The morning light of New Jersey painted the suburban neighborhood in pale gold as the sound of shifting wards softly buzzed near the edge of Harry and Hermione's modest two-story house. A subtle pulse rippled through the air as a visitor crossed the magical threshold—elegant, composed, and dressed in a sharp grey blazer over a midnight blouse and dark jeans. It was Athena, goddess of wisdom and warfare, currently posing as a visiting professor.
She knocked lightly on the front door, glancing down at her polished shoes, her expression calm but curious. The door opened almost immediately.
"Professor Wise," Harry said with a casual grin. "Right on time."
Athena raised a brow, lips twitching. "You know, it's not necessary to call me professor when we're not on campus."
"Habit," Harry replied, stepping aside. "Come in."
Athena entered, immediately noticing the cozy feel of the house. The faint scent of cinnamon tea lingered in the air, and the bookshelves were filled with mortal literature.
She looked around, expecting to see Hermione curled up with a book, but the chair near the window was empty.
"Where is Hermione?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her bag.
Harry's expression softened. "She's not feeling too well today. Bit of a magical cold—nothing serious, just something we'd rather not spread. She's staying at the Black Mansion with Teddy and Andromeda for a couple of days."
"So… it's just us?"
Harry nodded. "Just us."
Athena hesitated for half a second. "And we're still going to this… Doce Encanto?"
"Absolutely," Harry said. "You'll love it. A full-blown magical mall, six floors of magical shopping, enchantments, books, and magical candy that sings when you bite it."
Athena tilted her head. "Sounds chaotic."
"It is," Harry grinned. "In the best way."
He gestured toward the garage. "Come on, we're taking my new bike."
"Oh?" Athena followed him, intrigued.
Inside the garage stood a gleaming Harley Davidson, black with chrome accents, looking both intimidating and alluring under the warm overhead light. A faint shimmer of dormant enchantments danced across its surface.
"I bought it last month," Harry said, patting the seat fondly. "My godfather used to have a motorcycle that could fly. So… I figured I'd enchant mine too."
Athena raised an eyebrow, amused. "And has it flown yet?"
"Not quite," Harry admitted. "Still working out the anti-gravity runes. Last time I tried, it hovered three feet and nearly threw me off."
Athena chuckled softly. "Then I assume we're keeping both wheels on the ground today?"
"Wise assumption," Harry smirked.
Harry handed her a spare helmet, and Athena hesitated only a moment before reaching up. With a shimmer, her sharp professor look faded—replaced by something simpler and more mortal. She wore a snug leather jacket over a cream shirt, her hair tied up into a high ponytail. The transformation was so seamless that, for a moment, she looked like any college girl—except for the ancient intelligence behind her eyes.
Harry blinked. "You're… good at that."
"I've had practice," Athena said as she adjusted the helmet. "You mortals underestimate how often the gods walk among you."
They straddled the bike, Harry in front, and Athena behind. As Harry kickstarted the engine, the roar echoed in the garage, low and powerful.
"Hold on," he said over his shoulder.
And she did.
Her arms slipped around his waist, and the moment her palms touched the firmness of his jacket, Athena felt something she hadn't felt in centuries—fluttering. A strange warmth. A jolt. Not from fear or divine instinct. Something else.
As the bike pulled out of the driveway and into the open road, she found herself leaning forward, her cheek brushing against the back of his shoulder. The wind tangled the strands of her hair that escaped her ponytail, and her fingers clutched him a little tighter—not because the bike was too fast, or the road was winding.
But because, for a brief moment, she liked the feeling of being close to him.
She was a goddess. A warrior. A thinker. She did not swoon. She did not cling.
And yet…
Harry looked over his shoulder briefly. "You okay back there?"
Athena quickly composed herself. "Yes. Perfectly fine."
"You sure? You're holding on like the wind's about to blow you into another dimension."
Athena sniffed with mock indignation. "I am simply… respecting the laws of mortal physics."
Harry laughed. "Right. Well, respect away."
They sped down the highway, weaving through traffic, the city slowly giving way to more rural roads as they neared the hidden magical boundary near Newark. The wind was crisp, the sky bright, and every few seconds, Athena caught herself smiling—smiling wide.
She wasn't sure if it was the thrill of the ride.
Or the man she was riding with.
As they approached the hidden gateway of Doce Encanto, the magical wards began to shimmer, revealing a massive, enchanted mall hidden behind illusions that mortal eyes would never see. Glittering signs in shifting languages floated above its glass-domed entrance. Magic pulsed from its walls like a living creature.
But Athena's eyes lingered for a moment longer on Harry's back—his confidence, his calm nature, the weight of power he carried so lightly.
She had come seeking knowledge.
She hadn't expected her heart to be stirred.
And deep inside her, a quiet, ancient part of her whispered:
This could be dangerous.
The grand arched entrance of Doce Encanto shimmered with pearlescent magic, pulsing softly like a heartbeat. As the doors parted, Athena stepped through and froze. Her silver eyes widened, reflecting the towering spires of shops stacked impossibly high, staircases curling midair, and floating lanterns glowing with soft golden light. "By the Fates," she murmured, awestruck. "This is… not even Olympus has this kind of architectural ingenuity."
Harry smiled beside her, adjusting his leather jacket as the cool enchanted breeze brushed past. "Yeah, wizards might still dress like it's the 1500s, but we know how to build a mall."
Athena turned to him, eyes gleaming with excitement. "I'll need the entire day. Don't even think of leaving me here alone."
Harry laughed. "Wasn't planning on it. Where to first, oh mighty goddess?"
"The library," she said firmly. "Knowledge before indulgence."
