As they stepped out of King's Cross Station into the crisp December air, Harry couldn't help but notice that three of the most dangerous women in the magical world were leading him toward what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary silver van parked in a loading zone that definitely didn't allow parking.
Which, knowing his luck, meant it was probably about as ordinary as he was.
"Please tell me that's not actually a van," he said, though he was already grinning because he had a pretty good idea what it really was.
*OH, IT'S NOT!* Jim's voice exploded in Harry's mind like a one-man Broadway show having a complete mental breakdown after consuming seventeen espressos. *That's Lady Artemis's moon chariot in its 'trying desperately to blend in with mortal transportation but failing spectacularly at being inconspicuous' disguise! I'd recognize that particular magical signature anywhere! It's like a celestial fingerprint, except shinier and with better sound effects! Oh, this is going to be MAGNIFICENT! Do you think she'll let you drive this time? Please say yes! I've been working on some EXCELLENT driving commentary that involves twenty-three different sound effects, a full orchestra, and possibly a tap-dancing number!*
"Absolutely not," Zoe said firmly, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement as she somehow managed to pick up on the general chaos of Jim's mental commentary. Her voice carried that particular mix of authority and affection that suggested she'd been having this exact conversation with Harry since he'd been old enough to walk and point at interesting flying objects. "Thou art far too young to operate celestial transportation, and thy divine mother would be most displeased if we allowed thee to pilot her sacred chariot without proper supervision, approximately seventeen years of additional maturity, and possibly a complete psychological evaluation."
Harry flashed her his most charming smile—the one that had gotten him out of trouble with everyone from ancient Chinese emperors to modern headmistresses, and occasionally worked on immortal huntresses if he timed it right. "Come on, Zoe. I'm a very responsible driver. I've never even had an accident."
"You've never driven anything," Atalanta pointed out with a laugh that could have powered the entire London electrical grid while simultaneously making everyone within hearing distance feel better about their day. Her red hair caught the winter sunlight like captured flame as she shook her head in fond exasperation. "Unless you count riding Aether, which is flying, not driving, and also doesn't count because clouds don't come with steering wheels, brake pedals, turn signals, or those little air fresheners shaped like pine trees that somehow smell exactly like the opposite of pine trees."
*HEY!* Jim's voice hit frequencies that probably caused several windows in the surrounding area to develop sympathy vibrations. *I could totally provide steering wheel functionality if required! I'm EXTREMELY versatile! More versatile than a Swiss Army knife that went to college and majored in Advanced Problem Solving with a minor in Creative Chaos Theory! I could probably rig up some kind of celestial navigation system complete with GPS, satellite radio, cup holders, AND maybe a snack dispenser! Very practical cup holders that double as weapon storage and emergency entertainment centers!*
"Jim says he could add cup holders," Harry translated helpfully, which caused all three women to exchange the kind of look that parents share when their child suggests something that's simultaneously adorable and absolutely terrifying.
"Of course he does," Brunhilde said with obvious amusement as she pulled out what appeared to be a perfectly normal set of car keys, except that they gleamed with silver light and seemed to hum with barely contained celestial energy. The kind of keys that probably came with a manual written in Ancient Greek and possibly a liability waiver. "Everyone in. Zoe's driving, obviously, because she's the only person Lady Artemis trusts not to accidentally crash her chariot into commercial aircraft, the International Space Station, or that one cloud formation over Nebraska that looks suspiciously like Zeus when he's having a bad hair day."
"That happened ONE TIME," Atalanta protested as she opened the van's rear door to reveal an interior that was definitely bigger on the inside and probably more luxuriously appointed than most royal palaces. "And technically, it wasn't a crash so much as an unscheduled docking procedure that resulted in some minor diplomatic complications with NASA, a very confused astronaut who kept insisting he'd seen a flying silver sleigh with armed warrior women aboard, and approximately forty-seven incident reports that are still classified."
