B-R-Y-A-N

Bryan watched, bemused, as Mark stared in awe at the Great Hall, a sight that had become all too familiar to him over the summer. All the other first years were similarly subdued, though some of the purebloods cast suspicious glances in Bryan's direction, clearly wondering why he was wearing his sunglasses inside, why he looked so tattered, why was he with them at all when he was clearly so different. He ignored them and kept his eyes fixed on Professor McGonagall, who had set an old hat on top of a stool at the front of the hall. To his astonishment, the rip at the bottom of the hat opened up and it started to sing. The song was strange, but Bryan liked it.

"I will be calling you up alphabetically," McGonagall said, "when you hear your name, come up and put the hat on your head. After you have been sorted, you will take your seat with your new house." Bryan gulped. Alphabetically. He didn't have a last name, so he would either be first or last; the most noticeable one either way. He swallowed any fears he had, though, and walked calmly up to the stool when McGonagall called out a simple, "Bryan."

"Well, well, well," the hat said in his ear, "it's been a while since I had someone who so plainly thought of himself as an inhuman monster. Yet your mind is very unique, different than his. You are clever, yes, but that is artificial, not a trait of your heart. Your hard work is the same way. I sense that your - how do you call them? Creators? - would want you in Slytherin, which makes you even less likely to fit in there. Courage, now, that you have in spades. Otherwise you would not be here. Truly, the only choice for you is...GRYFFINDOR!" The clapping was awkward, the students were confused by how little emotion Bryan showed throughout his sorting. He simply got up, replaced the hat on the stool, and marched down to take a seat near Harry.

The other sortings went smoothly, Mark was sorted into Gryffindor as well, though much more quickly than Bryan. Professor Dumbledore stood up when it was finished, greeted them, and summoned their opening feast. After several long minutes in which Bryan said absolutely nothing, Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

"Bryan," he said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear, "are you alright?" Bryan hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.

"Students think too loudly," he pronounced finally. Harry nodded and patted him sympathetically.

"If you want to really talk about it sometime," Harry whispered to him. "I'm willing to listen." Bryan didn't acknowledge him; he didn't have to. They both turned back to their plates.

After the feast and the long walk back to the Gryffindor dormitories - one of the few spots in the castle Bryan had yet to explore - he sat alone at the window that looked out over the grounds. He desperately needed to talk to Remus; to explain or apologize or for some other reason, he wasn't sure. The other boys in his year (Mark Evans and three other boys, Hudson O'Niess, George Petty, and Victor Brandish) were all asleep and their dreams flitted through Bryan's mind like butterflies passing in front of a window.

He wasn't tired, not in the least - he had, after all, had a nap on the train - but it had been explained to him in no uncertain terms that wandering the halls after curfew wouldn't be allowed. Bryan figured he could use this time to do homework once the term had actually begun, but for now, he was able to just enjoy the solitude.

The next day, Bryan found, to his amusement, that his first class was potions with the Slytherins. He'd heard enough stories about Professor Snape from Harry to wonder what the class would actually be like. Down in the dungeon classroom, the Gryffindors carefully seated themselves on one side of the classroom and the Slytherins on the other. The bell rang and Snape made his entrance. Bryan gently probed into the man's mind, but found a very strong wall there; So, Bryan thought to himself, Snape is a very strong Occlumens. The potion master's wall was harder to his mental touch than Remus' had been.

Bryan noticed suddenly that, while his mind had been on Snape's, the class had started taking notes and now Snape, realizing that one of the Gryffindors wasn't paying attention, was standing in front of him.

He asked you to take off your sunglasses!! He heard half the Gryffindor class thinking at him. They didn't realize he could hear them, but he was grateful for their help.

"I would rather keep them on, sir," Bryan said, sounding respectful.

"Well, if you feel that you don't need to see the notes," Snape sneered, "perhaps you would like to answer a few questions for me."

"Yes, sir."

