Nine Years Later

Manhattan was quiet. It unnerved Helen, who had grown used to the noisy, bustling city whenever away from the Hunt or Camp Half-Blood. She watched the demigods preparing their defenses—Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon and hero of the Great Prophecy, worked in tandem with Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, to organize their defenses. She knew Jackson some, for she had gone on that fateful quest west, to save her mother from the grasp of Atlas. She hadn't made it to Mount Orthys, returning the Ophiotaurus to Camp. War had still come, and with it Morpheus' power, which had swept across the urban island. Only those unaffected by the mist remained awake to repel Kronos and his terrible army.

"We'll take it," declared Thalia, daughter of Zeus and the newest lieutenant of the Hunt. When Zoë had passed, Helen had watched her mother grant the honor onto the demigod upon Mount Olympus, not for her loyalty and achievement to the Hunt, but to prevent the Great Prophecy from being fulfilled then, before Olympus was ready for war with their ancient enemy. Helen kept her silence, even if some part of her felt it should've been hers as the daughter of Artemis. She had grown through the years, to reach an age rare for a demigod. Maybe I should have taken my mother's offer of immortality all of those years ago. I would fit in better among the Hunters, at the very least. She scanned her mother's followers and looked upon the familiar faces: Rhanis, the last of the first sixty sworn to Artemis; Kassandra, who wore an eye patch to hide the carved mutilation done to her by a demigod a few months ago; Daphne, once Daphne Greengrass, still fourteen as she had been ten years ago when Helen made that fateful journey to Hogwarts.

That ancient castle was a fond memory for her now. Events in Magical Britain had calmed after the initial upset. Many of the Death Eaters slain in the graveyard near Little Hangleton were rich, respected businessmen and politicians, influencers of society who'd escaped imprisonment thanks to deep pockets. Their deaths had hollowed out their society, something that disturbed her upon discovery. Fortunately, the combined efforts of Dumbledore and her brother had prevented societal collapse. It had been years since the last letter from him, but then that had been around the time of the Lightning Thief incident and the Crooked One's rise.

"Will you join us?" Thalia asked, drawing Helen away from warmer thoughts. The girl wore the silver parka of the Hunt, though there was a gold necklace with a celestial bronze lightning bolt around her neck. "I know that you wish to be with your mother, but…"

"But I am a powerful demigod and a symbol of her power in the field of battle," Helen said, picking up on the girl's thoughts. It was strange, knowing that some seven years ago, Thalia had been an angry, rebellious girl holding tight to the boy on the verge of destroying the world and a little girl connected to the hero they all expected to save Olympus. Perhaps being a pine tree helped her grow up and her new friendships bound her tight to our cause.

Helen smiled. "Let us head for wherever Waterboy wants us."

Thalia snorted, grinning.

The Hunters made their way down 34th Street from the Empire State Building to the nearest route to the Lincoln Tunnel. Well, tunnels, Helen reminded herself. She remembered fondly a summer at Camp Half-Blood, where little Annabeth Chase had gone on and on about the various tunnels and bridges into Manhattan. Whenever Helen came to visit Camp, the girl had insisted on a new book on architecture. Through the mess of facts, history, and architectural jargon, one major fact had stuck out about their destination: three tubes connected Midtown Manhattan to Hoboken, New Jersey. She knew that with nearly fifty girls, they'd be put under heavy pressure to hold the tunnels, should the enemy strike hard at this point. We cannot block them, though, for they must be opened when the mortal world wakes.

"Any way to ask for help?" Daphne whispered to Helen as they passed Madison Square Gardens and Pennsylvania Station. "From Harry," she added.

Helen turned to the girl, blinked, and then slapped herself. The other Hunters turned at the sound, staring shocked at her. "Ugh, I can't believe I forgot about this," she grumbled, digging around in her magically deep pockets before pulling out a dark, cracked stone Harry had sent for their seventeenth birthday. In the letter, he had given her a phrase, one to use should she need help.

"Peverell," Helen whispered to the stone. She waited a few moments, for nothing happened, and then she slid it into her pocket with a disappointed shrug.

"Nothing?" Daphne asked as the other girls realized what she had been doing.

"Afraid not," Helen said. She approached Thalia, who watched her curiously. The lightning girl had yet to grow accustomed to the existence of witchy magic. "There will be no support from the British magicals. We should hurry. The enemy will strike soon."

