Chapter 1 – The Stuttering Professor
The first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term had been long delayed, and anticipation had swelled in the halls of Hogwarts like an overinflated balloon. The Gryffindors and Slytherins filed in together, chatter bouncing between them as quills tapped against desks and parchment rustled.
Harry sat beside Percy, Artemis, and Athena, his golden eagle Hedwig perched proudly on the back of his chair, unbothered by the stares she attracted. Across the room, Draco leaned toward Blaise and Daphne, smirking as though he had already written the lesson off as a waste of time.
The door creaked open.
Professor Quirrell shuffled in, swathed in violet robes and crowned with a ridiculous turban that seemed a size too large for his thin frame. His eyes darted nervously around the room as if expecting curses to fly at him. When he spoke, it came out as a spluttering stammer.
"W-w-welcome, c-class. T-t-today we shall be… b-beginning your s-studies in—" He swallowed hard, clutching the desk like it was a lifeline. "—D-d-defense Against the D-d-dark Arts."
A few Gryffindors snickered. Pansy Parkinson smirked openly, muttering something about "pathetic."
Harry's brows drew together. Quirrell didn't just seem nervous—he seemed broken. Something was wrong beneath the surface.
Percy leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually around Athena's shoulders. His eyes, however, were anything but casual. They were sharp, watchful, assessing every twitch, every tremble. Artemis tilted her head, lips quirking in faint disdain as though she smelled something foul.
He reeks of fear, Athena whispered through their private bond, fingers tightening over Percy's.
No, Percy corrected silently, his gaze narrowing. Not fear. Subjugation.
And in that instant, Percy wasn't the only one who sensed it.
Deep within the professor's mind, Voldemort stirred. He viewed the room through Quirrell's eyes, assessing the students like a hunter weighing prey.
Pathetic children, Voldemort sneered, his thoughts a hiss against Quirrell's skull. And yet—
His gaze fell upon Harry.
The boy's green eyes were alive, sharp, and far too confident for a child meant to be meek. He was not the pawn Voldemort had envisioned when Snape reported the prophecy.
And worse…
Across the table, Percy Chronos sat with his companions, radiating something ancient and suffocating that made Voldemort recoil within his host. The dread gnawed at him again, that same inexplicable sensation he had felt weeks ago.
The boy I will break. But the other… what is he?
Quirrell coughed violently, drawing nervous laughter from the class and breaking Voldemort's thread of thought.
"P-p-please t-t-turn to page f-f-five in your t-textb-book," Quirrell stammered, fumbling his wand and nearly dropping it. The students obeyed reluctantly, parchment shuffling again.
Harry bent over his book but leaned slightly toward Percy.
"He's not just nervous," Harry whispered. "There's something else, isn't there?"
Percy glanced at him sidelong, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint approval. "Good. You're learning to trust your instincts. But don't speak it aloud here."
Artemis leaned in, brushing her hand against Percy's beneath the desk. "Mortals may be blind, but Harry's sharp. He notices what most miss."
Athena's lips curved knowingly. "Which is exactly why Quirrell fears him more than the rest."
Harry sat back, unsettled, but also strangely resolved.
By the end of the class, Quirrell had stuttered his way through a limp lecture on curses and countercurses, his words tangling until no one cared to follow. When he dismissed them, most students burst into laughter, mocking his every tic.
But not Harry. Not Percy. Not Artemis or Athena.
As they left the classroom, Percy threw one final look back at Quirrell. His gaze cut straight through the man, and for an instant, Voldemort's presence snarled inside Quirrell's head.
He sees too much. He feels too much. I will have to silence him.
But even as Voldemort hissed the thought, a chilling truth lingered: he had no plan to silence Percy Chronos. No plan at all. Because for the first time in his life, Voldemort was afraid of what he did not understand.
The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet after curfew, torches guttering low in their sconces, shadows pooling along the stone walls. In the depths of the Slytherin common room, across from the green-lit fireplace, the portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself inclined his head in silent respect as Percy, Artemis, and Athena stepped through into their private quarters.
The door sealed behind them with a soft sigh of magic, locking the world out.
Inside, the chamber shifted into the warmth of home: carved stone softened by thick rugs, the scent of firewood and polished oak, and windows that looked out upon an impossible night sky — a trick of wards that allowed them to gaze at stars untouched by clouds or castle walls. Kaal's shadow passed once across the glass, his great wings blotting constellations, before he soared away to perch at the tallest tower.
The three gods shed the roles they wore in public as easily as cloaks. Percy dropped into a chair, rolling his shoulders with a long sigh. Artemis came to stand behind him, fingers trailing over his chest and shoulders in teasing circles, her touch grounding and electric all at once. Athena leaned against the armrest, eyes glinting in the firelight as her hand slid slowly along Percy's thigh.
"You felt it too," Artemis murmured, her lips brushing Percy's ear. "That stench. Not fear. Not nerves. Something else."
Percy tilted his head back, eyes closing briefly. "Yes. A will inside another will. Something hollow, like a voice echoing in a cavern. That man is not alone."
Athena's mouth quirked, though her hand pressed firmer, possessive. "And the children laugh at him, thinking he's a fool. Mortals never see the serpent in the grass until it coils around their ankles."
Percy caught her wrist, turning her hand in his, pressing a kiss against her palm. "Which is why we watch. Which is why we don't intervene. This is Harry's path to walk."
Artemis circled the chair, her long hair falling forward as she bent and straddled his lap, facing him. The firelight painted her skin in shades of gold and shadow. She cupped Percy's face, her gaze sharp even as her body pressed flush against him. "And yet, if we wished it, we could end this game in an instant. Quirrell's shell would break, and the thing inside him would scatter like smoke in the wind."
Athena slid closer, her hand stroking along Artemis' back before curling into Percy's shirt. "But to do so would unmake the very balance we swore to keep. Hecate warned us. Our divinity is poison to this fragile world if we spill it too freely."
Percy's hands traced down Artemis' waist, fingers hooking against the curve of her hips. His voice dropped low, resonant with both restraint and hunger. "So we guide Harry. From the edges. We steel him, prepare him, but we let him fight. That is our oath."
For a moment, silence wrapped around them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the soft sound of breathing. Then Artemis shifted, grinding against him in slow, deliberate motion, her lips brushing his jaw.
"But guiding does not forbid… indulging," she whispered, her voice laced with wicked amusement.
Athena's laugh was soft, intellectual even in its heat. She leaned in, her lips brushing Percy's other ear. "Nor does it forbid learning what it means to be young, mortal in body if not in spirit. The politics, the rivalries, the jealousies — they amuse me. But this…" Her hand slid down Percy's chest, lower, slower. "…this binds us more tightly than any fate."
