A/N: As you can guess, I love face-offs. All I needed was a reason for Harry Potter and Percy Jackson to fight.

Wizard vs Demigod

The attacker struck Harry Potter so fast. A stealthy shadow out of the corner of his eye, sliver of wood clutched in a fist. The war wizard had his wand drawn and a bolt of light crashing against the enemy before he could say 'expelliarmus'. The wooden shaft sailed through the air and he caught it with seeker's reflexes. Not a wand, a switch-blade. A muggle.

At the mouth of the alley, another muggle in an obnoxious orange t-shirt stared.

Paranoid Yanks and their bloody strict laws, now Harry had two people to obliviate. The gaping mugger was an easy target, a quick flick immobilized him. The Man-Who-Conquered turned to the unwitting observer, a spell already flying from his wand. "Sorry."

Magic shattered into sparks against a glowing bronze shield that appeared from nowhere. "Not yet you aren't." The young man raised a strange, glowing sword and charged.

"Expelliarmus!"

The shield was fast, the spell was faster. Sword lost, the man staggered a moment from magical force. Then the warrior sprinted forward, shield braced like a battering ram. Fifty pounds heavier than Harry and wizards were no stronger than muggles. He apparated, appearing behind his second attacker, wand aimed at the unprotected back. "Stupefy."

In a blur of bronze the man whirled around. Spell collided with shield. Motes of light died. The man stared warily without the slightest hint of surprise. "What are you?"

"What are you?" Harry asked the definitely-not a muggle, wand ready. He could teleport away, but this being was able to hold his own with a combat-capable wizard. What if it ran into an innocent? Or the muggle conveniently paralyzed ten feet away.

"I asked first. Are you with the house of life?"

"The what?" Was this man a pureblood? Harry had never heard of any Ancient and So Important House of Life. "Are you a wizard?" Not likely. What kind of wizard used a sword? But that shield deflected a spell and the being hadn't shown any surprise at magic flying.

Legs shifting into a dueling stance, shield raised a touch higher, the warrior finally admitted, "No."

Harry's job was clear. "Obliviate!" The ghostly white spell shot forward. But the non-muggle—was he even a man—dodged so fast magic didn't touch his shield. In the blink of an eye he closed the distance between them, face dark with a fury that made even the slayer of Voldemort step back. From behind the shield he withdrew the glowing sword. When did he get it back?

"You tried to take my memories!"

Harry apparated before the sword could take his head, re-appearing as the sharpened shield-edge dove for his throbbing pulse. "Protego!" Metal met magic. The collision reverberated through his teeth. Too close. But he could only hold one spell at a time and the warrior was thrusting the sword at his unprotected side. "Argh." The blade's slash burned like a sectumsempra curse. Couldn't be this close to a sword-fighter. He apparated back, barely evading a second blow. One he wouldn't survive. "Bombarda!"

The shield's edge crumpled and magical force flung the swordsman off balance. He should have landed painfully on his side, an easy target for the paralyzing spell Harry was already casting. Instead, with the same unnatural speed he twisted with the spell's energy, slamming feet to pavement and shield in front of him in time to shatter a petrifius totalus.

"Are you magical?" Harry asked.

The being wasn't listening. He charged again, sword-point first. "You tried to take my memories!"

Harry twisted to apparate again but crushing force slammed him chest-first into a brick wall. Water wrapped around him like the coils of a snake.

"Evanso!" He snapped. A liquid coil vanished, just enough to free his right arm. Pieces were already merging back together but he pointed his wand at the warrior and snarled, "Incendio!"

There was something to be said for power. The first-year charm in the hands of a new student spurted little candle lights. From his wand, fire shot forth like dragon's breath, vaporizing liquid and crashing into the warrior. The being didn't dodge. A bronze sword slashed down toward his head. "Protego!"

Clang. He barely got the shield up in time. Worse, the blade was slowly beginning to part it. Concentrating with everything he had, Harry apparated.

Crack! Water and air split as he stumbled to the ground, a sharp burning pain on his forehead. He'd curled his fingers and toes in to prevent a splinch but blood dribbled down into one eye. What was gone? The swordsman was already recovered, bringing his shield around in a strike that would break him in two. Fire licked at his obnoxiously orange shirt but his tanned skin was only flushed an angry red.

Definitely magical.

Forgetting the splinch—he could live without his ear or whatever—Harry leveled his wand, bellowing out one of his most powerful spells next to the killing curse. "Confringo."

The blasting spell slammed into the swordsman like a semi-truck, crushed the shield into scrap-metal and flung its wielder into the opposite brick wall. Swordsman slid to the ground. Ignoring his own pain, Harry slashed his wand downward, "Sectumsempra."

