The Son of Mischief and Moonlight

Halloween night in Godric's Hollow was way too quiet. It was the kind of quiet that made Peter Pettigrew want to turn around and run as fast as he could. Of course, running wasn't an option. Not with Lord Voldemort standing next to him, looking like a snake in human form—cold, calculating, and all kinds of terrifying.

Peter's heart was pounding so hard he swore it might just leap out of his chest. He wished, desperately, that it would. Maybe that way he could avoid this whole mess. But no. He was here. Standing at the edge of the Potters' property. And the worst part? He was the reason Voldemort was here, too.

"Move, Wormtail," Voldemort hissed, his voice like ice water down Peter's spine. No pressure, just the Dark Lord breathing down his neck, waiting for him to do the thing that would officially mark him as the world's biggest coward.

Peter raised his wand, his hand shaking so badly it was a miracle he didn't drop it. He could still hear James' laugh echoing in his mind, that stupid, carefree laugh, like everything was always a joke. Like Peter would never really betray him.

Except, that's exactly what he was about to do.

The Fidelius Charm shimmered around the Potters' cottage, invisible to everyone except Peter, the Secret Keeper. The friend they'd trusted with their lives. The friend who was now about to hand them over to the most dangerous wizard alive like he was ordering pizza.

This is it, Peter thought. No going back.

With a muttered spell, the charm broke like a soap bubble popping, and the quaint little house appeared, its windows glowing with the warm light of a family who had no idea their lives were about to be shattered.

Voldemort's thin lips curled into a smile that was more shark than human. "Well done," he whispered, almost too quietly for Peter to hear. Not that Peter wanted to hear anything Voldemort had to say. He wanted to be anywhere else—preferably someplace very far away from Godric's Hollow, and definitely very far from the mess he'd made of his life.

They approached the gate, each step sending a fresh wave of nausea through Peter. He didn't even need to look at Voldemort to feel the dark magic rolling off him in waves. It was suffocating. Peter's pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out the sound of his own shallow breathing.

And then, they stopped.

Right at the gate.

Peter could feel his insides twisting into a knot, but Voldemort seemed perfectly at ease, like this was just another stroll through the park. He ran a pale, skeletal hand along the iron gate, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Open it," Voldemort ordered, as if he were talking about the weather.

Peter nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold metal. The gate creaked open, and with that sound, Peter felt whatever small piece of his soul he had left slip away into nothing.

Voldemort didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. His eyes were locked on the house ahead, and Peter knew that, for the Potters, their time had just run out.

And it's all my fault, Peter thought, but there was no time for regret. Voldemort was already stepping forward, and Peter had no choice but to follow.

—

James Potter was having one of those days where the universe just seemed dead set on ruining everything. First, he was betrayed by a friend (which, okay, Loki should have seen coming), and now Voldemort—Lord I-Wear-Black-Because-It's-Dramatic—was standing at the gate of his house like some unwelcome Halloween guest.

From the window, James squinted at the pair: Voldemort, all doom and gloom, and Peter—ugh, Peter—the traitor. The betrayal hit hard. Sure, Loki had his fair share of betrayal throughout his godly existence, but that didn't make it any easier when it happened in this fragile, mortal body. Especially not when his family was involved.

"Lily!" James called, his voice catching. "Take Harry upstairs. Now. Voldemort's here." He tried to sound calm, but his heart was doing that annoying mortal thing where it pounded in his chest like a drumline at a Quidditch match. Fun fact: It's much easier to think when your heart isn't trying to explode.

Lily didn't waste a second. She swooped up Harry, who was busy being adorable and clueless about the fact that the darkest wizard of all time was moments away from their doorstep. The thought crossed James' mind that Harry, with his wild hair and wide eyes, looked every bit the godling he truly was. But this wasn't the time for that. He needed to act.

Problem was, he couldn't remember where his wand was.

Seriously. Now of all times? Loki's memories as the Norse God of Magic could conjure portals across realms and pull pranks on gods—but right now, James couldn't even find his stupid wand in this mortal chaos.

