The sun glimmered over the treetops as Harry steered the black sedan down a quiet, tree-lined street just outside Princeton's historic campus. It was a charming part of New Jersey—peaceful, green, and only a few minutes' drive from the university gates. With summer fading and the golden hue of early autumn beginning to color the leaves, the whole place felt like something out of a quiet dream.
"I still can't believe we got in," Harry said, glancing toward Hermione in the passenger seat. "Princeton. Who would've thought?"
Hermione smiled without looking away from the window. "Well, I can believe it. I spent three nights perfecting our essays and polishing every sentence in our applications."
"I just told them I grew up in a manor in Scotland with no electricity and no modern machines," Harry said with a smirk. "And then I wrote about medieval history like I'd lived through it. Which, let's be honest, isn't far from the truth."
Hermione laughed. "True. And we did choose medieval studies for a reason."
"It's the only subject where my knowledge of goblin rebellions and enchanted manuscripts might actually help us ace a final," Harry said, turning the wheel as they passed a white picket fence. "Also, I don't need degrees, but it'll be nice to just… be a student. Live like everyone else."
Hermione nodded, her gaze distant for a moment. "Yeah. No magical creatures. No wars. Just lectures and bookshops and university coffee."
They came to a slow stop in front of a red-brick colonial-style house with green shutters and ivy growing up the side. A small "For Sale" sign swung gently on the lawn.
"This one," Harry said. "Third on the list."
Hermione leaned forward. "Looks promising."
They stepped out, and Harry locked the car with a soft beep. The house had two stories, a quaint little porch, and just enough backyard space to install a small herb garden or, as Harry secretly hoped, a shed with a hidden runic workroom. The neighborhood was quiet, suburban but not dull, and close enough to the university that they could drive in under ten minutes—or walk a few blocks.
As they approached the front door, a cheerful real estate agent stepped out, a tall woman with bright eyes and a folder clutched in her hands.
"Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, is it? Welcome! I'm Mrs. Clarke," she said. "Come in, come in. I think you're going to love this one."
Inside, the house was warm and filled with natural light. Hardwood floors, wide windows, and a cozy fireplace in the sitting room. The kitchen had been remodeled with a marble island, and the upstairs boasted two bedrooms, a study, and a master bathroom with an antique tub Hermione immediately declared perfect.
"Can we see the basement?" Harry asked casually.
"Of course," Mrs. Clarke said. "It's fully dry, good lighting, and well-kept. Great for storage."
"Or enchanting," Harry muttered under his breath, earning a nudge from Hermione.
They descended the stairs and found the basement had tall ceilings and a cool, dry air. Harry turned in a slow circle, already envisioning magical wards layered beneath the flooring, a hidden cupboard behind the boiler, maybe a floo-access hearth behind a false panel.
"What do you think?" Hermione asked, voice soft.
"I think it's perfect," he said.
They returned upstairs, where Mrs. Clarke smiled. "So, thoughts?"
"We'll take it," Harry said without hesitation.
Hermione blinked. "Harry—shouldn't we talk about it?"
"We are talking about it," he said with a grin. "We need a house. This house has charm, space, a tall fireplace, a large basement, and a kitchen where you can experiment with various cuisine. It's walking distance from the college, and it doesn't have any ghosts haunting. That's a first."
Mrs. Clarke looked amused. "So, shall I get the paperwork started?"
"Please," Hermione said, smiling at the woman. "And thank you."
An hour later, with signatures scrawled and magical wards ready to be placed discreetly under cover of night, Harry and Hermione stood outside their new home. The street was quiet, the air smelled of maple and coming rain, and birds chirped somewhere in the hedgerow.
"I can't believe we actually bought a house," Hermione whispered.
Harry looked around at the world, free of war and expectation for once. "We've done a lot of unbelievable things."
She reached out and held his hand. "A new kind of feeling?"
He smiled. "Exactly."
They stood in silence for a moment, looking at their new home—simple, ordinary, and perfect. The world might still hold monsters and gods and ancient magic, but for now, they were just two young people about to start university in a world that finally felt peaceful.
The morning after their house purchase, Harry and Hermione stood in the narrow basement room where the magical fireplace would be installed. The room smelled faintly of dust and new paint, the concrete floor smooth beneath their feet. Hermione, with her hair tied back in a tight bun and a clipboard in hand, was meticulously planning the setup. Harry was crouched near the far wall, tapping the bricks with his wand, testing the space for enchantment compatibility.
