Athena started her plan with research. She scoured old bestiaries, piecing together migration patterns and magical hotspots where phoenixes were rumored to appear. In the library of an abandoned wizarding monastery, she found half-burned scrolls describing a "Flameborn roost" hidden in the cliffs of Cyprus.
She smirked, muttering to herself,
"Logic and preparation will win over blind luck any day."
Before setting out, she even enchanted a golden lure designed to mimic the glow of phoenix flames. Whether it would work was another matter entirely.
Aphrodite, meanwhile, decided that tracking and trapping were beneath her. She would seduce a phoenix into coming to her—figuratively speaking.
She sought out lush, enchanted gardens, filling them with blossoms from across the realms, reasoning that a phoenix would be drawn to beauty and comfort. She even commissioned a golden perch inlaid with rubies, "because," as she told herself while checking her reflection in a silver hand mirror,
"No creature—mortal, divine, or mythical—can resist an invitation to something exquisite."
She also planned a dramatic entrance for when she presented it to Teddy, rehearsing her lines so she'd seem effortlessly generous.
Artemis, of course, remained on the trail. She traveled light, crossing from volcanic islands in the Pacific to high-altitude mountains where fire magic lingered in the air. Her bow was always at her side—not to harm the phoenix, but to protect it from anyone foolish enough to interfere.
She muttered once, as she tracked faint scorch marks in a jungle clearing,
"They think they can beat me? Not while I'm breathing."
The real comedy came when their paths accidentally crossed.
In a remote canyon in Morocco, Artemis landed from her moonlit chariot only to find Athena already there, adjusting the settings on her phoenix lure.
"You're in my hunting grounds," Artemis said flatly.
"Correction," Athena replied, "I'm in the phoenix's hunting grounds. And I was here first."
In a hidden glade in the Amazon, Aphrodite emerged from a veil of blossoms she'd conjured—only to find Artemis perched on a rock, smirking.
"Lovely flowers," Artemis drawled, "but phoenixes aren't magpies."
Aphrodite sniffed. "And yet, they'll choose me over a huntress with soot on her boots."
Athena and Aphrodite even collided at a market in Crete while buying "phoenix-friendly" offerings. Athena bought herbs for magical health, while Aphrodite stocked up on glittering gemstones. They exchanged tight smiles before pretending the other didn't exist.
The hunt for a phoenix turned out to be far more challenging than Athena, Artemis, and Aphrodite had expected.
Even for goddesses who had roamed the world for millennia, phoenixes were elusive creatures—appearing only where they pleased, never staying long, and able to vanish in a burst of fire without leaving so much as an ember behind. Tracking them was an exercise in patience and frustration, and capturing one? Nearly impossible.
Artemis, with her sharp hunter's instincts, was the first to admit that this was no ordinary chase.
"I've followed tracks that vanished mid-step, scents that dissolved into thin air," she grumbled one evening, standing in a moonlit clearing deep in the forests of South America. "Even the wind hides them from me."
Still, she pressed on, unwilling to give up after promising Teddy.
Athena, ever the strategist, had combed through ancient texts and maps in her own search. Her efforts brought her not to a phoenix, but to a lively colony of bowtruckles hidden in the heart of an enchanted forest in Wales.
"They guard wand-wood trees," she explained as she coaxed the tiny green creatures into a magically reinforced travel cage. "If nothing else, Teddy will appreciate their cleverness."
Aphrodite had taken a different route entirely—traveling through far-off mountains in Bhutan and the misty valleys of Nepal. She was sure she could charm her way into gaining a phoenix's trust. Instead, she found herself at the hatching of two baby Occamies, their iridescent scales glimmering in the morning light.
"They're beautiful," she told herself with a smile, already picturing Teddy's reaction. "And not nearly as temperamental as their parents."
A few days later, the three goddesses returned to the Black Mansion one by one.
Athena arrived first, carefully carrying a magically sealed terrarium filled with miniature branches and leaves. Inside, the bowtruckles peeked out shyly before scrambling onto the magical tree Andromeda had planted in the garden. Teddy clapped his hands and laughed as one curious bowtruckle climbed onto his arm.
"They like me!" he exclaimed, his eyes bright.
Artemis followed, presenting a delicately warded jar containing two Billywigs—whirring, blue-bodied insects native to Australia. She opened the lid just long enough for Teddy to watch them zip around like tiny blue comets before guiding them into their new enclosure on the manor grounds.
"They make you float if they sting you," Artemis explained, crouching down to Teddy's level. "But don't worry—I'll make sure they don't."
Finally, Aphrodite swept in, carrying a padded crate. When she opened it, two baby Occamies uncurled from their nests, their scales shifting from silver to turquoise as they looked around. Teddy gasped, instantly smitten.
"They're mine?" he asked hopefully.
"They're yours," Aphrodite said with a warm smile. "But you'll have to help feed them."
By the time all the creatures had been settled into their enclosures, the Black Mansion's gardens had become something of a magical menagerie. Harry stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching Teddy dart from one enclosure to another with uncontainable excitement.
"That's enough magical creatures for now," Harry said firmly once Teddy came running back to him. "We live in a Muggle area. Too many magical beasts and we'll have every wizarding authority in America sniffing around."
Teddy nodded… though his grin gave away that he was already dreaming up bigger plans. As he sat in the grass surrounded by bowtruckles, Billywigs, and Occamies, his two-year-old imagination wandered. His old goal of becoming a superhero seemed to fade away, replaced by a brand-new ambition.
"I'm gonna have a circus," Teddy announced proudly, patting one of the Occamies. "A circus with all magic animals."
Harry sighed, shaking his head—but he couldn't help smiling. Teddy might not have his phoenix yet, but his dream had already taken flight.
