Ever since Thalia and Callie had come to live in the Black Mansion, mornings had transformed into Teddy's favorite time of day.
Every dawn, while the sky was still soft and grey, Thalia Grace was already out on the broad lawn behind the manor, her dark hair tied in a messy tail, a wooden practice sword balanced across her shoulders. Not far from her, Callie twirled her slender bronze spear, the metal glinting rose-gold in the early light.
Teddy would always wake early—sometimes before even Andromeda—and climb up onto the window bench to watch them from behind the glass, little hands pressed against the panes as his hair shifted colors in excitement.
It wasn't long before Harry joined their training sessions too.
He never used magic when they sparred. Instead, he wore simple black trousers and a soft cotton shirt, and wielded the celestial bronze sword Chiron himself had gifted him after he warded Camp Half-Blood. Over time, it had become one of his most prized possessions—a connection to both the wizarding world and the demigods he'd come to care for.
One morning, as Teddy watched with wide green eyes, Thalia adjusted her grip on her practice sword and squared up opposite Harry.
"You sure you want to do this without magic?" she teased, tapping the wooden blade against her shoulder.
Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting his sword in a defensive stance. "Afraid you'll lose if I do?"
"Please," Thalia snorted. "I've fought monsters twice your size."
"Yes," Harry said evenly, "but none of them had my charming personality."
Callie laughed from where she stood near the edge of the grass. "He has a point."
Teddy pressed his face harder against the window, nearly squeaking from excitement.
"Alright, Potter," Thalia said, her expression sharpening. "Try not to embarrass yourself."
With that, she lunged. Wood met bronze in a solid crack that echoed across the yard. Harry pivoted on his heel, blocking the strike and twisting to slip around her guard. Thalia dodged and swung again, their silhouettes moving in a fluid dance of attack and defense.
Nearby, Callie practiced with her spear. The weapon was elegant and deadly, its golden shaft engraved with tiny roses—Aphrodite's symbol. She planted her feet, sighted an old oak tree across the training ground, and hurled it. The spear sliced the air like a thunderbolt, burying itself deep into the wood.
She closed her eyes, held out her hand, and whispered, "Return."
The spear tore free from the tree in a spray of splinters and flew back into her grasp, humming with energy.
Teddy gasped in pure awe, bouncing on the window bench. "Again!" he shouted through the glass.
Callie glanced up and grinned, giving a little wave before throwing the spear once more.
At the edge of the yard, Hermione appeared with a mug of tea, still in her dressing gown. She smiled as she watched them spar, shaking her head fondly. "Honestly, you'd think this was a Roman battlefield, not a garden."
Harry shot her a grin over Thalia's shoulder—just in time for Thalia to sweep his legs out from under him.
He hit the grass with a soft thump, the sword flying from his grip.
Callie clapped. "Victory!"
"I'm fine," Harry said flatly, staring up at the sky.
Thalia planted her foot lightly on his chest and smirked. "Yield?"
He sighed. "Yield."
She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet. "You're getting better. Less of a wizard, more of a fighter."
Hermione approached, sipping her tea. "And you're still determined to knock him down every chance you get."
"Character building," Thalia said brightly.
Harry retrieved his sword and turned to Teddy, who had now come outside in his pajamas, hair flickering between gold and blue. "Enjoying the show?" he called.
Teddy nodded enthusiastically. "More monsters!"
Harry laughed and gestured for him to come closer. He knelt down to Teddy's level and ruffled his hair. "Alright, little man. But you have to stand back."
With Teddy watching from a safe distance beside Hermione, Harry lifted his wand—just this once—and pointed it toward a pile of smooth river stones near the training circle.
He flicked his wrist. "Transfiguro."
The stones rippled and grew, merging together in a swirl of light. When the magic faded, three creatures stood on the grass—each the size of a large dog.
A small Nemean Lion with silver fur gleaming in the sun.
A scaled Hydra with four snapping heads.
And a bright red Hellhound, its eyes glowing like embers.
Callie let out a low whistle. "You spoil us."
Harry stood back, sword in hand. "Ladies—your training dummies."
Thalia grinned savagely, spinning her wooden sword. "Dibs on the lion."
Callie rolled her shoulders. "The Hydra's mine."
As the two demigods charged into battle, Teddy squealed with excitement and clapped his hands. Hermione watched with a smile as Harry moved to intercept the Hellhound, ducking under a snapping jaw and deflecting its lunging strike with a practiced sweep of his blade.
"You know," Hermione called to him over the noise, "most people take up gardening for stress relief."