"We agreed, no major magic around the house," Hermione reminded, glancing at him with narrowed eyes. "Just the floo, nothing more."
Harry raised an eyebrow as he leaned back. "I know, I know. I'm not planning to install a self-cleaning sink or a bookshelf that fetches books by itself."
"Good," Hermione said, ticking something off on her list. "We live in a muggle neighborhood now, Harry. We can't have anti-intruder wards buzzing whenever a pizza guy walks past the hedge."
Harry chuckled. "Alright, no magical defenses capable of frying delivery drivers. Got it."
But her expression stayed serious. "No enchanted clocks, no bewitched teacups, and definitely no miniature dragons in the attic."
Harry gave a theatrical sigh. "There goes my plan to keep a Norbert Junior."
"Harry."
"Alright, alright," he grinned, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No magical creatures, no floating cutlery. Just the floo."
She softened. "I'm not trying to ruin the fun. I just want us to have some normality here. We're going to university, and for once, I want our home to feel like everyone else's."
He stepped closer and gently touched her shoulder. "It's a good idea, Hermione. You deserve some peace. Normal sounds… nice."
With a soft smile, she nodded, and the two turned toward the newly-built fireplace on the far wall. The bricks glowed faintly, just for a moment, as Harry laid the final rune under the mantle. The fireplace wasn't large—barely big enough for one person at a time—but the hearthstone had been transfigured from a slab of black granite that came from Moce Encanto. Its magical signature would match the Black Mansion perfectly.
"I've set the destination directly to the Black Mansion's side foyer," Harry said, brushing his fingers across the surface of the mantle. "You and I can use this with floo powder any time. I've locked the access to our magical signatures only—no accidental visitors."
Hermione moved closer and examined the brickwork, noting the subtly etched ward sigils. "And you're sure no magical trace will leak out?"
"Positive. The rest of the house is clean. I even set the security wards to whisper only in my mind if anyone approaches the house perimeter. Not a single flicker of light or hum of magic. Nothing detectable."
"Perfect," she said, brushing her fingers over the cool stone. "And the room?"
Harry moved to the doorway, whispered a charm, and the wooden door shimmered with a soft golden hue before vanishing. When he finished, the door reappeared—perfectly ordinary to the eye, with a mundane handle and a simple lock—but no one would be able to enter without either of their permission.
"It only opens for you and me," he said. "Anyone else will just see a broom cupboard that's stuck shut."
Hermione beamed. "That's brilliant."
"And very boring," Harry muttered with a smirk. "But I'll behave."
They climbed back upstairs into the bright living room, where the soft afternoon light spilled through the windows. The house smelled of fresh wood polish and new beginnings.
"So," Hermione said, flopping onto their new couch, "here's the routine. Every morning, we drive to class like ordinary students. After class, we come back here. Then we floo to the Black Mansion. We visit Andy and Teddy, train if we want to, help out. Then come back here in the morning."
Harry nodded. "Sounds like a plan."
"And if we make friends—and I hope we will—they won't stumble across anything magical."
Harry grinned. "Unless they somehow kick the locked broom cupboard open and fall into a floo portal to a magical manor."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That won't happen, right?"
Harry mimed sealing his lips. "Scout's honor."
The house around them hummed quietly, not with magic, but with the sense of something real and warm and new. This place wouldn't be filled with danger, nor burdened by the weight of fate. It was a house for two friends trying to live like everyone else for once.
And even with the faint hum of runes buried under bricks in the basement, the place felt like the most normal thing they'd ever had.
Teddy sat in his enchanted high chair, its legs gently rocking on their own to soothe him. His little fingers toyed with a plush griffin doll, while his hair shimmered from sandy brown to stormy blue—his emotions flickering with each passing second. A half-bitten piece of toast floated lazily in the air before him, caught in his accidental levitation spell. The magic fizzled out with a soft pop, and the toast dropped with a soft plop onto his tray.
"Dada go poof," Teddy mumbled, his bright eyes glancing toward the empty fireplace.
Andromeda turned from the counter, smiling gently. "Yes, sweetheart. Dada and Hermione went to the big school today. Remember? Uni-ver-si-ty."
Teddy scrunched his nose, clearly not pleased. "No like uni-ver-si-ty. No like books. No like gone."
She walked over and picked him up, his small arms wrapping tightly around her neck. "They'll be back by tea time, darling. They're only gone a few hours."