As if the universe decided to make matters worse, a deafening explosion tore through the house. The front door? Gone. Shattered. Blown into tiny bits of wood, like Voldemort had taken offense to the concept of "knocking." James barely had time to throw his hands up in defense before the blast hurled him across the room. He hit the wall hard, and for a second, all he saw were stars—both the magical kind and the ones that just happen when you get smacked by dark magic.

Voldemort swept into the room with all the swagger of someone who's watched way too many villainous monologues in the mirror. His pale face stretched into a serpentine grin as his eyes locked onto James. "Potter," he hissed, drawing out the name like he was savoring it. "You should've run."

James, struggling to get his bearings, could only glare. Run? That wasn't exactly his style. Even if, you know, he had no wand and a pounding headache. He scrambled to his feet, but before he could even muster a comeback—something snappy, no doubt—Voldemort raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light came faster than James could blink. He felt the hit—a split-second burst of pain—and then…nothing. Darkness. Silence. His mortal body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

But here's the thing about gods: they don't stay gone. Sure, James Potter's body was out of commission. But Loki? Loki's spirit was still alive and kicking, waiting in some stasis chamber in Asgard. Because if there's one thing you can count on with Loki, it's that he's never really down for long.

For now, though, Voldemort stood over the fallen body, triumphant. Upstairs, Harry's cries filled the air, the only sound in the house that had just been shattered by betrayal and dark magic.

—

Lily Potter—also known as Artemis, goddess of the hunt, protector of the wild, and now, awkwardly enough, a full-time mother—was having a rough night. It wasn't exactly the kind of rough night where your baby won't stop crying or you can't find the right pacifier. No, this was the kind of rough night where a dark wizard with no nose and serious ego problems was creeping up the stairs to murder her family.

Not great.

She sat in the nursery, rocking Harry gently in her arms, trying to calm him down. As if the little guy could sense that something was about to go very, very wrong. His green eyes—the same color as hers, except, you know, infinitely more adorable—looked up at her, and Lily's heart twisted painfully.

She was Artemis. She didn't do emotions. At least, not these ones. She was all about justice and strength and hunting down monsters with her celestial bow, not about soft, gooey things like love. But here she was, stuck in a mortal body because Zeus had decided she needed to learn a lesson after taking out one too many male demigods. So yeah, now she had to deal with all these feelings. Ugh.

And on top of that, Voldemort—the magical world's answer to every bad guy cliché—was on his way. Perfect timing.

She glanced toward the door, hearing his heavy, slow footsteps as they echoed through the house. He was taking his time, probably to enjoy the dramatic tension. Typical villain move.

Could she fight him? Well, normally, yeah—she was Artemis. But in this flimsy mortal body, with no bow, no arrows, and a baby in her arms? Not so much.

As the footsteps grew louder, she did something she really didn't want to do. Something that left a bad taste in her mouth. She called on Aphrodite.

Yes, that Aphrodite. Goddess of love, romantic nonsense, and everything Lily—Artemis, really—had spent eons mocking. They were about as close as cats and dogs. But right now, Lily needed her. After all, they said a mother's love was the most powerful kind, right? Aphrodite should understand that, even if Lily thought love was overrated.

"Aphrodite," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. "I offer you my life. Just protect Harry."

The words felt wrong, but she meant them. And if it meant saving Harry, she would swallow her pride and call on the one goddess she'd sworn to avoid for eternity.

The door creaked open. Voldemort stepped in, looking all smug with his flowing black robes and creepy red eyes. "Step aside, girl," he hissed, like some snake-themed supervillain (which, let's be honest, he basically was). "You don't need to die tonight."

Lily—Artemis, goddess of fierce independence, who had spent centuries rejecting every romantic advance and hunting monsters with unrelenting precision—stood firm.

"No," she said, her voice steady, even though her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. "Take me instead. Leave Harry alone."

Voldemort tilted his head like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Step aside, and I will spare you."

Lily snorted. As if she believed that.