*UNSCHEDULED DOCKING PROCEDURE!* Jim's laughter felt like being caught inside a very happy thunderstorm having an argument with a disco ball and winning. *Oh, that's BRILLIANT! Absolutely BRILLIANT! Very creative diplomatic terminology! I'm definitely stealing that phrase for future use! 'Sorry about the property damage, everyone, we just had an unscheduled docking procedure with your building, your airspace, your understanding of reality, and possibly your insurance premiums!'*
Harry settled into what appeared to be a seat upholstered in actual captured moonbeams—which was somehow both the most comfortable thing he'd ever sat on and mildly concerning from a physics standpoint. The fabric felt like sitting on a cloud made of silk and starlight, if clouds could be engineered by people who understood luxury at a molecular level.
He watched with fascination as Zoe slid into the driver's position with the kind of reverent care that belonged to someone handling artifacts that could probably end civilizations if you pushed the wrong button or sneezed at an inappropriate moment.
"Verily, 'tis an honor to pilot Lady Artemis's sacred vessel," Zoe murmured, her hands hovering over controls that definitely hadn't been there a second ago. "Though I confess myself somewhat anxious regarding the responsibility of transporting such precious cargo safely across the Atlantic without incident, mishap, or unplanned encounters with military aircraft."
"There you go again," Atalanta said with fond exasperation, settling into her own seat with practiced ease. "Zoe, sweetie, you know you don't have to sound like you're performing Shakespeare just because you're nervous about driving celestial transportation, right? We've been friends for literally centuries. You can use normal contractions like regular people."
"I know not of what thou speakest," Zoe replied with perfect dignity, though the corner of her mouth was definitely twitching in a way that suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh. "Tis merely how I doth naturally converse when faced with the weighty responsibility of operating divine machinery that doth cost more than the GDP of most small nations."
"Right," Brunhilde said dryly, fastening what appeared to be a seatbelt made of woven starlight. "Because 'weighty responsibility' is definitely why you sound like you're auditioning for Hamlet every time you get behind the wheel of anything more complicated than a bicycle."
Aether immediately made himself comfortable across Harry's lap, somehow managing to expand into the perfect balance between 'loyal cloud companion providing emotional support' and 'magical weather phenomenon preparing for the kind of high-altitude flight operations that would make commercial aviation look like a leisurely stroll through a park.' The little cumulus was practically vibrating with excitement, making soft whistling sounds that might have been his version of humming show tunes.
*Look at him!* Jim's voice took on the tone of a proud parent watching their child perform in the school play. *He's so EXCITED! He knows we're about to engage in proper divine transportation! Aether, my fluffy friend, are you ready for the flight of your meteorological lifetime? Because this is going to be SPECTACULAR! Educational! And probably visible from space if we're lucky!*
"Good boy, Aether," Harry murmured, scratching behind what might have been the cloud's ears, if clouds had anatomical features that corresponded to traditional mammalian biology. "You excited about flying with a real divine chariot?"
Aether puffed up with pride and performed what could only be described as a seated bow, complete with a small shower of silver sparkles that smelled like winter air, adventure, and the promise of excellent flying weather. The loyal cumulus then made a sound that was definitely approval mixed with anticipation and possibly a request for in-flight snacks.
"I think that's cloud-speak for 'let's get this show on the road,'" Harry translated.
"Indeed, Master Aether appears most eager to commence our journey," Zoe agreed, her hands finally settling on a steering wheel that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago and was now gleaming with silver fire that made the entire interior shimmer like they were sitting inside a very expensive snow globe designed by someone with excellent taste in magical lighting. "Let us depart from this place before mortal authorities begin asking awkward questions regarding our parking arrangements, our complete lack of proper permits, our suspicious resemblance to people who should not exist according to modern theology, and why our vehicle appears to be humming show tunes in Ancient Greek."
