Percy Jackson: An Endless of Dreams (BL)

Time moved on. Since the year 1799, the tides of history shifted. By 1860, as the heart of Western civilization moved across the Atlantic, the Greek gods—still very much alive and watching—relocated from Britain to the Americas. Olympus shifted with them, invisible and untouched by mortal hands, hovering above the storms of history. While they adjusted to the changing world, I remained in the Dreaming, tending to my realm and duties with diligence.

Year by year, century by century, I watched time unfold. I visited the Waking World often, observing the rhythms of mortals, the rise and fall of empires, the quiet tragedies and glories that passed in the blink of an immortal's eye. I also spent cherished moments with my son Orpheus in his temple on Naxos—sometimes for solace, other times simply to be near him.

In 1890, the magical world was shaken by a violent Goblin Rebellion—a bloody wizard-goblin war that threatened the stability of magical Europe. The conflict was eventually crushed, but not without cost.

Then came the First World War, from 1914 to 1918. A war of men, machines, and madness.

Barely two decades later, in 1939, the Second World War erupted—a far more devastating affair that stretched from the mundane world into the magical. Unknown to most mortals, it had been sparked by a demigod: the son of Hades, twisted by vengeance and ambition. While humans ended their war with the horrific invention of the atomic bomb, the Greek gods suffered their bloodbath. Hundreds of demigods died, many betrayed, many slaughtered.

The aftermath was so severe that Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades swore an unbreakable oath upon the River Styx: never again would they sire mortal children.

I had my doubts that that oath would remain intact.

Zeus and Poseidon were not known for restraint. And true enough, Hades had already fathered two demigod children before the oath. Rather than relinquish them, he hid them deep within the world, far from Olympus's gaze. He hid two of his demi-god children, Bianica and Nico Di Angelo, in the Lotus Hotel and Casino, where time is stopped and mortals are trapped. He hid them from the wrath of Zeus, wanting to kill them like he did with their mother.

As the gods bathed in the consequences of their chaos, I remained apart—distant, untouched by their squabbles. My realm stood unshaken, and I continued to observe.

Meanwhile, in the wizarding world, another storm brewed.

Hecate's once-promising magical world became twisted in the hands of others. Her pet project—designed to uplift magical knowledge and her prayers to her—was co-opted by a charismatic dark wizard: Gellert Grindelwald. Bring war and Death into that world. His rise to power caused global unrest in the magical community and ended in 1945, the same year as the Muggle war, when Albus Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald in one of the most legendary wizard duels in history. Legendary, my butt. 

After that, Dumbledore became a powerful political force. Even so, if he deined to become minister of magic in Britain. But power has its shadows. His control over magical education and the Ministry's decisions behind a light lord, illusion, led to stagnation and decay. Hecate was furious—her legacy twisted and diluted by what she saw as mismanagement and hubris. Can you consider him evil? No. However, he is holding back magic, discovery, and freewill. He's just a malutipated old fool thinking he knows better, like a know-it-all.

I could feel her spite in so. Where magic was to inspire and expand to the unknown. It became lost and hidden from the imagination of Dreams.

Which brings us to a quieter, but no less important, chapter.

The Potter family.

Lord Fleamont Henry Potter and his wife, Lady Euphemia Potter, were respected members of one of the oldest magical lineages. For years, they struggled to have a child—until fate blessed them with a son in 1960: James Fleamont Potter.

Fleamont made a name for himself not just with his heritage, but through ingenuity. He invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, a product so successful that it quadrupled the family fortune, already vast from generations of magical business, land, and quiet political influence. The Potters owned a castle on the island of Naxos, hidden by old magic and celestial wards.

In 1971, James began attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, he formed a lifelong brotherhood with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. Together, they became the infamous Marauders—a group of pranksters and animagi, brilliant and bold, defying rules and expectations.

By 1976, Sirius Black ran away from his abusive pure-blood home and was taken in by the Potters. Fleamont and Euphemia accepted him as one of their own, and Sirius soon called Potter Castle home.

But outside the school grounds, the world was becoming darker again.

The Second Wizarding War had begun in 1970, led by the rising Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. His ideology of blood purity, domination, and death spread like wildfire across Britain's magical world. Blood was spilled, alliances shattered, families broken.

Still, life continued in stolen moments of peace.

In 1977, James Potter and his friends graduated from Hogwarts. That same year, his relationship with Lily Evans began to blossom. Amidst the tension and uncertainty, they fell in love—a spark of hope in a growing storm.

And now, the year is 1979.

James and Lily are engaged to be married. The war rages on in the shadows of the magical world, while the gods remain distant, watching, scheming, or sleeping.

And I?

I remain in the Dreaming—watching it all unfold.

But something is coming.

The threads of fate are tightening around the mortal Potters.

And I feel the winds of change whispering through the realms, waking something that can change just Britain's magical world.