"No," she said again. Her voice was louder now, more defiant. "I won't let you harm him."

Voldemort's patience was running thin. He stepped forward, raising his wand. "Last chance."

Lily didn't move. "No."

The curse hit her before she could even blink. One moment, she was standing, staring into the eyes of the most feared dark wizard in the world. The next, she was falling, her body crumpling to the floor.

But she wasn't really gone. Oh no, not yet. This mortal shell might be done for, but Artemis—the real Artemis—was still very much alive. Somewhere, in a hidden corner of the world, her true form lay in stasis, waiting to wake up.

Her last thought, before everything went dark, was of Harry. Please, let him be safe.

Voldemort stepped over her body like it was nothing, his eyes locked on Harry. The room seemed to hold its breath as the dark lord raised his wand again, a twisted grin spreading across his face. He had no idea what kind of magic he was messing with.

—

As Voldemort turned away from Lily Potter's lifeless body, he felt something stir within him. Disappointment? Maybe. It wasn't like he cared about the girl—he had his eyes set on Harry, after all. But Severus Snape had wanted her spared, and it nagged at Voldemort like an itch he couldn't scratch. Pathetic, really, he thought, shaking his head. The man could have wielded great power, and instead, he clung to a memory. So tragic.

But enough about Severus and his poor life choices. Voldemort's attention was firmly fixed on the prize: baby Harry, the tiny boy destined to ruin his plans. The little one was blissfully unaware, probably dreaming of gummy worms or something equally mundane.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered, raising his wand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Avada—"

Before he could finish the iconic phrase that always made him feel powerful, a dazzling golden light exploded in the nursery. It was like someone had turned on a thousand disco balls at once, only much, much more majestic. Harry's connections to the world, severed with the deaths of his parents, glimmered like the stars, and something else—something divine—entered the room.

Enter Aphrodite, goddess of love and all things glittery. Now, you might think she would be the last person to show up in a moment of crisis, especially given her history with Artemis. But here she was, ready to fulfill her end of a rather surprising bargain.

"Not today," she declared, her voice resonating through the chaos like a rock star on stage.

Voldemort blinked, utterly perplexed, as the light swirled around him, absorbing his dark intentions like a sponge. This was not how he had planned the evening. A flash of confusion crossed his face, and for a moment, he looked like a toddler who'd just realized their favorite toy was broken.

The Killing Curse fizzled in the air like a soggy firework. The golden glow expanded, consuming Voldemort, who could only gasp as the last remnants of his dark essence were obliterated.

"See ya!" was the only fitting farewell, though he wouldn't be around to hear it.

In the blink of an eye, the most feared dark wizard in history was no more—just a puff of smoke and a cautionary tale for the bedtime stories yet to come.

The nursery fell silent, enveloped in a peaceful glow as baby Harry lay safe, cradled by the warmth of love and protection. A newfound divine energy shimmered around him, promising a bright future, and maybe even a few adventures that didn't involve dark lords and terrible prophecies. After all, every hero's journey begins somewhere—and it looks like this one was just getting started.

—

Pettigrew stood at the gate of the Potter residence, a nervous ball of anxiety wrapped in a coat of fur—well, technically he was in his human form, but he might as well have been a rat. He wrung his hands, glancing around as if expecting the entire wizarding world to jump out and call him out for the coward he was. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could go wrong tonight. Spoiler alert: a lot.

Then it happened.

Out of nowhere, a blinding golden light shot up from the house like it was trying to audition for a part in the next big magical spectacle. "What in the name of Merlin is that?" Pettigrew squeaked, his heart doing a frantic cha-cha in his chest. It looked like something out of a superhero movie—if superheroes were a thing in the wizarding world. But no, this wasn't just some flashy display; it was a cosmic alarm bell that screamed, "RUN!"

In a panic, he morphed into his rat form faster than you could say, "betrayal." His body shrank and contorted until he was a tiny, furry critter, scuttling toward the nearest exit like his life depended on it—because it probably did.

