The sun was bright over the Black Mansion, pouring golden light across the wide garden and sparkling against the surface of the enormous pool. Percy Jackson's eyes lit up the moment he saw it again.
"I missed this," Percy declared, tossing his backpack aside and running toward the edge like he had just come home. "Teddy! Come on!"
Teddy barreled down the stone path from the house with a squeal. "Percy!" His little feet slapped against the warm flagstones as he nearly tackled Percy with a hug. The phoenix chick chirped indignantly from the boy's shoulder but quickly fluttered to a nearby chair, content to watch.
Percy ruffled Teddy's hair. "You've grown heavier since I last saw you."
"You didn't come for so long," Teddy said with a pout. "I thought you forgot me."
Percy crouched to look him in the eye, serious. "Hey, I'd never forget you, Teddy. I just had to start a new school, new place, lots of homework. But I missed you too."
Teddy's face brightened instantly. "Really?"
"Really," Percy said, and then grinned. "Now… ready for the pool?"
Teddy cheered and kicked off his sandals, tugging at his shirt in frantic haste. In moments, both of them were splashing into the pool — Percy moving with effortless grace through the water, Teddy clinging to his arm at first, squealing as cool water wrapped around him.
"Hold onto my shoulders," Percy instructed. "Kick your legs, like this."
Teddy tried, sending up chaotic sprays that made Percy laugh. "You're not drowning me, don't worry. Just keep kicking!"
From a shaded lounge chair, Harry watched with a faint smile. Percy's joy was genuine, Teddy's laughter infectious. For once, the mansion felt like what Harry had always wanted it to be: a home full of family noise, not the cold silence of its past.
Beside him, Sally Jackson set down her bag with a soft sigh. "It's good to be back here."
"You're always welcome," Andromeda said warmly.
Sally smiled. "I'll make tea. Feels wrong just sitting while the boys are playing." She brushed her hair back, rolled her sleeves, and walked toward the kitchen without another word — as if she were already part of the household.
Neither Harry nor Andromeda thought twice about it. Sally had lived here for weeks before, and the kitchen had always been her territory when she wanted it.
Moments later, a shriek shattered the calm.
Harry leapt to his feet, wand in hand before the echo faded. "Sally?"
She stumbled out of the kitchen, pale as chalk, clutching the doorframe. "There's—there's something in there! A little—little monster!"
From the doorway behind her emerged a crooked figure, his large ears twitching, his ancient eyes narrowed. The house elf scowled at Sally with undisguised disgust.
"What is a filthy Muggle doing in the kitchen?" the creature barked. "Muggles do not belong in Mistress' kitchen. Not even Miss Andromeda belongs here. Kreacher keeps it clean for Master Harry and the boy!"
Sally clapped a hand to her mouth, trembling. "Harry—what—what is that? A goblin?"
Kreacher's face twisted with fury. "Goblin? GOBLIN? Insolent woman! Kreacher is a house-elf, not one of those greedy, metal-biting bankers!" His voice cracked into a hiss.
"Kreacher." Harry's voice cut sharp, commanding, as he strode forward. "Enough."
The elf stiffened but obeyed, though his eyes still glowered at Sally.
Harry put his wand away, then moved to Sally's side, his hand firm on her arm. "It's all right. He won't hurt you. This is Kreacher, my family's house-elf. He sometimes stays here with us."
Sally's voice shook. "That thing was glaring at me like—like I was dirt."
Harry crouched so she would meet his eyes, speaking calmly. "He's not a goblin. He doesn't like being called that. He's… complicated. Loyal, but complicated. He doesn't trust easily."
"I should say not!" Kreacher muttered. "Filthy Muggle touching pots, spoiling the kitchen…"
Harry shot him a glare. "Kreacher."
The elf's mouth snapped shut, though he muttered under his breath.
Sally still looked shaken, but Andromeda touched her hand reassuringly. "He's not dangerous, Sally. Just… old-fashioned."
