The late morning sun filtered lazily through the kitchen windows as Harry adjusted Teddy's tiny jacket, enchanted to resist cold, heat, and sudden magical bursts—something that had become a necessity with a half-metaphorically volatile toddler. Teddy giggled, his turquoise hair turning a bright lilac as Harry ruffled it fondly.
"And you're ready to terrify the magical public with your cuteness," Harry said, hoisting the boy into his arms.
Andromeda stood by the door, adjusting a lavender shawl around her shoulders, her hair pinned up with an elegant comb Harry had gifted her last Christmas. For someone who rarely left the mansion, she looked radiant, like a blossom that had waited far too long for sunlight.
"Are you sure it's alright for me to come along?" she asked, glancing down at her shoes.
"Positive," Harry said. "You'll love it. Doce Encanto is... not like Diagon Alley. It's brighter. More modern. You won't believe how comfortable everything looks."
"And you're picking up the wardstones today?" she asked, gathering Teddy's baby bag.
Harry nodded. "The shopkeeper sent an owl this morning. They finally got them in—eight of the biggest ones they could find. I figured we could make a day of it. Some shopping, lunch at one of the floating cafés, maybe pick up a few things for you too."
Andromeda gave him a soft smile, her expression unusually warm. "I can't remember the last time someone said something like that to me. A day out. With family."
Harry glanced at her and smiled back, gently. "You're not alone anymore, Andi. You haven't been for a while."
They drove out in Harry's silver Mercedes—charms humming softly from the enchanted core he'd installed beneath the bonnet. Teddy sat in his car seat, waving his little hand and babbling with delight at every tree that passed. The navigation system guided them straight to Newark, and as they neared the hidden location, the scenery began to shift.
The building known to the Muggles as an abandoned shell shimmered in Harry's eyes. Doce Encanto, hidden by layers of magic and misdirection, revealed itself as a pristine six-story glass-and-stone marvel, with a glowing sign above the entrance written in flowing golden runes. Other magical families, some dressed in sharp Muggle-style suits and others in robes with shimmering fabrics, flowed through the open archways and revolving doors.
"Merlin's beard," Andromeda whispered as they stepped inside.
The air was alive with magic—sweet, tingling, and vibrant. Enchanted music played somewhere in the distance, and floating lights lined the wide corridors. The entrance opened into a grand atrium with marble floors, tall glass ceilings enchanted to look like a clear sky, and banners floating gently overhead advertising various stores.
On the left, a sweets shop shaped like a dragon's gaping mouth breathed cotton-candy smoke. On the right, a dress boutique changed its mannequin's attire every few seconds, demonstrating self-cleaning evening gowns and wrinkle-proof cloaks.
Harry chuckled. "Told you. It's not exactly Diagon Alley."
Andromeda was already craning her neck. "Is that a shop selling teapots that stir themselves?"
"And dance, if you give them sugar," Harry added.
They made their way past the bustling crowds until they reached the store: Warding & Arcane Protection.
Inside, the shopkeeper greeted Harry with familiarity. "Ah! Mr. Potter. Right on time. Come, come. Your wardstones arrived two nights ago, straight from Mount Shasta. They're still humming."
Harry followed him behind the counter into a secured backroom filled with crates and glowing sigils. Eight massive stones, each no bigger than a loaf of bread but pulsating with deep violet and silver energy, rested on a warded table.
"These are incredibly dense," the wizard explained, tapping one. "Each mined where three major ley lines intersect. You'll be able to set up a perimeter the size of a stadium with just one, especially if you reinforce it with blood and ritual symbols."
Harry nodded and opened his pouch. "I'll take them all now."
The shopkeeper handed him a protective shrunken crate. "Be careful with them. These stones drink magic like goblets take wine."
As Harry secured the box inside his enchanted satchel, Andromeda appeared at the doorway, holding a levitating bag of sweet rolls and a dress box in her arms.
"You found the bakery?" Harry asked, amused.
"I found everything," she said, breathless. "Harry, there's a bookstore with enchanted family cookbooks. A salon that sells magical hairpins. And I met a lovely witch who said she teaches magical cooking classes every weekend."
"Well, looks like someone's moving in," Harry teased. "Next thing you know, you'll be renting an apartment upstairs."
Andromeda's eyes softened. "It's beautiful here. Clean. Warm. Modern, but not… cold. It doesn't feel like the war ever touched this place."
"No," Harry agreed. "It feels untouched.".
They ate at a cloud café—literally seated on enchanted platforms floating in the air. Harry ordered mushroom soup that stirred itself, and Andromeda had a salad that changed flavors with every bite. Teddy was too busy flinging bits of jelly onto a miniature broomstick that cleaned up after him.
By mid-afternoon, Harry had finished purchasing a few enchanted cooking utensils for Andromeda and a small leather-bound book on leyline theory for himself.
As they made their way toward the exit, Andromeda glanced over her shoulder, reluctant to leave.
"Thank you," she said softly. "For this."
Harry gave her a smile. "We'll come again. Maybe even stay at the hotel one weekend."
Andromeda chuckled. "Teddy would love that."
The sunlight was just beginning to turn golden when they reached the parking lot. Harry secured the crate of wardstones in the trunk, Teddy now fast asleep in the back seat, a unicorn toy glowing softly above him.
As Harry looked at the fading shimmer of Doce Encanto behind them, with the right tools in hand and people to protect, he was ready to build something powerful—not just wards, but a future.