Teddy frowned, bottom lip poking out. "Where Tawa? And Caw-lee? Boom-stick?"
"They went back to Camp Half-Blood," Andromeda explained softly, rubbing his back. "It's where demigods go to train and be safe."
Teddy pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Tawa fight monser. Big one. Roar!" He made a growling sound, flailing his arms and nearly smacking the poor plush griffin in the face.
"Yes, she's very brave," Andromeda said with a soft laugh, guiding the griffin gently back into his arms. "But you're just as brave, you know."
Teddy leaned his head on her shoulder again and whispered, "I make fire... yesterday."
"Yes," Andromeda replied, amused. "That's why we don't touch the curtains anymore."
He let out a tiny "Oops," and then sighed. "Want Dada. Want Caw-lee. Miss them."
"I know you do, love," Andromeda said, swaying with him gently in her arms. "They miss you too. But we'll see them soon. And until then, it's just us. You, me, and stories about brave lions and clever witches."
Teddy brightened slightly. "Story! With dragon! Big one!"
Andromeda smiled and kissed the top of his head. "A dragon it is, then."
As they settled down in the warm sitting room, with a flickering fire in the hearth and a thick enchanted storybook opening on its own, Teddy's laughter began to echo once more through the halls. Even without the whole family there, the Black Mansion remained filled with love—and just a bit of magical mischief.
The soft shimmer of the camp's boundary melted around them as Thalia and Callie stepped through, their shoes crunching over pine needles and dry soil. The familiar scent of strawberries and campfire smoke filled their lungs as the vibrant banners of Camp Half-Blood fluttered overhead. It was a place of safety—of learning, of training—but as they paused just beyond the arch, both girls shared a glance, a silent ache behind their tired eyes.
"We're home," Callie murmured.
"Yeah," Thalia said with a faint nod, her voice softer than usual. "But it doesn't feel like the Black Mansion."
Their summer had been more than just training. It had been warmth. Andromeda's gentle scoldings over muddy boots. Teddy's chubby arms reaching up for hugs. Harry's tireless guidance—his fierce protection and quiet understanding. They weren't just guests there. They belonged.
Callie split off first, skipping toward the Aphrodite cabin, her duffel bag bouncing against her hip. The pink and white cabin shimmered in the late afternoon light, its elegant columns and blooming roses unchanged. As she pushed open the door, familiar squeals filled the air.
"Callie!"
"You're back!"
"Did you get taller?!"
The cabin flooded her with love and glitter and gossip. Arms wrapped around her. Hair was immediately braided. Someone snatched her bag. It was chaos—but the kind that warmed her chest. She grinned and plopped down on a heart-shaped beanbag as her siblings gathered around.
"So?" Piper asked, leaning in eagerly. "How was it? What was it like staying with him?"
Callie beamed. "You mean Harry? He's amazing. He's like… a walking philosopher. He even made an enchanted weapon for Thalia!"
Gasps rippled across the room. "No way!"
"And their mansion?" Callie continued, her eyes sparkling. "It's huge. Bigger than the Big House. And there's a swimming pool behind it where Teddy, his baby, plays with enchanted ducks."
Another round of envious sighs and jealous groans. "Ugh," one Aphrodite girl muttered, "my dad took me to a used car dealership and called it a 'bonding trip'."
Callie laughed, but a part of her heart still felt tethered to the fireplace in the Black Mansion, wondering what Teddy was doing at that very moment.
Meanwhile, Thalia stood in front of the Zeus cabin. It loomed in solemn silence, golden lightning bolts carved deep into its doors. It was a cabin made for a god—but only housed one girl.
She stepped inside, the heavy door creaking open. Shadows swirled around polished stone floors and marble pillars. Empty bunk beds lined the walls like forgotten thrones. She dropped her bag by her bed and sat on the edge, shoulders slumped.
The quiet buzzed in her ears. No humming from Hermione in the kitchen. No sounds of Teddy thumping up and down stairs or trying to levitate toast. No Harry's voice murmuring magical theory late into the night.
She leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
"I miss you guys," she whispered to no one.
A warm breeze drifted in from the open door. It didn't carry words, but she could almost imagine it was Andromeda calling her in for tea. Or Teddy squealing, "Tawa! Boom-stick!"
She smiled faintly.
"I'll come back soon," she murmured to the air. "Promise."