But before he could make his grand escape, a flash caught his beady little eyes. It was Voldemort's wand, soaring through the air like a misplaced Excalibur. "This can't be good," he thought, his instincts screaming at him to flee. But lo and behold, destiny—or maybe just sheer idiocy—had placed it right in front of him.

Pettigrew's tiny paws clutched the wand, feeling its dark power radiate against his fur. Part of him screamed to drop it and run, but the part that still wanted to survive (and maybe enjoy some of that dark magic for himself) gripped it tightly.

With a last terrified glance at the house, now glowing like a disco ball of doom, he scurried off into the night. He darted down dark alleyways and under fences, heart racing and wand clenched in his tiny teeth. If anyone was going to tell the tale of what had just happened—and survive to tell the tale—Pettigrew was determined it would be him.

After all, he was a rat at heart, and no one knew how to wriggle out of a tight spot quite like him. And if things went south, well, he'd always had a knack for disappearing into the shadows.

—

Sirius Black, the self-proclaimed prankster extraordinaire and recently promoted overprotective godfather, strutted down the cobblestone path in Godric's Hollow like he owned the place. Today was supposed to be legendary—tickle fights, strategic block demolitions, and maybe even a sneak peek at that shiny broomstick he'd promised his godson, Harry. Honestly, he could practically hear Harry's delighted giggles echoing in his head. What could possibly go wrong?

But as he sauntered along, humming an off-key mashup of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" and what he firmly believed was the world's worst battle cry, the serene evening abruptly detonated into chaos. A blinding flash erupted from the Potter house, followed by a shockwave that knocked Sirius back a step, flailing his arms like a chicken that just realized it was not, in fact, flying. "What the bloody hell?" he exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up so high they nearly merged with his wild hair.

Panic surged through him like a caffeine buzz as he sprinted toward the house, the acrid smell of smoke and something burnt twisting his stomach into a knot. "This is not how my day was supposed to go!" he muttered, his internal monologue now taking a decidedly darker turn.

Pushing through the gate with the grace of a hippo on roller skates, Sirius skidded to a halt at the entrance. The sight that greeted him sent dread crashing over him like a tidal wave. "Lily! James!" he shouted, voice echoing in the eerie silence. "Is anyone there?"

Peeking inside, his heart plummeted. There, sprawled on the floor, was James Potter—his best mate, his fellow troublemaker, the guy who always had his back. "No, no, no! This can't be happening!" Sirius rushed to James's side, but the sight was worse than he could have imagined. "James, please… not like this," he whispered, choking on his emotions. But there was no response, only the suffocating silence that filled the room like a dark cloud of doom.

Panic clawed at his insides, and he shook himself out of the haze. "Harry! I need to get to Harry!" With determination fueled by sheer desperation, Sirius bolted up the stairs, every step feeling like he was racing against a ticking clock. The nursery was just above, and his godson's life was on the line—he couldn't let anything happen to Harry.

Bursting into the nursery, Sirius prepared for battle, fully expecting to face off against whatever evil had crashed the party. But what he found made his heart drop even further.

Lily, his sweet friend, lay lifeless on the floor, while a stunning woman with long, flowing hair and an ethereal glow held baby Harry in her arms. Seriously, she looked like she had just stepped out of a painting—a bit too perfect, like an Instagram filter gone rogue.

"Who—who are you?" Sirius stammered, gripping the doorframe like it was his only lifeline in this chaotic storm of emotions.

The woman turned, her eyes sparkling like diamonds in the sun. "Oh my gosh, babe! I'm Aphrodite," she said, her voice smooth and dripping with a casual confidence. "I'm here to protect your godson, you know, because his mom totally asked me to. Like, how cute is that?"

Sirius blinked, struggling to process this sudden twist in his already bizarre night. "Aphrodite? As in the love goddess? I thought you'd be too busy, like, playing matchmaker up in Olympus to deal with all this mortal drama," he quipped, desperately trying to mask his confusion with humor. Honestly, if he didn't laugh, he might just start crying. And crying was not on his agenda.

