Morning came quietly to Artemis's glade until a startled scream shattered the peace.
"Harry James Potter!" Lily shouted.
Every head turned toward the pond, where a small silver stag, one of Artemis's sacred animals, now had bright pink fur and was prancing proudly in circles while Harry giggled from the bank.
"I didn't mean to!" he cried, half-laughing, half-panicked, clutching a stick like it was a wand. "It just happened!"
Phoebe doubled over with laughter. "Oh, that's brilliant! Look at it shimmer!"
Zoe pinched the bridge of her nose. "He has been awake for ten minutes…"
Artemis herself appeared moments later, bow in hand, expression unreadable. The stag trotted up to her and affectionately nuzzled her shoulder, leaving behind a faint pink shimmer on her tunic.
Auron, standing off to the side, bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "He's developing fast," he murmured.
Artemis glared at him. "You find this amusing?"
"Mother," Auron said with a straight face, "he's five."
"He's chaos incarnate," she replied.
Harry's eyes widened. "I can fix it! I think!"
He waved his stick, and with a flash, the stag turned invisible.
A beat of silence.
Then Artemis muttered, "I stand corrected. He's worse."
Phoebe wheezed with laughter. "At least it's not pink anymore!"
Harry beamed proudly. "See? Fixed!"
And somehow, despite herself, even Artemis had to fight a smile.
Time passed in Artemis's camp inside the forest. Seasons came and went, the stars drifted, and yet the Hunt never aged. The moonlight glades remained eternal silver, soft, and alive with quiet power.
For mortals, five years had passed. For gods, it was a blink
But for Auron, it was the making of a life.
He had grown into his divine strength, taller, broader, his presence commanding yet calm. His hair gleamed with threads of gold and silver, eyes bright as twin storms. When he moved, the forest seemed to breathe with him. The Hunt called him the Silver Guardian, though he never claimed the title.
And then there was Harry, five years old, mischievous, clever, and utterly fearless. He had Lily's eyes, bright and green as new leaves, but when he smiled, there was something ancient in the look, something that made even the moonlight bend a little closer.
He was also a walking disaster of accidental magic.
Once, he sneezed and turned Phoebe's quiver into a flock of chirping sparrows.
Another time, when Zoe scolded him for climbing a tree too high, every arrow in the rack started whistling like teakettles until she gave up and laughed.
And on one memorable morning, he pouted so fiercely over burnt porridge that every bowl of it in camp turned into chocolate pudding.
Artemis was not amused. The Hunters were delighted.
Lily Potter had grown used to impossible things. She'd lived among Artemis's Hunt for years, learned the ways of the immortals, and earned her place through quiet grace and fierce wit.
She mended tents, shared stories of Muggle life, and scolded Phoebe when she "accidentally" tried to teach Harry how to throw daggers.
"Give him a few more years, Phoebe," Lily said, amused but firm.
"He has good form!" Phoebe protested.
"He's five."
"Exactly! Start young."
Harry, meanwhile, waved a twig like a sword and accidentally made it glow bright blue. "See? It likes me!"
Even Zoe, who claimed to have no patience for children, had softened. Harry had once offered her a handful of wildflowers and called her "Aunt Zoe." No one had ever heard her laugh so freely since.
Auron often watched from the edge of the glade, smiling faintly. His family—strange, mismatched, divine, and mortal had found harmony here under Artemis's light.
That night, the peace trembled.
Auron felt it first as a ripple through the forest, a pulse of deep magic older than Olympus. He turned sharply, eyes glowing faintly. "Mother."
Artemis appeared beside him, her bow half-drawn. "I feel it."
The stars dimmed. The moonlight thickened, twisting, until the world around them shimmered into silver mist. From the mist, a woman stepped forth tall, dark-haired, her eyes twin lanterns of violet flame. Her cloak flowed like a living shadow, her presence rich and commanding.
The Hunters instinctively lowered their weapons. Even gods did not tread lightly around this power.
"Hecate," Artemis breathed.
The goddess of magic smiled faintly. "You have hidden well, Artemis. Few places remain where I cannot see."
Her gaze softened as it fell on Lily and the small child behind her skirts. "But not from him."
Artemis stood firm. "You knew he lived."
"I felt him," Hecate corrected gently. "My grandson's spark in the tapestry of magic. Even when his mortal father's thread was cut, that spark endured."
