AN: You don't need to have read all 3 series. None of this belongs to me. Gregor and co. belong to Suzanne Collins. Harry and Co. Belongs to Joann Rowling and Percy Jackson and CO. belongs to Ricki Riordan :). ENJOY! UPDATE: I had this beta'd by Jajrulz (Thanks a ton!) And she's Australian so there are Australian spellings (which is totally awesome!) Chap. Two will be edited soon enough. And I'm working on chapter three.

Harry James Potter. Perseus Jackson. Gregor the Overlander. All three were warriors in their own right. All three set out to defy the certain death foreseen by the prophets of their stories; Sybil Trelawney, the Oracle, Bartholomew of Sandwich. The Fates, however, had a wholly different story to tell. The universe had not finished with those three yet. Not by a long shot.

Perseus

A splinter of light cut through the sliver of space between my eye lids. The sliver widened into a gap as I opened them wider and the familiar aching of unadjusted pupils took hold. I blinked rapidly and brought my hands to my face so I could shade my eyes from the daylight that had materialized around me. Instinctively, I scrambled to my feet and reached for my shirt pocket.

In the back of my mind I knew that there was supposed to be something important within it but all I found was a stick. Yes, that's right. I found a stick. I'll admit that it was a pretty nice stick. It seemed to be almost a foot long and a sort of light brown in colour. There was a short handle that was slightly broader than the sleek wood which made up the rest of the stick. The thing tapered to a sort of tip and along the side, a series of loopy, graceful letters were burned into it to make up a sort of word.

The letters did not look like the regular ABCs I'd been learning, or better put; trying to learn, since age five. The thing you need to know about me is I'm 'troubled'. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and dyslexic. So when I looked at the stream of letters on the stick and they weren't swimming around…I was surprised. Shocked, actually, I was totally shocked. It was clear as a belle what it said, as well as what it meant. Oulí̱ Astrapí̱. Lightning Scar. Deep down in my gut, I had a feeling that I was reading Greek.

I scanned the scene that had unfolded around me. I didn't know how I'd gotten there. One second I'd been asleep and the next: poof. Strange, huh? The sun was high in the sky and the air was warm. As far as I could tell I was standing in a normal suburban neighbourhood. There was a shiny green street sign that read 'Privet Drive' in large white capital letters. My head began to spin with confusion. Where the devil was I? I let my knees collapse as I took a seat on the kerbside.

I guess I should give you a little background. My name is Perseus Jackson. When all this happened I was ten years old, going on eleven that August. Teachers have never really been a big fan of me since, like I said, I don't learn well. Literally, I've been kicked out of every school I'd attended so far. On top of that, weird things seem to happen to me. Like the dangerous sort of weird, not the awkward kind. For example, there was this guy who had one eye that followed me around on the playground. At least, I'm pretty sure he only had one eye. Eventually my teacher noticed he was stalking me and I never saw the guy again. When I tried to tell her he only had one eye she looked at me like I was insane. Then there was this one time, when I was even younger, I strangled a full grown snake during naptime. My mom was quite alarmed; finding me cuddling a serpent's carcass when she came to pick me up. So it's only natural, I suppose for me to have been jumpy. You know, showing up in some random neighbourhood that clearly isn't New York City, which by the way, is where my mom and I live.

"Petunia," I heard a deep, pig-like, British voice snort coming from the 4th house in. I jumped to my feet for the second time, being sure to bring the stick with me as I ran to hide myself behind the hedge. I made it just as two figures stormed out. One, a man, was large and stout with a head that connected right to his shoulders; no neck at all. The other, a woman, was tall and lanky with an unnaturally long neck and an abundance of blonde hair.

"What are we supposed to do, Vernon?" said the woman whose tone contrasted that of the man's entirely. Hers was high pitched and sounded quite similar to a squawking seagull but also British.

"We've already had one freak in this household. We do not need another. Good riddance that ungrateful little brat disappeared," the man, whom I presumed to be Vernon, had begun a crescendo that ended in quite a boisterous yell. "Let us be free of him!"

"Vernon, keep your voice down," said Petunia in a hushed tone. "He could be waiting right outside. You read the letter. We have to protect Dudley-kins. You know I don't like this any more than you do, but we must do it. If we don't—"

My foot had begun to fall asleep and the pins and needles were just too much for my distractible body to take, I shifted my weight and a twig snapped beneath my sneakers. For a moment I hoped the people hadn't heard it, but they whipped their heads around.

"You," said Petunia softly. "You're…" she pulled a sheet of yellowed paper out of her apron pocket. Scanning it quickly, she looked back up at me with piercing, but frightened green eyes and said: "You're Perseus Jackson."

Gregor

Gregor wished he could remember more. The woman who had picked him up from the bus station was hoping for her son, not him. Tears had welled up in her multi-coloured blue-green eyes as she'd beckoned Gregor over with a pale hand. She'd muttered something under her breath about the Fates messing with things as she led the way to her New York City apartment.

"You're Gregor, right?" she'd asked him tiredly as they climbed the steps of her tenant building.

