The night was quiet at Number Four, Privet Drive, but inside the house the stillness was broken by the muffled cries of a child. Four-year-old Harry Potter sat curled in the corner of his small cupboard beneath the stairs, clutching his thin knees to his chest. His ribs pressed against his skin from hunger, his emerald eyes dull with exhaustion.
Harry had learned quickly that he was unwanted. Aunt Petunia's shrill voice, Uncle Vernon's angry roars, and Dudley's gleeful taunts had all carved that truth into his small heart. He was a mistake, a burden, a shadow of a brother he had never known. Adrian—the celebrated twin, the Boy Who Lived—was the child who mattered. Harry was nothing.
When Vernon announced they were going to New York for a business trip, Harry thought perhaps—just perhaps—things might be different. His uncle had grunted that leaving the "freak" alone in the house would be too risky. So Harry had been dragged along, stuffed in the back of the car with no food, no words of kindness, only the knowledge that he wasn't wanted.
New York was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. The towering buildings gleamed like glass giants, the roar of traffic and chatter of strangers a constant storm. Harry's wide eyes had taken in the strange new world with awe, but the wonder faded when he realized his family's coldness followed him across the ocean.
Three days later, it happened.
The Dursleys walked with him through the crowded streets, past flashing signs and the scents of food Harry had never tasted. Then, without a word, they stopped at a corner. Vernon's hand shoved Harry forward, hard enough to make him stumble.
"Stay here," his uncle muttered gruffly, eyes darting around as if nervous. "We'll… we'll be back."
But they never returned.
Hours passed. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the alleys. Harry sat where he'd been pushed, confusion twisting inside him. At first, he waited patiently, telling himself they must be coming back. Then the truth set in like ice. They weren't. They had left him—left him in a city he didn't know, with no food, no money, no home.
Harry's small stomach growled painfully as he wandered into a narrow alley between tall buildings. The night air grew cold, and fear wrapped around him like chains. He hugged himself tightly, wishing for warmth, for someone—anyone—to care.
That was when voices broke through the darkness.
"Luke, wait up! I think I saw something."
A girl's voice, firm yet curious. Another, deeper voice replied with irritation. "What is it now, Annabeth? We're supposed to be heading back—"
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed closer. Harry shrank back against the wall, heart hammering, until three figures appeared at the mouth of the alley. They were older than him, teenagers maybe, their faces lit by the glow of a nearby streetlight.
The first was a boy with sandy hair and sharp blue eyes that glinted with mischief—Luke. Beside him, a girl with stormy grey eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail—Annabeth. The third stood taller than both, a dark-haired girl whose presence seemed to command the very air around her. Electricity tingled faintly in the atmosphere near her.
"Gods," Luke breathed, eyes widening. "It's… a kid."
Annabeth stepped forward, her expression tightening when she saw Harry's thin frame and ragged clothes. "He's just a little boy…" Her voice shook with anger. "Who would leave a child like this?"
Harry flinched, pressing himself tighter against the wall. He didn't know these people. He didn't trust anyone.
But the dark-haired girl knelt in front of him, her fierce eyes softening. "Hey," she said gently, voice carrying a strength that seemed to shield him from the cold. "It's okay. You're safe now. What's your name?"
Harry swallowed, his throat dry. He whispered so softly she almost didn't hear him. "H-Harry."
"Harry," the girl repeated, as if sealing the name with a promise. "I'm Thalia. This is Luke, and Annabeth. We're not going to hurt you."
Annabeth's fists clenched at her sides. "Look at him. He's starving. Whoever had him… they should pay."
Luke's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with a protective anger Harry didn't understand. "Tell us who did this, kid. Who left you here?"
Harry's lips trembled. He looked down, ashamed, as though it were his fault. "…My family."
The three demigods froze. Annabeth's eyes filled with fury, Luke muttered a curse under his breath, and Thalia's gaze grew stormy like the brewing of thunder.
She glanced at her friends, then back at the tiny boy shivering in the dark. Something inside her shifted—a protective fire she had never felt before. She reached out slowly, and though Harry hesitated, his small hand found hers.
"Don't worry, Harry," Thalia said firmly, lifting her chin. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."
And in that moment, the forgotten twin of the wizarding world had been found by children of the gods.