Teddy was not afraid.
That, more than anything else, unsettled Harry.
For three days after the Oracle's words echoed through Camp Half-Blood, Teddy talked about nothing else. He talked about the quest while eating breakfast, while putting on his shoes, while practicing control drills in the courtyard. He talked about it with the same breathless excitement he once reserved for new toys or Percy's stories about monsters.
"I'm going to Europe," Teddy announced proudly for the fifth time that morning, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor. "I've never been anywhere without Daddy."
Harry leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching his son with a complicated knot in his chest.
Europe.
A quest designed by rules, twisted by gods, and carried out by children.
Harry had spent most of his life shielding Teddy—building wards, crafting charms, surrounding him with people who would never let him come to harm. And now, instead of fear, Teddy felt… eager.
It was a sign Harry could not ignore.
He had sheltered Teddy too well.
That truth cut deeper than any blade.
"You know this isn't a holiday, right?" Harry said gently.
Teddy nodded vigorously.
"I know! Jake said quests are dangerous. But he also said they're important. And I get to help people."
Harry closed his eyes for a moment.
That was Hestia's influence. Quiet, steady, dangerous in its own way. The desire to protect warmth, to restore safety. To help.
Harry knelt in front of Teddy and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.
"You don't have to be brave for me," Harry said softly. "You can be scared. It's okay."
Teddy frowned, thinking hard.
"I'm a little scared," he admitted. "But I'm also… happy. Because you trust me."
That broke something in Harry.
He smiled anyway.
"I do trust you," he said. "And because of that, we're going to prepare properly."
That afternoon, Harry called Teddy into the workshop.
The forge inside Black Mansion hummed with low magical energy, runes glowing faintly along the walls. Teddy loved this place. It smelled like metal, magic, and safety.
Harry held out his hand.
"Give me your watch."
Teddy hesitated.
"The one that brings me home every day?"
Harry nodded.
"You won't be using it on this quest."
Teddy swallowed but slipped the portkey watch off his wrist and placed it carefully in Harry's palm.
"This doesn't mean I won't bring you home," Harry continued. "It means I'm changing how."
From the worktable, Harry lifted a pendant—small, silver, and warm to the touch. Runes shimmered faintly along its surface, layered so deeply that even gods would struggle to unravel them.
"This will protect you," Harry said. "Against magic, monsters, and things that try to attack you."
Teddy's eyes widened.
"And—" Harry hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then continued, "—it's also a portkey. One only you can activate."
Teddy understood immediately.
"If I'm really in danger… you can come home."
"Yes," Harry said firmly. "No matter where you are. No matter who says otherwise."
Teddy nodded solemnly.
Harry fastened the pendant around Teddy's neck himself, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
Next came the backpack.
At first glance, it looked ordinary—dark blue, sturdy, child-sized. Teddy picked it up and frowned.
"It's light."
Harry smiled faintly.
"Try opening it."
Teddy did—and nearly toppled over as he stared inside.
"It's HUGE."
"Enchanted expansion," Harry said. "From Doce Encanto. Don't tell Granny how much it cost."
They packed together.
Extra clothes—shirts, trousers, sturdy shoes.
A small cloak with protective stitching.
Potions carefully wrapped and labeled in Harry's handwriting.
"This one is for cuts," Harry explained.
"This one for burns. This one for poison. This one for exhaustion. And this one—" he held up a darker vial, "—only if someone else is badly hurt."
Teddy listened carefully, repeating instructions back until Harry was satisfied.
Harry added food that wouldn't spoil, a small compass that always pointed toward safety, and a handful of enchanted trinkets disguised as toys.
When the bag was full, Teddy tried it on.
"It doesn't feel heavy at all!"
"That's the idea."
Harry crouched in front of him again.
"You don't use anything without thinking first," he said. "You don't show off. You don't take risks just to prove you can."
Teddy nodded seriously.
"And you don't listen to anyone who tells you to do something that feels wrong."
Another nod.
Harry placed a hand on Teddy's chest, just over the pendant, and closed his eyes.
A tracking charm settled into place—subtle, layered, bound not to location but to emotion.
Harry would feel it all.
He would not interfere.
But he would never be far.
They arrived one by one, as if drawn by the weight of the moment.
Hera came first.
She knelt in front of Teddy and held out a small knife. The blade shimmered with an unfamiliar sheen, neither bronze nor iron nor steel.