Harry nodded. "He'll get used to you. He came here because he cares about me and Teddy. He'll learn to care about you too, in time."
Kreacher sniffed, clearly disagreeing, but under Harry's stern gaze, he bowed his head grudgingly. "Kreacher will… tolerate the woman. For Master Harry's sake."
"Good enough for now," Harry said, though his tone left no room for argument.
Sally drew in a deep breath and straightened. "I… I suppose I can try too."
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.
From outside, Teddy's laughter rang out. "Percy! I can float! Look, I can float!"
Harry glanced toward the pool, relief softening his features. "See? Nothing to worry about. We're still just family here."
Sally nodded slowly, though she kept a cautious eye on Kreacher, who scowled but shuffled back into the kitchen to mutter darkly over the teapot.
Andromeda chuckled under her breath. "Well. Tea will certainly be… interesting."
Harry smiled faintly, but his eyes remained sharp. Two worlds had just collided in his kitchen — and he knew it was only the beginning.
The night after Sally's fright in the kitchen, Harry found Kreacher in the drawing room. The elf stood stiffly in front of the great portrait of the Black family — one that he had brought over from Grimmauld Place. The painted faces sneered and whispered, though many looked unsettled at seeing their heir in such fine company.
Kreacher's back was straight, his chin high, and there was something like pride burning in his watery eyes.
"Kree," Harry said gently — still not used to calling him by that softened name Teddy had given him. "You've made yourself at home, then?"
Kreacher bowed stiffly. "Master Harry called, and Kreacher came. The old house was too quiet, too empty. Portraits and dust… nothing but ghosts and silence. Kreacher would have gone mad, yes, Kreacher would. But here—" His chest puffed out. "Here is life. Here is the boy. And… goddesses." His voice almost cracked with reverence.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You like them?"
"Oh yes," Kreacher croaked, eyes shining. "Most of them. The huntress, the wise one, the hearth-fire, the queen herself. Even the love goddess, though she wrinkles her nose at Kreacher. Still — still!" He thumped his chest with a spindly fist. "Never, not once in the long history of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, has any Black stood in such company. And Master Harry — the strongest lord the family has ever had. Stronger than Arcturus, stronger than Orion. Even goddesses take notice of you. Romantically!" His wrinkled face twisted into something like a grin. "The portraits whisper in fury, but Kreacher whispers in triumph. My master is greater than any Black who came before."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "It's not exactly something I planned, Kreacher. But thank you."
The elf nodded vigorously. "Kreacher is proud. So proud. And Kreacher will not go back. Not now. Not ever."
Harry blinked. "Not go back? To Grimmauld Place?"
"Empty walls, empty hearth," Kreacher said bitterly. "Kreacher sat there alone, waiting for a master who never came. Waiting for voices that never returned. Too many years, Master Harry. Too many years alone. Kreacher almost forgot what it was to serve family, not shadows."
Harry's chest tightened. He crouched so he was eye-level with the elf. "Kreacher… you don't have to be alone anymore. The Black Mansion isn't a building in London. It isn't stone and dust. It's us. The Black family is here now — me, Teddy, Andromeda. Wherever we live, that's the Black Mansion. Do you understand?"
Kreacher trembled, his eyes wet. "The Mansion is not a place," he whispered. "The Mansion is the family."
Harry nodded. "Exactly."
The elf bowed low, voice hoarse. "Then Kreacher stays. Kreacher will guard this house, guard the boy, guard Mistress Andromeda, even the Muggle woman if she insists on boiling water in the kitchen. Kreacher belongs here, not in that tomb in Britain."
Andromeda had been standing silently at the doorway, arms folded. Her voice was quiet, but edged with honesty. "You've made me redundant, you know."
Kreacher straightened at once, affronted. "Kreacher did not mean—"
"I know," Andromeda interrupted. Her lips quirked in a wry smile. "You're too efficient. I hardly lift a finger anymore, and I hate it. I've always run my own home."