"Where's the fun in that?" Harry shouted back, sidestepping a spray of magical sparks.
Teddy cheered as the Hydra's heads snapped at Callie and she spun her spear in tight arcs, never losing her calm focus. Thalia vaulted over the little Nemean Lion, her wooden blade striking cleanly across its shimmering hide.
The sun rose higher, painting them all in gold. For a moment—maybe more—there was no prophecy, no war, no fear of Olympians.
Just the morning, the laughter, and the joy of a family Harry never expected to find.
It was a crisp morning when Hermione finally put words to what had been gnawing at her ever since she arrived.
She and Harry were walking down a wide sidewalk in the nearby town, passing cafés and small bookstores. Teddy was napping at home under Andromeda's watchful eye, while Callie and Thalia were off training in the orchard.
Hermione's hands were buried deep in her cardigan pockets, her hair pulled into a messy bun. She was staring at the ground more than she was looking at Harry.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked gently.
She didn't answer at first. Instead, she stopped at the corner and looked across the street—where a massive Chimera was prowling between two parked cars. Its lion's head snarled at a stray cat that promptly bolted away in terror.
Hermione didn't flinch. She didn't react at all. She just stood there, oblivious.
Harry watched it warily, hand inching toward his hidden celestial bronze sword. But the creature faded behind the veil of the Mist—the divine glamour that clouded mortal perception—and turned away, disappearing into an alley.
"Did you see that?" he asked softly.
Hermione frowned. "See what?"
"The Chimera."
She turned to him, her expression crumpling. "That's exactly what I mean."
They walked on a little farther in silence until Hermione stopped again, pressing her palms together as if she was steadying herself.
"Harry… it bothers me," she whispered. "That I can't see any of it."
He searched her face. "Hermione…"
"You don't understand." She looked up, her brown eyes bright with frustration. "You always had this… other world, ever since you were eleven. Magic. Hogwarts. The Order. Even the war. And I was part of it because I could be. I could see it. I could learn it. But this…"
She gestured helplessly at the empty street. "I'm blind. Completely blind. You could be fighting a monster right next to me and I'd just see an empty patch of air."
Harry's heart squeezed painfully. "Hermione… the Mist hides it from everyone. Even wizards."
"I know." Her voice cracked. "That's what makes it worse."
They found a bench under a small maple tree and sat down. A breeze stirred Hermione's hair, and she drew her knees up to her chest.
"I've spent so much of my life learning," she said quietly. "Reading. Training. Preparing. And now there's this entire realm I can't be part of, no matter how hard I try."
Harry rested his hand over hers. "You're still part of this, Hermione. Part of my life. Teddy's life. You matter here."
She swallowed, nodding, though her gaze was distant. "I know. But it feels… it feels like a door closed that I didn't even get to knock on."
He didn't have an answer. He simply squeezed her hand until she finally looked up.
"Promise me something?" she said.
"Anything."
"If something happens—if something really dangerous shows up—promise you won't keep it from me."
Harry gave a crooked smile. "You know I couldn't if I tried."
She leaned against his shoulder, and for a while, they just sat there in silence, letting the breeze carry their unspoken fears away.
When they returned home that evening, Hermione found Thalia and Callie in the sitting room, polishing weapons and laughing about something she couldn't quite follow. Teddy sat cross-legged nearby, practicing turning his hair different shades of green.
"Training again tomorrow?" Thalia called, seeing Harry walk in.
Harry nodded. "If you don't mind sparring with someone who might finally beat you."
"You can try," Thalia shot back with a grin.
Hermione hung back in the doorway, watching them. A part of her ached to be included—to have a role in this world that was slowly taking root around Harry's life. But she knew she couldn't. Not fully.
That night, she made her decision.
Over tea in the quiet kitchen, she looked at Harry across the table.
"I've been thinking," she began, "I need something normal. Something grounded."
Harry tilted his head. "Like what?"
"A Muggle university," she said, her voice firm. "I don't need the degree. Neither of us does. But when my muggle relatives ask, I can say I'm studying something. It will give me… roots."
Harry nodded slowly. "That makes sense. What will you study?"
She smiled faintly. "History. It feels honest."
"And when people ask about me?"
"We could try to enter same college." She gave him a wry look. "You don't have to actually go to lectures. But it's simpler than trying to explain why you're not working, or why you have a mansion in New Jersey."
He laughed softly. "You've already thought this all out, haven't you?"
"Of course I have," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's me."
He reached across the table and took her hand. "I have already planned to go to college."
Her smile softened. "Thank you, Harry."
