August—1998—Harry Potter is 18 years old—London, England
Passerbys watched the young girl curiously for a moment. Maybe they didn't realize it, but the seemingly young girl was much older than all of them. The shadows of the trees that lined the avenue all leaned towards the girl as she walked past them, Her bright golden eyes surveying the area warily. Immortality or not, she was still able to be wounded, she knew that first handed. As a demigod, a very old demigod at that, daughter of second-eldest god, she was could sense powerful prescences just as well as a satyr could identify a child of the Big Three.
She snorted to herself. Not that there was one alive besides herself and her brother and sister—but they were locked away in the Casino. No one—besides herself, her father, and his Fury Alecto—knew of her half-siblings. And Zeus be damned that he would make her tell him where they were. Not that he was aware that she lived, either. She snorted. Zeus would probably attempt to kill her if he knew that she was a demigod, if he knew that she even existed, just to spite his brother, not even because of the Prophecy. She was long past sixteen, unfortunately.
Immortality, the girl thought savagely. Such an ugly word, bestowing such power upon its owner, power most would crave, until they had it, and realized the consequences of what they wanted. To see the ages pass you by, your friends wither and die around you, you yourself untouched by the passing of time. No—she knew this long before she ever had the curse ever so wonderfully bestowed upon her. Death was natural. This—living beyond her time—this is what she would always be, until the end of time. Until the End of Kronos.
Kronos. The bastard that cursed her with this everlasting life. She would live to see the turn of the century. She would live to see the turn of the millinium, and the turn of the millinium after that. She would live to see thousands of generations pass her by, while she stood here, forever in a fourteen-year-old body. It sucked.
The girl jerked her head up from the grey street at the sound of what sounded suspiciously like her name. But that was preposturous. She'd never been to England before, nor had she known anyone from England.
Bria de Louge...
She was definitely not imagining things now. Bria stopped dead in the street, turning around confusedly. Unfortunately, she'd stopped at a corner, and a guy with messy black hair and emerald green eyes barged into her, nearly knocking her over. The sense in her head about the powerfulness of a person tripled, and she gasped a little, startled. The other guy, regaining his feet, shivered a little. Then, creepily, they both exclaimed, "Who are you?"
The guy with messy hair stared at her, Bria staring right back, both startled and wary. "Bria de Louge," she finally said. "I'm from America."
"Harry Potter."
They both studied the other. Harry was tall, extremely so, with messy hair that seemed like it couldn't be tamed, and there was a scar on his forehead that was strangely lightning shaped. He was antsy, as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. If it hadn't been for his emerald green eyes, Bria could've sworn he was a son of Zeus, with the constant urge to get off the ground.
"Something off," Harry muttered quietly.
"Funny, I was about to say the same," Bria replied. "If it wasn't for the eyes, I'd swear you were my cousin, with that constant twitch to get off the ground and messy black hair."
Harry grinned wryly at her, relaxing a little. "I've never seen gold eyes before," he admitted.
Bria shrugged. "I never asked for them." She didn't even want them, or the burden they signified. But Harry apparently found that amusing. Bria stared at him, not getting what was so funny.
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Bria asked.
Harry's eyes widened. "Ginny! Sorry, got to go!"
And without further ado, he bolted down the street, dodging irritated people and cars and carriges. Bria shook her head, amused.
Bria almost tripped when she heard her name being said: "...said her name was Bria de something. Sounded French, almost."
"Actually, it's Louisianian Creole, which is a mixture of Old Spanish and French and something else that I really don't care to remember, so you were pretty close," Bria herself commented. "I'll admit, I didn't expect to bump into you again in a big city like this."
The speaker whipped around, as well as his companions. It was Harry and three other people: two girls and a boy. "I'm guessing one of you is Ginny, the one he was late for," Bria said dryly, gesturing towards Harry.
The redhead girl smiled. "Wow, Harry, you're pretty trusting, telling a random stranger about me."
"Are you serious, Ginny? The last time that happened..." the other redhead said, this one a boy.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "It was a diary. I'm a girl. Girls write in diaries—"
"I don't," Bria interrupted. "It'd get lost somewhere and then knowing my luck, someone would pick it up and be horrified by my experiences."
The four of them shut up and stared at her. She shrugged. "Just saying. I believe most of you could relate, no?" She was looking at Harry specifically as she said it. She turned on her heel, rounded the corner, surrounded by shadows—and vanished.
