Harry Potter
Harry had rushed into the room following Percy, his wand outstretched, adrenaline keeping him from tiring. He stuttered to a stop, however, as he took in the scene before him.
Tension wavered in the air, dense, like a blanket. Elyssae-Lydian hardly spared them a glance, her eyes trained in an eerie calm towards the threatening figure across from her. Aristotle gave a much more full look, a small laugh twisting from his mouth.
"Come to be a little rescue mission, eh?" he said darkly, although still held a free confidence on his features.
"Call off your legions," one of the demigods, Jason said in a commanding tone, although he held a wariness in his gaze.
Aristotle only grinned. "Call them off? No, I don't think I will. The House of Midoria has ruled over this sector for far too long," he hissed, beginning to stride around the room. "Now, you coming here has complicated things, of course. Quite a great deal, actually. I've had to postpone my plans, couldn't have you around here while it unfolds. You all, it seems, had too much power. You'd be able to hold off my army at the gates, prevent anything from ever reaching the city in the first place. Don't think I don't know of your identities."
The older man gave another small laugh at their expressions. "Yes, that's right. Kept your little secret quite well. Of course, I think we all know now that you are not like us. Some gifted with great magic," he waved a hand towards Harry and the group of wizards. "Some blessed with power by the gods themselves," he indicated towards the demigods, who exchanged looks. "Some from parts of the world ravaged by a corrupt government," he glanced towards Katniss, Peeta, Tris, and Four.
"Yes, I've had sources tracing you from the moment you found your way into existence in the fields out there." Aristotle's grin glinted, his weapon trailing over to the group.
Elyssae-Lydian watched the exchange, but to her credit, no shred of emotion crossed her face. However, she did speak when the other man began to threaten the group.
"Aristotle, your quarrel is not with them. It is with me, and me alone."
Aristotle eyed the empress carefully. "Of course, you are correct, my queen."
He gave a hand signal, and a group of about two dozen soldiers, all appearing much more capable than the ones outside, emerged from the divets in the walls, surrounding the room. "However, I'm afraid our friends here will disagree."