The Son of Mischief and Moonlight

It had been a week since Thalia, Annabeth, and Luke stumbled into Camp Half-Blood, dragging trouble behind them in the form of some very angry monsters (as usual). Hermione had arrived an hour before, completely monster-free, which, while good for her nerves, didn't exactly make her entrance memorable. At this point, the only one really thrilled by the lack of drama was Chiron, who didn't need another wing of the Big House blown apart.

Now, Haris Lokison—walking contradiction, and soon-to-be birthday boy—was leading his friends on yet another grand adventure. Not that "leading" was the right word. With friends like these, it was more like herding caffeinated satyrs through an enchanted maze. But hey, what's life without a bit of chaos?

Harry's gang consisted of some of Camp's finest, or at least weirdest. There was seven-year-old Clarisse, the pint-sized daughter of Ares with a temper as explosive as her dad's war chariot. Jasper, a twelve-year-old son of Apollo, was the designated pretty boy of the group, with a grin that could probably charm the sun into setting early. Charles, almost ten and son of Hephaestus, looked like he'd already filed three patents for magic gadgets. Then there were the Stoll brothers—Connor and Travis—ten-year-old troublemakers-in-chief, who had probably invented the word "prank" and were here for the annual Marauders Prank War like it was the Olympics.

And, of course, Harry's newest recruits: Annabeth, a wise-beyond-her-years seven-year-old daughter of Athena, who had the unsettling habit of giving people the "you're an idiot" look even when she wasn't trying; Thalia, a tough-as-nails twelve-year-old daughter of Zeus who could probably scare a Minotaur with her glare alone; Luke, fourteen and annoyingly good at everything, including charming monsters and stealing wallets; and Hermione, the ten-year-old daughter of Athena who was still wrapping her head around the whole thing.

"Oh, and by the way," Thalia had said the moment she found out about Harry's parentage, "your dad's Loki? And your mom's Artemis? How is that even—"

"It's a long story," Harry replied, as if that was supposed to make it sound less insane.

And it wasn't just the newcomers trying to come to terms with that little nugget of information. Even the veterans—like Silena Beauregard, nine-year-old daughter of Aphrodite, who had a voice that could melt butter—were still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that Harry wasn't just some ordinary demigod.

Nope. Harry was the product of two divine parents from entirely different pantheons. Loki, the Norse God of Mischief, and Artemis, the Greek Goddess of the Hunt. It was like saying peanut butter and tuna fish made the perfect sandwich, except in this case, the weird combination somehow worked. If anyone embodied beautiful, unpredictable chaos, it was Harry.

Today, though, wasn't about existential identity crises. Today was Harry's tenth birthday, and more importantly—the Fourth Annual Marauders Prank War. This wasn't just any prank war. It was legendary. This year would be the first time the newcomers—Luke, Annabeth, Thalia, Hermione, and Silena—joined the fray. Fleur, thirteen and daughter of Aphrodite, was running late, currently off in France with her family but promising to arrive at Sirius Black's place by sundown. Harry could already hear Fleur's teasing voice in his head: You better not start without me, Harry.

The battleground for today's event? The Black family's seaside cabin, affectionately nicknamed The Doghouse. And because Sirius Black was Sirius Black, the Floo password was—naturally—"Doghouse." Harry knew explaining how the Floo system worked to the newcomers was going to be... fun.

"So, it's like teleporting through fire," Harry said as they stood in the Big House living room.

Luke arched an eyebrow. "Through fire?"

"Yup."

"And that's supposed to sound normal?"

"Nope."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "What happens if you say the wrong word?"

"You'll probably get spit out somewhere random," Harry admitted. "Maybe the middle of the ocean. Or Tartarus. Or worse—Sirius's sock drawer."

Thalia's expression deadpanned. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Wouldn't you like to know," Harry replied, grinning in that mischievous way that always made people wonder if he was joking or being completely serious.

Behind them, Grover the Satyr fiddled nervously with the hat covering his horns. He wasn't exactly a fan of Floo travel either. "Just... don't forget to keep your arms and legs tucked in," Grover muttered. "Last time I tried, I lost a shoe."

Jasper shot him a sunny grin. "Sounds like an adventure."