The swordsman nudged the battered remains of his shield to cover vulnerable eyes. Crimson lines of magic slashed into flesh, bit deep into bone from eyebrow to scalp and down another leg. Blood spilled. The metal took the rest of the spell and clattered to two pieces. It stood, shrugging off the gaping wounds with teeth bared. A Norse Berserker? "I didn't survive a war to let a stick do me in!"

A war? "You fought against Voldemort?" Or was it with him?

Water twisted into a fist. Harry held himself at wand-point. "Impervius!" Water hit him. Or tried to. The repelling spell wasn't meant for keeping tsunamis at bay, but with Harry's magic behind it the spell stopped liquid knuckles a millimeter from vulnerable skin. "Sectumsempra!" His spell hit the warrior just below the eye, opening another gash from cheek to chin and biting bone-deep into the being's shield arm.

Boom.

Water rushed like a tsunami, a wall of unstoppable liquid. It choked the alleyway, consumed everything within and coiled around him like a tornado. This time though, it couldn't quite touch him. Couldn't squeeze him to death.

But it could steal his wand. Liquid slid between skin and the holly wood. Harry's palm was still dry but water wrapped around the handle, prying it away. The wizard twisted against the water's grip, fingers clinging bloodlessly to his wand. Berserker towered over him, standing on the water's surface like dry land. "The fuck's a Voldywart?"

Crack.

Harry apparated again, freeing himself from the water and landing in a sodden puddle on a rooftop, holly wand left behind. Again. Whipping out his sopping-wet invisibility cloak, he covered himself just in time. The swordsman rose on a column of water, scanning the rooftops.

He could retreat. Berserker was powerful and short of the unforgivables, Harry didn't see a way of beating him. Even with the unforgivables, could a killing curse beat those reflexes? A cruciatus burn him with immobilizing pain? An imperious curse dam the ocean in his eyes?

Light footsteps broke Harry's thoughts. He looked up. Berserker was looking at him.

Not right at him and the guy's head tilted in confusion. Not pinpointed but the warrior was on the right rooftop, circling in the right direction. Harry withdrew his backup wand slowly, one he'd captured off a death eater and 'forgotten' to report. Casting a totally silent spell with an unmatched wand strained his skills but his footsteps quieted.

Stay or go. Apparation was looking good now, but that left the mugger completely defenseless. He twisted in place…and stopped. The muggle didn't deserve to die. Damn his saving-people thing. Damn the man for stealing his holly wand.

Raising the stolen focus, he didn't even let the tip poke out of the invisibility cloak. One spell that couldn't be dodged.

Transfiguration.

He'd made no sound, didn't reveal the tip of his wand when swishing it, yet before he could turn hand to fin the swordsman sprang back into the water with a single leap. Battle-instinct. A tidal wave roared, enveloping the entire roof. "Oh come on. Accio!" Water clamped down on his mouth, more prying into his nose and ears. The warrior appeared, fast as apparation. Harry could faintly smell the sea.

"Why wipe my memories?"

Said the guy stealing his backup wand and invisibility cloak. Opening his mouth could drown him, but Harry had no choice. "To prodegd."

The bronze warrior paused. The water lost its unnatural solidity. "To protect?"

Harry nodded furiously.

"Protect what?"

The muggle was still frozen, which stopped him from gibbering like a mad-man. Whites surrounded his eyes. "My people," Harry finally said.

The definitely-not-muggle considered him carefully. Blood ran like water down the slope of his brow as the gashes closed to scratches. "You tried to take my memories." The warrior glared so fiercely Grayback would have cringed beneath it.

Harry nodded. He'd seen how fast the warrior could move. The first strike would cleave his body in two. "I was just trying to protect my people. We don't want everyone to find out. Muggles aren't always welcoming to us." Like my relatives, he didn't say.

Water parted to raise the limp mugger. Fainted. The swordsman splashed him and met the confused, wide-eyed gawk with his own death glare. "You're going to forget everything that happened here. And turn yourself in jail for mugging."

The spell was fading because the man managed a squeaky sound that probably meant, "Right, you're the boss."

"Fine." The swordsman dropped him and water suddenly drained out of the alleyway, trailing roadsides and settling into puddles, leaving the shivering mugger to wait for the spells to wear off.

"Damnit, if he tells…" Harry started.

"You think he's going to tell a soul what he saw here?" The swordsman raised the gashed eyebrow. "Who's gonna believe him? If the Mist let him see more than two hooligans fighting."

"The mist?" Harry interrupted. Was that a magical substance?

"Now, what are you?"

"Wizard," Harry admitted, "And you?"

"Demigod."

Harry sighed. This sounded like a migraine. "Can I have my wands back?"