They walked together through the wide corridor of cobbled stone, past sweet shops with floating ice creams, potion cafes where steam whispered secrets, and robes twirling in displays like ghosts. Athena's steps slowed only when they passed the book emporium—a massive three-story building called Quill & Quire. She pressed her palm to the glass as if the scent of parchment and ink called to her through the wall.
"I'll be in there for a while," she said with a reverent hush, and disappeared into the towering shelves.
Harry gave her a wave. "I'll be at the café across the way. Try not to hex anyone who recommends romance novels."
For the next two hours, Athena devoured the magical library like a scholar possessed. She scanned ancient tomes on wandlore, battle spells, magical law, and wizarding philosophy. When she emerged, her arms were stacked with books, and her cheeks slightly flushed with excitement. "They allow cross-realm lending," she declared victoriously, holding out a bronze token. "You wizards have finally done something efficient."
From there, the two explored the rest of Doce Encanto. Athena sampled ice cream that changed flavor with every bite. She marveled at enchanted toys—like a miniature chimera that growled protectively from her shoulder—and studied the wandmaker's techniques with deep academic curiosity. She examined dragonhide coats, Nundu-silk cloaks, and slippers that let you walk on ceilings.
By the time the glowing mall skylights dimmed to signal nightfall, Athena had filled two magically expanded bags. She handed Harry a few gleaming silver coins. "Drachma," she said. "It's only fair. I'm not letting a mortal pay for a goddess's indulgences."
Harry smirked. "Galleons cover it. Besides, you'll owe me if you ever need rescuing from a broom closet full of cursed artifacts."
As they walked toward the exit, arms full and shoulders relaxed, Athena paused at the threshold. She looked back once more at the grandeur behind them. "Your world… is chaotic. Messy. Flawed. But it has so much heart."
Harry glanced at her, a touch surprised.
Athena didn't elaborate. Instead, she simply smiled, more human than divine in that moment.
And then, in a blink, she vanished into golden light—back to Olympus.
Harry sighed and turned back toward the Floo fireplace in the hidden alleyway. "Well," he muttered to himself, "that went better than expected."
The hearth within Hestia's sanctuary crackled softly, casting a warm golden glow across the polished marble floor. The goddess of the hearth sat calmly by the fire, embroidering a handwoven tapestry with steady, meditative care. Her silver-threaded hair was pinned neatly in a bun, and her calm brown eyes glowed with an ever-present kindness. Though she had long set aside the passions of youth, Hestia's presence still commanded quiet reverence. Even the ever-thunderous Zeus tread lightly in her domain, never raising his voice nor his authority.
She had seen many wars, many jealousies, and the rise and fall of many mortal champions. And now, she watched with a quiet sigh as her nieces—Artemis, Athena, and Aphrodite—became tangled in something far more chaotic than any prophecy.
A mortal boy named Harry Potter.
She had no interest in love, not anymore. The realm of passion, competition, and heartbreak had long ceased to hold any power over her. She watched over Olympus as the eternal flame of its hearth. Yet even she could not ignore what was happening.
When Athena returned from her mysterious day in the mortal realm, the scent that followed her in her satchel made Hestia's nose twitch. The goddess of wisdom, who usually carried scrolls and papyrus, was now burdened with wrapped bundles—enchanted containers holding food, fresh and warm, and unlike anything Hestia had smelled in centuries.
Athena set the packages on the marble kitchen counter without a word.
"What is this?" Hestia asked, unable to stop herself from rising.
"Gifts," Athena replied curtly, pulling open one container. "From a place called Doce Encanto. A magical market. Harry Potter brought me."
Hestia raised a brow, then approached with a cautious dignity. One glance at the food—and then a taste—sent a thrill through her old senses. Her eyes widened.
"This—this is ambrosia without ambrosia," she whispered reverently, holding a piece of slow-roasted phoenix feather-spiced lamb. "It's seasoned with… powdered mallow root and storm pepper from the Eastern Sky Isles? How did mortals get their hands on such ingredients?"
Athena smirked knowingly. "You'd be surprised what their magical folk can do when they're not hiding behind cauldrons and pointed hats."
Hestia sat down slowly, still chewing, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and awe. "He gave you this?"
"He bought it. Paid with wizard currency. It's an entire hidden culture, sister. And Harry seems to have access to all of it."
The firelight flickered across Hestia's thoughtful face. "I don't care if he's charming or clever," she murmured, "but if he knows where to get ingredients like this…"
She trailed off, then stood abruptly.
"I must meet this Harry Potter."
Athena choked slightly on her buttered bread. "You're not interested in him that way, are you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Hestia said, waving a hand. "You girls can fall over him all you want. I want his pantry."
There was a gleam in her eye, soft yet determined. "I have not been this inspired in millennia. There are recipes I buried with Atlantis because the world had no more hydra oil or frost basil. If he can access these things…" She paused. "I could cook again. Really cook."
Athena blinked. "You mean… bake something other than fire-roasted bread and Olympian tea?"
Hestia's eyes narrowed in mock offense. "Blasphemy. My fire-roasted bread has won hearts and wars."
Athena raised a brow. "Harry might be a little overwhelmed if all of Olympus starts knocking on his door."
"Well," Hestia said, lips twitching into a rare smile, "at least I won't be asking for his heart. Just his grocery list."
She turned toward the flames and with a wave of her hand, summoned a golden ember to dance above her palm.
"Time to pay a visit," she whispered, her eyes glowing brighter with quiet purpose.
And with that, the goddess of the hearth vanished into the firelight, her destination clear: Harry Potter's kitchen.