Percy exhaled sharply, his hands moving now with greater urgency, pulling both women closer until all three were tangled in one another, mouths meeting in hungry rhythm. Their whispers were heated, intimate, spoken against skin — words of devotion, words of teasing, words of defiance against the roles they were supposed to play.
The fire roared higher as if feeding on their passion, the wards humming in sympathetic resonance.
At last, when breathless laughter replaced moans, Percy held them both against him, sweat-damp and sated, the air between them heavy and glowing with the charge of their bond.
"We stay," he murmured, lips brushing Artemis' temple, then Athena's. "We stay, and we play this game as students. Gossip, politics, love, and rivalries. Let the mortals think us theirs."
"And Harry?" Artemis asked, her hand still resting against his chest, where his heartbeat thundered.
Percy's eyes burned in the firelight, steady and unyielding. "Harry will make his own choices. We will guard him when we must. But this is his war — not ours. Until the end, we are shadows at his side. Nothing more."
Athena kissed him once more, smiling faintly. "Shadows with scandalous habits."
Their laughter mingled as the wards sealed their chamber tighter, keeping the mortal world out.
Chapter 2 – Sparks in Classrooms
Scene 1: Transfiguration Tensions
Morning sunlight spilled through the high windows of the Transfiguration classroom, golden beams catching on dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. Students hunched over desks, each of them staring at the small, stubborn matchstick before them.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, sharp-eyed and rigid, her animagus gaze sharper than any spell.
"Focus," she commanded crisply, tapping her wand against the desk. "Transfiguration is subtle, precise magic. A single slip in intention can result in… unfortunate transformations."
The class snickered when Seamus' matchstick erupted in smoke, fizzling into half a toothpick and half a crumbly biscuit.
Harry's jaw tightened. He could feel eyes on him. Already, students expected him to perform brilliantly — the Boy-Who-Lived, Percy's closest friend. He swallowed, raised his wand, and whispered the incantation.
The matchstick shimmered, quivered, and then —
Pop.
A neat silver needle lay on the desk. Not perfect — the tip slightly bent — but complete.
Gasps rippled through the class. Ron's jaw fell open. Hermione's eyes lit with admiration.
Harry's face flushed. He hadn't meant to stand out, but Percy's steady voice echoed in his mind: Confidence, Harry. You don't need me for this.
Behind him, Percy leaned lazily between Artemis and Athena. His matchstick transformed smoothly, effortlessly. He didn't even look impressed. Artemis smirked, resting her chin on her hand while Athena whispered something teasing into Percy's ear that made him grin.
Draco scowled. His own attempt barely produced a twitch. Blaise, seated nearby, arched an eyebrow and muttered, "Potter's not just a shadow."
"Shut it," Draco hissed.
McGonagall's eyes twinkled ever so slightly as she inspected Harry's needle. "Acceptable, Mr. Potter. Improvement will come with practice."
Harry beamed. The whispers didn't sting anymore.
Scene 2: Sparks in Charms
Later that day, Professor Flitwick scrambled onto his pile of books, squeaky voice eager as he demonstrated the swish-and-flick of Levitation.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Hermione's feather soared high, floating gracefully across the room. She flushed with triumph, glancing toward Harry.
His own feather bobbed uncertainly, wobbling like an owl with a broken wing before sinking back onto the desk. He groaned.
Susan Bones leaned closer from the row ahead. "That was better than mine," she offered with a smile. Her feather hadn't even twitched.
Tracey Davis leaned in from the Slytherin side, lips curved in a teasing grin. "Potter, if you want, I can tutor you. My family's very good at wand control."
Harry nearly choked. Percy snorted loudly, barely disguising a laugh. Artemis and Athena exchanged looks of wicked amusement.
Hermione frowned, whispering the incantation under her breath again, louder this time.
"Honestly," she muttered, "some people flirt more than they study."
The girls giggled. Harry, face scarlet, tried to focus on his feather again.
Scene 3: Slytherin Sparks
By late afternoon, tensions simmered. In the corridor between classes, Draco finally snapped.
"So," he drawled loudly, stopping in front of Harry and Percy's group. "Potter thinks he's special just because he can fly a broom. Don't forget, without Chronos holding your hand, you'd be nothing."
The corridor quieted instantly.
Harry raised his chin. "Funny. I didn't see you holding Neville's Remembrall."
Laughter broke out among the Gryffindors. Even a few Slytherins snickered before Draco's glare silenced them.
Percy tilted his head, calm as ever. "Careful, Malfoy. You keep shouting about shadows, and people will start to notice you don't cast one of your own."
Artemis smirked, sliding her hand into Percy's, her fingers twining possessively. Athena leaned against his arm, deliberately brushing her lips along his jaw. The corridor buzzed with whispers — admiration, envy, disbelief.
Draco's fists clenched, his face red with fury. Blaise, behind him, only smirked and muttered, "Best to watch, not challenge."
Scene 4: Private Quarters Sparks
That evening, Percy, Artemis, and Athena retreated to their private quarters. The room glowed with warm firelight, the walls alive with subtle enchantments Hogwarts itself had woven for them.
Percy sank into the sofa, Artemis straddling his lap with a wicked grin. Athena curled beside them, her lips brushing Percy's ear.
"Do you enjoy watching them squirm?" Artemis teased, rocking gently.
Percy's hand slid up her back, his voice low. "Almost as much as I enjoy watching you do this."
Athena smirked, her fingers trailing over Percy's chest. "The boys look at us like prey. The girls look at you like temptation."
"Let them look," Percy murmured, pulling Artemis closer, his lips finding hers. The kiss deepened, heat rising, until Artemis broke away with a soft gasp. Athena's hand replaced her lips, tugging Percy's head toward her own waiting mouth.
The fire roared higher, as if Hogwarts itself approved.
Later, when Harry knocked to ask a question, Percy answered the door with Artemis still perched across his lap and Athena's lips brushing his throat.
Harry blinked, turned crimson, and muttered, "Never mind."
The godly trio laughed until their sides ached.
Chapter 3 – Potions Revisited
The dungeons were always colder than the rest of the castle, as if the walls themselves held centuries of grudges. Shadows clung to the arches like cobwebs, and the damp smell of stone made every step echo louder than it should. Harry Potter descended the stairs with the Gryffindors, his chin high even though his stomach twisted. Their first lesson with Professor Snape had already been a trial by fire — the man's scathing questions designed to humiliate him before the class. Harry had survived it, steadier than he expected, but he knew Snape wasn't finished.
Snape was never finished.