The daughter of Zeus nodded. They raced on and soon reached the three tubes. Thalia was beginning to split them up when the air was filled with a series of echoing pops. The Hunters turned, arrows nocked and drawn.

A young man in red robes with messy hair held up his hands. He wore simple glasses that obscured vivid emerald eyes. Helen's eyes flicked to his forehead and she grinned at the faded scar she shared with her twin. It was now a healthy pale instead of the bloody jagged mark he had years ago.

"I feared your little gift had failed, brother." She strode away from the Hunters, all lowering their bows, and hugged Harry. He grinned, pulling her in tight.

"I had thought you'd never call, Helen." He pushed her back and scanned her, his green eyes bouncing to the other girls. "You don't look fourteen. I feared you would."

"Don't tell that to Daphne," Helen mocked. A wry smile—one of opportunities lost and gained—crossed Harry's face, but he shook it away.

"Well, I brought who I could. You have a dozen aurors and twice as many hitwizards, along with several of Britain's best duelers. Good thing you picked summer to ask for help, or we'd be short a few wands." Helen nodded, looking past Harry at the magicals he had brought. Among those in red robes like Harry, she only recognized the obnoxious boy with red hair. He had been scarce during that year, if only for how the Hunters worked to separate him from Harry and Hermione. None of the hitwizards were familiar, though she did spot both Hermione and Neville among the others gathered. There also was Professor Snape, the sallow man who sold her an hour worth of gillyweed, Professor McGonagall, who she had clashed with before the Yule Ball, and Sirius Black, her brother's godfather she preferred as a dog.

"I see the Headmaster isn't here," Helen said. "Too old?"

Harry shook his head. "No, problems further west. New Rome is being attacked too, so he went to aid them. My heart nearly stopped, seeing him in regular purple robes with goblin steel armor." Helen blinked, unable to imagine what that would look like. Dumbledore had worn only the most garish and colorful of robes during her year abroad. "But enough about the old man. What's going on?"

"The Crooked One marches on Olympus," Helen said. Harry scowled, gesturing for Hermione to join them. Thalia picked up on the movement and the four of them stood together. "He has an army of monsters and demigods. We've been assigned to hold the Lincoln Tunnel." She turned them so they could stare at the Empire State Building. "We must prevent them from reaching there. Olympus sits above and should he reach it…"

"The end of Western Civilization," Hermione whispered. Her bushy hair was drawn back into a long, thick braid. "What should we know about the enemy?"

"They'll resist most weak spells. Some monsters will even resist some of the stronger ones, too. This fight will be difficult, bloody. Too many good people will die today."

Harry gave her an odd look. "That's how war is."

As Helen feared, the fighting was bloody and brutal. She could feel it, almost like a twinge in the back of her mind, whenever a Hunter fell to enemy blades. The army of monsters they faced seemed to never end, and Helen wished that monster corpses didn't disappear in gold mist. We could've plugged the tunnels with how many we've cut and shot down. However, the arrival of her brother and the other magicals of Britain was enough to hold the line. Large, stone wolves moved in and out of the monster lines, slicing through like a scythe through wheat. Lights of red and green, yellow and purple, and a few shades of blue leapt from wands to slice through monsters, tearing away their shields and scaring their faces. One, a traitorous demigod mixed into the force, was hit by a flash of yellow, tripped over his feet, and impaled himself upon an ally's weapon.

The battle began to slow. The waves of monsters thinned, decreased in frequency, and enemy demigods stopped appearing entirely. It seemed to be midday or midnight—she wasn't sure—when the last monster was slain, disappearing into gold dust.

"Bloody hell," an auror mumbled, looking around. There were twenty or so bodies lying around. Several were Hunters, their bodies slashed and stabbed, pierced by arrows and one even burnt with a poisonous green acid. The others, however, were magicals. Three were in the same red robes as Harry, though Helen was relieved to see he was hale and healthy, not even limping as he scanned the bodies.

Then Helen recognized a face on a young man dressed in simple brown robes. Colin Creevey, the amusing boy half in love with her brother that had accompanied her to the Yule Ball, was dead. His eyes, like all the dead, were glassy and empty. His face looked almost peaceful and there were several burns around him.

"I saw him fighting a group of dracaenae," Helen said, both to herself and anyone who'd hear. "I…I thought he could handle them. I…I was…"

Harry pulled her into a hug and she cried into his arm. She had barely known the boy a day, yet she shed more tears for him than she did for every one of her fallen sisters, the girls sworn to her mother for eternity.