"Look, I'm not supposed to…I hadn't been…" his drabbles were nearly as tangled as his puzzled mind.

"I know you're confused. But I need to know for certain that you are, in fact, Gregor." Murmured the lady weakly, she'd stuck a key in her door but waited for Gregor's answer before unlocking it.

"Yes, I'm Gregor. But who are…" before Gregor had even finished his question she had twisted the key and pushed open the door. The smell was absolutely revolting. Taking a step away from the foul odour emanating from the room, the boy stared at the woman in utter bewilderment. "I will not take another step until you tell me who you are."

"My name is Sally. Sally Jackson. Look I know you're confused," Sally's voice had a sweet, but exhausted tone that reminded Gregor of his own mother.

"My mother…" whispered a wide eyed Gregor. She was at home alone with Lizzie, Boots, and Grandma. Lizzie was off at sleep away camp but when she found at Gregor was missing she'd surely panic. Ever, since she was little Lizzie had been an uneasy girl, but since Gregor's father had disappeared it had escalated to absolute constant fear. And then there was little Boots. She was only a toddler but she possessed an inspiring curiosity and an enviable courage. Then, Boots was too young to understand horrible the world could be, so it didn't really count.

Sally hadn't heard Gregor but she'd pulled her door shut and took a seat with her back to the wall. Her face relaxed noticeably and he realized that whatever he had smelt, it wasn't because of her. She lived with someone else and Gregor had a feeling that whoever he was had a personality to match his scent.

"Do you have any family?" she asked solemnly, as if reading Gregor's mind.

He nodded. "We live here, in New York, just around the block actually. Not even a ten minutes' walk from here." His eyes wandered around the interior of the building. He mulled up the grit to tell her that he needed to leave; his mom would be worried. She only shook her head.

"Look," said Gregor, feeling the anxiety seep back into his skin. "I don't know how I got to the bus stop. I'd simply fallen asleep and woken up on a bus next to some funny looking red head who was just as shocked as I was. I don't know how you knew who I was but I need to get home. My mom needs me. You have no idea how hard things have been for us. You don't seem like the kind of person who would take a boy away from his mother." Gregor had been bantering frantically to no avail until his final statement. It was then that he saw Sally's face tense up.

"I have a son of my own," she said faintly, but very distinctly. "But there's a place I need to take you. If I had any other choice I'd take it. But there isn't another option here. If I decide not to take you, if I go against them, we could all die. Every single one of us; me, you, your mother, we'd all be gone. Including my son and I'm sorry but I can't let him die."

"Them?" Gregor questioned.

"I'm sorry, Gregor. I can't tell you that."

"Where do you need to take me?"

"Another thing I cannot tell you," said Sally sadly.

"Is there anything you can tell me?" asked an exasperated Gregor. It was his final attempt at any information from the woman, who was proving to be less and less helpful by the second.

Sally nodded gravely. "My son, like you, was meant to do great things. I know there is one other boy, but details were scarce in their instructions."

"That lady is crazy: 'their'…What in the world. And me? Special? Clinically insane." thought Gregor, frustrated.

And so the two sat in utter silence for what felt like eternity before they heard the sharp rapping of a door at the bottom of the stairs. "That'll be Grover." Sally said feebly as she stood up and extended a hand to Gregor. Gregor glared at her, but took the hand. If it wasn't for the fact that they were in a mutually bad situation, Gregor would've absolutely hated Sally Jackson. No matter how much she reminded him of his own mother.

Gregor had meant to ask who Grover was but never got the chance. He recognized the awkward, goofy looking adolescent from the bus. What he did not recognize was the curls of animal hair growing out of the teenager from the belly button down. The thing bleated something about a boy named Percy but his exact words were drowned at by the scream Gregor had slipped.

The stairwell had begun to stink like wet animal. There were muddy, cloven, hoof prints everywhere. And Gregor was completely horrified. "What the heck is it?" he screeched. Then he remembered the book his dad had read him and Lizzie before his disappearance. "You're not Mr. Tumnus, are you?" The goat-man stared at Gregor with total horror.

"He was a faun. I am a satyr. He never existed, I clearly do. And you're not Percy Jackson." Grover baaed defensively.

Sally rolled her eyes and cut in "As much as I'd love to listen to you to argue over who you are and are not, you both need to get in the damn car."

Grover stared at Sally with wide eyes. "Yes mam." Gregor smartly followed suit. They all stepped out into the pouring rain. Gregor was soon to leave all he knew behind and deep down inside, he knew it.

So I'll do Harry's bit next. Basically, Harry is in Gregor's world. Gregor is in Percy's world and Percy is in Harry's world. R&R I love feedback. And uhm you definitely don't need to have read all three series to enjoy this. I promise. THANKS! :)

PS I now have a beta so there should be a lot fewer mistakes.

SHADOW BRAQS TZW

PPS T is Gregor's sword. Z is Harry's bolt and W is Percy's trident. Together they are the Deadly Trio. Anyone get the HP reference there?