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape's upper lip curled into a smirk, he was sure no one could answer that question on their first day. Barring, of course, that Granger girl.

"The Drought of Sleeping Death, sir," Bryan said promptly. Snape frowned.

"What is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, sir. It also goes by the name of Aconite." Snape glared hatefully at him.

"Where would I look if I wanted to find a bezoar?"

"The stomach of a goat." Snape was now positively livid. Bryan realized, belatedly, that he had forgotten to call Snape 'sir' during his last answer.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class, Mister...what is your last name?" Snape asked silkily. Bryan clenched his hands under the table.

"I don't have one, sir," he said quietly.

"What was that?"

"I don't have a last name, sir," Bryan said loudly, through gritted teeth. A few of the Slytherins snickered, thinking he was an orphan, or abandoned, or somehow less fortunate than they. Snape, knowing he had struck a cord, continued.

"Well, what were your parents' names, boy?" he sneered. Bryan willed himself to calm down. Boy. That was what Romulus called him. This was getting out of hand. With a deep breath, Bryan stood, took off his glasses, and looked Snape in the eyes. He heard the gasps around him as the students saw his large, cat-like pupils dilated to slits.

"With all due respect, sir," Bryan said with a forced calm that made it clear he would gladly be yelling, "you have no right to force me to reveal my heritage. That is my business and mine alone." Snape smirked.

"That's another five points and a detention, boy," he sneered, "now sit down and kindly pay attention."

Bryan obediently lowered himself onto the chair and replaced his glasses. The rest of the lesson proceeded without incident, Bryan even took notes on what Snape was saying, but the students were all very glad when it was over and they were allowed to head off to their next class: transfigurations, again with the Slytherins. Bryan was stopped halfway out of the dungeons when a hand came from behind him and tried to knock down his stack of books. Tried, because Bryan had caught the hand and twisted it back on its owner before it touched even a single page. He looked at the person he was holding; it was Phillip Parkinson, a Slytherin first year. All the other Slytherins near them suddenly surrounded Bryan. He dropped Phillip's arm and turned to face them.

"What do you think you're doing, Gryffindor?" a boy asked, probably a third year, judging by his height and facial structure.

"Yeah, don't touch me, freak!" Phillip sneered and tried to smack him in the head. Bryan blocked him easily and the crowd growled at him. Quite suddenly, Bryan was hit with a combination of various hexes and he felt the world swim in front of him. Magic; he had forgotten about magic and hadn't been able to block their attacks. Feeling stupid and dizzy, he forced several members of the crowd aside and ran to try and catch up to the Gryffindors. His legs wouldn't work properly and he couldn't make it up the stairs. He was on the verge of pulling himself up by his arms when Harry came wandering by.

"Bryan?" he asked, surprised. "Are you alright."

"I can't get up the stairs," said Bryan, shaking his head. The motion made the hallway swim again and he pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes, noticing as he did so that his nose was bleeding.

"Looks like a jelly-legs curse, a cross-eyed hex done incorrectly, and definitely a nose-bleed hex," Harry said, looking him over closely. "I would say you had a run-in with some Slytherins." Bryan didn't say anything, some bizarre form of honor kept him from incriminating his attackers. Harry simply performed the counter-jinxes and helped him up. "Come to the empty classroom on the fourth floor during lunch and I'll teach you the shield charm."

Bryan nodded and hurried up the stairs, he was already late for Transfiguration. He could only hope McGonagall would be more fair than Snape.

She was, and all Bryan got was a raised eyebrow and curt instructions to 'find his seat'. Unfortunately, the only seat left was next to Mark Evans halfway to the back of the room - right in front of Parkinson. Throughout the lesson he had to endure various items being thrown at his head, usually saliva-covered wads of paper he later learned were called 'spitballs', for obvious reasons.

Finally, class was over and it was time for lunch. While his classmates made their way to the Great Hall, Bryan, still unused to eating more than once or twice a day, headed straight for the fourth floor. Harry joined him after a minute or two.