"Wait, is it really humming show tunes?" Harry asked with obvious delight, because this was exactly the kind of ridiculous detail that made his life simultaneously wonderful and completely insane.
"Verily, Lady Artemis hath developed something of a fondness for musical theater in recent centuries," Zoe replied with perfect dignity, as if this was completely normal information to share about a virgin goddess of the hunt who was older than most civilizations. "Tis one of her more... contemporary interests. She finds the dramatic storytelling techniques quite appealing, particularly those involving complex family dynamics and characters who sing about their feelings whilst engaging in choreographed violence."
Atalanta grinned, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "She went through a whole phase where she only communicated through Broadway lyrics. It was either the most entertaining period in the history of the Hunt, or the most concerning, depending on your perspective and how much caffeine you'd consumed that morning. Try having a strategic planning meeting when your commanding officer insists on conducting the entire briefing as a musical number."
"I still have recordings," Brunhilde added with obvious amusement, settling back into her seat with the satisfaction of someone who'd witnessed history in the making. "There's a particularly memorable performance of her doing the entire score of 'Hamilton' while hunting a pack of hellhounds through downtown Detroit. It was simultaneously terrifying and oddly educational. The hellhounds seemed genuinely confused by the historical content."
*MUSICAL THEATER GODDESS!* Jim's enthusiasm reached levels that probably caused several seismographs to recalibrate themselves. *Oh, that's WONDERFUL! I LOVE musical theater! Very dramatic, very educational, excellent use of creative choreography and complex harmonies! I bet I could provide excellent backup vocals! I've been working on a seventeen-part arrangement of 'Defying Gravity' that I think would really complement her hunting style!*
The van—which was definitely not a van anymore, though it was still making a reasonably convincing attempt at looking like one from the outside—pulled smoothly into London traffic with the kind of effortless grace that suggested it was probably operating on entirely different principles than conventional automotive engineering. Principles that might have included selective gravity manipulation, creative interpretations of traffic laws, and the ability to exist in multiple dimensions simultaneously.
"How fast can this thing go?" Harry asked, watching through the windows as London flashed by at what was probably a perfectly legal speed if you didn't think too carefully about how they were managing to hit every green light, avoid every construction zone, and somehow never encounter the kind of traffic jams that usually made driving through London roughly equivalent to participating in a very slow, very expensive form of meditation therapy.
*FAST!* Jim's voice reached levels of enthusiasm that probably registered on several magical seismographs across three continents. *SO INCREDIBLY FAST! We're talking 'make the speed of light look like it's crawling through molasses while carrying a really heavy backpack and stopping to ask for directions' kind of fast! Oh, I can't WAIT until we drop the disguise! The view is going to be SPECTACULAR! Plus, I've never seen Aether fly in formation with divine transportation! This is going to be EDUCATIONAL AND ENTERTAINING AND POSSIBLY VISIBLE FROM OTHER PLANETS!*
"Fast enough to reach America before dinner," Atalanta replied with obvious enjoyment, her red hair whipping slightly in the breeze that somehow managed to exist inside what was theoretically an enclosed vehicle. "Though we'll need to be careful about air traffic control, commercial flight paths, supersonic booms, international airspace regulations, and making sure we don't accidentally buzz any passenger jets full of people who probably aren't ready to have their understanding of reality fundamentally challenged by seeing a mythological chariot overtake their 747 while playing Broadway show tunes at volumes that violate several noise ordinances."
"The chariot's stealth capabilities are excellent," Brunhilde explained, checking what appeared to be some kind of tactical display that definitely hadn't been part of the original van configuration. "But they're designed for brief urban camouflage rather than extended international flight operations. Too many opportunities for satellite observation, military radar detection, UFO enthusiast photography, and potentially awkward questions from government agencies with too much time on their hands and insufficient respect for diplomatic immunity claims."
