The moon was full overhead, casting an eerie glow over the rundown suburban street. Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid, stood before the small, unremarkable house, a letter clenched tightly in his hand. His frown deepened with each word he read, as disbelief and anger warred inside him.

"Our dearest Klaus," the letter began. "By the time you read this, we will be gone. We're sorry we never told you the truth, but the night we met at the bar, the night of the threesome... it wasn't just about pleasure. James couldn't get me pregnant, and we desperately wanted a child. You were our only hope. We never meant to deceive you, but we were so desperate for a family."

Klaus's eyes darkened as he read the revelation. A child. He had a child. A son.

"We never intended to burden you with this," the letter continued. "But if you're reading this, things have gone terribly wrong. Harry, our son, is in danger. His aunt and uncle, my sister and her husband, are cruel people. You must find him, Klaus, and keep him safe. Please. He is your son too, and he needs you."

A low growl rumbled from Klaus's throat as he crumpled the letter, rage sparking in his chest. His son—his flesh and blood—was in danger, and he had not known. But now that he did, he would not waste another second. Harry was his, and no one, especially the Dursleys, would be allowed to harm him.

Klaus turned on his heel, his vampire speed carrying him to the doorstep where a small basket lay, just as the letter had described. Inside was a tiny boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes, swaddled in blankets, staring up at the moonlit sky. Harry was only fifteen months old, still a baby, too innocent to understand what had happened to his parents, too young to know the weight of the world that had been thrust upon him.

But he knew one thing. He recognized the man standing over him. The boy's small mouth moved as if to speak, his voice soft and shaky.

"Papa..." Harry's tiny hand reached out from the blanket, as if grasping for something familiar.

Klaus's heart, usually cold and guarded, stirred at the sound. The boy knew him—knew him without ever having met him. He had heard about Klaus. Lily and James had made sure of it, leaving nothing to chance. One of the few words Harry had learned to say was "papa," and now, as Klaus knelt beside the basket, the boy said it with a kind of certainty that tugged at Klaus's ancient, immortal heart.

Klaus scooped the boy into his arms, his protective instincts flaring. The little one snuggled into his chest, his small hands clutching Klaus's shirt.

The letter had warned of danger, but Klaus was prepared. He would be more than enough to protect this child from whatever threats loomed in the shadows. The Dursleys had already failed the moment they left Harry on this doorstep, abandoned like an afterthought. The wizarding world would also answer for their neglect, but first, Klaus had to get his son to safety.

As Klaus cradled Harry, his sharp eyes caught movement down the street. His vampire senses went on alert as two familiar figures approached, moving with urgency. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson, his siblings, appeared out of the darkness, having followed him after receiving the same letter.

"Is this him?" Elijah asked softly, looking down at the boy still nestled in Klaus's arms.

"Yes," Klaus growled, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "This is Harry. Our family."

Rebekah knelt beside them, her usually sharp demeanor softened as she took in the sight of the baby. "He's beautiful," she murmured, gently brushing a hand over Harry's dark hair. "He's yours, Klaus. Our nephew."

The boy stirred in Klaus's arms, his tiny voice barely a whisper. "Wolf..."

A faint smile tugged at Klaus's lips. Another word Harry knew, no doubt from stories his parents had told him—stories of Klaus's hybrid nature, stories of the fierce, protective "wolf" who was also his father.

Klaus stood, holding Harry close. "We take him now," he said, his tone decisive. "Before the Dursleys even know he's gone. He's not staying here."

The three of them moved swiftly, the Mikaelsons disappearing into the night with the boy, leaving the mundane suburban house behind. Harry would never know the neglect or cruelty of the Dursleys, not while Klaus lived. He had missed the first fifteen months of his son's life, but from this moment on, he would be there.

Klaus glanced down at Harry, the boy now fast asleep in his arms. He couldn't help but feel the fierce protectiveness that burned in his chest. This child was his blood, his family, and Klaus Mikaelson would destroy anyone who tried to harm him. Harry would be loved, cared for, and protected in ways James and Lily could have only dreamed of.

For now, Klaus had a mission: to raise his son, to teach him, to protect him. The wizarding world would soon learn what it meant to have an Original Hybrid as Harry Potter's father.