"Alright," he said matter-of-factly, "the shield charm is relatively simple, but you need to put a good bit of magic into it to make it strong enough to repel any curses, jinxes, and hexes being thrown at you. The wand movement is just straight up and straight down like this," he demonstrated and Bryan copied him, "Good. The incantation is: Protego, putting the stress on the 'te'. Try it."

Bryan moved his wand up and down and said, clear and loud, "Protego". The air shimmered around him for a moment before the shield dissipated. He tried again and again until he was able to hold the spell intact and erase it at will. Harry promised that they would continue practice the next day at lunch, trying it out against actual jinxes.

The next class, History of Magic, reminded Bryan of his old War History lessons. Here, too, he was able to let part of his mind memorize the words Professor Binns' ghost was saying while the rest of his mind wandered. So it was that he came to realize that the other Gryffindors, particularly the boys he shared his dorm with (with the obvious exception of Mark) were scared of him. Some were whispering to the Ravenclaws they shared that class with, spreading the story of what happened in Snape's class. He sighed internally, knowing that by dinner his infamy would have spread throughout the school, or at least the first year class. He could already hear the speculations forming in some of the Ravenclaws' minds.

...bet he's a werewolf. Mum said werewolves have strange eyes...

...wouldn't let a daemon come to Hogwarts, but what about a half-daemon?..

....didn't Da say somethin' about some breeds of vampire what can stand light on their skin but not in their eyes?

...do Kitsune hate the sun?

It was clear the story was being exaggerated with each telling. By next week he'll probably have killed Snape. Bryan angrily closed his mind off to everything except the sound of Binns' voice.

Afterward, the Gryffindors had a free period and Bryan wanted to use it well. He walked straight to the lake, removed his mal-fitting shoes, and soaked his feet in the cool water. The feeling soothed him and he let his mind wander out over the lake and up to the clouds, not sensing the people walking up to him from behind. Not, that is, until he was roughly shoved flat on his back in the grass. Startled, Bryan hid his feet in the mud and stared warily up at his housemates. Minus Mark.

"Hey, freak," said Victor Brandish. He was a mousy little boy who seemed more like a Slytherin than a Gryffindor at first glance. "We want to know what in Merlin's name you are and you aren't getting back into the dorms until you tell us." Bryan considered him for a moment.

"And if I do tell you," he said finally, "and it turns out to be something horrible, like a demon or a vampire, like I know you all think, what then?"

"Then we take it in stride and trust Dumbledore's judgment, since we know there isn't a yeti's chance in Hell he doesn't know already," said a girl named Yandra Simeon from behind Victor. Bryan began to understand why Gryffindors were considered brave. Had he been a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, his housemates would most certainly have dragged him straight up to Dumbledore's office and demanded his expulsion. Hufflepuffs wouldn't have approached him in the first place.

"Alright," Bryan said after another pause, "but let's go back to the common room, I don't want all of Hogwarts to know." He removed his feet from the water, making sure the other students all got a good look at his webbed feet and opposable toe before slipping them back in his shoes and standing up. They followed him wordlessly as he walked back to Gryffindor tower. He was lucky, and the common room was empty when they got there. Bryan motioned for the others to sit around the fire and he positioned himself in front of the grate.

"Alright, what do you want to know?" he asked heavily, dropping the English accent. Hudson raised his hand as though he were in class, but thankfully didn't wait to be called on.

"We can tell you aren't human," he said, "so what are you?"

"I'm a prototype for Project Heracles," Bryan answered flatly, staring straight ahead. He had, unconsciously, set himself in a military stance and looked very impressive with the fire at his back.

"What's Project Heracles?" Anne Vedera asked after an expectant pause.

"Project Heracles is the design for the genetically-enhanced super-soldier," said Bryan. "After twenty years of training in every possible aspect of military and civilian life, each model is to be sold to the highest bidder. As the prototype, I was reserved for a special client."