Clarisse, rolling her eyes, grabbed the Floo powder. "You guys are ridiculous. We're wasting time."

Harry knew the truth—Clarisse was just as excited for the prank war as the rest of them. Probably more. Ares' kids thrived on competition, and nothing got Clarisse more fired up than the chance to absolutely demolish her friends in a prank battle.

"Alright, everyone!" Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Remember the rules. No permanent damage. No curses that require medical attention. And, most importantly, no pranking Sirius's motorbike. We don't want a repeat of last time."

The group collectively winced at the memory of that disaster.

"Doghouse!" Harry shouted into the fireplace, throwing the Floo powder into the flames. The green fire roared to life, and Harry stepped in like it was no big deal, because to him, it wasn't. He'd grown up navigating the space between worlds, blending his Asgardian trickery and Olympian magic as naturally as breathing. Traveling through flames? Piece of cake.

One by one, the others followed, some more nervous than others. Hermione gave a look that clearly said I hate everything about this, but she stepped in anyway. Annabeth followed right after, her sharp eyes already analyzing everything, because of course she was thinking of ways to improve the system.

As the last of them tumbled into the cozy seaside cabin, Harry dusted off his cloak, flashing a grin that practically screamed This is only the beginning.

And it was. The prank war hadn't even started yet, but Harry could already feel it in his bones—this one was going to be epic.

Because if there was one thing Haris Lokison excelled at, it was chaos. And today? Chaos had a ten-year-old with dual divine parentage at the helm, a cabin full of prank-happy demigods, and an entire day to make mayhem.

"Let the Fourth Annual Marauders Prank War," Harry announced with a mischievous smirk, "begin."

This was going to be fun.

—

Every summer, the Black family's seaside cabin became the unofficial battleground for the Annual Marauders Prank War—part training exercise, part celebration, and entirely chaotic fun. This year, things were no different. With Loki—formerly known as James Potter—and his son Harry as co-leaders of Team Potter, the stakes had never been higher.

Harry, or Haris Lokison (because one parent with a complicated reputation just wasn't enough), was a walking identity crisis with style. He was caught somewhere between godhood and demigodhood—basically a teenager with identity issues turned up to eleven. Shapeshifting? Check. Enhanced charisma? Double check. Thunder, shadows, moon magic, and ocean powers? Oh, yeah. Harry was the kid who could probably defeat you in chess, charm your entire family, and conjure a storm—all while making it seem like it was your idea to challenge him in the first place.

But even with all the power handed down by two pantheons, Harry had the heart of a prankster. Raised among Artemis's Huntresses (who were terrifying and awesome in equal measure), and trained by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, Harry's idea of fun involved just enough chaos to keep things interesting. And this year's prank war? It was going to be legendary.

On the eve of the war, the cabin buzzed with excitement. Team Potter was gathered around long tables for the traditional Viking feast. Thor—massive, boisterous, and already grumpy about the no-mead rule—sat beside his brother Loki, who was too busy smirking to care. "Think of the children," Artemis had said sternly, arms folded. "No ale this year." Thor pouted like a giant toddler, muttering about mortal beverages being an affront to his dignity, while Sif rolled her eyes for the hundredth time that night.

Harry, perched on the edge of his seat, exchanged a mischievous glance with Fleur Delacour. Thirteen years old and the daughter of Aphrodite, Fleur had inherited all the charm of her mother and then some—plus a competitive streak that rivaled Ares on a bad day.

The rest of the team was an eclectic mix of young demigods and tricksters-in-training: Jasper, son of Apollo, was busy doodling an elaborate plan for the prank war on his napkin; Clarisse, a seven-year-old with way too much Ares energy, flexed her muscles every five minutes to remind everyone she could wrestle a bull if necessary. The Stoll twins—Connor and Travis—were ten-year-old sons of Hermes and already so good at stealing things that Harry regularly checked his pockets just to be safe.

Then there was Charles, almost ten and already wielding a hammer like he owned the forge; Silena, nine, who could charm a room as easily as she could design an ambush; and, of course, Hermione, Annabeth, and Thalia—brains, brilliance, and a bit of electric anger all rolled into one dangerous package. Annabeth was seven, but you'd never know it from the way she bossed everyone around. Luke Castellan, the fourteen-year-old son of Hermes, sat a bit awkwardly at the edge of the group, stealing glances at his dad, whom he was meeting for the first time tonight.