*Plus,* Jim added thoughtfully, *there's always the possibility of encountering other flying objects that might take exception to being overtaken by a silver chariot traveling at speeds that technically violate several laws of physics. Dragons, for instance. Very territorial about their airspace, dragons. Excellent conversationalists, but sensitive about proper flight etiquette and the importance of filing appropriate flight plans with the relevant draconic air traffic authorities.*
Harry was about to ask whether there were actually draconic air traffic authorities when Zoe announced, "Behold, the countryside doth stretch before us, empty of mortal observation and ripe with possibilities for revealing our chariot's true and magnificent nature."
"Translation: we're far enough from civilization to drop the disguise without causing mass hysteria," Atalanta said helpfully.
"I require no translation," Zoe replied with wounded dignity. "My meaning was perfectly clear to anyone possessed of adequate education in classical linguistics and poetic expression."
"Sure it was," Brunhilde agreed with obvious amusement. "That's definitely why you sound like you're performing soliloquies every time you get excited about something."
Twenty-eight minutes later, they were cruising down a relatively deserted stretch of motorway with nothing but rolling countryside on either side and no other vehicles visible in any direction that mattered for the purposes of maintaining the international conspiracy to keep magic secret from people who probably couldn't handle the truth anyway.
The December afternoon was fading toward evening, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber that made everything look like a very expensive painting titled "The Perfect Moment to Transform Ordinary Transportation into Something That Would Make NASA Scientists Weep with Either Joy or Terror, Depending on Their Perspective on Advanced Propulsion Technology."
"Perfect," Zoe murmured, and her voice carried the kind of anticipation that belonged to someone about to turn a perfectly ordinary road trip into the kind of adventure that people write epic poems about centuries later, assuming anyone believes them. "Tis time to reveal our noble chariot's true and glorious nature, that it might soar through the heavens as was intended by its divine creator, blessed be her name and may her aim remain ever true."
She touched something on the dashboard that definitely hadn't been there when they'd started driving—a small silver symbol that looked like a crescent moon crossed with a bow and arrow, glowing with soft light that made the air shimmer like heat waves rising from summer asphalt mixed with liquid starlight and possibly a touch of concentrated magic.
"Everybody ready?" she asked, though her tone suggested this was more courtesy than actual question, since they were going to transform regardless of anyone's state of readiness.
*READY!* Jim screamed with enthusiasm that could have powered a medium-sized city while simultaneously providing excellent entertainment for the residents. *Oh, I am SO ready! I've been ready since approximately 1847, when I first heard about this particular piece of divine transportation engineering! This is going to be MAGNIFICENT! SPECTACULAR! The kind of transformation that makes people write songs, reconsider their understanding of physics, and possibly convert to entirely new religious belief systems!*
"Jim's ready," Harry translated with obvious amusement. "I think he's been looking forward to this for longer than some countries have existed."
Aether made a sound that was definitely excited agreement mixed with what might have been his version of "finally!" The loyal cumulus began expanding into what Harry recognized as his 'serious flying' configuration—still fluffy and adorable, but somehow more substantial and purposeful, like a cloud that had decided to get down to business and show everyone what professional meteorological work looked like.
"Good boy," Harry said approvingly. "Ready to fly with the big leagues?"
Aether puffed up with pride and performed a small aerial display that involved loop-de-loops, barrel rolls, and what might have been his interpretation of synchronized swimming if synchronized swimming were performed by sentient weather patterns in the back seat of a divine vehicle.
Zoe spoke a single word in Ancient Greek that made the air inside the vehicle sing with harmonics that probably hadn't been heard on Earth since the gods regularly walked among mortals, traffic laws hadn't been invented yet, and the most advanced form of transportation involved horses that may or may not have been gifts from suspicious strangers with questionable motives.
The transformation was immediate, spectacular, and absolutely impossible to describe adequately without resorting to language that involved phrases like "liquid starlight," "concentrated awesome," and "the kind of beautiful that makes you temporarily forget your own name."