"Anytime," he said quietly. "You'll always have a place here, no matter what."
And as dawn crept in the next morning, Hermione felt just a little lighter—knowing she hadn't lost everything, and that here, in this strange new life, she still had a home.
Though the Black Mansion was more alive than it had ever been, Harry knew that safety could be a trap all its own.
Watching Thalia and Callie spar each day, he had seen something unsettling in their eyes—flickers of fear that never quite left. No matter how skilled they were, they both understood that the day would come when the monsters wouldn't be illusions or training dummies. When they'd have no margin for mistakes.
So he decided to push them further.
One evening, after supper, he gathered them in the library. Teddy was curled up in Hermione's lap, already half-asleep. Andromeda sat nearby, pretending to read but clearly listening.
Thalia leaned back in her chair, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "You have that look," she said. "The 'I'm about to ruin your day' look."
Callie sighed dramatically. "Oh, gods. What now?"
Harry folded his arms, meeting their gazes evenly. "You're both improving fast. But the mansion grounds are too safe. You can't rely on familiarity when monsters come for you."
"So what do you suggest?" Callie asked, though her tone was wary.
"Starting tomorrow," Harry said, "I'm going to teleport you both to different locations. Forests, old quarries, abandoned ruins. You'll have to navigate terrain you don't know and react to unpredictable threats."
Thalia's eyes brightened—she actually looked excited. "That's more like it."
Callie groaned. "You're a menace, Harry Potter."
Hermione raised her eyebrows from her chair. "Is that… wise?"
"They'll be safe," Harry reassured her. "The transfigured creatures won't be capable of delivering fatal wounds. But everything else—speed, force, tactics—will be real. Better they learn now than when their lives are truly at stake."
Andromeda looked at Thalia and Callie with quiet approval. "He's right. You both need this."
Thalia cracked her knuckles. "Bring it on."
The next morning, training began in earnest.
They teleported into a dense pine forest before sunrise. Mist clung to the ground like spilled milk, and the air smelled of damp moss.
"Alright," Harry said, his voice calm but resolute. "You have ten minutes to find higher ground. When the time is up, I'll send them in."
Callie swallowed. "Them?"
He only smiled.
The moment he disappeared with a soft crack, Thalia elbowed Callie. "Come on. He's serious."
They took off at a run, boots crunching over pine needles, vanishing between the trees.
Minutes later, Harry stood in the clearing alone. With a flick of his wand, he began to transfigure the stones and branches around him. The air shimmered. Shapes grew larger, scales knitting together, claws gleaming wetly in the dawn light.
Two Nemean Lions
He set the enchantments carefully: attack but never kill. Then he raised his hand, releasing them.
Deep in the forest, Thalia and Callie heard branches snap.
"Showtime," Thalia whispered.
From the hilltop where he watched, Harry observed every move—how they shifted positions, how they worked together without words, how they faced down creatures they had once only read about.
Evenings were no less intense. Sometimes he roused them long after dark, demanding readiness with no warning. By lantern light, they would practice ambush drills and coordinated counterattacks.
Callie complained often—and creatively—but Harry could see how fast she was growing. Her spear work had become clean, almost elegant. Thalia, too, was becoming stronger, more confident.
But one thing bothered him.
During a moonlit session, as Thalia smashed her wooden practice blade into a manticore's face, it splintered in her hands. She didn't flinch—she just spun away, cursing, and picked up a branch instead.
Afterward, Harry called her aside.
"You need something better," he said.
Thalia wiped sweat from her cheek, breathing hard. "You're telling me."
"I mean it," he said more seriously. "A weapon that won't fail you."
She looked up at him, wary. "What kind of weapon?"
"One crafted for you," Harry said. "Magically enhanced. Light enough to wield fast, strong enough to endure any strike. A sword worthy of a daughter of Zeus."
Her blue eyes widened, just a little. "You'd do that for me?"
He met her gaze without hesitation. "You've earned it."
Callie sauntered over, her spear balanced over her shoulders. "If she gets a magic sword, I want an upgraded spear."
Harry smiled faintly. "Maybe when you stop complaining every five minutes."
"I'm motivated by righteous protest," Callie shot back, though she was grinning.
Hermione, who had come to watch, shook her head with exasperated fondness. "Honestly, it's like living with a pack of overgrown children."
But when she looked at Harry, her eyes were warm.
Because even though the nights were long and the training was merciless, this place—this family—was more alive than any life she had imagined after the war.
And Harry, standing in the moonlight with his ragtag band of warriors, finally felt like he was exactly where he belonged.