The car tore through the tree-lined road like a bullet, smoke trailing from the damaged hood, the growls of a monster echoing behind them like a nightmare chasing daylight.
Harry's hands were still clenched on the wheel, his knuckles pale, his thoughts tangled and breaking apart like shattered glass.
Half-blood. Not wizard. Not magical. Demigod.
He could barely breathe.
And then Ethan spoke again—calm, like he'd been waiting for this moment all along.
"She's the daughter of Aphrodite."
Harry blinked, as if the words needed a second to sink in.
"What?"
"This girl," Ethan said, turning slightly to check on her. "Her name is Callie. And her mother is Aphrodite."
Harry glanced in the rearview mirror. The girl—Callie—was sitting silently, her eyes wide, lips trembling. She didn't look like the daughter of a goddess. She looked like a scared child.
Then again, Harry thought, so did I the day Hagrid told me I was a wizard.
A sudden memory struck him—eleven years old, sitting in a hut on a rock in the middle of the sea. A giant of a man bending down, eyes twinkling behind a beard. "You're a wizard, Harry."
That had been the first great reveal of his life.
This… this was the second.
And somehow, it was worse.
"Ethan," Harry said slowly, "are you telling me the Greek gods are real?"
"They never stopped being real," Ethan said. "They just stopped making headlines."
"And they… live among us? Still?"
"Some of them, yes. Hidden in Mount Olympus. And every now and then, they fall in love—or lust—with mortals. Their children are demigods. Half-bloods."
Harry let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "So you're telling me that Mount Olympus is somewhere out there?"
"Top of the Empire State Building," Ethan said flatly. "Six hundredth floor. You need divine permission to access it."
Harry's jaw dropped slightly.
"And all those monsters?" he asked. "Chimera, manticores…?"
"They're drawn to demigods like heat to a flame," Ethan said. "Your kind—our kind—shines in their world like a flare in the dark. You're lucky you made it to eighteen before one chased you."
Harry shook his head. "But I saw mythical creatures here before. I thought they were peaceful."
"They are, sometimes. If they're not hungry. Or if they don't know what you are. But that Chimera? It knew. It's been following Callie for days. I've been trying to lead it away."
They finally reached the mansion gates. Harry slammed the brakes, skidding across the gravel as the car screeched to a stop just inside. He leapt out of the driver's side.
"Inside," he ordered. "Go. I have some work to do."
Ethan helped Callie out and led her quickly up the front steps. Harry waved his hand—a burst of raw, instinctive magic sealing the gate behind them with a snap of energy.
When he finally stepped inside the foyer, heart still pounding, he found Ethan standing in the living room, cradling Callie protectively.
"Start talking," Harry said.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He bent down and untied his shoes—calmly, methodically—then kicked them off.
Harry froze.
Because where Ethan's feet should have been… were hooves.
Not just deformed feet or a costume trick. Real, black, cloven hooves.
"You're not human," Harry whispered.
"I'm a satyr," Ethan said. "Half-goat, half-human. Guardian and guide. My job is to protect demigods, find them before monsters do, and bring them to Camp Half-Blood."
"Camp Half-Blood?," Harry said quietly, trying remember the name from his mythical knowledge.
Ethan nodded. "It's a sanctuary. A training ground. A home. We hide it from mortals and monsters as best we can. But the world's gotten harder. Monsters are waking more often. Some demigods are never found in time."
Harry's mouth was dry. "And Callie…?"
"Her mom is Aphrodite," Ethan said. "Callie's been getting stronger lately—her aura's flaring. Attracts danger. I was supposed to bring her to camp this week, but I was waiting for the right moment."
"You faked being injured," Harry said, eyes narrowing. "To stay close."
Ethan gave a small, sheepish shrug. "The limp helped me blend in. No one suspects the kid with a crutch."
Harry sat down slowly on the couch, his legs suddenly weak.
"And me?" he asked. "What about me? I'm not your responsibility. I'm already… something else."
Ethan looked at him for a long moment.
"I don't know what you are, Harry," he said honestly. "But I know power when I feel it. And yours? It's more than demigod. More than mortal. I've never felt anything like you."
Harry looked down at his own hands.
He remembered the Deathly Hallows.
The way the cloak had merged into his body.
The way he could speak to the dead now without the Stone.
The power growing in him like a second heartbeat.
"What if I'm not just a demigod?" Harry whispered. "What if I'm… something else?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Callie reached out then—her tiny hand brushing Harry's arm. Her voice was soft. "You helped us."
Harry looked at her, saw the way her hair shimmered faintly gold beneath the light, like sun-kissed silk.