"It will never break," Hera said. "And it will never turn against you."
Teddy accepted it reverently.
Athena followed, placing a stack of books into Teddy's bag—far lighter than they should have been.
"These are records of past quests," she explained. "Locations. Patterns. Monster weaknesses. Read them when you can."
Artemis appeared next, silent as moonlight.
She handed Teddy a bow, perfectly sized for him, with a quiver of arrows humming softly with restrained power.
"They will fly true," she said. "And return when called."
Finally, Aphrodite stepped forward, pressing a heavy pouch into Teddy's hands.
"Drachmas," she said lightly. "For safe houses. Transport. Favors. Don't spend them all on sweets."
Teddy beamed.
"I won't."
All of them looked at Harry.
All of them were worried.
Harry bowed his head slightly.
"I'll be watching," he said. "From a distance."
They didn't argue.
They knew better.
That night, Teddy slept.
Harry did not.
He stood on the balcony long after the mansion had gone quiet, eyes fixed on the stars, feeling the faint, steady pulse of the tracking charm.
He thought of the Oracle's words.
Of how easily children were sent into danger by beings who called it fate.
Harry clenched his fists.
"I won't interfere," he murmured to the night. "Unless I have to."
The pendant pulsed faintly in answer.
Somewhere in the world, a quest waited.
And a father prepared to break every rule that mattered if it meant his child came home.
Airports always scared Teddy.
Too loud. Too big. Too full of people who didn't know what monsters were, or why four kids with swords hidden under magic were boarding a plane together. He clutched the strap of his backpack as the group moved through the terminal, trying very hard not to stare at everything at once.
Jake Miller walked ahead with easy confidence, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes always scanning. As the son of Hermes, airports were practically his natural habitat.
"Okay," Jake said, stopping near the departure gate and unfolding a thin, enchanted map. The lines shifted and rearranged themselves quietly. "Once we land in Britain, we move fast. There are places we don't linger—old ruins, crossroads, anywhere the map glows red."
Clarisse La Rue cracked her knuckles, her spear disguised as a walking stick slung over her shoulder.
"Good," she said with a grin. "I'm bored already."
Chris Rodriguez stood beside her, quieter as always, adjusting the strap of his bag. He shot Clarisse a brief look that softened his usually guarded expression.
Teddy noticed.
He always noticed.
He tugged lightly on Jake's sleeve.
"Um… Jake?"
Jake glanced down.
"Yeah, kid?"
Teddy lowered his voice, eyes flicking toward Clarisse and Chris.
"They're… together?"
Jake followed his gaze, then sighed.
"Yeah."
"But," Teddy said slowly, trying to make sense of it, "they both have the same godly dad."
Jake shrugged.
"Ares kids do a lot of things that don't make sense."
Teddy frowned.
"But isn't that… weird?"
Clarisse turned around sharply.
"What's weird?"
Teddy froze.
Chris groaned quietly.
"Clarisse—"
Teddy swallowed.
"I just… um… Daddy said siblings don't—"
Clarisse burst out laughing.
"Oh gods," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're serious."
She crouched down to Teddy's level, grinning fiercely.
"We're demigods, kid. Our godly parents don't count like mortal parents do. No shared blood. No shared childhood."
Chris nodded.
"It's not forbidden. Camp rules allow it."
Jake added, a little stiffly,
"Doesn't mean everyone likes it."
Clarisse shot him a glare.
"You got something to say?"
Jake raised both hands.
"Nope. Just saying."
Teddy mulled that over.
"…Okay," he said finally. "Still confusing."
Clarisse laughed again and ruffled his hair.
"You're adorable. Don't ever lose that."
The plane was already half-full when they boarded.
Jake took the window seat, Clarisse and Chris sat across the aisle, and Teddy ended up in the middle seat next to Jake. Teddy buckled himself in carefully, the pendant around his neck warm against his chest.
As the engines roared to life, Teddy pressed his face to the window.
"We're really flying," he whispered.
"You've flown before," Jake said.
"Yeah, but not like this," Teddy replied. "This feels… important."
Jake studied him for a moment.
"Quests usually do."
The plane lifted off smoothly—at first.
Then the turbulence hit.
The clouds outside darkened unnaturally fast, rolling and twisting as if something inside them was angry. The plane jolted, and Teddy yelped softly, grabbing the armrest.
Lightning flashed—too close.
Clarisse leaned across the aisle.
"Relax, kid. I've been on worse flights."