The morning air was crisp and cool as Harry stood beneath the shade of a willow tree in the backyard, sleeves rolled up, wand hovering midair as shimmering runes danced around a large, smooth wardstone. It was the sixth day of his self-declared leave from school, and the enchantments he was layering required not only intense focus, but near-perfect precision.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist and stepped back, studying the completed matrix etched into the surface of the stone.
The rune for protection glowed golden at the center, interlocked with the silver glyphs of repulsion, secrecy, and clarity of intent. These were not basic enchantments a seventh-year at Hogwarts might toss around—these were advanced runic arrays, constructed with deep arithmancy calculations, elemental balances, and the finesse of a wardmaster.
And Harry had trained under two of the best.
It had started with Bill Weasley, years ago—back when the Order of the Phoenix was active and everyone was staying at Grimmauld Place. Bill, a calm and competent wardbreaker for Gringotts, had given Harry not only practical lessons, but precious books and scrolls that were kept hidden from most British wizards.
"Always remember, Harry," Bill had said one evening over firelight and parchment, "you can't break what you don't know how to make. Every ward has a shape, a signature. Learn how to craft the maze, and you'll know how to walk through it blindfolded."
Later, Dumbledore had added his own insight—delving deeper into the mind behind wards.
"Some magic, Harry," the old headmaster had once said while offering him a rare volume titled The Binding of Sight, "is woven with will and purpose so powerful that it becomes an extension of the caster's very soul. If Voldemort has hidden pieces of himself in this world, the protections around them will not be merely clever. They will be intimate. Personal. To dismantle them, you must understand them—and to understand them, you must learn the art yourself."
So Harry had studied, had practiced. And now, years later, those lessons bore fruit.
Inside the garage of the mansion, eight massive wardstones sat secured in magically stabilized crates. Each stone was etched, polished, and humming with layered enchantments. Their magical cores were dense with leyline energy, carefully measured to interlock once planted in the correct pattern.
Harry had even gone so far as to draft a full arithmantic model of Camp Half-Blood's terrain. Using a magically-drawn topographic map, he calculated every slope and elevation, every vulnerable entry point, and the radius of effect each stone would provide.
He had designed layers of wards: some to repel monsters and magical predators, others to confuse or redirect those with ill intent. There were wards of invisibility, to mask the camp from mortal eyes, and wards of purification that would cleanse incoming threats of curses or tracking marks. And then, there were the boundary wards—trigger-based enchantments that would flare to life if pierced.
At the end of that long, relentless week, Harry sat at his dining table with the finalized blueprints and a tired smile on his face.
That was when Andromeda entered the room.
"You've barely eaten," she said, setting down a steaming mug of tea. "And don't think I didn't hear you muttering to yourself at three in the morning again."
Harry chuckled, lifting the mug gratefully. "The stones are ready. All eight. Enchanted, calculated, aligned. It's… been a while since I've pushed myself like this."
Andromeda gave him a knowing smile. "You miss it. The work. The complexity. Magic with purpose."
Harry sipped his tea. "I do. But this—this isn't just defense. It's safety. For those kids. They don't even know how vulnerable they've been."
She hesitated, fingers brushing over a folded shawl draped over the back of the chair. "Would it be alright if I came with you?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "You want to see Camp Half-Blood?"
"I've been reading that book you left on the table," she said. "About demigods, the Olympians… I want to meet them. These children who fight monsters just for being born. Besides, I could use a change of scenery."
Harry nodded. "Alright. I was planning to drive there. It's better than Apparating with Teddy—he's still too small. And the demigods won't look twice if his hair turns green or purple."
Teddy, currently babbling and gnawing on a phoenix-feathered pacifier in his enchanted floating crib, cooed at them both as his hair shifted into a cheerful strawberry blonde.
"See?" Harry grinned. "Master of disguise already."
By mid-morning, Harry had packed the car. The wardstones were sealed in a magically fortified case in the boot, the installation schematics tucked into his enchanted bag. Teddy was bundled in soft enchanted clothes, his crib secured in the back seat like a high-tech baby carrier. Andromeda wore a dark blue cloak woven with temperature regulation charms, her eyes full of curiosity.
The silver Mercedes purred to life, and they pulled out of the quiet drive, onto the road that would take them to Long Island.
As they drove, Andromeda glanced around at the landscape—trees giving way to suburban neighborhoods, then long stretches of open highway.
"You really think this will keep the monsters away?" she asked.
Harry nodded. "The wards are strong. Stronger than anything most wizarding towns have. But more than that, they're tailored. Built to target what threatens those kids. I've included detection wards too—just in case something makes it past the outer defenses."
Andromeda was silent for a moment, then murmured, "I always thought the Wizarding World was dangerous. But this… this is something else."
Harry's jaw tightened. "It is. They fight from the moment they can walk. Most don't make it past their teenage years. That's why I'm doing this. They deserve safety."
She looked at him, the corners of her mouth turning upward. "You've changed, Harry. I don't know if you realize it."
Harry kept his eyes on the road. "I've had time to think. And reasons to live for something more."
Teddy let out a happy squeal as a passing cloud shaped like a unicorn drifted overhead. Harry smiled.
Soon, they'd reach Camp Half-Blood. And soon after that, the wards would rise—quiet and unseen, but powerful and enduring.
A new era of protection was about to begin.
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