"You're welcome," he said.
And in that moment, he realized:
The wizarding world had only shown him a fraction of what magic truly meant.
The chimera was gone, driven off by the wards and the overwhelming wave of magic that had pulsed from Harry like a crashing tide. The evening sky had darkened by the time calm returned to the mansion.
Harry closed the heavy front door and turned to face Ethan and Callie, both of whom were still wide-eyed and tense.
"You're safe now," Harry said firmly. "No monster is getting through those gates."
Ethan looked at him as though Harry had grown another head.
"You're joking," he said. "No place is safe. That's… that's not how it works. The only place that can keep monsters out is Camp Half-Blood. That's what the enchantments are for. That's why it exists."
Harry shook his head and gestured to the room around them. The mansion hummed with protective magic—subtle, yes, but potent. "There are things you don't know, Ethan. I've fought monsters before. I've lived with danger my whole life. I didn't build this place to be normal."
Ethan's brows knit together. "You've placed divine wards?"
"Better," Harry said with a wry smile. "I wove magic into the foundations—wards drawn from ancient bloodlines, protection charms from the Hallows themselves, and a few runes I might have copied from a cursed vault in Gringotts."
"…Okay," Ethan muttered. "You might be the weirdest person I've ever met."
Harry laughed. "You don't have to hide anymore, Ethan. Not here. No one's going to judge you for being what you are."
Ethan hesitated, then glanced at Callie. The girl was watching quietly, arms wrapped around herself, eyes darting between the two older boys. Then Ethan nodded once, as if deciding to accept this new strange reality.
"Alright," he said. "But I'm not dressing like a high school student anymore."
Harry shrugged. "Do whatever makes you comfortable."
A few minutes later, Ethan returned from one of the guest rooms in his full satyr attire: moss-green tunic, shoulder strap for a pan flute, and soft fur at his waist. His goat legs clacked lightly on the hardwood floor.
Callie stared at him, wide-eyed.
"You look awesome," she said.
Ethan bowed low, grinning. "Told you I had style."
Meanwhile, Callie was equally enraptured by the mansion itself. She gasped at the spiral staircase, whispered to herself in the marble-floored halls, and nearly squealed when she found the sunlit garden room at the back.
"This place is like a castle," she breathed. "You live here alone?"
Harry smiled. "Not alone."
He guided them to the nursery.
Inside, Andromeda had just finished feeding Teddy and was rocking him gently in her arms. At the sight of Harry, the baby cooed and held out his chubby hands.
"There's someone I want you to meet," Harry said softly. He reached out and cradled Teddy against his shoulder. The baby blinked at the newcomers, eyes bright and curious.
"Teddy," Harry said, "this is Ethan… and Callie."
At once, Teddy's hair shimmered, the dark strands melting into shimmering golden-blonde curls.
Callie gasped. "He—he looks like me!"
Teddy let out a happy squeal and reached toward her.
"He's a Metamorphmagus," Harry explained. "He changes appearance depending on emotion and instinct. It's a magical trait—very rare."
Ethan's eyes widened. "That… that's not even demigod magic. That's something else entirely."
Callie giggled as Teddy shifted again, now copying Ethan's curly brown hair and little stubby horns. "He's so cool!"
The atmosphere lightened. For a moment, it felt like they were all just kids—one teenager, one satyr, one daughter of a goddess, and one magically-gifted baby, laughing under the warmth of a safe home.
Then the front door opened.
"Oi!" Dudley's voice echoed down the hall. "What the hell happened to the gate? Why's there a scorch mark on the driveway—?"
He stopped mid-step when he rounded the corner and saw Ethan.
Ethan, in full satyr gear.
Ethan… with goat legs.
Dudley dropped the keys. "Bloody hell! He's got hooves! Actual hooves!"
Ethan gave a small wave. "Hey."
Callie smiled. "Hi."
Dudley looked at Harry, pale-faced. "You—you didn't say anything about goat people."
Harry rubbed his temples. "It's a long story."
"Well, I don't want to hear it," Dudley said, holding up a hand like a traffic officer. "Nope. No more weirdness. I've already had my fill of wizards, monsters, and you blowing up Aunt Marge when we were kids."
"Actually, that was accidental magic—"
"Don't care!" Dudley interrupted. "I'm going upstairs. I'm going to pretend I didn't see anything. You deal with your goat boys and your golden-haired toddlers and whatever ancient curse is following you now."
He stomped off.
There was a pause.
Then Callie burst out laughing.
"So… that's your cousin?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Harry muttered.
Ethan smirked. "I like him. He's got survival instincts."
Harry rolled his eyes but smiled.