The silver van dissolved like morning mist being burned away by a sun made of pure magic and good intentions, revealing the true form of Artemis's legendary moon chariot—a vehicle that looked like someone had taken the most beautiful sleigh in existence, dipped it in liquid moonlight, given it the aerodynamic capabilities of something designed by NASA's most creative engineers after they'd been allowed unlimited budgets and told that physics was more of a guideline than a strict requirement, and then decided to add comfort appointments that would make luxury yacht designers weep with envy and possibly consider career changes.
*OH. MY. GODS.* Jim's voice reached frequencies that probably caused several weather monitoring stations to spontaneously recalibrate their equipment while questioning their life choices. *LOOK AT THIS! JUST LOOK AT THIS! This is like... like riding in a Lamborghini designed by actual deities who really, REALLY understood the importance of style, speed, superior sound systems, and making everyone else on the road feel inadequate about their transportation choices! I can sense the magic in every rivet, every enchantment, every piece of celestial engineering that went into creating this masterpiece of divine automotive artistry!*
Silver and gold inlays covered every surface in patterns that seemed to move and shift when you weren't looking directly at them, telling stories of hunts and battles and adventures that had taken place when the world was younger, more exciting, and significantly more tolerant of property damage caused by mythological beings with excellent intentions and questionable impulse control.
The seats—which had been comfortable before—now felt like they were individually crafted from some material that was part silk, part cloud, and part concentrated luxury that existed only in the dreams of people who designed impossibly expensive furniture for customers who paid in ancient gold and possibly the occasional immortality potion.
The reins in Zoe's hands gleamed like captured lightning that had been convinced to behave itself and provide reliable transportation services, connected to nothing visible but somehow providing perfect control over their flight path and probably several systems that weren't covered in any normal driver's education manual, including emergency protocols for dealing with dragons, unexpected weather gods, and air traffic controllers with insufficient imagination.
And they were definitely flying now.
The English countryside spread out below them like a detailed map painted in shades of green and brown by an artist with unlimited patience and excellent attention to detail, with tiny villages scattered across the landscape like someone had sprinkled miniature toy houses from a great height and then connected them with roads that looked like ribbons designed by someone who'd never met a straight line they liked.
"Now THIS is traveling," Harry said with the kind of satisfaction that belonged to someone who'd been dreaming of this exact experience since he'd been old enough to understand what divine transportation could accomplish when operated by people who understood its full potential. "This beats the Hogwarts Express by approximately a million points, and the Hogwarts Express was already pretty impressive by normal transportation standards."
*OH YES!* Jim's enthusiasm reached levels that probably caused several dogs across three counties to start howling in sympathetic excitement while wondering what all the fuss was about. *THIS IS MAGNIFICENT! Look at this! LOOK AT THIS! We're flying in actual mythological transportation that appears in ancient texts and museum exhibitions! I can sense layers of magic that have been building up for MILLENNIA! This is like riding in a museum piece that decided to become a rocket ship and also maybe throw a really excellent party!*
"How fast can we go?" Harry asked, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice and failing completely, because when you're twelve years old and riding in a mythological chariot, enthusiasm is not only expected but practically mandatory.
"Fast enough to reach America before dinner and possibly before most people have finished their afternoon tea," Atalanta replied with obvious enjoyment, her red hair whipping in wind that somehow felt perfectly comfortable despite the fact that they were probably traveling at several times the speed of sound while maintaining a conversation at normal volume levels. "Though we'll need to be careful about supersonic booms, international airspace regulations, commercial flight paths, marine traffic patterns, and making sure we don't accidentally overtake any commercial aircraft whose pilots might have difficulty explaining to air traffic control why their instruments detected something moving faster than physics should technically allow while playing music that sounds suspiciously like the soundtrack to 'Phantom of the Opera.'"