"Really?" Victor said skeptically. "And just what 'client' was that?" Bryan didn't move a muscle as he replied:

"Voldemort."

Instantly, eight wands were pointed at his heart. Still Bryan didn't move.

"Are...are you here to kill Harry Potter?" George Petty asked shakily.

"No. I escaped after only eleven years of training," Bryan answered calmly, "I received my letter to Hogwarts the day after."

"So, eleven years of training," Victor sneered a little, still not quite believing what Bryan was saying, "what can you do?"

"Would you like the full list of my schematics?" Bryan asked, allowing a hint of amusement to show in his voice.

"Sure, lay it on us."

Bryan took a deep breath.

"Name: 2-18251-14 BRYAN

Codename: Bryan

Place of Birth: Sublevel X of IRTOC Outbuilding B, Shoshone Mountain, Nevada

Date of Birth: August 1, 1985

Approx. IQ: 300

Number of Languages Known: 478

Recall: 99% accurate

Subjects Completed: Mathematics, Biology, Geology, Geography, Concentration, War History, Tactics, Weaponry, General Survival, Language Skills, Torture.

Subjects to be studied: Pop Culture, Culinary Skills, Music, Art, Social Sciences, Psychology, Infiltration, Disguise.

Number of Martial Arts Known: 100

Weight Lifting:

Bench Press: 200 lbs

Right Arm Lift: 85 lbs

Left Arm Lift: 81 lbs

Both Arms Lift: 190 lbs

Both Arms Push: 500 lbs (no wheels)

1215 lbs (wheels)

Endurance Running: 15mph for 6hrs

Sprinting: 25mph for 15min

Top Swimming Speed: 10mph

Average Swimming Speed: 6mph

Holds Breath: 12min

Height: 5'4"

Weight: 90 lbs

Eye Color: Brown/Grey

Hair Color: Med. Dark Brown

Skin Color: Slightly tan white

Improvements: half-inch quills on forearms and shins, larger eyes with reflective retina, webbed feet, opposable big toe, increased olfactory and hearing sensory nerve density

Distinguishing Marks: Barcode on right shoulder," he took another breath, "Also, since coming here, I have learned that I am a natural Legilimens, meaning that I can hear the thoughts of all those around me at will, and my barcode acts similarly to Harry's scar as it allows my creator and old math teacher, Romulus Lupin, to cast spells on me from a distance."

A heavy silence fell. The wands didn't. Bryan could feel their fear and confusion as they tried to soak in what he had told them.

"You promised me you would trust Dumbledore's judgment," Bryan said softly, almost pleadingly, "I am not here to harm anyone." Slowly, Victor lowered his hand, followed almost immediately by Hudson and George and, less quickly, by Anne, Yandra, and the other three girls: Bianca Delavan, Nectar Newly, and Patricia Spinnet.

"Is there," Bryan's voice shook, he took a breath to steady it and himself, "Is there anything else you'd like to ask?"

"Yeah," Bianca said in a small voice, "Did you have anything to do with what happened on the train?"

"Yes," Bryan swallowed, "The train was stopped by Regulus Lupin trying to retrieve me. He very nearly succeeded, and almost caused me to murder Remus Lupin in the process. Thankfully, he was unsuccessful."

"Hang on," said Patricia, "My sister told me about Remus Lupin. She says he's a werewolf. How could you nearly kill a werewolf?"

"There were two reasons," said Bryan, "First was that I have been trained to fight anyone and anything to the best of my enhanced abilities and, second," he paused and sighed, "Remus refused to fight back." The silence that followed was broken when the portrait swung open and Mark ran in.

"There you are, Bryan," he gasped for breath, "I've been looking all over for you. It's time for dinner, let's go." He reached for Bryan's shoulder, but Victor stepped in front of him.

"I wouldn't be so hasty, if I were you, Evans" he said viciously, "Do you know what Bryan is?" Mark glared at him and pushed him out of the way.