Klaus would make sure of it.

Klaus Mikaelson was used to being in control, a master of his fate, a creature of immense power. For centuries, he had carved a path of blood and domination, ruthlessly protecting what was his. Family had always been complicated for Klaus, defined by betrayal, love, and power. But as he held the small, fragile form of his son, Harry, in his arms, something deep inside him shifted. For the first time in a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson felt truly vulnerable.

He glanced down at the boy—his boy—still swaddled in the basket that had been left on the doorstep. Harry's tiny hand clutched the fabric of Klaus's shirt, a quiet trust radiating from the child, though he had no way of understanding what was happening. At just fifteen months old, Harry couldn't comprehend the loss of his parents, the danger he'd been placed in, or the power of the man who now cradled him in the darkness. But Klaus understood.

Klaus inhaled sharply, his heightened senses alert as he scanned the street once more, his mind replaying the words from the letter. He knew how this night would have played out if he hadn't arrived—how his son would have been raised by the Dursleys, enduring neglect, cruelty, and hatred from a family that had no right to him. His teeth ground together at the thought, his protective instincts flaring.

"No one will ever hurt you," Klaus muttered under his breath, his voice a low, dangerous promise.

Behind him, Rebekah and Elijah stood watch, silent but ever-present, their own emotions carefully guarded. For all their dysfunction, the Mikaelsons had always been a family bound by loyalty—sometimes to the point of obsession. And now, Klaus's child was their child. Elijah had been the first to grasp the depth of what this meant for their family, his stoic mask betraying a flicker of concern for both Harry and for Klaus.

"Elijah," Klaus said without looking back, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling in his mind. "We need to move quickly. We don't know how much time we have before someone comes looking for him."

"Agreed," Elijah said smoothly, stepping forward. "I've already made arrangements. We'll take Harry somewhere safe. The Dursleys won't even realize he's gone until it's too late."

Klaus nodded, reassured by his brother's efficiency. Elijah was many things—a moral compass, a strategist, and, above all, fiercely protective of their family. He had already anticipated Klaus's next move, and for that, Klaus was grateful.

But as they prepared to leave, Rebekah spoke up, her voice tinged with rare emotion. "What happens now, Nik?" she asked, her eyes fixated on Harry's small face. "Raising a child... it's not something we've ever had to do. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Klaus hesitated, staring down at his son's innocent, sleeping form. It wasn't the first time the weight of fatherhood had pressed against him. He had thought about it fleetingly before, in those rare moments when he considered what it would be like to have a child of his own blood. But now that it was real, now that Harry was here in his arms, the reality of it felt overwhelming. Klaus had seen what it meant to be a parent, how love for a child could turn into weakness—something he had always despised.

But as Harry stirred in his sleep, a small sigh escaping his lips, Klaus's heart hardened. This wasn't weakness. This was something different.

"I may not know everything about raising a child," Klaus admitted softly, his voice low and dangerous, "but I do know one thing: I will protect him. Harry is mine, and I will destroy anyone who dares to try and take him from me."

Rebekah nodded, understanding the weight of those words. "And what of his world? His future? He's a wizard, Nik. There's an entire world out there waiting for him—one we can't fully control."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," Klaus said, his tone final. "For now, we focus on getting him away from here."

The night was quiet as the three siblings made their way down the suburban street, Harry nestled securely in Klaus's arms. Klaus could hear the faint sound of televisions humming inside the nearby houses, unaware of the supernatural beings that moved like shadows past their doors. The normalcy of this place disgusted him. This was not the life his son deserved. Harry was destined for more than this—a life free of neglect, a future free of the expectations placed on him by those who didn't know his worth.

As they reached the car waiting at the end of the street, Elijah opened the door, his movements as precise as ever. "There's a safe house outside London," he explained as Klaus slid into the back seat with Harry. "It's secure, and no one will be able to trace him there. I've also taken the liberty of wiping any record of Harry's arrival here."

Klaus nodded, his mind racing. He was still trying to process the enormity of everything—his newfound role as a father, the responsibilities that came with it, and the danger that still lurked around every corner. The wizarding world wouldn't take long to notice Harry's disappearance. Dumbledore, the Ministry—someone would come looking eventually. But Klaus was ready for them.