"Wait, Bria! How did you—blimey." Harry ran around the corner, stopping dead in bewilderment. The other three followed once Harry didn't come back. "Harry?" Ron called.
The tall, dark-haired man turned around, his back to the virtually empty street. "She's gone."
January—1999—Four months since Bria last ran into Harry Potter—London, England
The shadows by Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny warped suddenly, and they all sprang backwards, their wands at ready, pointing at the shadows. No pain had come from Harry's scar, so they were all wondering who or what was doing this to the shadows.
Then the twisting shadows piled on top of each other to form a human-like shape, and they shifted uneasily in their stances. The shadows melted away, and the human inside collapsed. She looked up dazedly. "Oh, hi Harry. Hermione. Ron. Ginny. Fancy meeting you here. Listen, you might want to run, some of my enemies are..." She coughed awkwardly, trying to stand up. "Well, they're closing in, and I really don't feel like having you people hurt."
The wizards were silent, staring at Bria, who was beginning to become irritated. "What? Did Sadie put a glamour on my face to have me look like I've grown a mustache?"
"That was Dark Magic," Hermione said flatly.
Bria scowled. "It's not magic. And even if it was, from what I've heard, Light Magic can easily be just as destructive as Dark Magic, used in the right—or wrong, depending on how you look at it—ways. So seriously, get a grip on yourselves! It's not like I asked for these powers! Not my fault I was born with them!"
"Born with them or not, that was still Dark Magic," Ron said, his voice steely.
Bria threw up her hands in exasperation. "Look, I hardly know you, and as such, I don't know how well you can defend yourselves, okay? So get out of here!"
As if on cue, the wall exploded inwards, showing off the two Cyclopes, four dracaenae, and a small pack of hellhounds. Bria rolled her eyes. "Wonderful."
One of the dracaenae lunged towards Bria, her spear and shield at ready. Bria ducked, grabbed the spear, kicked off the ground, pushed off of the snake's shield, and wrenched the spear from her. She spun the spear, knocking the dracaena off of her snaky legs, and stabbed her in the chest, penetrating the shield and the armor the snake wore. She burst into golden dust like a piñata. The fight was over in five seconds. The wizards stared in shock.
Bria landed in a battle stance, spear poised to strike. She held out her hand, concentrating on her Celestial bronze sword, back at her rented apartment in the city. Shadows spun around her hand, forming the shape of the sword, and when she released them, her sword was in hand. She adjusted her battle stance so that her sword arm was raised above her head, her spear lower to the ground.
The dracaena's three sisters had been staring, but now they charged at the daughter of Hades recklessly, surrounding her. Bria swiftly backed up, avoiding the sharp point of the spear, into one of the dracaenae. Almost faster than the eye could see, Bria dropped her spear, lunged her arm backwards, latched onto her armor, and with Herculean effort, threw the dracaena into one of her sisters, vaporizing both of them. The last one backed off a little, until Bria lunged forward, cutting her spear in half, grabbing the sharp point, and threw it into her head with deadly precision, striking between the eyes.
Quickly, she stuffed the short spear into the waistband of her jeans and scooped up the spear that she stole from the first dracaena. Bria whirled around to face the monsters and was suddenly picked up by one of the Cyclopes that had somehow snuck up on her. She jabbed a bony elbow into his solar plexus hard, and then reversed her spear and plunged it into his belly. Bria dropped seven feet and landed on all fours, nearly impaling herself on her short spear that was still stuck in her waistband. Golden dust rained around her, which she spat out, irritated.
"Monster dust does not taste good," she noted to herself, pushing herself up and grabbing her sword and spear. The other Cyclopes charged, roaring, his rotten molars bared. I'd probably break his teeth, Bris thought to herself, amused. She threw her spear, landing it in the Cyclops's stomach, dissolving him. Bria turned to face the hellhounds. The lead dog gnashed her teeth, and two of her pack vanished into shadow.
Bria smirked, dropping her weapons, raising her hands. "Two can play that game."
They emerged from the shadows beside Bria, and she leaped straight up, propelled by the shadow ropes attached to her hands and the shadow spring that she was just shot from. She landed on the neck of one, dispelling the shadows attached to her, and yanking back on it's fur. "Yield to me," Bria said clearly. There was an indignant bark and the hellhound she rode shook it's head, nearly throwing her. She grabbed ahold of its ears to steady herself, it didn't like that.
