Heir to the Moon (V2)

I.I The Rescue

The house at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, appeared much like any other in the neighbourhood: a two-story brick structure with an overgrown front lawn and tall hedges growing along the walkway. Only those who ventured inside could tell that something was off - the main floor lacked the vibrancy of four people living together. Vernon Dursley, dressed in glassed and a navy-blue jumpsuit from his factory job at a drill-making facility, walked through the empty hallway while Petunia Dursley, his wife, her hair tied up in a tidy bun and housedress covering her frame, followed behind him with a damp cloth and bucket of soapy water. Their son Dudley, at six years old already shaped by his parents' spoiling ways, lumbered towards the kitchen where he knew treats waited for him.

But there was a fourth, Harry Potter, a five-year-old orphan. He had unkempt jet-black hair and his icy silver eyes resembled moons. His tiny frame and pale skin bespoke his neglect. He was small and skinny for a five-year-old boy and too scrawny to carry his own weight. Measuring ninety-seven centimetres or three feet two inches and twelve kilograms or twenty-six pounds, he looked ready to topple over, like a sapling that had just broken through the ground.

There were scars all over his body, but they didn't look like they came from surgery: They were crisscrossed, webbed marks that couldn't have been anything else but torture wounds.

Worst of all there was no evidence that he actually lived in the home. His tiny bedroom was inside of a cupboard under the staircase; he slept on the cold hard floor with only a stack of blankets.

As if it weren't enough to live in squalor, he also cooked for everyone and cleaned the house by himself—even though a 5-year-old child shouldn't have been doing it at all.

Hidden deep in a forest France, Artemis stood outside a small camp. Her resplendent beauty was breathtaking, with cold silver eyes that shimmered like moons and auburn hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She was tall and toned, her muscles defined beneath her dark clothing. An owl hooted in the distance as Artemis watched the boy sleeping in the cupboard, his chest rising and falling steadily in slumber.

Artemis' voice boomed with joy as she said, "Finally! I found you, Zoe."

Zoe lowered her gaze in respect and whispered, "Milady."

Artemis stepped closer to Zoe, her eyes aglow with purpose. "I have been looking for my son all this time. Do you remember when father punished me twenty-six years ago?"

Zoe nodded slowly.

"He turned me into a mortal and removed my memories and power. When my mortal shell died five years ago, I left behind a son." Artemis paused, her voice now gentle and full of emotion. "I must go now and find him. Tell Atalanta and Sophia to prepare the medical tent, he is injured"

Zoe's eyes widened with understanding. She remembered the tale of Artemis being turned mortal by Zeus as punishment for a transgression the details of which were often whispered among the hunters but never confirmed. The thought of the mighty goddess rendered powerless and condemned to live as a mortal was both tragic and humbling.

Zoe placed her hand over her heart, bowing her head. "Your wish shall be fulfilled, my Lady. We will ensure everything is ready for your return."

Artemis gazed at the night sky, her silver eyes reflecting the moonlight. She could feel Harry's pain and suffering from afar. A tear slid down her cheek. "Thank you, Zoe. I should've been there for him. I will make it right," she whispered.

With a graceful leap, Artemis transformed into a bear, bounding through the forest. The journey to Little Whinging was fraught with challenges, but Artemis was determined to retrieve her son and bring him to safety.