Meanwhile, Thalia still wasn't over that time Zoe Nightshade told her to leave Luke behind to join the Huntresses. "All-girl group, no exceptions," Zoe had said, while, as she later found out, raising Harry like he was some kind of honorary little brother. Hypocritical? Yeah, just a little.

At the center of it all sat Apollo, radiating golden good looks and grinning like he'd just told the world's funniest joke. "So, nephew, any plans for your birthday?" Apollo asked casually, leaning back in his chair and tossing a grape into his mouth.

Harry smirked. "You'll have to wait and see, Uncle. I like surprises."

Apollo's grin widened. Ever since discovering he had a nephew—the only child of Artemis, no less—Apollo had been on a personal mission to become the coolest uncle ever. Thor, of course, had other ideas, and the two gods had been locked in a rivalry ever since.

"Right," Thor muttered, eyeing Apollo with mild suspicion. "But let's not forget whose advice got the lad through that kraken incident."

Apollo rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Thunder Brain. All you did was yell 'Hit it with a bigger rock!'"

"And it worked." Thor looked smug.

The room erupted into laughter, and even Artemis allowed herself a small, amused smile from where she stood, arms crossed, watching over the gathering like a hawk. Her Huntresses—Zoe, Phoebe, and Atalanta—hovered nearby, acting as both Harry's honorary big sisters and his unofficial bodyguards. Brunhilde, Harry's Valkyrie trainer, leaned casualle, eyeing the feast with an expression that said she'd seen weirder things in Valhalla.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to strategy. The Marauders Prank War was more than just fun and games; it was serious business. After all, when you had a team full of demigods, gods, and tricksters, the stakes were always high—and the pranks were nothing short of epic.

"Remember," Harry began, his emerald-green eyes glinting with mischief, "we hit them where they least expect it. Timing is everything." He pointed at the Stoll twins. "You two handle the decoys."

Connor grinned. "Exploding chickens?"

"Obviously," Harry replied with a grin.

"Charles, I need a distraction device—something flashy but non-lethal," Harry continued.

Charles grinned. "How do you feel about smoke bombs and fireworks?"

"Perfect," Harry said.

Fleur raised an elegant eyebrow. "And what about me?"

"You're on charm duty," Harry said with a wink. "Nobody distracts people better than you."

Across the table, Luke gave his dad, Hermes, an awkward glance. "So, uh… you're really my dad?"

Hermes smiled. "Guilty as charged. And, for the record, you've got terrible table manners—just like me."

Luke snorted, and for a moment, the tension between them eased.

As the night wore on, the feast turned into a chaotic planning session. Thunder rumbled outside—because, of course, Thor couldn't resist adding a bit of flair—and the cabin buzzed with excitement.

When Artemis finally called for lights out, Harry leaned back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. Tomorrow was goiazing. The only thing better than the prank war itself was seeing the looks on everyone's faces when his team pulled off the ultimate victory.

Because if there was one thing Haris Lokison knew for sure, it was this: Whether you were a god, a demigod, or somewhere in between, there was no greater thrill than a perfectly executed prank.

And Harry? Harry was about to become the stuff of legend.

—

The battlefield behind the Burrow looked like something out of a chaotic dream—a mix of enchanted balloons bobbing lazily in the air, stacks of prank supplies, and spell traps waiting to catch an unlucky victim. The sun was low on the horizon, perfect for an ambush. On the far end, Team Black stood huddled together, vibrating with the kind of energy that could only lead to trouble.

Sirius Black, self-declared general of mischief, paced in front of his team, grinning like a kid with his hand in a candy jar.

"Listen up, folks!" he called, clapping his hands. "This isn't just a prank war. This—" he made a grand sweeping gesture, "—is a mission! A rite of passage! A chance to go down in history as the greatest pranksters this side of Diagon Alley!"

Remus Lupin rubbed his temple. "We're throwing water balloons, not liberating a country, Padfoot."

"That," Sirius said dramatically, "is exactly what someone with a defeatist attitude would say."