"Going to wipe my memories again?" The swordsman's glare was wolfishly fierce but Harry had broken Voldemort's imperious curse. He wouldn't flinch from this.

"No." Not that Harry could. Not when the Berserker was more than a match for him. He held out his hand. "Wands now?"

Explanations first."

Half an hour later Percy took a careful sip of the peace offering 'Harry Potter' bought him. It was blue, kudos to him, but someone could have dyed it expecting him to die. Poisons didn't affect him much, but he ordered water just in case and examined the captured wand. The wizard twitched.

Percy had seen magic wands before, just not so small. He took out his sword, now a pen, and measured. Yup, almost as small as a pen. The wood creaked under his grip. Fragile too. The first monster attack would probably splinter it.

"If you'd give that back, I could heal your wounds," Potter nodded to the still-bleeding gashes bisecting his right eye.

"No need," Percy splashed some of the water on his face and the last of the pain vanished, leaving only an uncomfortable tugging from scalp to cheek. He really didn't need a mirror now. "So…you guys don't have anything to do with any gods? No possession? Legacies? You're not the wizards of Hecate?" Not that gods were the giving type.

Potter shrugged, holding his head in both hands and trying to drink his fifth shot of flaming liquor through his nose. "Never heard of them; most wizards aren't religious." A pause. "I think."

"Huh, that's weird."

The wizard's face silently questioned Percy's definition of 'normal'. So sue him. 'Because gods' had been the excuse for everything since he was twelve. Why change things now? "Weird," Potter said flatly, "Coming from a…" he made the hand sign for 'fucked up diety-mortal crossbreed'. "Are there more of you?"

"You're asking a lot of questions for someone who tried to pull another Hera on me," Percy pointed out.

"I'm sorry about that," Potter said. Sounding genuine this time instead of a child grumbling an apology. Hadn't asked for his wand back this time either. "We have to. There's no handy-dandy anti-muggle cloud covering up our magic." The wizard glanced out the door, where mortals passed Blackjack, probably seeing a car. "I wish the obliviators didn't have their jobs."

Percy scowled. Mind-wipers plural? A whole squad of people who did nothing but erase people's memories? Part of him wanted to choke the address out of Potter and pay those bastards a pointy visit.

The Annabeth-trained part of him saw the sense. If the Mist somehow disappeared, mortals would freak out but what could they do about monsters and gods? Zeus's lightning bolt still made the best mortal weapons look like kid's firecrackers. If anyone made a demigod concentration camp—well that's what storms, earthquakes and tsunamis were for. If the gods did nothing (as usual) Percy would.

Wizards didn't have the dubious backing of the Most Homicidal pantheon or the ability to make natural disasters with a wave of their wands. Mind-wiping was their Mist, but Percy's father wasn't the god of reason or understanding. "You couldn't figure out some glamour spell or illusion? Stop shooting every mortal looking at you funny?"

Potter scowled, "Been through a war. I'm a little twitchy around attackers in black hoods."

Percy stopped, "A war? With Voldywart?"

"Voldemort, a dark lord—"

"—Wasn't your grandfather, was he?"

"Merlin no," Potter shouted. People's attention jerked and he lowered his voice. "No, no relation what so ever." A hint of doubt. How well did this guy know his family tree?

"Shitty name."

"Shittiest," Potter agreed. "Glad we're not related. Harry Voldymort's a stupid name. He thought some wizards were better than others. Thought any wizard who had non-magic parents didn't deser-deserve to live."

"Sounds like a real piece of work."

"Yeah. He killed family, good friends…but I beat him in the end. Killed him in the end."

"Why were you involved in a war anyway? Weren't there," Percy gestured around the bar with Riptide, "Adult wizards." He was a few months shy of the typical demigod's deadline but some wand-wavers had nothing but white hair. And liver spots. He'd never seen a demigod with liver spots.

"There was this prophecy…"

Of course there was. "Don't," Percy interrupted, "Start with me."

Potter ignored him, fire-whiskey tower loosening lips, "—It's the reason my parents," a sloppy hand-slash across his throat, "Dead."

"I hate prophecies."

"Screwed my life up."

"Half a dozen prophecies screwed my life up," Percy glanced longingly at the fire-drink.

The wizard sobered up. "Half a dozen?" he asked faintly.

"Yeah," Percy glanced away from the glasses, "Turned out my birth activated this Great Prophecy…" Potter grimaced empathetically. That was all the encouragement Percy needed to continue. Not about everything, not to some memory thief, good reasons or no.

(Hera had good reasons).

But Potter understood.

A/N: So Harry Potter lost, having the rotten luck of facing Percy Jackson. Yes, Harry could have used unforgivables, just like Percy could have drowned him in his own blood but I tried to keep them in character and neither is that desperate. Hope everyone enjoyed!