Harry pulled a worn, leather wallet from his coat pocket and held it up, the edges faintly glowing with the enchantments he'd layered into it.
"This'll take us close to the last place I accessed the Hidden Market," he said. "It's not exact, but it's the safest path I know."
Artemis eyed the wallet with suspicion. "A wallet?"
"It's enchanted," Harry replied with a shrug. "Also the only thing I keep with me at all times. Practical."
Aphrodite rolled her eyes but stepped forward first, placing her hand on it. "Fine. But if this messes up my curls, I'm hexing someone."
Athena joined her without complaint, her face calm and calculating. Artemis hesitated a heartbeat longer before she too placed her fingers on the edge, silver eyes still wary.
Harry spoke the activation word: "Via Sombra."
A sudden, wrenching pull dragged them all through space. Wind and color spun around them in a dizzying whirl, and then, with a jarring thump, they slammed into solid ground.
The three goddesses landed in a graceless heap.
Aphrodite groaned from the cobbled stones. "Oh, I hate this form of travel…"
"I warned you," Harry said, already steady on his feet, lips twitching with amusement.
Artemis rose, her glare sharp. "Did you design that portkey to knock us over?"
"It's not personal. Portkeys react to the magical density of the passengers." He offered her a hand, which she ignored.
Athena, already brushing dust off her skirt, murmured, "That was... less elegant than I expected."
"Still effective," Harry replied.
And then, as they stepped through the pub and into the courtyard, Harry tapped the familiar brick pattern on the wall.
Click. Crack. Grind.
The wall folded away like a puzzle unbuilding itself, revealing the wonder of Diagon Alley.
The cobblestone path sparkled under lantern light as rows of whimsical shops and crooked chimneys stretched before them. Floating signs advertised everything from self-stirring cauldrons to charmed brooms. The air smelled of parchment, sweets, and polished wood. Owls hooted from cages stacked outside the Magical Menagerie. Children tugged their parents toward windows filled with floating spellbooks and exploding candy boxes.
Aphrodite gasped, her eyes lighting up like sunrise. "Oh, look at that—those are perfume bottles floating midair!"
"Magical fragrances," Harry said. "They adapt to the wearer."
Athena barely waited. Her eyes had locked onto the massive bookstore Flourish and Blotts, where towers of enchanted books floated and rearranged themselves midair.
"Knowledge first," she said with a spark of glee, and darted toward the shop.
Artemis didn't speak, but her eyes lingered on a narrow blacksmith's stall displaying charmed blades and miniature bows that aimed themselves. She followed a group of young witches entering Whistler's Enchanted Arms, curiosity piqued.
Harry chuckled to himself and turned to Aphrodite, who had already vanished into a boutique selling enchanted silks and magical makeup that changed with mood.
He sighed. "So much for sticking together."
They spent over an hour browsing. Harry followed Athena briefly as she fawned over spellbooks like "Wards of the Wild North" and "Runic Theory Beyond Time." She flipped pages in midair and muttered notes to herself, utterly captivated.
Artemis returned with a small satchel slung over her shoulder—a new quiver that whispered the arrow count into her ear and enchanted throwing knives that spun midair before locking into her grip.
Aphrodite, on the other hand, reappeared trailing the scent of jasmine and star-roses. "I bought six perfumes. And also this." She held up a chocolate box where each piece whispered compliments before melting on the tongue.
Harry smiled. "Glad you're all enjoying the place. But we didn't come here just to shop."
"Right," Athena said, adjusting her robes. "The Hidden Market."
"Yes," Harry nodded. "And if there's any place to hear whispers about it, it's Knockturn Alley. But we'll need to be careful—people there aren't exactly friendly."
He guided them past the bustle of Diagon Alley toward a narrow passage near the back of Borgin & Burkes. The entrance to Knockturn Alley was wedged behind a creaking black gate covered in crawling ivy.
As soon as they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
Knockturn Alley was darker, colder, and quieter—its cobblestones wet even though no rain had fallen. Signs creaked overhead with names scrawled in bone-white runes. The alley was lined with grim shops: potion sellers with vials of glowing liquid, wandmakers who dealt in cursed cores, and relic merchants displaying cursed artifacts like monkey paws and whispering mirrors.