Aphrodite smiled, cradling baby Harry closer like he was the most precious accessory. "Sweetie, even goddesses have their responsibilities," she said, giving him a look that was both soothing and serious. "A mother's love? It's the most powerful force of all." Her gaze drifted to Lily's still form, the sadness flickering in her eyes. "She sacrificed everything to protect him. Total queen move."

Sirius's heart plummeted into his stomach. He was losing everything tonight—his friends, his family, and the promise of epic future pranks. But then he caught sight of Harry cooing softly in Aphrodite's arms, the child's innocent glow a stark contrast to the tragedy surrounding them. "What do we do now?" he asked, urgency creeping into his voice.

Aphrodite's expression turned serious. "You've got to keep him safe, Sirius. This little guy is destined for greatness, and trust me, the darkness that took his parents? It's not gonna rest until it tries to snuff him out. Like, total not okay vibes."

With an almost reluctant grace, she handed Harry to Sirius. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, Sirius felt a connection that went beyond the chaos—it was something solid and unbreakable. "Okay, so close your eyes, both of you," she instructed, her voice calm yet firm. "I'm about to use my divine power, and it might totally melt your brain, but, like, in a good way."

Sirius complied, squeezing Harry closer as a warm, golden light enveloped them. He felt a tugging at the edges of his consciousness, the world around him starting to fade like a poorly made movie transition. Just as everything went white, he heard a soft rustle of movement.

Then, with a sudden whoosh, the light vanished, and Sirius opened his eyes to find himself still in the nursery, Harry still cradled in his arms. The soft cooing of the baby filled the air, and just as he steadied himself, Marlene entered the room.

Her face was pale, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. "Sirius!" she gasped, breathless. "I just saw James. What happened?"

Sirius felt the air grow heavy in his lungs. "It's… it's bad, Marlene," he said, voice trembling. "James is gone. Lily is gone." He glanced down at Harry, the only flicker of light in an otherwise dark night. "But we need to focus on him. He's safe for now, and that's what matters."

Marlene's expression hardened with resolve, even as tears brimmed in her eyes. "We'll keep him safe, together," she vowed, determination settling into her features like armor.

As they stood amidst the remnants of a shattered world, they knew their lives would never be the same again. But they also understood that in the face of darkness, love would be their greatest weapon. And with that resolve, they would protect Harry—no matter what.

—

As Marlene and Sirius carefully maneuvered through the smoldering ruins of what used to be the Potters' home, the scene felt straight out of a horror movie—one of those cheap ones where you know the main characters are doomed from the start. But instead of screaming teenagers, they had a baby with wild black hair, cooing in blissful ignorance. The air was thick with smoke, sorrow, and the faint smell of burnt toast—because, of course, nothing says "life has turned upside down" like a tragic brunch.

Marlene shot a glance at Sirius, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. "How could this happen? I thought you were the Secret Keeper!" The words tumbled out, her voice quaking with the weight of reality crashing down around them. It felt like a punch to the gut, and she was clearly struggling to process the devastation.

Sirius froze, one hand cradling Harry and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to erase the tension building there. "Well, about that..." he began, suddenly wishing he had a good excuse like he was late for a meeting with the Ministry of Magic or something equally plausible. "I swear upon my life and magic—I was not the Secret Keeper! I was just the decoy. The real Secret Keeper was Peter Pettigrew."

Marlene's eyes widened, and he could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she processed that little nugget of news. "Peter? Seriously? That rat?" she exclaimed, incredulous. "I thought he was just, you know, hiding in the pantry, eating all the snacks!"

"Exactly!" Sirius said, a bit too loudly, as if he'd just had an epiphany worthy of an award-winning film. "If he revealed their location, then he's out there somewhere, and we need to catch him before he disappears like a magician's rabbit!"

Marlene, ever the sensible one, shook her head, her brow furrowing. "Sirius, you need to chill for a second. Right now, making sure Harry is safe is way more important than hunting down a rat—literally."

