Chapter 4 – The First Lessons
(Block 2)
Quidditch Tensions
The morning of Gryffindor's first Quidditch practice was crisp, the September air biting enough to redden noses but not enough to deter enthusiasm. Harry followed Oliver Wood out to the pitch, broom in hand, excitement and nerves colliding in his stomach.
The rest of the team was already assembled, stretching and joking. But the usual camaraderie faltered when Percy, Artemis, and Athena arrived—not with brooms, but with the quiet authority of spectators who intended to watch everything.
Wood blinked. "Er… you lot play Quidditch?"
Percy smirked faintly. "Different game where we come from. Faster. Harder."
That single sentence made half the team gape and the other half bristle. Fred Weasley leaned on his broom. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Means," Artemis said smoothly, "your flying's good—but you're still boys with toys." She smiled faintly, not cruel, but assured, as though she had soared through storms they could never imagine.
Harry, mounted on his Nimbus, felt the familiar tug of dread. How could he impress anyone with them watching? Yet when Percy's eyes met his, Harry felt steadier. "Relax," Percy mouthed silently. And Harry did.
Practice went better than expected. Harry caught the Quaffle once, then a second time, and even Wood's barking praise softened. Whenever he wobbled, Percy's subtle nod from the stands reminded him to breathe, to trust himself.
But not everyone was pleased. Draco Malfoy appeared halfway through practice, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, smug as ever.
"Trying to impress the newcomers, Potter?" Draco drawled. "Face it—you're only on the team because they like you. Otherwise, you'd be—"
The insult died in his throat. Artemis had descended from the stands, her silver gaze locking on him.
"Careful, Malfoy," she said, her tone cool as frost. "Mock Harry again and you'll regret it."
Draco scoffed, but the color drained from his face. Even he couldn't meet her stare for long.
Percy clapped Harry on the shoulder when practice ended. "Ignore him. Snakes hiss loudest when they're scared."
Clash in Potions
If Percy's trio impressed in Transfiguration, they caused uproar in Potions.
Snape glided through the dungeon like a shadow, robes whispering across stone. His dislike for Gryffindors was legend, but with Percy, Artemis, and Athena, the disdain sharpened into something personal.
"Today," Snape intoned, "we brew a simple Draught of Peace. Simple, at least, for those with half a brain." His eyes darted instantly to Harry, then, with grudging reluctance, to Percy.
Harry's cauldron steamed uncertainly, the potion veering toward murky gray. Ron's was worse. Hermione's looked decent.
But Percy? His potion glowed faintly, silver as moonlight, calming to look at. Artemis's shimmered in harmony, while Athena's bubbled with controlled precision, each step executed like clockwork.
Snape's face twisted, as though he'd bitten into something sour.
"Perfect. Flawless." His words dripped poison. "Five points… to Gryffindor."
It was clear he hated saying it.
The rest of the class stared, jealous murmurs spreading. Seamus whispered, "Are they even human?"
Percy smirked faintly. Artemis ignored the attention. Athena met Snape's glare with cool indifference.
When class ended, Snape stopped Harry at the door. "You'd do well not to grow reliant on their… charity. Strength earned is strength kept."
Harry flushed, unsure if it was warning or threat. Percy stepped back into the room, eyes narrowing. "Careful, professor. He's our friend."
The tension was thick enough to choke on. Snape's lip curled, but he let them pass.
Whispers in the Common Room
That night, Gryffindor Tower buzzed with its usual chatter, but beneath it lay something sharper: envy.
The trio had made themselves the subject of every conversation. Girls whispered about Percy's easy charm, his steady presence. Boys muttered about Artemis's beauty and Athena's impossible cleverness. Every remark circled back to the same point: their closeness.
"They're always together," Lavender said, twirling her hair. "Like they're… more than friends."
"More?" Parvati asked.
Lavender lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I saw them by the lake. Percy held both their hands. Both! Can you imagine?"
Across the room, Ron groaned. "This is ridiculous. They're not even subtle about it. Who walks around holding hands with two girls?"
Hermione sniffed, though a faint flush colored her cheeks. "If they don't care what people think, why should you?"
Harry sat quietly, staring into the fire. He had seen it, too—the way Percy rested an arm around both Artemis and Athena, the way they leaned into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Instead of jealousy, though, Harry felt something else: safety. If Percy could hold the attention of the entire school, maybe he could shield Harry from it too.
After Curfew
When the tower finally quieted, Percy, Artemis, and Athena slipped out beneath the Invisibility Cloak Percy had conveniently "borrowed" from somewhere. They didn't need the protection, but it amused them to move unseen through the castle's winding halls.
They ended up in a disused classroom, the moonlight spilling across cracked desks and dusty bookshelves.
Artemis leaned against the window, silver light gilding her hair. Athena perched on a desk, eyes thoughtful but softer now, the sharpness of her daylight demeanor dulled. Percy lingered between them, his hands brushing theirs.
"Students glare at us like we're thieves," Artemis murmured. "Jealous hearts burn bright."
Athena tilted her head. "Let them. Their envy is irrelevant. What matters is Harry. He needs us."
Percy sighed, resting his forehead briefly against Athena's shoulder, then against Artemis's. "I know. But sometimes, just for a moment, I want this. Us. Without the stares."
Their hands found each other naturally, fingers entwining. The closeness warmed the chill of the old classroom, their silence louder than words.
For a while, Hogwarts could wait. The prophecy could wait. In the quiet after curfew, the three of them were not gods or guardians—they were simply Percy, Artemis, and Athena, bound by a love older and deeper than jealousy could touch.