The goddesses stayed close.
Artemis scanned every doorway as if expecting an ambush.
Aphrodite wrinkled her nose. "This place smells like mildew and rage."
Athena's eyes flicked from shop to shop, analyzing the magic built into the very walls.
Harry stepped into a side stall where a hunched, cloaked hag was selling "truth scrolls" for the price of a memory. "I'm looking for the Hidden Market," he said softly.
The hag grinned, revealing gold-threaded teeth. "That ain't free, wizard. Got coin?"
Harry flipped a Galleon onto the counter. "That's just for listening. More if you give me a direction."
The hag sniffed it, then nodded. "Follow the alley till the walls hum. Knock three times on the sigil with your wand, and whisper your name backward."
"That's it?" he asked.
"That's where you get the location," she said, wagging a bony finger.
Harry turned and signaled the others. "We've got a lead."
They followed the winding alleyway to where the bricks shone faintly with a subtle blue glow—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. Harry stepped up, drew his wand, and tapped the sigil etched into the stone—three rings inside a triangle. He whispered, "Yrrah," and the wall shivered.
A soft voice echoed from nowhere. "Your truth?"
Harry stepped forward. "We seek the location of the hidden market."
Silence.
Then the wall dissolved into fog, revealing a staircase that spiraled downward into black mist.
Harry took a breath and looked at them. "Stay close. This place have very powerful wards."
Athena nodded, stepping beside him. Artemis drew a small blade and concealed it within her sleeve. Aphrodite just smirked. "Let's see how good your secrets really are, wizard."
And together, they descended into the shadows.
The deeper they ventured into the sprawling Knockturn Alley shop, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. Shelves groaned with the weight of enchanted skulls, blackened wands, cursed rings sealed in crystal, and whispering scrolls that threatened madness if unsealed. The magical pressure in the air was stifling—like walking through a room full of ticking clocks and unsheathed daggers.
Aphrodite wrinkled her nose, brushing away cobwebs from a rack of love amulets. "Honestly, who shops here for romance?"
Artemis stood beside a display of ancient, barbed arrows carved from basilisk bone. "This place feels like it hasn't seen sunlight in a hundred years."
Athena examined a dusty tome chained to a pedestal, her eyes gleaming with reverent curiosity. "This book speaks in riddles and changes its title every time I blink," she whispered.
Harry walked at the front, his wand tucked inside his jacket, but his senses on high alert. He didn't trust Knockturn Alley—and especially not this store. Something about it felt off.
Then it happened.
A blur of movement. A sharp hiss. The unmistakable scent of rot and blood.
"Down!" Harry shouted.
A figure lunged from the shadows—fangs bared, eyes red like fresh-spilled wine. But before the attacker could reach him, Harry spun and delivered a perfect side-kick to the vampire's gut, sending him crashing through a rack of cursed mirrors.
Before the shards even hit the floor, two more vampires burst forth from behind the curtains. Artemis's celestial dagger gleamed in her grip. Athena pulled a thin, golden-bladed xiphos from her enchanted satchel. Aphrodite, surprisingly calm, conjured a lashing ribbon of pure light shaped like a whip.
The vampires lunged again, screeching.
Harry raised his right hand, and with a flick of his fingers, a whip of divine fire unfurled into existence, glowing like liquid starlight. The fire hummed with life.
With one fluid motion, Harry cracked the whip—and the three vampires were reduced to ash, incinerated mid-leap with a burst of white-gold flame. Not a scream, not a sound. Just dust.
Two others—clearly younger and weaker—turned to flee, but found Artemis and Athena blocking the door, weapons gleaming.
Harry stepped forward, whip still crackling in his hand.
"I'm not here to kill you," he said calmly. "But you tried to kill us. That gives me every right."
The two vampires trembled, wide-eyed.
"We were… we were told outsiders were sniffing too close," one stammered, his accent vaguely Eastern European. "They don't want the Hidden Market found."