Sirius looked down at the little bundle in his arms. Harry's innocent face, framed by that shock of black hair that could rival a hedgehog, seemed blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling around them. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered, though his fists clenched. "But once Harry is safe, I'm putting on my detective hat, and we are finding Peter. I can't let him get away with this. No way."

Marlene nodded, her expression fierce. "We will. But first, we need to get Harry out of here. Let's make sure he has a future to fight for."

With that, they pressed on through the wreckage, determination rising in Sirius's chest like the flames of a phoenix (one that could really use some serious counseling). They were in this together, and as long as they fought for Harry, there was still a chance to rewrite their tragic tale. Sure, the shadows were creeping in, but with Harry in their arms, they would face whatever came next—one step, one witty quip at a time.

—

In the majestic realm of Asgard, Queen Frigga stood on her balcony, the sun casting a warm glow over her golden hair. She should have been enjoying the view, maybe sipping on some ambrosia, but then she felt it: a disturbance in the magical ether that was more unsettling than Loki's last prank gone awry.

"Oh, what has he done now?" she muttered, shaking her head. Loki had a knack for getting himself into trouble, and this time it felt bigger than the usual mischief. With a determined sigh, she set off, following the magical thread of chaos that led her to one of Loki's infamous hideouts. A place that, honestly, smelled like old socks and regret.

As she entered, Frigga found her son—well, her son in theory—looking like a bad caricature of himself. He was mumbling incoherently, his magic swirling chaotically around him like an over-caffeinated tornado. Words slipped from his lips: "Harry" and "Lily."

Frigga's heart twisted at the sound. "Harry? Lily? What on Midgard is going on?" Without hesitation, she plunged into Loki's mind, navigating through the storm of thoughts and emotions that bubbled beneath the surface.

What she discovered was both fascinating and alarming. Loki had not gone to Vanaheim as he had claimed. No, he'd been reborn as a mortal wizard named James Potter—a name that sounded like something out of a badly written fantasy novel. As she sifted through his memories, she felt like a magical tourist in a foreign land. Hogwarts? A school for wizards? How had she not known about this? She made a mental note to put it on her travel itinerary.

Then, there it was—Lily Evans, his future wife, standing on the Hogwarts Express with her hair like a burst of sunshine. Frigga couldn't help but smile at the innocent spark of young love igniting in Loki's heart. Finally, it seemed her son had found friendship, something he had sorely lacked in Asgard's warrior-centric society.

She watched as the Marauders were formed—an unlikely band of misfits who pranked their way through Hogwarts like a bunch of comedic legends. "Good for you, Loki," she thought, her heart swelling with pride. "Friends are important!"

But the joy was short-lived as darker memories surfaced. There was Lily, pregnant—her daughter-in-law!—and then Harry was born, a beautiful baby boy. Suddenly, the joy turned bittersweet when Frigga learned that Lily was actually the Greek goddess Artemis, cursed by Zeus for, well, let's just say her overzealousness in the demigod department.

As if that wasn't enough, Frigga felt her heart drop into her stomach when she discovered the threats looming over Harry's life. Voldemort? A name that struck fear into even the bravest souls. And Peter Pettigrew—an unassuming little rat of a friend—was supposed to be their secret keeper, only to betray them like a bad plot twist in a soap opera.

"No! Not James!" Frigga gasped, watching as Loki—James—fell, betrayed by the one he had trusted the most. Anger flared in her, fueled by the protective instinct of a mother.

With a resolute heart, she decided then and there: she couldn't let her son remain trapped in this torment. Casting a gentle spell, she eased Loki's mind, erasing the harrowing memories like swiping left on a bad date.

"There, there," she whispered as he drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber. "You won't remember this now, but I promise I'll come back when the time is right."

Once she emerged from the storm of his mind, a new determination filled her. It was time to check on her grandson, Harry, and his mother, Lily. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a shimmering portal that beckoned her to the mortal realm.

"Time to meet my family," she said, the corner of her lips curling into a smile. "Let's see what this Midgard has to offer."