*AMERICA BEFORE DINNER!* Jim's voice hit frequencies that probably caused several weather monitoring systems to briefly consider the possibility that they were malfunctioning. *Oh, this is WONDERFUL! Transatlantic celestial flight at speeds that make regular aviation look like it's being performed by particularly slow snails carrying really heavy luggage while stopping to ask for directions every five minutes! I haven't done proper high-speed intercontinental travel in DECADES! Do you think we'll see any dragons? International waters dragons with territorial issues and strong opinions about flight path etiquette? I always enjoy a good conversation with dragons during long flights! They have such interesting perspectives on optimal treasure hoarding techniques, territorial boundary negotiations, and the proper protocol for dealing with aircraft that accidentally wander into their airspace!*
"There aren't any dragons over the Atlantic," Brunhilde said with obvious amusement, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely certain about this and was keeping one eye on the horizon just in case something large, scaly, and potentially conversational decided to make an appearance. "At least, there aren't supposed to be any dragons over the Atlantic. The treaties were very specific about territorial boundaries and flight paths."
"That we know of," Atalanta corrected with the cheerful pessimism that came from centuries of expecting the unexpected and being right about it far more often than anyone found comfortable. "You never know what might be living in international waters these days, especially in the deeper trenches where even magical marine biologists fear to tread. The magical ecosystem has gotten much more... creative since the Statute of Secrecy went into effect and all the magical creatures had to find new places to live that didn't involve terrorizing merchant ships, posing for medieval tapestries, or appearing in tourist photographs with insufficient context."
*CREATIVE MAGICAL ECOSYSTEMS!* Jim's voice took on the tone of someone who'd just heard about the most exciting educational opportunity in the history of education while simultaneously discovering that Christmas had been moved to today. *Oh, I do hope we encounter something interesting! It's been far too long since I've had the opportunity to demonstrate advanced combat techniques to confused Atlantic maritime fauna! Plus, educational value! You learn so much about marine biology, international law, and creative problem-solving when you're diplomatically negotiating with sea creatures who may or may not recognize the authority of the United Nations!*
As the chariot climbed higher into the afternoon sky, leaving England behind like a particularly detailed postcard and heading out over the open ocean that stretched to the horizon in every direction like an enormous blue carpet decorated with occasional whitecaps, Harry felt that perfect combination of excitement and contentment that came with being exactly where he belonged.
He was surrounded by family—even if his family happened to be a collection of immortal warrior women who could probably end small wars before lunch and still have time for a manicure. He was riding in transportation that was technically a work of art created by actual deities with unlimited budgets and excellent taste in both aesthetics and engineering. His loyal cloud companion was happy beside him, performing aerial maneuvers that would have impressed professional pilots and probably violated several laws of meteorology. And his legendary staff was providing running commentary about the educational possibilities of intercontinental magical creature encounters while maintaining enthusiasm levels that could power small cities.
Aether had expanded into what could only be described as his 'formation flying' configuration—somehow managing to keep perfect pace with the moon chariot while looking like he was having the absolute best day of his meteorological existence. The loyal cumulus was practically glowing with joy, radiating satisfaction and excitement while performing what might have been victory rolls or might have been his version of showing off for new friends who appreciated the finer points of cloud-based aviation.
"Verily, young Aether doth appear to be enjoying himself greatly," Zoe observed with fond amusement, watching the cloud perform maneuvers that would have been impressive if performed by military aircraft and were absolutely spectacular when performed by a sentient weather pattern with artistic sensibilities. "Methinks he hath longed for proper companions who understand the noble art of celestial flight and the importance of maintaining proper formation whilst traveling at speeds that would terrify mortal aviators."
"There you go again with the 'methinks,'" Atalanta pointed out with exasperated affection, like a teacher who'd caught her favorite student making the same endearing mistake for the hundredth time. "Zoe, we've been through this approximately seventeen thousand times over the past two millennia. You don't have to talk like you're performing Shakespeare just because you're happy to see Harry and excited about flying in your favorite divine vehicle."