The lead dog glared at me hatefully.
Bria shrugged. "I am the daughter of your master, hellhound. You would be dusted by now if you weren't. My father likes his dogs intact."
She still glared at the daughter of Hades hatefully, but this time she yielded. She stretched out her paws and put her snout between her forelegs. Reluctantly, the other hellhounds did so.
"Tell him I will not go back," Bria said, her voice cold and indifferent. "He cannot be attached to me."
The lead dog growled. Lord is always attached to the few children he has.
"Did it ever strike him that I wanted this no more than he?" Bria asked indignantly, fuming. "Go. The next batch he sends I will send to the Pit."
She gracefully hopped off of the hellhound she sat on, landing on her feet and turning in time to see them all vanish to shadow.
The wizards had their jaws around the floor. Bria glared at them. "Thank you, for heeding my warning and escaping while you had the chance," she said sarcastically. "I can't decide if you are brave, loyal, or stupid. Right now, I'm more inclined to stupid."
"Or startled that a young girl could fight like that," Ginny protested.
Bria's glare worsened. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite as young as you might think. Unlike you four, I'm from the last century. Unlike you four, I know my limits. Unlike you four, I would back off if someone I didn't know well suddenly kicked into Weapons Master 1-A. And unlike you four, I will be able to see all of your descendents until the world is blown to smithereens and the entity that I'm tied to is killed. And unlike you four, I'm tired, I'm sure I sprained something in my shoulder, and I'm drained from using so many complicated shadows. So guess what? I'm leaving."
And she did, melting to shadows that dispersed among the other shadows in the room.
August—1999—Eight months since Bria's last argument with Harry Potter and co.—London, England
Harry shivered, and it had nothing to do with the warm temperature. Although he was now certain Voldemort was gone, it did not reassure him that there was still extremely powerful people out there, people that probably couldn't be matched. Not by wizards.
Bria de Logue was one of them.
True, she had made no truly threatening advances towards the Wizarding World, but to Harry, and most of the people that were with him or that they told, were alarmed that there was a seemingly fourteen-year-old girl with powers that surpassed the Professors' and Harry's. Even without making threatening advances, she was a threat. And to think that there might be more of them out there, somewhere.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, jolting him back to the present.
"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Harry said hastily.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Harry James Potter, did you know that you can't lie to save your life?"
"No, I didn't know that, Hermione, as far as I know, I lie excellently when lives are involved," Harry said, distracted again.
The shadows on the wall of the cafe they were in at the moment were flickering strangely. Harry's hand was edging towards his wand, his eyes trained on the shadows behind Hermione.
"—you even listening?!" Hermione finally said, exasperated at Harry.
Harry stood up, hand gripping his wand tightly in his pocket. The shadows lurched to the side and a girl flew out of them like she'd been on the opposite side of an overdone expelliarmus charm. She slammed into the far wall of the (thankfully) empty cafe and crumpled to the floor.
Hermione gaped and whipped around, wand drawn.
There was another massive lurch in the shadows, and a small boy hurtled through the air. Faster than either of the wizards could see, the girl's dark hand whipped towards the boy. He was encased and shadows and reappeared on the ground, standing, conscious, and absolutely bewildered.
Harry and Hermione gaped.
Then the girl lurched to her feet so suddenly that Harry almost blasted her out of reflex, drawing her sword. Harry turned back to the shadows just in time to see one more person fly out, a completely metal spear at ready. Bria de Logue brought the grown woman to a standstill with the mighty clash of metal on metal.
Bria looked like she'd seen some hard times recently: her clothes were peppered with burn holes, slices, and ash, and her hair was loose and wildly bouncing around, getting in her face, but also nearly whipping the other woman if Bria turned her head too fast. She had a horrid gash on her forehead and it looked like she'd sprained something in her right leg, as she was favoring it.
The other woman pinned Bria after knocking her sword out of her hand. "You are going back to your father," she hissed. "If it means returning you to him to get him off of my back, I will. You endangered me, my companion Luke, and the satyrs that are attempting to find us."
"I will blow this place apart if I have to," Bria threatened. Her hand ignited into black flames. "I will raze this shop to the ground and expose every single demigod for what they are if I have to. See what happens when you mix lightning with hellfire."
Harry blinked as he realized that the grown woman was actually a ten-year-old girl wearing armor with a shield and spear.