Fred leaned toward George and whispered, "Five Galleons says he starts quoting Shakespeare."

George shook his head. "Nah, he's more of a 'gladiator speech' kind of guy."

Sirius, not missing a beat, spun on his heel. "And like the great heroes of Rome, we fight not for glory—but for chaos!" He punched the air, looking extremely proud of himself.

Tonks, sitting cross-legged next to a pile of decoy dungbombs, snorted. you fight for the chance to annoy Molly Weasley."

"And that's a noble cause if ever there was one," Sirius shot back, throwing a dramatic wink in Tonks's direction.

Remus sighed, long-suffering. "How do I always get dragged into this?"

"Because, Moony," Sirius grinned, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders, "you love this. Deep down, you know you do."

Remus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Merlin help me," but he didn't shrug Sirius off.

Fred and George had already started distributing supplies, moving through the group like seasoned quartermasters. They handed Ginny a bucket of stinksap balloons, which she accepted with alarming enthusiasm for a nine-year-old.

"Are they always this dramatic?" Daphne Greengrass whispered to Tracey Davis, both girls eyeing the chaos like they'd accidentally walked into a circus.

"Apparently," Tracey said. "And I think we're supposed to act like this is normal."

"Don't worry," George said, appearing out of nowhere and slinging an arm over each girl's shoulder. "By the end of today, you'll be pros."

"Yeah," Fred added from the other side, "pranking is basically a sport around here. We'll get you up to speed."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Is there, like, a strategy involved? Or is it just… chaos?"

"Chaos is the strategy," Neville said solemnly, fiddling with a glitter bomb.

Susan Bones crossed her arms. "That sounds like an excuse for not having a plan."

"Nah," Fred said, "it's a philosophy. If everything's chaotic, they'll never see it coming."

Percy Weasley, clutching his clipboard like it was a lifeline, cleared his throat. "Technically, shouldn't we have some rules?"

"We tried that once," George said cheerfully. "It ended with fireworks in the bathroom and a three-hour shouting match."

Percy looked horrified. "Fireworks in the—"

"Details, Percy. Don't get bogged down," Sirius interrupted, slapping Percy's back with a little too much enthusiasm. "This is about freedom!"

"Freedom to get hexed, you mean," Percy grumbled, looking resigned but determined to at least attempt order. Poor guy. No one told him this was a lost cause.

"Right, where was I?" Sirius said, rubbing his hands together. "Oh, yes—total, unrelenting chaos. Lyra!"

His six-year-old daughter perked up, already holding two glitter bombs with a gleam in her eye. "Ready, Daddy!"

Remus gave Sirius a look. "She's six."

"Exactly," Sirius said. "She's small, fast, and no one ever suspects the tiny one." He ruffled Lyra's hair. "You're our secret weapon, sweet pea."

"Can I throw glitter in their faces?" Lyra asked sweetly, blinking up at Remus with innocent eyes.

"No!" Remus said immediately.

"Daddy said I could," Lyra chirped, and Remus groaned.

"That's my girl!" Sirius beamed, clearly the proudest parent in the world.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Susan whispered to Hannah Abbott, who was eyeing the Weasley twins with equal parts curiosity and terror.

"Nope," Hannah whispered back, "but we're in too deep now."

Ginny tossed a stinksap balloon from hand to hand, grinning wickedly. "This is going to be awesome."

Sirius clapped his hands for attention. "Alright, people! Positions! Fred and George, take the west flank. Ginny, Ron, and Neville, cover the balloons. Percy—"

"Making sure no one gets seriously injured," Percy cut in, holding up his clipboard.

"Sure, sure," Sirius waved him off. "Lyra, you know your mission."

Lyra saluted with one glitter bomb, looking like a tiny general about to lead an army.

"And what's the plan if things go sideways?" Tonks asked, crossing her arms with a grin.

Sirius winked. "We run like mad before Molly finds out."

Everyone laughed—except Percy, who looked faintly alarmed but mostly resigned to his fate.

Remus shook his head, trying very hard not to smile. "One day, Sirius, this is going to end very badly."

"Maybe," Sirius said with a grin. "But today? Today, it ends gloriously."