Inside the classroom, Slytherins had already taken their seats. Percy sat at the back, Artemis and Athena flanking him, their beauty and composure striking enough to make even the older Slytherins hesitate before sitting near them. Kaal wasn't present, but the memory of his piercing cry in the Great Hall lingered in the minds of many students. The three gods-in-mortal-form leaned casually together, drawing glances that ranged from envy to scandalized fascination. Percy caught Harry's eye, gave the faintest nod, and leaned back as if to say: This is yours, Harry.
Snape swept into the room, his robes billowing behind him like a thundercloud. He didn't bother with greetings. His eyes immediately locked onto Harry, sharp and calculating.
"Potter," he said softly, though his voice carried through the dungeon. "Front row."
Ron muttered darkly behind him, but Harry only straightened and walked forward. He sat down at the very first desk, ignoring the whispers. Snape prowled like a predator who thought he had cornered prey.
"Today we will attempt a swelling solution," Snape drawled, flicking his wand so that the instructions appeared on the board. "A potion so simple that even dunderheads from Hufflepuff manage it by Christmas. But since this is Gryffindor, I will not hold my breath."
The Slytherins snickered.
Harry glanced at the recipe, heart thudding. He forced himself to breathe evenly. He had practiced with Percy's guidance — not the brewing itself, but the mindset. Percy had told him: Follow the instructions, yes, but don't be afraid to trust yourself. Potions isn't just cooking. It's intuition too. Snape will never admit that, but he knows it's true.
Harry worked carefully, grinding his ingredients, watching the mixture turn a shimmering shade of blue. Hermione was beside him, muttering instructions under her breath. Ron was clumsily chopping too slowly, muttering curses about unfair professors.
Snape moved among the students, robes whispering. His sharp eyes found Harry's cauldron. "Tch. Too slow, Potter," he said, just loudly enough for the room to hear. "Your potion will curdle before you've even added the horned slugs. Pathetic."
Harry looked up calmly. "Then perhaps I'll add them now, sir."
He reached for the horned slugs and dropped them in. The potion shimmered, glowing briefly before settling into the exact hue the board described. Perfect.
Snape's mouth twitched. He flicked his wand. Harry's potion lifted into the air. "Perhaps we should test it."
He pointed at Neville's bag. In an instant, the boy's books and quills expanded monstrously, bursting through the seams of his satchel. Neville squeaked in horror. The class gasped.
Snape turned smoothly back to Harry. "Oh dear. Unstable after all. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Harry's temper flared. He stood, fists clenching. "That wasn't the potion. You tampered with it."
The room froze. Gryffindors stared wide-eyed. No one ever spoke to Snape like that. Even the Slytherins went silent.
Snape's black eyes narrowed into slits. "Detention, Potter."
Harry didn't back down. "Fine. But don't lie about it. You know the potion worked."
A current of whispers rushed through the room like wildfire. Some of the Slytherins sneered, others — Blaise, Daphne — looked quietly impressed. Hermione gaped at Harry as though he'd lost his mind. Ron stared as if Harry had just sprouted antlers.
At the back, Percy's mouth curved into a grin. Artemis's hand slipped onto his thigh, squeezing in quiet approval. Athena leaned against him with a whisper in his ear that made his grin widen. Snape noticed their easy closeness and sneered harder, but he said nothing.
The class ended with more mutters than notes. Gryffindors clustered around Harry as they left the dungeon.
"That was bloody brilliant!" Seamus hissed. "You actually told him off!"
Hermione wrung her hands. "It was reckless, Harry — you've just made him your enemy forever—"
Harry shook his head. "He already hated me. I'm not going to cower just to make him happy."
Ron muttered under his breath, "Easy for you to say. Percy's training you."
Harry turned on him sharply. "Percy's helping me, yes. But I made the choice to stand up."
Ron flushed red but didn't argue.
Behind them, Draco whispered venomously to Crabbe and Goyle. "Potter's getting too cocky. He'll regret it."
Blaise, leaning lazily against the wall, smirked. "Cocky or not, he's got spine. More than I expected. Dangerous."
The fire in Percy's quarters burned low, throwing golden shadows against the carved stone walls. Outside, the castle had fallen into uneasy silence, Slytherins muttering in their dormitories, Gryffindors buzzing about Harry's defiance, and professors shaking their heads in private chambers. But here, inside these wards older than Hogwarts itself, the world narrowed to three bodies and a bond that pulsed like molten light.
Artemis sprawled across Percy's lap, her silver hair slipping down his chest like moonlight. Her hunter's body was taut and lithe, but in his arms she softened, laughter slipping from her lips as he teased her neck with slow kisses. "You enjoyed watching Snape burn, didn't you?" she whispered, tilting her head to bare more skin to him. "You barely lifted a finger, and still you humiliated him."
Percy smirked against her skin, his breath hot. "I didn't humiliate him. Harry did." His lips trailed lower, brushing the hollow of her throat. "And that's exactly how it should be."
Across from them, Athena reclined on the sofa's arm, her legs long and bare beneath her loose robe. Her sharp eyes glowed with firelight, watching them with a hunger she never bothered to hide. "Harry is learning faster than even you predicted," she said, her voice husky. "And Dumbledore… he must be seething. The old man's hold weakens more every day." Her words grew softer, her hand sliding down the edge of her robe, baring one smooth shoulder. "But let us leave Harry to his destiny. Tonight belongs to us."
Artemis turned her head and caught Percy's mouth in a kiss that deepened instantly, tongues tangling, her moan muffled against him. Percy's hand slipped under her tunic, fingers skimming the curve of her waist before sliding higher. She shivered, arching into his palm. Athena leaned in, catching Artemis's gasp with her own lips, their mouths meeting above Percy's shoulder.
The three of them tangled together, a knot of fire and desire. Artemis pressed her hips down against Percy's lap, feeling his arousal straining against his trousers. Her fingers tugged at his shirt, baring his chest, while Athena's clever hands traced lines of heat across both their bodies. Their laughter melted into groans as clothes slipped away — tunics pulled open, soft robes falling forgotten to the floor.
"Mortals would kill themselves trying to imagine this," Athena murmured, her lips brushing Percy's ear before catching Artemis's again. "Their gossip about us, their whispers in common rooms… they have no idea."
"They call us gold-diggers," Artemis gasped, grinding against Percy harder, "as if power and glory were all that bound us. Let them choke on envy. They will never understand this."
Percy's hands cupped both of them, one on each breast, kneading gently before rolling thumbs across hardened peaks. Their cries mingled, low and aching, the sound almost drowned by the crackle of the fire. His mouth claimed Artemis's nipple, teasing with tongue and teeth, while Athena slid lower, pressing kisses down his stomach, her hair brushing his skin like silk.