Harry's voice was cold. "I'm not asking who 'they' are. I'm asking where the Market is."
The vampires exchanged a fearful look.
"The Market moves," the second one said quickly. "It doesn't stay. It hides. No doors. No fixed magic. It travels."
"Travels how?" Athena demanded.
The first vampire swallowed. "It's inside… Circo de Umbra—the Circus of Shadows. It's a Romanian circus that pops up where ley lines are weakest. Smoke and illusion on the surface. But behind the tents…" He trailed off.
"They sell artifacts," the second vampire continued. "Stolen relics. Cursed blades. Bottled gods. They'll trade anything—for the right price."
Harry's grip tightened around his whip. "And where's this circus going next?"
"Prague," the first said instantly. "They never stay long. Once every few months. It'll be in Prague for one month only."
Athena narrowed her eyes. "How do we find it?"
"Look for the white-eyed elephant," the vampire whispered. "They call it the Ghost Beast. It'll be their grand parade through the Old Town. Only those with shadow-touched blood or astral magic can see the entrance."
Aphrodite tilted her head. "Shadow-touched… like children of Hades?"
Both vampires looked at Harry.
He sighed. "Well, that explains why I keep seeing doorways no one else does."
Artemis lowered her blade slowly. "We have what we need. Let them go."
"They're just informants," Harry agreed, and with a casual flick, he dismissed the whip into smoke.
The vampires bowed nervously and vanished into the darkness of the store, disappearing like smoke on a breeze.
As the goddesses relaxed, Aphrodite looked at Harry with sparkling eyes. "I have to say, watching you incinerate three bloodsuckers with a fire whip is definitely the most romantic thing I've seen all week."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm glad near-death experiences excite you."
Artemis crossed her arms. "This circus sounds dangerous. We'll need to prepare. If they're trafficking in Titan relics, it won't just be vampires."
Athena nodded grimly. "We'll need more than weapons. We'll need disguises, magical identification, and at least one anchor in the mortal world."
"Let's regroup," Harry said, heading toward the exit. "We've got a few days to prepare. Then we head to Prague."
As they stepped back into the narrow corridors of Knockturn Alley, none of them noticed the figure watching them from the shadows above—a pair of glowing green eyes tracking Harry's every move.
The hunt for the Bone of Crius had begun.
"I need to go to Olympus," Aphrodite announced as they exited Nocturne Alley. She was already mentally picking out which enchanted daggers matched her dress. "If we're walking into a cursed circus selling Titan bones, I'm not doing it without my blades. And perfumes."
Athena adjusted her satchel, eyes stern behind her glasses. "Same. I'll retrieve my aegis. If this is a trap, I want every ounce of divine protection I can bring."
Both women turned toward the celestial lift stone, vanishing in a flash of golden light.
Artemis remained behind, arms folded across her silver jacket. She turned to Harry. "What about you? You going to forge a god-killing spear in a volcano or something?"
Harry chuckled. "Nope. Something scarier. I'm going to visit Hermione."
Artemis blinked. "Oh... That is terrifying."
Harry grinned. "I haven't seen her in months. Now that her parents' memories are restored, I figured I'd surprise her."
Artemis tilted her head. "You sure she'll be happy to see us?"
"She always is," Harry said confidently.
And so, the next evening, Harry and Artemis stood under the moonlight near a quiet Muggle neighborhood on the outskirts of London, outside the small village of Erling, where the Grangers had quietly settled. They'd taken the Knight Bus, as chaotic and bumpy as ever—Artemis declared it worse than Cerberus in a thunderstorm.
Standing in front of the familiar red-brick house with its well-trimmed hedges and the faint scent of gardenias in the air, Harry felt a strange mix of nervousness and nostalgia. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Footsteps echoed behind it.
The door opened, and a tall, well-built man in his fifties stood in the doorway. He had graying brown hair, glasses, and a serious face that instantly twisted into suspicion as he glanced between Harry and Artemis.
"Evening," Harry said with a warm smile. "Is Hermione home?"
The man squinted. "Do I know you?"
"I'm a friend of hers. From school. Harry. Harry Potter."