Lily hesitated, clutching Harry close. The child peeked around her, curious rather than afraid. "Who are you?" he asked softly.
Hecate's eyes warmed, and the shadows around her dimmed. She knelt to meet his gaze, voice tender as a lullaby. "I am your grandmother, little one."
Harry blinked. "Gran? Like Mummy's mum?"
"Something like that," Hecate said with a smile. "Though I'm a bit more… complicated."
Just then, a butterfly of blue fire appeared in front of her nose. Harry gasped.
"I didn't mean to!" he said quickly, hands clapping over his mouth.
Hecate laughed softly, the kind of laugh that rippled through magic itself. "Oh, I see you have your mother's curiosity and your father's chaos."
Auron, standing nearby, watched carefully but did not interfere. This was not a moment to interrupt, even though he knew better than to stand between a grandmother and her blood.
Hecate brushed her fingers through Harry's hair. Magic rippled softly, no flash, no surge, just a deep, soothing hum that made the entire glade glow faintly. "You're strong," she whispered, "but your heart will be your greatest power. Remember that, Harry Potter."
Lily's throat tightened. "You're… you're not angry?"
"Angry?" Hecate looked at her with genuine surprise. "Child, you saved my grandson. You faced death and carried him into the moonlight. How could I ever be angry?"
Her voice grew quiet, touched with sorrow. "When James's thread was cut, I felt the loss. I could not reach him, but I felt you still burning, your love shielding what I could not."
Lily's eyes stung. "I only did what any mother would."
Hecate smiled knowingly. "Then you are stronger than most gods I know."
Artemis relaxed her stance, lowering her bow. "You came to claim him?"
Hecate shook her head. "No. Only to see. To ensure he is safe, and that you are not using him as a pawn in any games of the gods and goddesses."
Artemis snorted softly. "I play no one's games."
"Exactly why I trust you."
The two goddesses shared a long, silent look, centuries of understanding and rivalry passing in a heartbeat.
Then Hecate's attention turned back to Auron. "And you," she said, her tone almost amused. "You are the balance they whisper of. The one the Fates cannot touch."
Auron inclined his head. "I am what I choose to be."
Hecate laughed softly. "Bold. You sound like Zeus when he was young before wisdom found him."
Artemis smirked. "Don't compare him to my father."
"Then I'll say he's his mother's son," Hecate replied.
Auron smiled faintly. "That, I'll take as a compliment."
That evening, after the forest had calmed, Hecate stayed for supper, something no one had imagined possible. The goddess of crossroads, sharing a meal with Artemis's Hunters. Phoebe nearly dropped her plate when Hecate asked for more stew.
Harry sat between Lily and Hecate, chattering endlessly about everything from glowing rabbits to how Zoe taught him to whistle. The goddess listened with patient amusement, occasionally weaving little sparks of colored fire to dance above his hands.
He giggled so hard at one point that his cup of water floated into the air and poured itself neatly into Hecate's bowl.
Hecate arched an eyebrow. "A considerate young man and a budding magician. Dangerous combination."
When he laughed, the whole camp seemed to brighten.
At one point, Artemis caught Auron's eye, both smiling, both quietly in awe of the strange, gentle peace unfolding before them.
Later, when the others had gone to rest, Hecate lingered by the fire. Her voice was low when she spoke to Artemis.
"He will be extraordinary. Not just in power but in purpose. His path will bridge what our kind broke long ago."
Artemis folded her arms. "You mean mortals and gods."
"Yes. And magic and nature. Shadow and light." Hecate's gaze turned distant. "Your son's existence has already changed the threads. My grandson will change the world."
Auron said quietly, "And when that time comes?"
Hecate looked at him, the balance made flesh, the god born of another world's will. "Then I will stand with him. As will you."
Her smile softened. "Family protects family. Always."
With that, she rose, her cloak shimmering into smoke. "Watch over him, Artemis. And when he asks about me… tell him I love him."
Then she was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of lavender and lightning.
When silence returned, Lily exhaled, clutching her sleeping son. "She's… not what I expected."
Artemis smiled faintly. "She rarely is."
Auron glanced upward, toward the silver moon and the endless stars beyond. "She's right, you know."
"About what?" Lily asked.
"Harry will change the world."
He looked down at the boy, his little brother by fate, and perhaps, someday, the bridge between mortal and divine.
"Let's just make sure," Auron murmured, "that when he does, the world still stands… between shadow and moonlight."