When Athena's lips closed around him, Percy groaned, his head falling back against the cushions. Artemis kissed him fiercely, swallowing the sound, her fingers threading through his hair as she rolled her body against his. The heat was unbearable, their bond thrumming with divine fire just beneath mortal skin. Every touch, every kiss, every breath was magnified until it felt like the room itself pulsed with their rhythm.
Athena looked up at him with a smirk, her lips glistening. "Still holding back your true self?" she teased. "Even now?"
Percy's voice was a ragged growl. "If I unleashed even a fraction of what I am, this world would shatter."
Artemis bit his lower lip, eyes wild with heat. "Then break me," she whispered, grinding harder, her slick thighs pressing around him. "If the world must tremble, let it begin with us."
Athena's laugh was low and dangerous, her hand stroking Percy as she kissed Artemis again, their tongues dancing as Percy watched them, hunger blazing in his eyes. He pulled them both closer, lifting Artemis onto his lap while dragging Athena upward so their bodies pressed together above him. Artemis sank down, gasping, as Percy filled her completely, his hands gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. Athena straddled them both, grinding against Percy's chest, her breasts spilling into his mouth as he claimed her with the same hunger that drove him into Artemis.
The three of them moved as one — gasps, cries, whispered names echoing in the firelit chamber. Artemis rode Percy desperately, her nails raking down his back, while Athena leaned down to kiss her, moans muffled between their lips. Percy thrust up into Artemis with steady force, each movement driving her higher, while his mouth devoured Athena's body, her moans sharp and pleading.
Their bond flared. Divine energy pulsed between them, barely restrained, filling the air with shimmering light that danced along their skin. They clung tighter, mortals in form but gods in truth, losing themselves in the storm of their passion.
Artemis cried out first, her body trembling violently around Percy, clinging to him as waves crashed through her. Her ecstasy dragged him closer, but it was Athena's sudden shudder — her climax spilling across his chest as she screamed his name — that finally broke him. Percy's roar filled the chamber as he spilled deep into Artemis, clutching them both as if the world itself were breaking apart around them.
The three collapsed together, tangled in sweat and firelight, breathless and trembling. The glow faded slowly, leaving only warmth and laughter. Artemis lay across Percy's chest, her hair damp, her lips curved in exhausted bliss. Athena nestled against his side, her hand lazily stroking his stomach.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Then Athena murmured, voice soft but sharp as ever, "We could end Voldemort in an instant. Crush him like an insect."
Percy's fingers tangled in her hair, his tone low. "We could. But this is Harry's war. His path. If we take it from him, we destroy what he must become."
Artemis kissed his jaw, her smile faint. "Then we watch. We guide. We protect when the line is crossed. And in the meantime…" she trailed her hand across his chest, lower, smirking when he groaned, "…we indulge. Let the mortals gossip. Let them scheme. We will live among them — their rivalries, their loves, their jealousies — until it is time to act."
Athena's laugh was wicked as she pressed closer. "And we will enjoy every heartbeat of it."
The fire burned low, but their heat blazed long into the night.
Chapter 4 – The Youngest Seeker
The castle was alive with whispers again, and this time every murmur carried Harry's name. Since the flying lesson, when Neville had fallen, Draco had sneered, and Harry had soared like a hawk born to the sky, Hogwarts couldn't stop talking. In every corridor, eyes followed him. In classrooms, parchment rustled alongside hushed exchanges. Percy caught the stares immediately, but said nothing. He only gave Harry a steady, encouraging look, the kind that said, let them look, it means nothing if you know who you are.
Artemis and Athena were less subtle. They traded amused smirks whenever Harry shifted uncomfortably under the attention. To them, the way mortals fussed over one brilliant broom flight was equal parts amusing and sweet.
The moment everything changed came when Professor McGonagall intercepted Harry outside Charms. She descended upon him like a storm, tartan robes swishing, her sharp gaze fixed only on him.
"Potter! With me."
Harry's heart leapt into his throat. Percy gave him a calm nod as he passed, Artemis and Athena exchanging the kind of glance that said they already knew where this was headed. Harry followed McGonagall through staircases and across the courtyard until they stood on the empty Quidditch pitch.
She stopped, hands folded, eyes glittering with a rare intensity.
"You've never played Quidditch before, Potter?"
Harry shook his head nervously. "No, Professor."
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. "And yet you flew like you had years of experience. I have watched students for decades, and I've not seen raw talent like yours in a century." She straightened, decisive. "You will be Gryffindor's Seeker."
Harry gaped at her. "But—first years aren't allowed—"
"Rules can be changed for exceptional cases." Her tone allowed no argument. "I'll speak with Wood. He will train you. If you fly as well in practice as you did that day, you may give Gryffindor its best chance in years." Without another word, she turned on her heel and swept away.
Harry stood there stunned, the grass bright under the sunlight, his chest tight with disbelief. He wasn't in trouble. He had just been recruited.
By the time news spread through Gryffindor Tower, the common room was a riot. Cheers shook the rafters, claps rained down on his shoulders, and even the older students seemed impressed. Dean Thomas started sketching Quidditch banners with "POTTER" splashed across them. Seamus whooped and declared they would wipe the pitch with Slytherin this year. Fred and George swooped down on him, already whispering about tricks and practice sessions.
Ron was loudest of all. He thumped Harry on the back, puffed out his chest, and boasted, "My best mate, the youngest Seeker in a hundred years!" He repeated it to anyone within earshot, and to those who weren't, too.
But beneath the laughter and pride, Percy caught the flicker in Ron's eyes — the way his smile tightened just a little too much when others pushed past him to congratulate Harry. It was subtle, buried under cheer and bravado, but it was there: the faint sting of envy that Harry, the boy Ron had only just befriended, was already outshining him.
Hermione, perched with a book in her lap, sniffed disapprovingly. "It's dangerous, completely reckless. Flying after some tiny ball at breakneck speed? Honestly, Professor McGonagall should know better." But when Harry glanced her way, her cheeks pinked, and she ducked behind her book a second too late.
In Slytherin, outrage simmered. Draco paced their common room, practically shouting. "Potter! A Seeker already? He hasn't even been here a month! Favoritism, that's what it is!"
Blaise leaned lazily against the wall, amused. "Or perhaps talent really does matter more than bloodlines."
Daphne smirked from her seat. "Careful, Draco. Keep fuming like that and people will remember how Potter humiliated you in front of everyone."
Draco flushed scarlet, scowling, and muttered about finding a way to bring Potter down.
By dinner, the entire castle seemed to buzz with gossip. At the Gryffindor table, students leaned across to offer congratulations, while glances from the Ravenclaw benches carried curiosity. From Slytherin came narrowed eyes and sharp whispers.