Another flash split the sky, illuminating the cabin in harsh white light. The passengers gasped. The plane shook again.
Teddy's pendant grew warm.
Then hotter.
Jake noticed immediately.
"Hey," he said quietly, "your necklace—"
"I know," Teddy whispered. "It does that sometimes."
Outside, lightning struck again—so close that Teddy could feel it vibrate through his bones.
But it didn't hit the plane.
It never did.
Each bolt curved, veered, or dissipated just short of the wings.
Chris frowned.
"That storm should've taken us out by now."
Clarisse narrowed her eyes.
"Something's protecting us."
Teddy looked down.
The pendant glowed softly, runes pulsing in a slow, steady rhythm.
"Daddy said it would keep me safe," Teddy murmured.
Jake swallowed.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Looks like it's doing its job."
The turbulence eased gradually, the storm fading behind them as if it had never existed at all.
The plane continued on, unscathed.
Hours later, Britain emerged beneath them—green fields, gray skies, ancient lines etched into the land.
As the plane descended, Jake folded his map again.
"This is where things get real," he said. "Old magic. Older monsters."
Clarisse grinned, spear shifting under its disguise.
"Good."
Teddy hugged his backpack closer.
He wasn't scared.
But he was aware.
As the plane touched down, the pendant cooled, its glow fading to a quiet warmth.
Ares felt it the moment the lightning left Olympus.
Not the usual pull of battle.
Not the distant hum of conflict.
This was wrong.
He was already on his feet before the thunder finished echoing, armor snapping into place as his aura flared violently. The image of the sky—of a mortal plane cutting through storm clouds—burned in his mind, sharp and unmistakable.
His children were there.
He didn't bother with ceremony.
The doors of the throne room slammed open as Ares stormed in, divine heat rolling off him in waves. Zeus still sat upon his throne, one hand resting casually on the armrest, lightning faintly dancing around his fingers as if it were nothing more than idle thought.
"What did you do?" Ares roared.
Zeus didn't look surprised. He rarely did.
"I tested a variable," Zeus replied calmly. "The plane survived."
Ares' fists clenched so hard the metal of his gauntlets screamed.
"You threw lightning at a mortal aircraft," Ares shouted. "Do you have any idea how reckless that is?"
Zeus finally turned his gaze toward him, eyes cold.
"They are demigods," Zeus said dismissively. "You have hundreds of them."
That was when something in Ares snapped.
"HUNDREDS?" Ares bellowed, taking a step forward. "You mean expendable? Is that what my children are to you?"
Zeus rose slowly from his throne, thunder rolling low through the chamber.
"You forget your place," Zeus warned.
Ares laughed harshly.
"My place?" he spat. "You nearly killed Clarisse. You nearly killed Chris. You nearly killed many mortals—and you did it just to see if the boy would survive!"
Silence fell, heavy and electric.
Ares' eyes burned.
"Fine," he said coldly. "Then how about I go and try to kill Thalia Grace?"
The name struck like a blade.
The air cracked.
Zeus' power surged instantly, lightning exploding outward and shattering the marble floor beneath his feet. The throne room shook as divine wrath filled every corner.
"You will not speak her name like that," Zeus thundered.
Ares didn't back down.
"So now it matters?" he snarled. "Now it's personal? Or is it only acceptable when it's my children on the line?"
Zeus descended from the dais in a flash of thunder, standing face to face with his son. The air between them hummed with enough power to tear Olympus apart.
"You test me," Zeus said dangerously. "Again and again."
Ares leaned in, voice low and lethal.
"And you forget," he replied, "that war is my domain. And that demigods are not chess pieces to be sacrificed just to reach your enemy."
For a long moment, neither moved.
The storm outside Olympus raged, mirroring the fury within the chamber.
Then Zeus spoke—quietly this time, far more dangerous than shouting.
"The boy is a threat," Zeus said. "And his father is worse. If I must risk a few lives to prevent a greater war, I will."
Ares' laugh was bitter.
"Then don't be surprised," he said, "when that war comes anyway."
He turned sharply and stormed out, armor clanging, rage barely contained.
Zeus remained standing amid the crackling lightning, jaw tight.
For the first time, doubt flickered—just briefly—behind the king of the gods' eyes.
Not because he feared Ares.
But because even his lightning couldn't reach the boy.
And somewhere far below, a child's pendant had glowed brighter than thunder.
Author's Note:
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