"I know not of what thou speakest," Zoe replied with perfect dignity, though the corner of her mouth was definitely twitching in a way that suggested she was perfectly aware of what Atalanta was talking about and found the entire conversation highly amusing. "Tis merely how I doth naturally converse when surrounded by beloved family and divine transportation that doth inspire one to speak in a manner befitting the majesty of the occasion, the beauty of the sunset, and the general magnificence of our current circumstances."
"Right," Brunhilde said dryly, adjusting something on what appeared to be a tactical display that provided real-time information about air traffic, weather patterns, and possibly the location of any government agencies that might be interested in their flight path. "Because 'majesty of the occasion' is definitely why you sound like you're auditioning for the Royal Shakespeare Company every time you get emotionally invested in something involving flying, family reunions, or vehicles that cost more than the gross national product of most developing nations."
*I LOVE these women!* Jim announced with obvious affection and admiration. *They have such excellent banter! Very witty, very affectionate, excellent timing on the comedic delivery! This is like traveling with a comedy troupe that also happens to be composed of legendary warriors with advanced degrees in creative violence and superior taste in transportation choices!*
Harry grinned at the familiar banter, feeling that warm contentment that came with being surrounded by people who knew exactly who he was and loved him for it—legendary powers, impossible magical artifacts, musically gifted cloud companions, tendency to attract chaos, and all.
"You know," he said, watching the Atlantic Ocean spread out below them like a vast carpet made of liquid silver and gold, dotted with the occasional ship that looked like a toy from this height, "I think I've been looking forward to this exact moment since I was old enough to understand what the moon chariot could do and why Zoe would never let me drive it."
"And now that thou art experiencing it?" Zoe asked with fond curiosity, her voice carrying easily over the wind that somehow felt more like a gentle breeze than the hurricane-force gale they should have been experiencing at their current speed and altitude. "Doth it meet thy expectations, or doth reality pale in comparison to thy youthful imaginings?"
"Even better than I imagined," Harry replied with complete honesty, because the reality of flying through the sky in a divine chariot while surrounded by his favorite people was somehow more wonderful than any fantasy he could have constructed. "Though I still think I should be allowed to drive."
*ABSOLUTELY!* Jim's voice exploded with agreement that probably registered on weather monitoring equipment across three time zones while simultaneously inspiring several migrating birds to improve their formation flying techniques. *He should DEFINITELY be allowed to drive! I could provide EXCELLENT co-pilot assistance! Turn-by-turn celestial navigation with real-time updates! Traffic reports for international airspace including information about migratory patterns and territorial dragons! Commentary on optimal flight patterns that take into account wind currents, air traffic, and scenic route possibilities! Musical entertainment during long stretches over open ocean featuring a carefully curated playlist of songs about flying, adventure, and the joys of high-speed travel! I've been working on a seventeen-part harmony arrangement of 'Fly Me to the Moon' that incorporates traditional Chinese folk melodies and Broadway-style orchestration that I think you'd all really appreciate!*
"Jim thinks he'd make an excellent co-pilot," Harry translated, which caused all three women to exchange looks that clearly said 'over our dead bodies and possibly our undead bodies too, just to be absolutely certain.'
"Perhaps when thou hast reached the age of majority and demonstrated adequate responsibility with ground-based transportation, proper impulse control in high-stress situations, and the wisdom to understand that divine vehicles are not appropriate for joy rides or showing off to one's friends," Zoe said diplomatically, which was her way of saying 'when hell freezes over, the gods take up knitting as a hobby, and dragons start filing proper environmental impact statements.'
"So never," Harry said with cheerful acceptance, because he'd been having this conversation with various authority figures for most of his life and had learned to appreciate the journey even when the destination was disappointingly sensible. "Got it."