Through it all, Percy, Artemis, and Athena remained calm. Percy watched with faint amusement, Artemis with a sly grin, Athena with quiet calculation. Percy leaned toward Harry only once, voice low enough to be heard over the noise.
"You earned this, Harry. Don't let them make you think otherwise."
Harry frowned. "All I did was fly."
"That's all it takes," Percy murmured with the faintest smile. "The sky doesn't care about rules."
Later, when Harry lay in his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, the noise of the day still echoing in his ears, he stared up at the canopy with his chest swelling. For once, it wasn't about the scar, or surviving a curse, or whispers of prophecy. This was his own achievement. His skill. His daring.
The youngest Seeker in a century.
Across the castle, Hedwig ruffled her golden feathers in her perch. From the far towers came the faint, resonant cry of Kaal, echoing into the night. And for the first time since stepping into this new world, Harry smiled in the dark, not as Percy's friend or the Boy-Who-Lived, but simply as himself.
Chapter 5– Whispers in the Corridors
The classes settled into a rhythm, but Hogwarts itself thrummed with a restlessness that had little to do with parchment or ink. The real lessons weren't only in classrooms but in the corridors, in whispered conversations behind tapestries, and in the stolen glances cast when Percy and his companions passed by.
The gossip had crystallized into half-truths and wild stories.
"They've got their own quarters, you know. Not just big ones—real royal chambers!" a Hufflepuff second-year whispered as Harry and Percy walked past on the way to the library. "Salazar Slytherin's portrait bowed to them."
"Nonsense," another hissed. "They just bribed the Headmaster."
"No," the first insisted. "Hogwarts itself gave it. The walls don't lie."
Harry kept his head forward, pretending not to hear, but Percy's lips twitched into a grin. Artemis and Athena flanked him as always, moving with a kind of casual elegance that turned heads in every hallway. If Percy looked like the mysterious heir with power in his blood, they looked like something even more untouchable—two radiant figures who could silence a corridor with a glance.
And silence they did, more than once.
A group of older Ravenclaw boys, emboldened by Artemis's bright laugh echoing down the marble staircase, stopped at the landing to block their way.
"Chronos," one said smoothly, ignoring Percy entirely, "why don't you let those two dine with someone who actually appreciates them? You can't possibly keep both entertained."
It was a foolish attempt, doomed from the first word. Artemis tilted her head, eyes cool and unblinking. Athena's lips curved in the faintest smirk, like a cat watching a mouse step into a trap.
"Entertained?" Artemis said, her voice silken. "You presume we require someone else to make our lives interesting."
Athena leaned forward, eyes glittering. "We manage Percy quite well. He's… more than enough."
The Ravenclaws flushed crimson. Percy simply smiled, clasped both their hands, and walked between the boys as if they were nothing more than pillars holding up the stairs. The ripple of laughter that followed them was not unkind to Percy—it was pitying for the would-be suitors.
Harry, trailing slightly behind, had to stifle a laugh of his own. He was getting used to this: older students trying their luck and being crushed under the sisters' wit.
But not all whispers were directed at Percy. More and more, Harry's name surfaced in the low hum of gossip.
"That's him, isn't it? Harry Potter? The one who flew like a natural on the broom?"
"They say McGonagall nearly fainted with excitement. Youngest Seeker in a century, maybe."
Harry ducked his head the first few times he overheard it, cheeks warm. But Percy would nudge his shoulder with a quiet murmur: "Hold your head up. They'll respect confidence, not embarrassment."
So he tried. And it worked.
By the third day, when Susan Bones stopped him in the corridor with a cheerful, "That was brilliant flying, Harry! You looked like you belonged up there," Harry managed to grin back instead of stammering.
"Thanks, Susan. Still a lot to learn, though," he said, surprising himself with how easy the words came.
Tracey Davis, lingering nearby with a sly smile, added, "Oh, modest too. Careful, Susan, he'll have you writing his fan mail next."
Harry flushed scarlet, but Percy only chuckled behind him, not intervening. Artemis whispered something in Athena's ear that made both of them giggle, though Harry suspected he didn't want to know what.
Even Hermione had been caught in the current. She scolded Harry after Charms class, wagging her finger as though he'd committed a crime.
"You shouldn't have shown off like that! Levitation is supposed to be controlled, not—well—not dramatic!" she insisted after his feather had soared halfway across the classroom.
Harry scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Didn't mean to. It just… happened."
Hermione huffed but glanced sideways, lips twitching despite herself. "It was impressive, I'll give you that," she muttered, before storming off.
Dean and Seamus, who'd been listening, burst into snickers. "She's got her eye on you, Harry," Seamus teased.
Harry rolled his eyes. "She's got her eye on everyone's homework, that's what."
But his grin lingered.
Slytherin politics, of course, played out in shadows. In the green-lit common room, Blaise Zabini leaned against the fireplace, voice smooth as silk.
"Chronos doesn't bother with us, but everyone watches him. And Potter…" His eyes flicked toward Draco, who was sulking in a chair. "Potter has a kind of charm. He could be useful."
"Potter?" Draco spat. "He's nothing without Chronos. Nothing."
"Perhaps," Blaise said lazily. "But the rest of the school doesn't see it that way. They see him climbing, and you glaring. Who do you think they'll side with?"
Draco flushed, fists tightening. Daphne, sitting nearby with her book, didn't even look up as she murmured, "Both of them are changing the school's balance. If you waste your time sulking, you'll be left behind, Draco."
Draco scowled, but said nothing.
By the end of the week, the whispers had become background music to Hogwarts life. Percy and his companions walked like they owned the castle, Artemis and Athena scattering flirtations with effortless wit, Percy shrugging off envy with a smile. Harry, meanwhile, was learning how to stand in the swirl of attention without drowning in it.
And in every corridor, under every torch, Hogwarts students talked.
Harry Potter. Percy Chronos. The two names already reshaping everything they thought they knew about power, prestige, and possibility.
Chapter 6 – Library Encounters
The library was quiet, though not silent. Quills scratched, pages turned, and the faint scent of parchment and candle wax hung in the air. It was a sanctuary for some, a hunting ground for others, and a battleground of whispered rivalries for most.
Harry had come intending to focus on his Charms essay, but that plan evaporated almost immediately. Hermione was already there, bent over her notes, her quill racing across the page in furious strokes. She glanced up when Harry entered, blinking rapidly before forcing her eyes back to her work.
"You're late," she muttered, though she hadn't been waiting for him. "You'll fall behind if you keep leaving your assignments until last minute."
Harry smiled faintly. "I thought you'd already written yours twice over."