Harry was already worn thin from the past few days of magical creature chaos. Teddy had developed an obsession with the baby Occamies, chasing them across the sprawling grounds with an enthusiasm that seemed to multiply every hour. The sleek, serpentine creatures darted between flowerbeds, scaled the apple trees, and occasionally soared over the manor walls in a flash of shimmering blue-green scales.
It was enough to make Harry throw his hands up in exasperation.
"Teddy, stop chasing them! You'll scare them!"
"I just wanna play, Dad!" the boy giggled, diving after one as it swerved past a hydrangea bush.
Harry sighed, muttered a few choice words under his breath, and decided it was time for a more permanent solution. He spent half the morning walking the perimeter of the property, tracing runes into the earth with the wave of his wand. Soon, a new ward shimmered faintly into existence—a containment spell tuned specifically to prevent magical creatures from leaving the grounds. The moment an Occamy tried to slip past, the air rippled like a soap bubble, nudging it gently back into the gardens.
Harry had barely finished reinforcing the last corner of the ward when an Iris message shimmered to life before him. Ethan's face appeared, pale and tense, framed by windswept peaks.
"Harry… I need you."
"Where are you?"
"The Alps. I've tracked the source of the corruption—it's a druid, but…" Ethan hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at something out of view. "It's not right. He's… possessed. I can't take him alone."
There was no hesitation. Harry closed the connection, gripped his new scythe, and vanished with a crack.
Cold mountain air bit at Harry's cheeks as he appeared beside Ethan on a narrow ridge. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and a distant chanting echoed through the trees ahead. The scent of charred wood and something far fouler drifted on the wind.
They followed the sound into a clearing, where the druid stood at the center of a circle of blackened stones. His eyes burned with unnatural red light, and his hands were pressed against the bark of a massive tree—one that housed a dryad whose bark-like skin was splitting, leaking sap like blood. Wisps of green magic streamed from her body into the druid's hands.
"Hey!" Harry's voice rang out sharply. "Step away from her!"
The druid turned, lips curling in a smile that didn't belong to him.
"You can't stop what's already begun," a voice rasped—not the druid's voice, but something older and colder. "Her life is mine."
Harry didn't waste time. He flicked his hand, sending a barrage of silver bolts at the druid. Ethan darted forward to protect the dryad, breaking the magic circle with a slash of his blade. The druid roared, his body twisting unnaturally as the possessing spirit fought to maintain control.
The battle was brutal. Spells shattered against the druid's hastily conjured shields, and dark magic lashed back at Harry, stinging his arms and legs. But with a final, concentrated burst of wandless magic, Harry slammed the druid against the tree, binding him in glowing chains of light.
That's when Harry saw it—the glint of black metal embedded in the druid's chest, pulsing with foul energy. It wasn't just a cursed object.
It was a Horcrux—an ancient relic crafted by a long-dead German dark wizard whose body had been destroyed centuries ago.
Harry knew there was no separating the druid from the Horcrux without killing him. The druid's own soul was too far gone. With a grim expression, Harry pressed his wand to the druid's heart.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, before unleashing a killing curse.
The druid's body went still, and the moment his soul fled, the spirit within tried to leap free. Harry was ready. He raised a crystal—an artifact designed to hold incorporeal entities—and caught the shadowy form before it could escape into the mountains. The crystal burned hot in his hand, the spirit thrashing violently before falling still.
Ethan watched silently as Harry walked to the far edge of the forest. He dug deep, carving into the frozen earth with both magic and steel, and buried the crystal where it would never be found. He layered it with wards—anti-summoning, anti-divination, and a concealment charm so complete that even the gods would overlook it.
When it was done, Harry turned back, his shoulders heavy but his eyes hard.
"It won't trouble anyone again," he said.
The dryad was already beginning to heal, her leaves regaining a faint green glow. Ethan bowed his head in thanks.
"I couldn't have done it without you."
"Then it's a good thing you called," Harry replied quietly. "Come on—we've both had enough darkness for one day."
It was a quiet evening at the Black Mansion when Harry heard the familiar, radiant hum of divine magic. Apollo appeared at the edge of the garden, golden light still clinging to his form as if the sun itself had followed him.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Didn't expect you today. What's the rush?"
Apollo hesitated, his usual cocky grin tempered by something more serious.
"I heard from Artemis… about Hermione. That she's pregnant. I want to see her."
Harry's eyes softened, and he nodded without hesitation.
"If that's what you want, I'll help. She's staying with her parents for now. Here—"
He scribbled the Grangers' address onto a small scrap of parchment and handed it over.
As Apollo took the parchment, Harry's tone shifted from accommodating to firm.
"But listen to me—don't go there and announce to her parents that you're the father of the child. That's not your call to make. Just tell them you're a friend of Hermione's. After that, she'll explain things to you in her own way, in her own time."
Apollo tilted his head, clearly unused to being told what not to do.
"Why? Wouldn't it be simpler if I—"
Harry cut him off.
"No. You'd cause more confusion than you'd solve. This isn't about you right now—it's about Hermione's comfort and her family's peace of mind. You respect that, or you don't go at all."
For a moment, the god seemed to wrestle with his pride. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Alright, Harry. I'll do it your way. I'll just… be a friend."
Harry allowed himself a small smile.
"Good. You'll find that goes a lot further in the long run."
Apollo's golden aura brightened faintly again, and he tucked the parchment away.
"Thanks for this. I owe you one."
"You owe me more than one," Harry said dryly. "Now go—before I change my mind."
With a flash of light and the faint scent of warm sunlight, Apollo vanished—off to face a much more personal meeting than any godly quest.
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