin when he thought I wasn't watching).

So, in the small brain I think my aunt has (wouldn't bet anything on it though) I would have used magic to save myself, but since I didn't I was clean of the 'magic disease'.

Which was why she trusted me.

A bit.

Very little.