Her cheeks flushed as she adjusted her stack of books. "That's not the point. It's about discipline."
Before Harry could reply, Susan Bones slipped into the chair across from him. Her warm, round face was framed by strawberry-blonde hair, and her easy smile made Harry suddenly self-conscious. "Mind if I sit here? I promise not to distract you."
Harry opened his mouth, but before words could form, Tracey Davis appeared as well, sliding gracefully into the seat beside him. Unlike Susan, her grin carried just a hint of teasing mischief. "Oh, don't believe her. She's hoping to distract you. I, on the other hand, am here for academic purposes."
Susan nudged her with her elbow, laughing, and Harry felt heat crawl up his neck. "I—uh—I don't mind," he stammered, adjusting his parchment. "Plenty of space."
Hermione's quill stopped mid-scratch. Her head lifted just enough to watch the exchange from beneath her lashes, lips pressed tight.
Tracey leaned in, her voice soft enough that only Harry could hear. "Word is you're Gryffindor's new Seeker. Youngest in a hundred years. Impressive."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "It was just luck, really. I didn't—"
Susan cut in smoothly. "Don't listen to him. You were brilliant, Harry. Everyone's still talking about it."
Their compliments hung in the air like sparks, and Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on his essay but feeling the weight of two pairs of eyes lingering on him. Across the table, Hermione's quill scraped against parchment with renewed vigor, though her jaw was set tight.
At a table further back, Percy sat with Artemis and Athena. None of them made a move to join in, but Harry could feel their presence, steady as ever. Percy had an open book before him, though his eyes flicked up occasionally with the faintest ghost of a smile tugging his lips. Artemis leaned casually against his shoulder, whispering something that made Athena smirk. They were watching—not interfering—but the air around them seemed to hum with amusement.
Hermione cleared her throat suddenly. "Some people," she said pointedly, "ought to remember that Hogwarts is first and foremost a school. Achievements are important, but so are grades."
Susan blinked innocently. "Of course. But there's nothing wrong with celebrating success, is there?"
Tracey added sweetly, "Especially when it's such a rare talent."
Harry wished desperately the floor would open beneath him. "I should really—uh—get this essay done," he mumbled, bending over his parchment.
It didn't help. Tracey leaned closer, close enough for Harry to catch the faint scent of lavender ink, and whispered, "Maybe we could study together sometime."
Susan gave a small laugh, nudging Harry's arm gently. "Only if you don't let her monopolize all your time."
Hermione's quill snapped.
The sound drew glances from nearby tables, and she flushed scarlet, fumbling for a replacement. Harry looked at her, concerned, but she waved him off brusquely. "Just concentrate on your essay, Harry. You need it more than I do."
Percy leaned back in his chair then, catching Harry's eye from across the room. He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, welcome to politics of another kind. Artemis and Athena both stifled quiet laughs, the kind that spoke of two ageless goddesses delighting in mortal teenage awkwardness.
Harry groaned softly under his breath, cheeks burning. He wasn't sure if he wanted to run, laugh, or sink into the table forever.
But a strange warmth lingered as he bent back to his work. For the first time, he felt himself not just surviving Hogwarts, not just following Percy's lead—but being noticed, sought after, in his own right. And as mortifying as it was, some part of him didn't mind at
Chapter 7 – Slytherin Games
The castle's rhythm had settled, but tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin seemed to sharpen with each passing day. Whispers trailed Harry wherever he walked now, not just for the scar on his forehead but for the sight of him laughing with Percy Chronos, Artemis, and Athena. That strange quartet had become the axis of school gossip.
In the Slytherin common room, jealousy brewed like poison. Draco Malfoy sat brooding, his jaw tight, while Blaise Zabini leaned casually against the mantel, studying him with his usual detached amusement.
"You'll pop a vein if you scowl any harder," Blaise drawled.
"I don't understand it," Draco snapped. "Potter was supposed to be meek, soft, raised by Muggles. He should've been tripping over himself just to be in my company. But no — now he's strutting about with them." His lip curled. "That ridiculous Chronos and his—" He hesitated, lowering his voice. "—those two girls. Flaunting themselves."
Daphne Greengrass, who had been flipping idly through a book nearby, let out the faintest laugh. "Your father warned you not to antagonize them, Draco. House Chronos isn't just another old family. They're… something else." Her pale eyes flicked up from the page. "Maybe you ought to stop treating this like a playground and start watching the board."
Draco bristled, but before he could retort, a prefect reminded them sharply that curfew was nearing. Still simmering, Draco muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, "Tomorrow. I'll make Potter regret the day he thought he was better than me."
The "tomorrow" came quicker than expected.
It was after Charms, as the Gryffindors and Slytherins spilled out into the corridor, laughter and chatter echoing against the stone. Draco sauntered forward, pale hair gleaming, and blocked Harry's path. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him like silent mountains.
"Well, well, Potter," Draco said, voice loud enough to draw curious looks from other students. "Enjoying the fame? Seeker, the teachers' pet, clinging to Chronos like some lost puppy…"
Harry straightened. The old Harry — the one who lived in the cupboard under the stairs — might have flushed and ducked his head. But this Harry only met Draco's sneer with a calm, almost careless look.
"I don't need Percy to stand up to you, Malfoy," he said evenly. "And fame doesn't mean much when all you can do with it is sulk."
A ripple of laughter spread among the gathered students. Draco's ears reddened.
Athena stepped forward, her expression the picture of cool disdain. "Honestly, Draco, it's becoming predictable. Every time Harry excels, you appear like clockwork, trying to drag him down. Do you ever tire of being so… transparent?"
Artemis, beside her, smirked. "If this is Slytherin cunning, I must say, it's rather disappointing. I expected wit. All I see is a boy desperate for attention."
Draco's face twisted. "You think you're clever—"
"Not think," Percy interrupted smoothly, his tone light, almost lazy, but carrying a weight that silenced the corridor. He stepped just close enough that Draco had to tilt his chin up. "We are clever. Clever enough not to waste time throwing tantrums in hallways."
Draco opened his mouth, but the words faltered. The laughter, the whispers, the eyes watching him — all turned against him. He felt suddenly very small.
Harry, emboldened, leaned in slightly. "You might want to step aside, Malfoy. Or are you planning on making a fool of yourself again?"
For a moment, Draco looked ready to strike. His fists clenched, his chest heaved. But Blaise's quiet voice from the back cut through.
"Careful, Draco. You've already lost this round."
Draco's pride demanded he snap back, but the smirk on Percy's face, the twin daggers of Artemis and Athena's smiles, and Harry's unflinching gaze left him no escape. His only option was retreat.