As the car sped away from Privet Drive, Klaus allowed himself to relax, just for a moment. He glanced down at Harry, the boy's tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Klaus couldn't help but smile slightly—an odd feeling, considering the weight of the night.

"You will never want for anything," Klaus whispered, his voice barely audible. "I will make sure you grow strong, powerful. You'll know the love of a family that will protect you with everything we have."

Elijah, sitting in the front seat, glanced back, his expression unreadable. "He'll need more than just protection, Niklaus. He'll need guidance. You may be his father, but you cannot shield him from everything."

"I can try," Klaus muttered darkly, his eyes flashing. "And I will."

Elijah held his gaze for a moment before turning back to the road, his usual calm demeanor betraying a hint of concern. They had never been parents, not in the conventional sense. They had been warriors, leaders, conquerors. But raising a child—especially a child like Harry—would require more than just brute strength and cunning.

As the Mikaelsons disappeared into the night, Klaus knew one thing for certain: Harry Potter's life had just changed forever. The boy who lived was no longer an orphan, no longer a victim of fate. He was a Mikaelson now, and the world would soon feel the consequences of that.

Klaus leaned back in his seat, his grip on Harry tightening protectively. The Dursleys were a memory now, and the wizarding world would come to realize what it meant to cross a Mikaelson.

This was only the beginning.

The drive to the Mikaelsons' secluded estate was silent, the only sound the gentle hum of the engine as Klaus cradled the small, fragile form of his son. He still couldn't fully comprehend the truth that had been revealed to him—Harry, the child left on the doorstep, was his son. A son he had never known existed.

Klaus had lived over a thousand years, experienced countless betrayals and unexpected twists of fate, but this—this was different. This was both a revelation and a reckoning. The letter from Lily and James Potter had shattered what he thought he knew, not just about them, but about himself. All this time, they had kept this secret from him—not out of malice, but out of fear, out of love. He didn't blame them for it. They had done what they thought was best to protect their child.

But now Harry was his responsibility, and the thought of the boy in danger, left vulnerable on the doorstep of those despicable Dursleys, made his blood boil. He had been absent from his son's life for too long—now, he would make up for that in any way he could.

The car wound through the dark, narrow roads leading to the Mikaelsons' estate, far removed from prying eyes. Elijah, sitting in the front seat, was silent, his thoughtful gaze occasionally flicking back toward his brother. Rebekah, too, was quiet, absorbing the gravity of what had just happened. They were all accustomed to chaos, to sudden turns of fate, but this—this was different. A child was involved. Klaus's child.

As the car slowed to a stop before the grand estate, Klaus glanced down at the tiny face nestled against his chest. Harry was still fast asleep, his small hands clutching the edges of the blanket that swaddled him. Klaus hadn't known this boy existed until tonight, yet the fierce protectiveness he felt was undeniable.

Rebekah was the first to step out of the car, her sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. "He's beautiful, Nik," she said softly, glancing at the child with rare tenderness. "He looks like both of them."

Klaus stepped out next, holding Harry carefully in his arms. "Yes," he agreed, though the words were bitter on his tongue. "He does."

As they walked toward the manor, Elijah fell into step beside Klaus. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with concern. "You know they'll come looking for him," Elijah said quietly. "The wizarding world won't let Harry Potter disappear without a trace."

Klaus's jaw tightened at the mention of that name—Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the child who had somehow survived a dark curse meant to destroy him. A boy revered in the wizarding world. Klaus didn't care about any of that. Harry wasn't just a symbol of some prophecy; he was Klaus's son, and that meant something far more profound.

"They won't find him," Klaus said, his voice low, dangerous. "No one will take him from me. Not wizards, not Dumbledore, not anyone."

They entered the grand foyer of the estate, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the marble floors. Klaus had lived in countless homes over the centuries, but this place—this fortress—was more than just a residence. It was a sanctuary, a place where no enemy could reach them. And now it would be Harry's first home.

Klaus gently laid Harry down on a plush sofa in the spacious living room, making sure the boy was still wrapped warmly in his blankets. Harry stirred slightly, his bright green eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. The child's gaze met Klaus's for the first time—those eyes, so much like Lily's, seemed to stare into Klaus's very soul.