"He insisted on coming, even with the risk," Harry whispered. "He would not sit back when someone important to him fought for their life."

"I…I barely knew him," Helen admitted. "I can't believe I had such an impact upon him."

"It was enough for him to come fight side by side with people he didn't know." Helen pushed away and wished her distress wasn't reflected in Harry's eyes. "I should have left him behind. He had a good life, both in our world and the muggle one. He was…happy, even found someone he loved."

A great horn blew and they pushed back tears, drying eyes and drawing back their sorrow. The battle isn't over? What has happened? Helen frowned, especially as Thalia shouted, "To Olympus! We must return to Olympus!" The Hunters and the magicals were forced to leave their dead and race across 34th Street to the Empire State Building, where the battered and bloody remnants of the Camp Half-Blood defenders were gathering. Cabin Five, the Children of Ares, had arrived, though they looked rather disgruntled and were cleaner than everyone else.

"You get your head out of your ass, Clarisse?" Thalia taunted as the burly daughter of Ares stormed away from speaking with Percy Jackson. There was something…odd in his eyes. It was a sorrow not born from dead friends, but a greater burden. The end draws near.

"Leave me alone, Grace," the burly girl growled. Clarisse held a sparking spear tightly in her hand. "I don't have time for your manner-less antics."

"That's rich, coming from you," Thalia shot back. "Oh, and call me Grace again and I'll shock you worse than your spear could ever hope."

"Are they always like this?" Harry whispered to Helen. She nodded and that was enough to bring everyone's attention to the wizard beside her.

"Who's this?" Percy asked, charging forward. The almost sixteen year old did his best to glare at Harry, who only smiled down with amusement.

"My twin brother who isn't a demigod," Helen said. "It's complicated, but what you need to know is he brought reinforcements. A friend of his died"

Percy's scowl was tempered by the news of an outsider's death. He eventually said, "Fine, whatever. Luke is almost here and there's less than an hour until midnight." Until the prophecy is fulfilled went unspoken.

Helen nodded and looked around at the bruised and bloody demigods. They were all younger than her, and some were more child than adult. "The war will be over soon," she said, drawing eyes. "The war will be over, for good or ill. I hate to say it, but I fear we have to let the traitor Luke pass through our lines." She turned to Percy Jackson, who frowned yet wasn't protesting her words. "You have a prophecy to fulfill, one that has hung over the Gods and their children for over fifty years. Your choice—your decision—will determine the fate of Olympus, and my instincts say that Luke must be there at the end. I trust you to make the right choice, Perseus Jackson. Our fate lies with you."

He nodded, a great determination in his eyes.

In the coming days, as they handled their dead and Helen saw off the British magicals with their own dead, she would realize how accurate she'd been in that moment. Luke had gotten through, just as she expected—as she had, more or less, ordered the demigod army that held the threshold into Olympus until near the bitter end. Yet what she hadn't expected was the following events as they fought. Kronos taking over Luke, Percy handing Luke a cursed knife—one that had belonged to the man when he'd been an angry boy newly arrived at Camp Half-Blood—that he used to slay Kronos within his body. The prophecy had been fulfilled.

And to repay them, a few heroes were granted boons from the gods. Percy used the offer of immortality to improve relations between demigods and their godly parents, though Helen doubted anything would truly change as long as the Ancient Laws existed. Annabeth was granted the honor of designing the new Olympus, in need of reconstruction after the war's violent conclusion. Grover Underwood, the satyr who was with Percy and Annabeth through much of the war's biggest moments, was off to find Pan. And she? She got to see her brother Harry draw Artemis into a swinging hug. Apollo was likely spreading images of the moment, especially the moment when Artemis had faintly smiled when Harry called her mother.

She strolled down the magical concourse of JFK International with her brother. He was the last to take an international portkey back to Britain, with his destination being the magical concourse of London-Heathrow. "When will I see you next?" Harry asked.

"I cannot say," Helen said. "For now, the Heart of the West remains in America. It may change in the years to come, or perhaps a threat will arise in the ancient lands of Olympus." They reached the portkey chamber, where a long piece of rope waited for the 11:27 departure. There was a pause, as Harry turned to face her. "I will let you know if something happens, brother."

"Good," Harry said, smiling. "Let me know if there's another war. I'll come fight with you, no matter when or where, sister."

"I will hold you to that," Helen said. She watched as her brother disappeared. "I will hold you to that, brother."