"Fine," he spat. "But this isn't over."
He stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering after him, their expressions blank but their loyalty unquestioning.
When the crowd dispersed, Harry turned to Percy. "You didn't need to step in. I could've handled him."
Percy arched a brow, amused. "And you did. I just gilded the lily."
Athena smirked. "It was satisfying, though. Draco's ego bruises so easily."
Artemis's lips curled into a wicked grin. "Like a boy playing with wolves, thinking he's the hunter."
Harry laughed, a real, full laugh that rang against the stone. The tension in the air eased, replaced with a strange camaraderie. Gryffindors slapped him on the back as they passed, and even a few neutral Slytherins gave Percy and his companions a wide berth.
As they walked away together, Percy glanced sidelong at Harry. He doesn't need me to fight his battles anymore, he thought. He's finding his own footing.
And though Percy knew the games had only just begun, he also knew this: Draco Malfoy had no idea what kind of storm he had provoked.
Chapter 8 – Nights in the Quarters
The portrait of Salazar swung shut with a heavy thud, sealing Percy and his companions away from the muttering undercurrent of the Slytherin common room. Beyond those stone walls, gossip simmered — but inside their private quarters, the world shrank to three bodies and the fire crackling in its silver-bound grate.
Artemis didn't wait. She grabbed Percy by his collar the moment they crossed the threshold, dragging him down into a kiss that was all heat and teeth. He laughed against her lips, stumbling backward until his shoulders hit the wall. She pinned him there, her leg sliding between his, pressing with intent.
"You handled Draco like a king tonight," she growled, biting at his lip until it bled. "He wanted to humiliate you, and you made him a fool."
Percy's grin was feral, even as his breath quickened. "He does that well enough on his own. I merely… gave him an audience."
Athena shut the door with a flick of her hand, the wards locking into place with a soft hum. She stood watching them, her gray eyes blazing, then moved forward with deliberate grace. "Enough banter. You both reek of restraint. Let's shed it."
Her fingers slid down Artemis's back, unfastening her robes with quick, clever precision. Fabric spilled to the floor, revealing pale skin glowing in the firelight. Artemis didn't pause in her assault on Percy's mouth, but she arched into Athena's touch, gasping when the other woman's nails traced down her spine.
Percy growled low, seizing Artemis by the hips and turning them both so she was the one against the wall. His mouth left hers only to blaze a trail down her throat, teeth nipping, tongue soothing. Artemis tilted her head back and moaned, her huntress's pride shattered willingly in his arms.
Athena circled them like a predator, her robe sliding off one shoulder, exposing the swell of her breast. Her voice was silk. "Percy… don't you think it's time we reminded Artemis what patience looks like?"
His eyes darkened, a dangerous spark in them. "Oh, I intend to."
In one motion, he lifted Artemis off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist. She gasped, then laughed breathlessly, kissing him hard as he carried her across the room and dropped her onto the massive bed conjured by the quarters.
Athena joined them, straddling Percy from behind as he leaned over Artemis. Her hands slid across his chest, then down, guiding, demanding, her lips on his ear. "Take her slow. Make her beg."
Artemis growled at that, tugging at Percy's trousers with frantic hands. "Don't you dare—"
But Percy caught her wrists, pinning them above her head, his strength effortless. His mouth hovered over hers, close enough for her to feel the ghost of his breath. "Beg," he whispered, his tone low and commanding.
Her defiance flared bright — then melted into a shiver when his hips pressed against her, firm and teasing. Her pride cracked; her voice came out ragged. "Please. Percy, please—"
Athena's laugh was rich, throaty, curling around them like smoke. "There. Even the huntress knows how to kneel in her own way."
The next moments blurred into heat and fire. Clothes vanished into shadows. Artemis's cries mixed with Percy's growls, Athena's gasps threading between them as her own body joined theirs, a tangle of sweat and need and centuries of devotion given flesh. They moved with the rhythm of gods disguised as mortals — wild, unrestrained, yet bound by a love deeper than time itself.
When Percy finally released Artemis's wrists, she clawed at his back in furious pleasure, pulling him deeper, harder, until her scream echoed against the warded stone. Athena silenced it with her mouth, capturing her lover's cry and turning it into a kiss of shared triumph.
The fire guttered, flaring with each climax, until the quarters themselves seemed alive with their passion.
At last they collapsed together, sweat-soaked, breathless, limbs tangled on the sheets. Artemis lay sprawled across Percy's chest, still trembling faintly, while Athena curled against his side, her hand possessive over his heart.
For a while, there was only silence — the satisfied hum of bodies spent.
Then Artemis chuckled weakly, nipping at Percy's collarbone. "I almost pity those boys who think they can steal us from you. Almost."
Athena smirked, eyes glinting. "Let them dream. Their envy makes the game sweeter."
Percy laughed, low and rich, kissing them both in turn. "Mortals and their little politics… I'll admit, Hogwarts is far more entertaining than I expected."
Artemis stretched like a cat, utterly shameless. "If they only knew what happens behind this door…"
Athena kissed her, slow and deep, before whispering against her lips. "Let them imagine. The truth would break them."
Percy tightened his arms around them both, his voice rumbling in the quiet. "Then let's keep breaking them without lifting a finger."
They drifted into sleep with laughter still warm between them, the wards pulsing faintly as though the castle itself had overheard and shivered at the weight of their passion.
Chapter 9 – Tea with Hagrid
The castle lawns were still damp from morning mist when Harry made his way down the slope toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hedwig, his golden eagle, perched proudly on his arm — wings half-spread as if she owned the land. More than once, younger students had gasped when she passed overhead; nothing in the owlery compared to her fierce grace.
Harry still wasn't used to the attention, but with Hedwig at his side, he felt… steadier.
The door to the gamekeeper's hut creaked open before he could knock. "Harry!" boomed Hagrid, his tangled hair and beard filling the doorway like a thicket. "C'mon in, lad! Been wantin' ter have yeh over since yeh arrived."
Harry grinned, nerves easing a little. "Thanks, Hagrid."
Inside, the hut was exactly as he imagined: warm, smoky, cluttered with crossbows, boots, and a giant kettle already steaming. Fang, the boarhound, bounded up, snuffling at Hedwig until the eagle hissed and snapped her beak. Fang immediately whimpered and crawled under the table.
Hagrid chuckled, shaking his head. "Reckon she's got more fire than a Hungarian Horntail, that bird."
Harry laughed, stroking Hedwig's feathers. "She doesn't like being treated like she's smaller than anyone. I think she fits in well here."
Hagrid's eyes crinkled. "Aye. Just like her master, then."