The girl's electric blue eyes widened. "You wouldn't."
"It takes lightning or electricity to start the destruction," Bria said calmly. "It takes lightning or electricity for you to get back to the States or the Underworld. You have two choices: get my father off your back and expose our kind, or you can go back to the States with Luke. You're resourceful, Thalia. I frankly think that you can be one of the few that can evade my father."
Thalia's eyes narrowed. "You're willing to let the demigods be discovered so that you don't have to go back to Hades?"
"The gods do not not love their children. They simply wish that they won't be heartbroken time and time again," Bria said with steel in her voice. "My father cannot get attached to me."
Thalia snorted. "Why? You afraid he'll ground you?"
"No, because my very soul is tied to the gods' first collateral enemy," Bria said calmly.
Thalia released her instantly, pushing herself away from Bria, and putting herself between the boy and Bria. Said daughter of Hades rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, I am very much in control." She cocked her head curiously. "Although, if you want some advice, I'd be fearful of your friend."
Thalia glared at her. "Luke would never betray the gods!"
Bria shrugged, getting up. "I will not deny the gods are selfish. If they were not so, you would not have to be fearful of Luke. Try not to die." Bria pointed at Thalia, and she was enveloped in shadows. Bria knelt beside the little boy. Harry realized with a shock that the boy looked almost identical to himself when he was that age, only with more blue in his eyes, turning them to a sea-green. He was still dazed. Bria smiled as she knelt next to him. "Another cousin of mine. The first time the all of the Big Three's children have been in the same room in fifty years. Don't worry, Uncle Poseidon, your secret is safe with me." She gave the little boy a quick hug, and then transported him back to his house or wherever he came from.
"It's always this poor cafe," Harry muttered.
Bria gave a little laugh.
"A demigod," Hermione said faintly. "You're all DEMIGODS?!"
Bria's laughter turned into full-blown guffaws. "Harry is not a demigod, Hermione," she said. "I am, however."
Harry was utterly confused. "What the hell is a demigod?"
"Hercules," Hermione said.
Harry looked at her. "Yeah? What about him?"
"He was a demigod."
Bria nodded, agreeing. "A son of Zeus. An idiotic son of Zeus, but a son of Zeus all the same. That girl who attacked me? She was a daughter of Zeus."
Harry swallowed. Sometimes, he hated it when he was right. He was definitely outclassed. Hermione, next to him, looked like it was an early Christmas and like she was going to faint.
Bria suddenly darted between the two wizards, clonking someone on the head with the butt of her still-drawn sword. Both Harry and Hermione cried out in alarm when they saw their friend Neville crumple to the floor. Hermione gasped in shock as Bria was suddenly sent flying away from Neville as Harry ran towards him. "Neville!" He turned towards Bria, who was getting up and shaking her head to clear the shock, rage in his eyes. "How could you?!"
Bria's eyes narrowed. "Tell me, if you were talking to him and Hermione about extremely sensitive information that could easily wipe out an entire race, and a mortal walked in that may or may not have heard the information, would you knock him out?"
Hermione's answer was indignant: "No! We would use a Memory Modification Potion! Merlin's underpants!"
Bria was sent into a fit of laughter at the random 'curse' about some guy named Merlin and his undergarments.
"Stupefy!" Harry screamed. His wand blasted a jet of red light at Bria, blasting her straight in the chest.
She looked down, unharmed. Her expression seemed mildly interested. "Huh. It seems your so-called Light Magic does not work on creatures of the Dark. Interesting, as shadows are made from light. My soul should've been blasted to a million shreds, but all you've done is drained my energy a bit. Or maybe that just applies to me."
Hermione, kneeling over Neville protectively, seemed to be in shock.
Bria waved her hand carelessly. "I trust you'll keep our secret. It's not like anyone would believe you. Our race died out millinenia ago, after all. Don't worry, you won't see me again. I'll probably go to Greece, pay some respects to people long gone. See how China's doing. Then I'll go back to the States. I'm done here with Britain."
Before Harry could even blink, she was gone.
Hector: And that about wraps up Bria's encounters with Harry Potter! At least for this millenium, anyway. Harry will be appearing again in The Cursed of Kronos in a couple of chapters. I think.
Ruby: Hi. This is good. Bye.
Hector: ...thanks?
Mora: *rubbing her eyes tiredly* Hector would probably appreciate it if you people that may or may not read this would review.