And with that, he raised his wand. "On my mark, pranksters. Three… two… one…"

The field erupted into chaos as water balloons, glitter bombs, and prank spells flew through the air. Lyra's glitter bombs exploded in bright clouds, Ginny launched stinksap balloons with deadly accuracy, and Fred and George's enchanted fireworks shot through the sky, spelling out "Team Black Rules!" in flashing neon letters.

In the thick of it all, Sirius whooped like a kid on Christmas, while Remus muttered, "I'm getting too old for this," but still managed to tag Fred with a tickling hex.

And as the sun set over the beach, the sound of laughter, spells, and the occasional glitter explosion filled the air. It was chaos, yes—but it was glorious chaos. Exactly the way Sirius had planned.

—

It all began as these things always did—with Sirius Black going entirely over the top. Dressed in a captain's coat, a ridiculous tricorn hat, and wielding a wooden sword he had charmed to shoot sparks, Sirius blew into an enchanted conch shell with enough force to send glitter exploding into the sky. The sound echoed dramatically across the beach, as if Poseidon himself had just been summoned for battle.

Remus Lupin, standing off to the side with his arms crossed and a bottle of iced pumpkin juice in hand, sighed. "Merlin help us all."

The Black family's seaside cabin—balanced precariously on the edge of a windswept cliff—was the perfect setting for chaos. The beach below had been transformed into a tactical playground. Beach umbrellas were fortified with magical wards. Buckets of water balloons—enchanted to hit their targets no matter how much they tried to dodge—stood next to crates filled with exploding confetti bombs, slime charms, and glitter spells. A few spells were already leaking sparks in the sand, a sure sign that everything was about to go gloriously, disastrously wrong.

Sirius grinned like a pirate captain rallying his crew, the aviators perched on his nose giving him a roguish gleam. "Team Black!" he bellowed, planting one boot in the sand. "Today, we fight for glory! For honor! For the right to leave Team Potter covered in shame, glitter, and utter humiliation!"

Remus, rubbing sunblock into his nose with a muttered curse, shook his head. "Or, you know, we could just tone it down and celebrate Harry's birthday with something a little more… sane?"

Sirius gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if Remus had just committed heresy. "Tone it down? Where's your soul, Moony? What is life without a little madness?"

"Safe," Remus muttered under his breath, already regretting his life choices.

Across the battlefield, Team Potter was finalizing their preparations. Harry stood at the front, barefoot in the sand, wearing his Team Captain shirt and looking every bit the strategic mastermind. His eyes gleamed with a ten-year-old's enthusiasm for utter mayhem. Connor Stoll leaned beside him, already setting a trap disguised as an innocent sandcastle, while Travis Stoll sneakily enchanted water balloons behind his back.

Above them, the Team Potter banner—lovingly crafted by Hermione and Annabeth—flapped in the sea breeze, its bold red letters declaring:

"TEAM POTTER: 3-0. UNSTOPPABLE. UNDEFEATED."

"We've never lost," Harry whispered, his voice filled with a dangerous kind of glee.

Connor gave a wicked grin. "Correction—we've destroyed them every single time."

From their camp, Sirius turned to his ragtag army, a colorful group of misfits consisting of Fred, George, Tonks, Ginny, Neville, Percy, Lyra, Daphne, Tracey, Susan, Ron, and Hannah. He spread his arms dramatically. "Look at us! The finest minds of prankery ever assembled!"

Percy Weasley, who was scribbling furiously on a clipboard, cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should establish some rules. A code of conduct—"

"No rules!" Sirius shouted, ignoring Percy entirely. "Only chaos!"

Fred leaned toward George. "Why did we bring Percy, anyway?"

"Because we need someone to keep track of the collateral damage," George replied with a shrug, just as an enchanted water balloon whizzed past his ear.

Ginny already had a stinksap balloon in hand. She wound her arm back, eyes gleaming. "I say we hit the Stoll twins first. No one's more dangerous."

"Agreed," Neville said solemnly, pulling his bucket helmet down over his head. "Those two don't have morals."

Before Sirius could issue his first command, Harry's voice rang across the battlefield. "Oi, Black! Ready to lose again?"