"No, Victor," he said forcefully, "I know who he is." Bryan let himself be led out of the common room. Once they were a few halls down, Mark stopped him. "I can't believe you told Victor Brandish who you are. I'm Muggle-born and I know the Brandishes are bad news. All anyone can talk about is how the youngest Brandish got into Gryffindor. It's almost as strange as if You-Know-Who himself became head of Gryffindor house!" Bryan watched him carefully during his tirade.

"Thank you for your concern, Mark," he said, hoping his sincerity was actually being expressed, "I truly appreciate it. But I can take care of myself; and if it takes revealing myself to a Brandish to set the others at ease, then so be it. At least now I have a few of them on my side, willing to back me against Victor should the need arise. Besides," he added, sighing, "at least now it is out in the open. I would not wan them becoming sociable with me under false pretenses." Mark nodded, even though he didn't quite understand, and they left for the Great Hall together.

Dinner was awkward. Mark, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones who would sit within five feet of Bryan. Harry, of course, thought it highly amusing that, for once, he wasn't the one being targeted.

"So Bryan," he said through a mouthful of toast, "I hear you're an incubus who has Professor Dumbledore under your spell. And here I thought I knew the old Headmaster!" Hermione smiled into her soup and Mark and Ron laughed out loud. Bryan smiled, too. It was nice to know not everyone was taking this seriously.

"Word travels fast, here," Bryan said dryly. Harry nodded his agreement, then laughed again.

"I still can't believe you had a stare-down with Snape," he gasped, "What I wouldn't have given to be there. What did you do to get him so mad?"

"I answered his questions correctly when he asked," Bryan answered truthfully. Harry shook his head.

"That's Snape alright," he sighed, then chortled again, "I wish I could've seen the look on his face, though." They all laughed some more and Bryan felt miraculously calmer. It was as though all the gravity of the situation had been lifted off his shoulders; he found it very pleasant. The feeling didn't even leave when he felt a cold hand grip his shoulder and turned to see Professor Snape himself looming over him.

"It is time for your detention, boy," he sneered.

"Certainly sir," Bryan said, smiling genially up at him, feeling the irritation it caused in the man. As they walked away from Gryffindor table, Bryan was sure he heard Ron whisper to Mark, "Bet it looked a lot like that."

"For your detention," Snape's drawling voice made it all that more comical, "you will be clearing off the Staff Table, without magic." Bryan restrained a snort. Of course he had to do it without magic, he didn't know enough magic to do it with!

Snape walked back to his place at the Staff Table, a smirk firmly planted on his face. Without saying a word - or losing his purposefully obnoxious smile - Bryan walked up and began stacking the place settings of teachers who had already left on one arm. It wasn't until he had a stack of fifteen plates going that Professor McGonagall took mercy on him and summoned a house elf to show him the path to the kitchens.

They walked through a complex series of miniature passages and tunnels that opened up, finally, in a small chamber filled almost entirely by a large, shallow basin of water. An hour later, Bryan had the entire rout mapped in his mind and could have found it from anywhere in the castle; but Snape still wouldn't let him leave. Every time he returned to the Great Hall, every place he had just cleared would have a fresh stack of dishes at it, even though all the other Professors had left.

Snape was trying to wear him down, that was quite clear. But Snape didn't know, no one at Hogwarts knew, just what his "childhood" had been like. Spending hours doing mindless chores for a smug git was nothing new and, as he had had a fairly relaxing time since his last sleep, he could go on far longer than the Potions Master ever could. Bryan decided it might be fun to inform him of this.

"You know, sir," he said at approximately ten at night, "When I turned ten, my trainers had me take an endurance test, which basically meant they wanted to see how long I could perform simple tasks without sleep. I went for a week and a half before fainting. This little 'detention' of yours has been a nice reminder of how lucky I am now that I'm not There anymore." He smiled graciously at the Professor and exited with a fresh pile of plates. When he returned, the table was clear and empty.