Chapter One – The Professors at Hogwarts
The scarlet train roared and hissed like a living beast, slowing as it pulled into the station. The iron wheels shrieked against the tracks, steam gushing into the cool Scottish air. Students pressed against the windows for a glimpse of Hogsmeade Station, its lanterns glowing through the mist. Then, with a final lurch, the Hogwarts Express stopped.
Doors banged open. Voices filled the night as robes flapped and trunks thudded onto the platform. Owls hooted indignantly from their cages, cats yowled, and prefects barked orders above the din.
"First years, this way!" a tall girl called, waving her lantern.
Harry Potter stepped down carefully, clutching Hedwig's cage. He felt Ron appear beside him, already complaining about the weight of his trunk, while Hermione hovered just behind. The air smelled of coal smoke and pine. For a moment, Harry simply stared at the dark silhouette rising on the hilltop beyond the lake—the towers and turrets of Hogwarts, outlined by the last light of sunset.
It was the same castle he'd seen last year, and yet somehow, tonight, it felt different.
He realized why when Ron muttered under his breath, "Oi—who're they?"
At the far end of the platform, away from the bustle, two figures stood apart.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling in windswept curls. He leaned casually against the wrought-iron fence, as though the noise and chaos of hundreds of children rushing past him were background music. His sea-green eyes glinted with humor, and when he grinned, it was the kind of grin that made students laugh before they even realized he'd spoken.
The woman at his side was still as stone. Her cloak, black and flowing, seemed untouched by the scurrying crowd. Her silver-gray eyes swept across the platform with a cool sharpness that made even the prefects glance away. She carried herself with an air that was not quite human—elegant, timeless, untouchable.
"They look too young to be teachers," Hermione whispered, frowning. "Don't they?"
"Too young and too…" Ron squinted. "I dunno. Too… something."
The man pushed away from the fence and called out, his voice clear and commanding, yet playful at the same time:
"Alright, kids! Stick with your prefects, don't wander off, and for the love of Merlin, nobody fall in the lake. The squid's in a bad mood tonight."
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. Even some of the nervous first-years giggled.
The woman only arched an eyebrow, but when the man brushed his hand lightly against hers, her gaze softened—just for him.
That single touch was enough to set whispers racing like wildfire.
"Did you see that?"
"They're holding hands!"
"Are they married?"
"Professors don't act like that, do they?"
Even Percy Weasley, bustling about with a prefect's badge gleaming on his chest, muttered, "Strange business, that," though the flicker of envy in his voice didn't go unnoticed.
The Sorting Feast
The castle doors opened, and at last, the students streamed into the Great Hall. Candles floated high overhead, flames flickering in midair. The ceiling glowed with a twilight sky, streaked with indigo and the first shy stars. The Sorting Hat waited patiently on its stool.
The new professors took their seats at the long staff table. The man—Professor Jackson, Harry overheard—leaned toward the woman, saying something that made her lips curve into the faintest smile. Professor Hunt, someone whispered.
Harry couldn't stop staring. He thought of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, whose lives were gray and loveless. He thought of the way Percy Jackson's eyes lit up when Artemis smiled, as if nothing else in the room mattered. He thought of the way Artemis, cool and untouchable, softened for no one else.
Harry had never seen anything like it.
Snape noticed too. His expression was thunderous, the corners of his mouth twisted downward as if he'd tasted something sour. His black eyes lingered on Artemis longer than necessary, then darted to Percy with undisguised contempt.
Dumbledore, at the head of the table, wore his usual twinkle, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"They look normal," Ron muttered as the Sorting Hat bellowed "HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Not normal," Hermione whispered. Her gaze was sharp. "Powerful."
Harry didn't know if it was power he felt—but he couldn't look away.
The Prefects' Meeting
When the Sorting ended and the feast vanished from the tables, the prefects were summoned to the Entrance Hall.
"Prefects," McGonagall said crisply, "this is Professors Jackson and Hunt. Treat them with the respect they deserve."
Jackson gave an easy bow. "Respect's good. But don't worry—we're not the scary kind. Well. Not always."
A ripple of laughter.
Artemis Hunt's silver gaze swept across them. Instantly, the laughter died. "Discipline matters," she said, her voice like frost and steel. "So does trust. Remember that, and you will have no quarrel with me."
Even Percy Weasley's back stiffened.
When the prefects dispersed, their whispers were immediate.
"They're different," Ernie Macmillan muttered.
"Different?" Daphne Greengrass corrected softly. "They're extraordinary."
The Staff Table
Later, when the students had gone, the professors lingered.
"Marvelous," Sprout declared, cheeks flushed with wine. "Simply marvelous. You two will bring life to the school."
"Life?" Snape's lip curled. "They've already turned Hogwarts into a gossip mill."
Jackson smirked, draping one arm over the back of his chair. "What's life without a little noise?"
Flitwick chuckled. "Students won't dare misbehave under Professor Hunt's eyes. Discipline will never be stronger."
Hunt inclined her head, silent.
Snape leaned forward. "Professionalism, however, may suffer."
Percy slid Artemis's goblet closer, his fingers brushing hers deliberately. "Don't worry, Snape. We'll keep it professional." His grin widened. "In the classroom."
McGonagall's lips twitched. Dumbledore said nothing, but his hands tightened slightly on the arms of his chair.
Common Room Whispers
In Gryffindor Tower, the fire popped and crackled as the students settled in.
"Did you see the way she looked at him?" Lavender Brown whispered.
"Or how he smiled at her?" Seamus added, grinning.
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "It's not just romance. It's… older. Deeper. Like they've been together forever."
"Ancient romance," Ron muttered. "Spare me."
But Harry stayed silent. He stared into the flames, thinking of Artemis's rare smile and Percy's unshakable warmth. For the first time, Hogwarts felt like more than a school. It felt like a place where he might belong.
Interlude: Moonlight Quarters
Their chambers overlooked the Black Lake, tall windows spilling moonlight onto stone floors. The hearth glowed with steady flames.
Percy shrugged off his robes, tossing them into a chair. Artemis folded hers neatly, her movements precise.
"You enjoy provoking them," she said, silver eyes gleaming.
"Snape? Absolutely," Percy grinned. "Did you see his face when I touched your hand? I thought he'd combust."
Her lips curved faintly. "And Dumbledore? You felt his gaze."
Percy's grin dimmed. "Yeah. He doesn't like it. We don't fit his plans."
She stepped closer, fingers brushing his jaw. "Then let him frown. We are not here for his plans."
He leaned his forehead to hers, smiling softly now. "You ruin all my attempts to be cocky."
"You need no help being cocky," she murmured, sliding her arms around him.
The fire crackled. The lake shimmered. Percy kissed her slowly, the kind of kiss that spoke of centuries. Artemis answered with equal calm, walls lowered in a way no one else would ever see.
When they parted, Percy whispered, "Let them envy. At the end of the day, it's just us."
Her rare, luminous smile was the last light before the lamps dimmed.