And with that, she stepped through the portal, ready to face whatever chaos awaited her in the world of mortals, armed with nothing but her wit and a maternal instinct that could rival even Thor's hammer.

—

As dawn broke over the misty woods, Artemis blinked awake, feeling as though she'd just run a marathon while wearing a hundred-pound backpack. It took a moment to shake off the cobwebs of her two-decade-long detour into the mortal world as Lily Evans. At last, she was back in her own divine body, and boy, did it feel good! It was like trading a rusty old bicycle for a sleek, shining chariot.

Surrounded by her loyal Huntresses, Artemis noted their expressions were a mix of disbelief and relief. Zoe Nightshade, her right-hand maiden, rushed over like a caffeine-fueled deer, eyes wide. "Goddess! Thou art returned!" she exclaimed, her voice high with joy as if she'd just seen her favorite band's reunion tour announcement.

"Great to be back, Zoe," Artemis said, shaking off the remnants of mortal life. "But we need to cut the warm fuzzies short. I have a serious situation."

Zoe's brow furrowed in confusion. "What manner of trouble dost thou speak of?"

"My son, Harry, is in danger," Artemis declared, her heart racing.

Zoe's eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of her head. "Thou hast a son?"

"Yes! A son!" Artemis said, rolling her eyes. "But can we please skip the stunned silence and get moving?"

The Huntresses gasped in unison, their surprise palpable. "The goddess who hath sworn off men hath borne a male child?" Zoe asked, sounding like she was trying to process a plot twist worthy of a soap opera.

"Long story!" Artemis snapped, frustration bubbling up. "But now is not the time for a discussion on motherhood and masculinity. My son is in danger!"

"Verily! But dost thou not think it prudent to discuss—"

"Not now!" Artemis interrupted. "I need to get to him before it's too late!"

Zoe exchanged glances with the other Huntresses, who looked like they'd just discovered a new flavor of ambrosia. "Thou art saying that the goddess of the hunt has a child, and he's a boy? Does he not have some kind of 'kill all men' curse hanging over him?"

"Yes!" Artemis groaned, her patience wearing thin. "But this is no time to wax poetic about gender roles! I need to move now!"

With a flick of her wrist, her majestic moon chariot appeared, sparkling with ethereal light as if it had just been polished by a thousand fairies. "Hop in, Zoe! We've got a kid to save!"

Zoe hesitated, still grappling with the shock. "But what of the other Huntresses? Shouldn't we gather—"

"Gather them later!" Artemis shouted, already climbing into her chariot. "I'm not leaving Harry to deal with whatever's threatening him!"

With a decisive snap of the reins, the deers surged forward, galloping into the sky as if they were racing to save the world—or at least the day. The trees below blurred into a vibrant green smear as the chariot ascended higher and higher.

"Wait, dost thou even know what kind of peril he faces?" Zoe yelled over the wind, her expression shifting from shock to fierce determination.

"Not really, but if he's in danger, I need to be there!" Artemis said, her pulse quickening. "He deserves to know who he is, what he is. I can't let anyone hurt him!"

"Okay, but dost thou think he knows he's—"

"He's not just any boy! He's a god!" Artemis declared, her voice rising with triumph. "A son of the goddess and—"

"Pray, hold thy tongue! A son of the goddess and what?" Zoe pressed, her excitement bubbling over. "This tale groweth stranger by the moment!"

"Details later!" Artemis insisted, her focus narrowing as the landscape stretched below them. "Right now, we're on a mission. We need to save him from whoever's threatening his life!"

The chariot soared through the clouds, the wind whipping their hair back like they were in an epic music video. As they raced toward their destination, Artemis felt an unbreakable connection to Harry, a pull that urged her onward.

"Hold on tight!" she shouted. "We're about to show whoever's messing with my kid what happens when you cross a goddess!"

With every heartbeat, her determination surged, propelling them through the skies of Midgard. And as the horizon unfolded before them, Artemis knew one thing for sure: no one was going to hurt her son—not on her watch. She was about to give a whole new meaning to divine intervention.

---

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!