For a moment, silence. Then—
Whack!
"Oi—bloody hell!" Harry cried out, stumbling back and nearly toppling into the garden gnome statue.
Artemis's reaction was immediate—she was in front of Harry with divine speed, her hand halfway to summoning her silver bow. "What is wrong with you?!"
Mr. Granger pointed furiously at Harry. "You got our daughter pregnant and left! And now you come here like nothing happened?!"
"What?!" Harry choked, holding his jaw. "I didn't—I mean—I haven't even seen her in—what are you talking about?!"
Just then, the door flew open wider, and Hermione stepped out.
She was glowing—quite literally—with health and happiness. A modest maternity blouse hugged her rounded belly. Her cheeks flushed the moment she saw Harry clutching his face and Artemis looking like she was ready to shoot arrows through her father.
"Dad!" Hermione gasped. "What did you do?!"
"He said his name was Harry Potter!" Mr. Granger barked. "The boy you said got you pregnant!"
Hermione paled. "Oh. Oh no—Dad, that's not—"
But she moved fast.
"Harry. Annie. Upstairs. Now," she said quickly, taking each of them by the arm and pulling them inside.
As Mrs. Granger entered the hall behind them looking bewildered, Hermione waved a quick spell to muffle their movements, then dragged Harry and Artemis up the stairs. The walls were decorated with family photos—Hermione as a child with front teeth too big, playing the violin, running in school sports day races, holding trophies.
Hermione's old bedroom looked exactly as Harry remembered it: tidy, overflowing with books, with notes pinned to a corkboard and a ginger cat-shaped pillow on the bed.
She closed the door and cast another silencing charm.
"Alright," she said, sighing deeply. "Let me explain."
Harry was still rubbing his face. "Yeah, that'd be great. Because your dad just tried to rearrange my jaw."
Artemis stood at the window with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised. "Hermione, why does your dad think Harry is the father of your child?"
Hermione groaned and sat down on the bed. "Because I told them that."
"What?!" Harry and Artemis said in unison.
"I had no choice!" Hermione threw her hands in the air. "I already traumatized them by revealing the magical world. They're barely holding it together. Imagine if I told them I got pregnant by a Greek god!"
"I mean…" Artemis smirked. "It is Apollo?."
"I know!" Hermione said miserably. "And he left! And I didn't even know I was pregnant until weeks later! When I came back to live with them, I was still recovering. I was scared and didn't know how to explain it."
Harry sank into the armchair beside her desk. "So you said I was the dad."
Hermione winced. "Only because they knew you already. They remember me talking about you—a lot. And I figured, well, you're famous, heroic, polite—who wouldn't want you as the imaginary baby daddy?"
Artemis tried not to laugh and failed. "So… your parents think Harry got you pregnant… then ran off to America?"
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "It sounds so bad when you say it like that."
Harry leaned back, groaning. "You couldn't have picked Ron?"
"Are you kidding? Ron? They met Ron. They still call him 'the boy with dirt under his fingernails.'" She gave him a sheepish look. "I panicked, Harry. I didn't expect them to punch you."
Harry sighed but smiled faintly. "Well… I guess I've been blamed for worse."
"You're not mad?" she asked softly.
He looked at her—truly looked at her, glowing with motherhood, hope, and that same determined spark that had once taken down Horcruxes and dark lords.
"No," he said.
Artemis crossed the room and sat beside Hermione. "Does he know? Apollo?"
He hasn't came back. Hermoine replied
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "You're not alone. You've got me, Andromeda, Teddy, and now three—no, four—goddesses who basically live in my house."
Hermione smiled through misty eyes. "Thanks. That means the world."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"Er… Hermione?" came Mrs. Granger's muffled voice. "There's tea downstairs. And Daniel says he'll only apologize only after Harry promise to take responsibility."
Hermione gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to Harry. "You want to come down and try to explain magical divine paternity? Or should we just say we're in a complicated relationship?"
Harry groaned. "Just give me some time, I'll figure it out."
The three of them laughed, the tension easing a little as they prepared to face the awkward storm downstairs.