solitary ; pjo/hp

I.

IN HINDSIGHT, seraph should've known today would not be her day. it was the first week since term ended, and fourth year was officially over. which should've been a momentuous occasion, (except that owls were next year) but seraph was far from a good student, and somehow scraped by because regulus black worked day and night to instill knowledge into seraph's thick head. however she still felt that her results would be less than satisfactory, and in all honesty, she'd be happy with an A in her subjects. let it be said that not all slytherins are smart or cunning (but they are all ambitious- let that not be forgotten).

an itch, one could call it, had signalled that today would be a less than satisfactory day. it was the itch that was bone deep, the harbinger that showed up every single day where something- anything would go wrong. this omen should've kept seraph holed up at home and try to get to camp another way, after all, usually her mother would take her there, or chiron would send someone. this time around though, neither was available, so seraph was stuck in dreary london that was somehow cloudy even during summer, unless she found a way to get to camp.

usually, seraph would have a plan before making rash decisions like trying to call the gray sisters on an early saturday morning to travel to another country, rain pouring down like a heavy quilt on her hair and shoulders. but maybe it was the pervasive omen-itch in her body, the rain soaking her to her bones, or the summer idleness that kept her off her feet and holed up in her bedroom, but seraph had no plan this time, only a drachma, a square of ambrosia, her weapons and a wand. which probably was the worst idea she could ever come up with, and salazar slytherin was probably rolling in his grave in despair, but desperation clung to seraph like tar, and she was (for now) a slave to it.

but sometimes things go awry, especially when you're a demigod, because seraph was suddenly thrown to the side before she could call upon the sisters, white-hot pain searing her side. her ears rung at a high pitch so painful seraph almost couldn't hear the dark, canine roars from the shadowy hound that tossed her across the gravel. the overwhelming urge to take a nap came over the girl as she struggled to get up, but the world split in two, and the hellhound seemed to cross the thin line like a blur of black and death, and there was no time to even take her small, adamantine dagger out of her pockets until it was right in her face.

until it wasn't anymore.

accidental magic was a fickle thing, sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn't, and there was no telling when it would manifest. like now, seraph thought, looking up blearily to see a shimmering dome surrounding her, opalescent and gleaming as the dog, hellhound, clawed at it with growls like an engine. the shield had given her enough time to tug at the conch shell on her neck that grew to an eight foot polearm, gleaming in the scarce rays that pierced the sky. usually a battle cry would've been good, but seraph was so close to dropping to her knees, and it would wake people up, so she backed up as quick as she could before casting it into the depths of his maw.

an explosion of golden dust like flaking ichor rained down on the street, and her polearm, kallos, clattered to the ground, and so did seraph, the adrenaline leaving her body like the rain washed it off, letting her think much more properly as she chewed on the crumbled piece of ambrosia. it dawned upon her, like a crude prophetic vision, that there would be no way for her to get to camp half-blood without her mother's assistance, and she was stuck in peru with sick dragonlets who were much more of a priority than a daughter who attracted monsters on an hourly basis. and ask chiron for help? the centaur probably forgot seraph existed, which left her with an empty house with little to no food in the pantry and a room full of books on dragons.

at this point seraph should've remembered her pitiful age and feat of (rather impressive) accidental magic, but she would not, until a week later when a ministry owl dropped a letter in an empty fruitbowl in the empty house, adressed to seraphine kallyani potter regarding her outburst of underage magic in muggle london. 

it was also forwarded to mister and missus potter in godric's hollow.

"fuck," seraph mutters, slumping into the dusty armchair that nobody ever sits on, running her hand down her face as she groans. it was like the fates were out to get her, and she could practically hear the three wicked women snickering behind their wrinkes and long sleeves. seraph was fine living on her own, if she could take care of a grown woman who only has eyes in the clouds looking for dragons, she can take care of herself.

seraph began reading through the letter, going paler with each sentence she read. usually, underage magic was a minor offence, and the DMLE would usually let the caster off with a slap on the wrist, especially if theyre in a wizard majority village or town, but seraph lived all the way in london, and according to the letter, more than a few muggles saw wands and a lorry and no dead body.

but, fortunately for her, she was let off the hook since it was accidental magic that saved her life from being mauled by a vehicle that went askew.

with good news, however, most often comes bad news, and according to the ministry, seraph was unfit to live on her own (just send her to camp, please) and would have to stay with her closest relative until the ministry hears back from nandini potter. which, don't get her wrong, is far better than living in a dusty flat and ordering fish supper every night because going out was terrifying, but she hadn't seen the family in ages! after camp found seraph when she was ten, summers at her mama and khaleh's place just stopped happening, and so did hanging out with james because she got sorted into slytherin and not any other house (though seraph would choose slytherin a thousand times again).

seraph could not help but whinge as all fifteen year olds do when they are faced with problems, kicking her feet in the air like it would solve everything wrong and her mother would just come home. but it did not work like that, so seraph got up and dialed up the fish and chip shop, because at the very least, she should have a meal before a panic attack.

A/N: not beta read, 1144 words, seraph is very whiney lol