Smoke and Dust

Chapter Three: The maniac in pink

Over his lifetime, misfortunes seemed to follow Percy wherever he went. Even discarding the monsters he attracted as a demigod, a lot of bad things found their way to him. The next misfortune wasn't long in coming. Percy had been home for a week when it showed up in a form even Percy Jackson had never expected.

It was an old man, with white hair and a beard so long its end reached into the blue-yellow patterned swimming trunks. His upper body was covered by a muscle shirt and from his shoulders hung a pink dressing gown. Fitting to the dressing gown, his feet were stuck in pink, fluffy sandals, the kind you got in a hotel for the pool for free as a woman because of course all women love pink. Or the kind Sharpay Evans would love if they cost a fortune. But the feet in the slippers weren't the ones of a snobbish high school student, but those of a very, very old man. Needless to say he looked like a maniac that just escaped the asylum.

Immediately Percy was on guard. His body tensed, muscles preparing to act should he attack. His eyes scanned the man for weapons, but came up empty, no bulge visible that could hint at weapons or guns. But that didn't mean he was unarmed. His own hands reached into his pocket for Anaklusmos, his sword in the shape of a pen.

"Good afternoon," the old man said, smiling at him. He was either half blind, which wasn't too unlikely considering his obvious old age, or too ignorant to see Percy's cold analysing eyes. "I am searching for Sally Jackson. I was under the impression she lives here." Percy noticed two things from his voice. First, he didn't sound insane, then again did every insane person sound insane? Second, he was British.

"And who are you?" Percy wasn't about to tell the crazy Brit his mother was indeed in this apartment, when he knew up to nothing about him. The man in front of him was difficult to read, but he was definitely not normal. The air around him didn't seem to keep still and it hummed with energy. Not the way halfbloods hummed with energy, but similar.

"Percy? Who is it?" His mothers voice sounded from behind him. Her steps told him she would be at the door in just a few seconds. His eyes scanned the man one last time. The fact that he couldn't label him, made Percy nervous, but he knew he could take him. Even if he was a threat, so was Percy. And so he didn't just close the door in his face, but moved out of the way so his mother could see the man.

"Dumbledore..." Sally Jackson's mouth opened in silent surprise when she saw the elderly man. First thought: She knows him. Then Dumbledore?

"Ah Sally," his smile grew as he laid eyes upon the mother. "How nice to see you again after so many years."

Sally stayed silent for a little while too stunned to talk until life shot back into her and she asked the man to come inside. Percy watched with careful eyes as the stranger set foot inside the apartment. He didn't like it, but he wouldn't intervene until it was necessary.

The man followed his mother to the table and sat down across of her. Percy stayed far enough away not to get noticed, but close enough to take action immediately. He actively removed himself from their attention and seemed to merge with the shadows. And then he listened.

"What brings you here, Professor?" His mother started the conversation. A professor? Percy looked at the elderly man. In what world was this man a professor?

"I am afraid bad news brought me here. I wish I could have come just for a visit, but fate wills it, I am here to ask for your help," the professor began. His voice calm and collected, but Percy could hear the seriousness in his words.

"Help? With what?" Sally asked. She was nervous, Percy could see the worry in her eyes and tensed even more if that was even possible. Every single alarm clock in his head was chiming like it was Christmas.