"Papa..." Harry mumbled, his small voice barely a whisper.

Klaus felt his heart clench at that word—Papa. The boy had known of him, even if Klaus had never known of Harry. Lily and James had ensured that their son knew his origins, even if they had kept the truth from Klaus. They had wanted Harry to know that Klaus was out there, that he was part of his life, even from afar.

Klaus leaned down, brushing a hand gently over Harry's soft hair. "I'm here now," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. "You're safe."

Harry's eyes closed again, his breathing deep and peaceful as he drifted back to sleep. Klaus stood over him for a long moment, a mixture of love and guilt swirling in his chest. How could he have not known? How could he have missed the first fifteen months of his son's life? Lily and James had been in hiding, yes—but they could have told him. They should have told him.

Still, he couldn't blame them. The letter had made it clear—they hadn't wanted to burden him with the knowledge, hadn't wanted to pull him into their world of danger. But now they were gone, and the burden had been thrust upon him regardless. Klaus would carry it. Gladly. For Harry's sake.

Elijah approached, standing beside Klaus as he looked down at the sleeping child. "This changes things," Elijah said softly, his usual pragmatism tempered by the gravity of the situation. "You can't keep him hidden forever, Niklaus. The wizarding world will eventually come looking for him."

Klaus's eyes darkened, his voice cold as he responded. "Let them try. I'll tear apart anyone who tries to take him from me."

Elijah sighed, his gaze thoughtful. "It's not just a matter of fighting, brother. There's more to Harry than what you've realized. He's not just a wizard or even the Boy Who Lived. He's your son—our blood."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, not following the thread of Elijah's thoughts. "What are you getting at?"

Elijah's gaze flicked to Harry's still form before he continued. "Niklaus, think about it. You are an Original Hybrid—a vampire, a werewolf. Your blood runs through Harry's veins now. He's more than just a wizard."

The realization hit Klaus like a wave, sweeping over him with an intensity he hadn't anticipated. Harry wasn't just the child of a wizard; he was a tribrid—the tribrid. The combination of Klaus's blood and Lily's magical lineage had created something unique, something far more powerful than either of them could have predicted.

Klaus stared down at Harry, his mind racing. "You're saying... he's a tribrid?"

Elijah nodded. "Yes. He's a wizard by birth, but your blood makes him something else entirely. He has the potential to inherit the powers of a werewolf and a vampire, just like you. He's not just the Boy Who Lived, Niklaus. He's the child of the Original Hybrid, a pureblood tribrid."

Rebekah, who had been listening silently, stepped forward, her expression a mix of awe and concern. "This... this makes him even more powerful than we realized. The wizarding world has no idea what he is. They think he's just a wizard, but if they knew..."

"They can't know," Klaus growled, his protective instincts flaring once again. "No one can know. If they find out what Harry truly is, they'll come for him with everything they have. The power he holds... it's too dangerous for them to control."

Elijah's expression remained calm, though his concern was clear. "That's why we need to be cautious, Niklaus. Harry's very existence is a threat to both worlds—ours and theirs. If they discover the truth, it won't just be wizards who come after him. Supernatural beings, hunters... everyone will want him, either for his power or to destroy him."

Klaus's eyes hardened. "Let them come. I'll protect him."

Rebekah placed a hand on Klaus's arm, her voice gentle. "You can't protect him from everything, Nik. He's going to grow up, and with that power inside him, we'll have to teach him how to control it. We need to be prepared for what comes next."

Klaus looked back down at Harry, who slept peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing around him. He was so small, so innocent, yet he carried the weight of two worlds on his shoulders. Klaus had been so focused on protecting him from the dangers of the wizarding world that he hadn't even considered the dangers of his own bloodline.

Harry wasn't just a wizard. He was a tribrid—a being with the power of three worlds flowing through him. And that made him both a target and a force to be reckoned with.

Klaus bent down once more, brushing a soft kiss against Harry's forehead. "You're safe now," he whispered. "You'll always be safe with me."

Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever forces came for Harry—Klaus Mikaelson would be ready. The wizarding world, the supernatural world—they would all learn quickly what it meant to have the Original Hybrid as Harry Potter's father.