Sirius spun around, gasping as if Harry's words had physically wounded him. "Betrayal! My own godson, leading an army against me? Just like in those Muggle soap operas! Is this the thanks I get for years of love, protection, and exceptional parenting?"

Harry crossed his arms with a cheeky grin. "You've pranked me for years, and I've beaten you every time. Why would this year be any different?"

"This time…" Sirius grinned mischievously, whipping off his tricorn hat. "I have a secret weapon!"

Right on cue, Lyra Black—Sirius's six-year-old daughter—popped up from behind a sandcastle, clutching two paint-filled water balloons. She beamed. "Ready for maximum chaos, Daddy!"

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're letting her use paint?"

Sirius winked. "She's adorable."

"It's going to be a disaster," Remus muttered, bracing for impact.

Tonks cracked her knuckles. "Alright, troops! Let's show those brats what happens when they mess with Team Black!"

Sirius thrust his wand skyward. "FOR GLORY!"

"FOR GLORY!" echoed his team, the air buzzing with excitement.

And with that, the war began.

---

The battlefield exploded into pure mayhem.

Ginny launched the first attack, her stinksap balloon soaring through the air—but Hermione intercepted it with a bronze shield she was carrying just in time. The balloon detonated with a splatter, narrowly missing Fred, who retaliated with an enchanted confetti bomb. It burst in mid-air, showering everything in shimmering purple dust.

Tonks dodged a glitter bomb from Hermione, shouting, "Nice try, Granger! But I've got style!" She slid across the sand, firing off water balloons enchanted to track their targets like heat-seeking missiles.

Neville dove behind an umbrella as a burst of slime whizzed overhead. "I'm too young to die!"

"You're hiding, Longbottom?" Clarisse yelled, grinning as she threw a bucket of enchanted seaweed at him. "Coward!"

Meanwhile, Percy stood in the middle of the chaos, still clutching his clipboard. "We need a tactical retreat! Regroup—"

An enchanted glitter bomb exploded over his head, drenching him in sparkles. He coughed miserably, clipboard slipping from his fingers. "I hate all of you."

On the far side of the beach, Harry and Sirius squared off. Wands drawn, eyes locked, they were like two duelists ready for an epic showdown.

"This ends today, Black!" Harry shouted, raising his wand dramatically.

Sirius twirled his wand like a gunslinger. "Come and get me, Potter!"

Water balloons soared through the air. Sandstorms erupted from cleverly hidden traps. Spells ricocheted wildly off makeshift barricades. The sound of laughter, shrieks, and explosions filled the air, mixing with the crash of the waves.

And then, just as Harry prepared to unleash his ultimate attack—a stinksap balloon charmed to burst into confetti—Lyra popped up from nowhere. "Surprise!" She lobbed a glitter bomb directly into Harry's face.

Harry staggered back, sputtering. "Traitor!"

Lyra giggled, running back to Sirius, who scooped her up with a triumphant cheer. "Victory is ours!"

Or so Sirius thought—until he turned and saw that Loki and the Stolls had taken out his entire team, and were now holding enchanted fireworks. With matching devilish grins, the twins lit the fuses and sent the fireworks soaring into the sky. They exploded with a deafening bang, spelling out in glowing letters:

"TEAM POTTER WINS. AGAIN."

Sirius stared up at the message, slack-jawed. "You cheated."

Harry grinned, wiping glitter from his hair. "It's not cheating if it's brilliant."

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but Lyra tugged on his sleeve. "Can we have cake now, Daddy?"

Defeated but grinning, Sirius ruffled her hair. "Yeah, alright. But next year—next year, we're definitely winning."

As the sun set and the battlefield quieted, the two teams trudged back to the cabin—soaked, glitter-covered, and laughing all the way.

Because in the end, the real winner of the day wasn't Team Potter or Team Black. It was chaos—just as the Marauders would have wanted.

—

Jean Grey was having a very bad day. And when you're nine (almost ten!), a bad day is the kind where you miss dessert after dinner or get stuck sitting next to the weird kid who smells like cheese. But this? This wasn't one of those bad days. This was "your best friend dies in front of you, and your brain decides to explode with freaky powers" bad.

Yeah. Real fun.