*Never say never!* Jim added optimistically. *There's always the possibility of emergency situations that require your legendary driving skills! Natural disasters! Alien invasions! Divine family emergencies! International incidents that can only be resolved through high-speed celestial pursuit sequences! The future is full of possibilities, many of which probably involve exciting transportation opportunities and creative interpretations of traffic laws!*
As the moon chariot carried them west toward America, racing the sun toward the horizon while the sky painted itself in shades of orange and pink that made the whole world look like it was showing off for their benefit, Harry felt that familiar surge of anticipation mixed with contentment.
*Just wait until we get to Camp Half-Blood, kid!* Jim's voice dropped to what might have been considered a whisper if Jim had been capable of actual quiet communication, which he wasn't, so it was more like his version of an indoor voice played through speakers designed for outdoor concerts. *THEN the real fun begins! Professional monster-hunters who appreciate advanced combat techniques! Training facilities designed by people who understand the educational value of controlled danger! Strategic planning sessions that probably involve three-dimensional tactical displays and possibly some very interesting weapons demonstrations! And probably some very educational encounters with things that technically shouldn't exist but do anyway because the universe has a sense of humor, excellent timing, and a deep appreciation for dramatic irony!*
Aether made a sound that was definitely agreement, accompanied by a gentle swirl of silver sparkles that smelled like adventure and winter air and the promise of excellent training exercises ahead. The loyal cumulus performed what might have been a victory roll or might have been his interpretation of a happy dance, complete with atmospheric effects that would have impressed professional meteorologists.
"You know what?" Harry said, looking around at his three favorite warriors while feeling that familiar surge of gratitude mixed with excitement that came with having the absolute best possible family, even if they were technically a collection of immortal mythological figures who'd decided to adopt him for reasons that probably made sense to them and definitely made sense to him, "I think this is going to be the best Christmas holiday ever."
"Oh, definitely," Atalanta agreed with a grin that belonged on someone planning either a birthday party or a small educational revolution involving explosions and possibly some very creative interpretations of safety regulations. "Though knowing us, it'll probably also be the most chaotic, potentially dangerous, and definitely property-damage-intensive Christmas holiday in recorded history."
"Verily, 'tis most likely that our adventures shall be memorable in ways that future historians may find difficult to believe or properly categorize," Zoe nodded with fond resignation that suggested she'd already started mentally calculating insurance estimates and considering the diplomatic implications of whatever they were about to get themselves into. "Though perchance we might endeavor to keep the chaos to manageable levels and the property damage to... educational parameters that can be explained to relevant authorities without requiring extensive memory modification or witness relocation programs."
"Where's the fun in that?" Brunhilde asked with obvious amusement, echoing Atalanta's earlier sentiment while checking what appeared to be a tactical display showing their current position, estimated arrival time, and possibly a running tally of international treaties they weren't technically violating.
*EXACTLY!* Jim's laughter felt like being caught inside a very happy tornado that had learned to appreciate good comedy, excellent timing, and the finer points of dramatic presentation. *Life's too short for boring vacations! Especially when you're technically immortal and have access to some of the most interesting training facilities in the magical world! This is going to be EPIC! LEGENDARY! The kind of holiday that people write songs about and then get the songs banned in several countries for being too exciting and possibly containing classified information about advanced combat techniques!*
And as they flew west through the darkening sky, racing the sun toward America and whatever adventures awaited them at Camp Half-Blood, Harry felt that perfect combination of contentment and anticipation that came with knowing he was exactly where he belonged, surrounded by exactly the right people, heading toward exactly the kind of adventure that made life worth living.
After all, what was the point of being the legendary Monkey King, son of Loki and Artemis, if you couldn't spend your Christmas holidays training with the most dangerous people in the world while riding in divine transportation, accompanied by your loyal cloud companion and your magnificently over-enthusiastic magical staff, while engaging in banter that would make professional comedians weep with envy?
This was definitely going to be better than epic.
This was going to be legendary.
---
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