"Kreacher only wishes Mistress Andromeda to rest. She deserves it."
Andromeda softened at that, though she sighed. "Perhaps. But I'll not sit idle forever."
Harry chuckled, easing the tension. "Don't worry, Andi. Between Teddy, Percy, Sally, the gods, and now Kreacher, this house will never be idle."
Kreacher looked up at him with something fiercer than pride now — devotion, absolute and unshakable. "Master Harry, this house has more life than it has seen in a hundred years. Kreacher will serve until his last breath. Never alone again. Never."
Harry placed a hand on the elf's bony shoulder. "You're family, Kreacher. Don't forget that."
The old elf's chin quivered, and for once, he had no reply. He only bowed so deeply his nose nearly touched the rug.
The day after Percy and Sally left, the Black Mansion felt a little too quiet again. Teddy sat at the window with his phoenix chick perched on his shoulder, waiting until Harry reminded him gently that Percy had promised to return next week. The boy nodded, content enough with that promise, and returned to playing on the rug.
But in the afternoon, the silence broke. The telephone in Andromeda's room buzzed faintly with its charm, the line enchanted to carry calls from mortal devices. She picked it up with a curious frown, then softened when she heard the voice on the other end.
"Andi?" Sally's voice trembled faintly. "Do you have a moment?"
"Of course," Andromeda said at once, pulling the chair closer. "What's wrong?"
There was a pause, then a heavy sigh. "I… I lost my job. At the restaurant."
Andromeda sat straighter. "Lost it? Why?"
"The manager tried to misbehave," Sally said, her tone suddenly sharp, as if she were reliving the moment. "He thought a single mother working late shifts would be… easy. So I slapped him. Hard. And walked out. But now—now no one else is hiring. They hear I quit on the spot and they think I'm trouble."
Andromeda's lips pressed tight, anger flashing in her eyes. "Good for you. I'd have hexed him into a toad, personally."
Sally laughed weakly, then sighed. "I didn't call for a solution. I just… needed someone to listen. I hate feeling like I'm failing Percy. I don't want Harry's charity. I don't want anyone swooping in to fix my life. I just… wanted to speak it aloud."
Andromeda looked around the drawing room, where Kreacher was polishing silver for the fifth time that day and Teddy was happily playing with enchanted blocks. Her hands twitched. Since Kreacher had moved in, she had almost nothing to do anymore. No cooking, no cleaning, no real work. She had gone from a woman who had run her own household for decades to someone who sat idle in a mansion filled with goddesses. It gnawed at her.
"Then don't take charity," Andromeda said suddenly. "Take partnership."
Sally's voice lifted in surprise. "What?"
"I'm bored," Andromeda admitted bluntly. "This mansion has too many hands already. Kreacher won't even let me touch the kitchen anymore. But you and I… we can cook. You bake, I brew potions and sweets. What if we started something together? A small bakery nearby. Something simple, warm, ours. You wouldn't be working under anyone. You'd be working with someone."
There was a silence on the line, then a choked laugh. "A bakery?"
"Why not?" Andromeda asked. "We both know food brings people together. And Harry—Harry has more gold than he knows what to do with. He would happily back it, not as charity, but as family investment."
"Andi…" Sally whispered. "Do you mean it?"
"With all my heart," Andromeda said firmly. "I need this as much as you do."
When Andromeda told Harry that evening over dinner, she half-expected him to argue. But instead, Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair with a look of genuine relief.
"That's the best idea I've heard all week," Harry said. "I've been worried you'd grow restless here. And Sally—she needs something of her own. A bakery's perfect. Doce Encanto has families walking through every day. You'll have customers the moment you open."
Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "You're not worried it'll eat into your fortune?"
Harry snorted. "If you two spend the entire vault, I'll still have more gold than I need. Money isn't the point. Family is. And if this makes both of you happy, then I'll buy you a shop tomorrow."
Andromeda smiled, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a spark of excitement — a plan that belonged to her, not just to Harry or the gods.
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