It had started normally enough. Jean and Annie had been hanging out in front of the Grey family farmhouse, talking about all the usual kid stuff—what's grosser, boogers or Brussels sprouts (boogers, duh), and which boy in class was secretly a lizard alien (answer: probably all of them). Then Annie ran into the street, and—

Screech.

Thud.

The worst sound in the world.

Jean couldn't do anything but watch. And that's when everything went sideways. One minute, Annie was lying there, her eyes wide with fear, and the next, Jean was inside her mind—feeling every bit of Annie's fear, confusion, and sadness as her life slipped away.

Not exactly something they cover in the "What To Expect When You're Nine" handbook.

Since then, Jean hadn't been the same. She barely talked to her parents or her sister Sara, and whenever someone tried to cheer her up, she'd just feel exhausted. It wasn't their fault. It was just that nobody understood what it felt like to carry someone's last thoughts around in your head.

And to make it worse, her brain hadn't stopped acting weird. Thoughts that didn't belong to her kept sneaking in—fragments from her parents, her sister, the neighbors. It was like getting a million radio stations at once, none of which played anything remotely cool.

She didn't mean to do it, but without realizing it, she started reaching out—sending her own thoughts into the universe, like a lost signal from a spaceship in a bad sci-fi movie. The message was simple:

Help. Someone, anyone. Please.

Now, across the vast emptiness of space, something heard her.

Enter: The Phoenix Force.

This wasn't just some firebird with cool wings. The Phoenix was a cosmic big deal—the whole "life, death, rebirth, and let's occasionally blow up a galaxy" package. She was older than time itself, and she knew everything about the universe. Well, almost everything. See, there was one thing she'd never experienced: human emotions. And what better way to fix that than by riding shotgun in the brain of a human?

When Jean's desperate plea brushed against the Phoenix's cosmic awareness, it was like hearing the juiciest bit of gossip in all creation. A mortal kid so sad that her brain accidentally sent a mental voicemail across the universe? That was some serious emotional content right there.

The Phoenix was intrigued. But just as she was about to beam herself into Jean's brain like an intergalactic Uber driver, she noticed something else—a second ripple of power on the same planet.

A boy. Well, technically a god. Sort of. It was complicated.

His name was Harry, and he wasn't your average kid. He had the DNA of two different gods mixed into him like some cosmic smoothie—chaos from Loki and order from Artemis. Mischief and moonlight all rolled into one scrawny kid. The Phoenix couldn't help but be fascinated.

"Hmm," she thought, her cosmic fire flickering with amusement. This godling could be... interesting. Very interesting.

And, hey, if she was going to spend some time in human form, why not introduce herself to this little walking paradox? It wasn't like she had anything better to do.

So, the Phoenix made up her mind: Jean Grey would be her new avatar. Through Jean, she'd learn what it was like to feel—grief, joy, love. And if everything went according to plan, she'd meet that godling kid too. After all, if you're going to experience human emotions, you might as well throw in a little romance, right?

Back on Earth, Jean sat beneath the giant oak tree in her backyard, curled into a tight ball. Her head hurt from crying too much, her heart felt like it had been stomped on by a herd of elephants, and the world seemed as dull and gray as an old movie no one wanted to watch.

But then, just like that, something changed.

A warmth spread through her, like someone had wrapped her in the fluffiest blanket imaginable. It wasn't just comforting—it was alive, like the feeling you get when you know everything might actually be okay someday.

Jean blinked, her green eyes glowing faintly. A whisper curled through her mind, soft but certain.

"You are not alone, little one. I am here."

The voice wasn't scary. It felt... right. Like a friend she didn't know she had.

Jean sat up a little straighter, the weight on her chest lifting ever so slightly. Maybe things weren't perfect. Maybe things were still hard. But for the first time since Annie's death, Jean felt like she wasn't floating alone in the dark.

Far away, the Phoenix watched, her flames crackling with something close to excitement. This was going to be fun.

And soon—very soon—she'd get to meet that weird little god-kid with Loki's grin and Artemis's attitude.

Oh yeah, the Phoenix thought, her cosmic fire swirling. This is going to be one heck of a ride.

---

Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!

I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!

If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!

Click the link below to join the conversation:

https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd

Can't wait to see you there!

If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:

https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007

Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s

Thank you for your support!