They sat at the table, mugs of tea steaming, rock cakes piled high on a dented tin plate. Harry eyed them warily but picked one up — he'd been warned enough by Percy and the others that Hagrid's baking could break teeth, but he couldn't bring himself to refuse.
As they settled in, Hagrid leaned back, his chair groaning under his weight. "Yeh know, Harry, I seen yeh with Percy and his companions. Quite the group, tha' is. Whole school talkin'."
Harry flushed, not sure what to say.
"But—" Hagrid's eyes softened, "—I don' want ter talk about Percy right now. I want ter talk about yeh. Yer mum an' dad would've been so proud, Harry. James — he had yer grin, mischief an' all. An' Lily… clever as they come, sharp tongue but a heart as big as this forest."
Harry's chest tightened. No one had spoken of them this way before, not with memory instead of rumor. "You knew them well?" he asked, voice small.
"Knew 'em, aye. Loved 'em too, in my own way," Hagrid said thickly, blinking hard. "Yer mum once stood up ter three Slytherins pickin' on me in the corridors. Never forgot tha'. Yer dad—reckless rascal, but loyal as any friend I ever had."
Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I wish… I wish I'd known them."
Hedwig gave a piercing cry, wings rustling against his arm.
Hagrid smiled. "Reckon she knows yeh've got family here now. Yeh ain't alone, Harry. Not anymore."
For a while they spoke of smaller things: Hogwarts gossip, the Forbidden Forest's dangers, Quidditch matches Hagrid had watched from the stands. Harry laughed more than he thought he would, warmth flooding him.
When conversation drifted toward creatures, Hagrid's eyes lit like lanterns. "An' then there's tha' Kaal of Percy's. Merlin's beard, Harry — I've seen dragons, I've seen phoenixes, but never somethin' like tha'. Wings big enough ter cover the whole yard, cry tha' makes the castle tremble. Whole place feels different wi' him watchin'."
Harry nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah. Everyone looks at him like he's… untouchable. But Percy treats him like he's just… Kaal. Like an old friend."
"That's rare, tha' is," Hagrid said, voice hushed with awe. "A beast like tha'—most folk'd try ter cage 'im or worship 'im. But Percy? Acts like it's normal. Strange lad, but…" Hagrid chuckled, "strange in a good way, maybe."
Harry found himself smiling, though he steered the talk back. "And Hedwig?"
Hagrid looked at the eagle with unfeigned admiration. "She's a beauty, Harry. Royal, tha's what she is. Seen plenty o' owls in me time, but never an eagle bonded like tha'. She'll watch over yeh, no doubt."
Harry felt pride swell in his chest. This was his. His bond, his friend, his life beginning to take shape outside Percy's shadow.
As he rose to leave, Hagrid clapped a massive hand on his shoulder, nearly sending him staggering. "Anytime yeh want ter come by, Harry, yeh knock on me door. Yeh've got a place here, always."
Harry smiled so wide it almost hurt. "Thanks, Hagrid."
Outside, Hedwig launched into the air, circling proudly overhead. Higher up, Kaal wheeled lazily against the clouds, his wings flashing gold and crimson like fire forged into flesh.
For once, Harry didn't glance back to check for Percy or his wives waiting in the shadows. This moment was his alone — and he knew they'd be proud he claimed it.
Chapter 10 – The Castle Stirs
Whispers filled Hogwarts like smoke in the rafters. Harry Potter — youngest Seeker in a century. Percy Chronos — mysterious heir with two impossibly radiant companions. By now, even the portraits gossiped, leaning from their frames to mutter as the quartet passed.
At breakfast, Ron's voice was once again the loudest.
"Didn't I tell you?" he crowed, thumping the table. "Harry's the fastest flyer in Hogwarts, youngest Seeker ever. Everyone's going to remember this year!"
"Except you'd never even seen him on a broom," Dean retorted, grinning.
"Details," Ron shot back, ears reddening. "Point is, we're smashing Slytherin next match."
Hermione huffed, stabbing her toast. "Honestly, Ronald, do you ever think? He could have been killed! Rules are there for a reason."
But her gaze kept flicking to Harry, softening whenever he caught her eye. She looked away quickly each time, pretending to be annoyed. Harry tried to ignore her fidgeting and focus on Hedwig — the golden eagle swooping down to perch near him with imperious calm.
Later that day in the courtyard, the real entertainment began.
Percy leaned lazily against a stone pillar, Artemis and Athena beside him like queens on thrones. Students clustered nearby in feigned casual groups, pretending not to stare.
Finally, three older Ravenclaws strode up, brimming with misplaced confidence.
"Ladies," the tallest one said smoothly, bowing slightly. "You must know Percy's reputation won't last forever. House Chronos might be wealthy, but Hogwarts has other… finer options." He gave a practiced smile. "Perhaps you'd like to walk with someone who understands refinement?"
Athena raised an eyebrow, cool as marble. "You mistake arrogance for refinement."
The second boy smirked, trying a different angle. "Surely you don't mean to spend all your time with one man. A lady like you deserves to be admired by many. Why limit yourself?"
Artemis tilted her head, smile sharp as a blade. "And why would we trade a king for jesters?"
The third tried to cut in with bravado. "Because even kings fall. When they do, where will that leave you?"
Athena stepped forward, eyes flashing. "We do not stand beside Percy because of his title, or his fortune, or the awe he inspires. We stand with him because he is ours. And unlike you boys, he doesn't need to pretend."
The courtyard went quiet. Students leaned in, sensing a spectacle.
Artemis, lips curling in amusement, delivered the final strike. "Run along now. There are plenty of giggling first-years who might mistake your clumsy bravado for charm. We're not among them."
The boys flushed crimson as laughter rippled across the crowd. Percy, arms crossed, only chuckled. "I didn't even need to lift a finger."
Artemis looped her arm through his. "That's because you already won."
Athena added, with a smirk toward the retreating boys, "And they just learned why."
That night, in every common room, the tale spread. How Artemis and Athena had cut a group of suitors down with nothing but words, how Percy hadn't even deigned to reply, how their scandalous bond only seemed stronger for the attempt.
In Slytherin, Draco fumed. In Gryffindor, Harry endured another round of Ron's boasting about being "best mates with the youngest Seeker." And through it all, Hogwarts buzzed like a beehive.
But beneath the laughter and gossip, the castle stirred. Torches flickered without wind. Suits of armor shifted when no one passed. Percy alone paused sometimes, head tilted, listening to whispers too old for mortal ears.
And when Quirrell shuffled nervously into the Great Hall that week, turban shadow too long, Percy's hand brushed Athena's. She and Artemis both stiffened, but said nothing.
The storm was coming. And the castle seemed to know it.