For the first time in weeks, the mansion felt full.
The warm lights in the dining hall glowed brighter than usual. The kitchen bustled with the scent of roasted vegetables, bubbling saucepans, and sizzling pans. Andromeda Tonks moved like a spell in motion—graceful, sharp, and purposeful.
She was in her element.
It had been a long time since she'd cooked for more than just herself and a cooing six-month-old. With Harry and Dudley gone for most of the day, and the house quiet save for the occasional gurgle or cry from Teddy, the silence had become heavy. Not unbearable—but lonely.
Now, with Callie's soft voice echoing down the hallway, Ethan's hooves clicking against the stone, and Dudley muttering to himself in his room about "bloody mythological madness", Andromeda felt something stir in her chest.
Company.
Life.
Even if some of them had goat legs.
"Do you eat cheese?" she asked, peeking into the living room where Ethan and Callie were waiting with Teddy.
"I'm vegetarian," Ethan said, politely. "But yes, cheese is fine."
"Good," Andromeda nodded. "I've only got a few vegetarian dishes in my arsenal, but I'll make them count."
Callie clapped lightly. "It smells amazing in here."
"It's not just the gods who know how to cook, dear," Andromeda said with a wink.
Dinner was spread out across the long dining table—roasted vegetables with herbed butter, tomato and basil pasta, homemade bread, cheese-stuffed mushrooms, and grilled sweetcorn. For Callie, she added a bit of honeyed fruit salad. For Ethan, she arranged a plate of steamed greens with lemon dressing and a side of buttered lentils, which were a bit overcooked but made with love.
Everyone ate heartily.
Ethan thanked her for every dish.
Callie said it was the best dinner she'd ever had.
And Teddy, in his highchair, tried to throw mashed banana at everyone and ended up looking like a golden-haired cherub.
After dinner, Harry showed Ethan and Callie to their rooms upstairs. The mansion had plenty to spare. Ethan's was just beside Harry's own—lined with old bookshelves, thick curtains, and a window overlooking the moonlit gardens. Callie's was farther down the hall, cozy and lavender-scented, with hand-carved furniture that once belonged to Dora.
"I hope it's alright," Harry said.
Callie looked around in awe. "It's perfect."
They said goodnight, and Callie wandered off to her room.
But Harry held Ethan back.
"There's something I want to ask," he said.
Ethan leaned against the doorway. "Shoot."
"Callie's father," Harry began. "She's been here since morning. Isn't he going to worry?"
Ethan's expression didn't change, but his tone turned quieter. "It's… not like that with demigods."
"What do you mean?"
Ethan sighed. "Mortal parents of demigods… they're different. And not in a good way. Most of the time, they don't want the child. Not really. See, gods and goddesses don't have… relationships. They have encounters. They meet someone, spend a night—or an hour—and in the case of a goddess, two weeks later, she shows up, drops a baby on the mortal's doorstep, and vanishes."
Harry blinked. "She just leaves?"
"Yeah. No warning. No bond. No discussion about parenting. She gives the child, says 'raise it,' and leaves. Most mortals aren't ready for that."
Harry folded his arms. "And the men who father children with goddesses?"
"Don't usually know," Ethan said. "The child just shows up. And if they do know, there's usually no love involved. No consent to the idea of raising a demigod."
Harry looked away, thinking about his own childhood with the Dursleys.
"I get it," he muttered.
Ethan nodded solemnly. "Some of these parents… they're scared. Not just of the child, but what comes with the child. Monsters. Prophecies. Chaos. So what do they do? They push the kid away. Send them to orphanages. Boarding schools. Anywhere but home."
"But Callie—"
"Her dad's a professional bodybuilder," Ethan said. "Big guy. Big ego. Aphrodite probably saw something amusing in him and, well… you know. She gave him Callie. No choice. Just handed her over and disappeared."
Harry's throat tightened. "And he didn't want her."
"No," Ethan said. "He saw her as a curse. Treated her more like an obligation than a daughter. He fed her, clothed her, but there was no warmth. No love. And now that she's getting older—and the monsters are sniffing closer—he's scared. Not just of what's coming, but of her."
Harry swallowed hard.
He knew what it was like to grow up unloved. To feel like a burden.
"She won't feel that here," Harry said, his voice firm. "Not while I have anything to say about it."
Ethan looked at him then—really looked.
"You're not like the others," he said softly.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Somewhere down the hall, Teddy laughed. Callie giggled.
Ethan smiled faintly.
"Thanks, Harry."
"For what?"
"For letting us stay. And for treating us like more than just myths."
Harry shrugged. "Someone has to."
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