Chapter 2 – Settling In
(Block 3)
Evenings in Hogwarts were never quiet, not even on the first week. The Gryffindor common room buzzed with voices, a cacophony of laughter, complaints, and the crackle of fire. Harry sank into one of the red armchairs near the hearth, trying to absorb the whirl of the day.
Ron sprawled beside him, moaning about Snape.
"Honestly, he looked like he wanted to murder me with his eyes. How's anyone supposed to brew a potion when the man breathes down your neck like a vulture?"
Hermione, perched on the edge of the armchair, sniffed. "Maybe if you'd actually read the ingredients list—"
"I did read it!" Ron protested. "Didn't say a word about exploding."
Across the room, Seamus and Dean replayed the levitation charm, sending chess pieces floating in the air. Lavender and Parvati whispered furiously about Artemis's silver hair, sneaking glances toward the far corner where the mysterious trio had chosen a quieter seat.
Percy was lounging comfortably, a book open on his knee though his eyes weren't on the pages. Artemis sat beside him, her arm looped through his, head resting against his shoulder in a way that made more than one boy scowl into his butterbeer. Athena was across from them, quill scratching elegantly over parchment as though she'd already memorized the day's lessons and was reorganizing them for efficiency. Every so often, Percy reached out and brushed his fingers against her wrist, a silent connection.
The effect was magnetic. Students couldn't look away. Their closeness was too easy, too natural, too much like something the rest of them could only dream about.
"Not normal," Seamus muttered under his breath.
"Not fair," Dean agreed.
Lavender sighed dreamily. "It's… romantic."
Parvati nudged her sharply. "It's suspicious. Who comes in like that and just… fits?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't quite understand them either, but something inside him—something deeper than simple jealousy—told him the trio mattered. Somehow, they were a part of his story too.
Whispers Beyond the Common Room
They weren't just the subject of Gryffindor gossip. Whispers slithered through corridors, trickled into the Great Hall, echoed in the library stacks. Hufflepuffs muttered about Artemis's beauty, Ravenclaws speculated on Athena's frightening intelligence, Slytherins sneered about Percy's casual arrogance.
Malfoy was particularly loud.
"Transfer students," he sneered during supper, his voice carrying over the clatter of cutlery. "Mysterious backgrounds, perfect at everything—clearly fakes. Bet their parents bribed the Headmaster."
Daphne Greengrass, sitting nearby, arched an eyebrow. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Draco."
Malfoy bristled but fell silent, glaring across the hall where Percy was absently cutting Artemis's bread into neat halves before sliding one to her. Athena said something sharp in his ear that made him laugh—an unguarded, warm sound that carried farther than he realized. Students stared, resentment smoldering, desire burning.
Dumbledore's Frustration
From his high seat at the staff table, Dumbledore watched. His twinkling eyes were dimmer than usual, his smile forced. He had woven careful threads around this school, guiding the prophecy-child along a subtle path of trials and lessons. Yet these three…
They unsettled the weave.
He could feel it: the way the castle responded to them, the way even time itself seemed to bend when Percy walked by. Artemis and Athena carried a weight, a gravity of presence that could not be disguised as mere "transfer students." They blocked his sightlines, smudged the clarity of prophecy.
Frustration gnawed at him. He stroked his beard, eyes narrowing behind half-moon glasses. They were an anomaly he had not foreseen, and anomalies, he knew, could ruin the best-laid plans.
Voldemort's Unease
Far away, in a shadowed place that smelled of damp stone and rotting air, Voldemort stirred.
He was weak, reduced to whispers and fragments, but his senses stretched far and keen. The moment those three had stepped into the castle, he had felt it. Auras so heavy they pressed against his lingering spirit like a storm threatening to break.
Time itself recoiled.
He hated it. He feared it.
These were not ordinary children. They were something beyond his comprehension, and for the first time since his fall, true unease slithered into his veins. His plans, carefully seeded within the school walls, suddenly felt fragile, exposed.
And he despised them for it.
The Astronomy Tower
Night deepened, and the castle grew quiet. A hush fell over corridors where lanterns guttered low and portraits dozed. Curfew passed, but not for Percy, Artemis, and Athena.
Time slowed at Percy's will. Steps that might have echoed went silent, tapestries fluttered slower, the ticking of the clock tower stretched into long sighs.
They climbed the Astronomy Tower together, their fingers brushing, their laughter quiet in the dark. The sky above stretched wide and velvet-black, strewn with silver stars that shimmered like Artemis's eyes.
Athena set her books down, for once abandoning notes. Artemis leaned on the balustrade, the moonlight catching in her hair. Percy stood between them, one hand resting lightly against each of theirs.
"I could stop it all here," Percy murmured, gazing at the stars. "Freeze this moment. Let the world wait while we just… breathe."
Artemis tilted her head against his shoulder, her lips brushing the fabric of his robe. "Then let it wait."
Athena's hand slid into his, her grip firm, grounding. "Not forever. Harry needs you. The prophecy doesn't pause."
Percy smiled faintly, torn between duty and desire. He turned first to Artemis, kissing her gently beneath the constellations, then to Athena, whose kiss was sharper, hungrier, a challenge wrapped in devotion. The three pressed close, the night wrapping around them like a secret they would never share.
Below, the castle slumbered, unaware.
Above, the stars bore witness.