Harry sat on his narrow bed, the yellowed envelope lying across his knees as if it might burn through his skin at any moment. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had read those words at least a dozen times already, each pass doing little to soften the thundering disbelief in his chest.
For years, the Dursleys had told him his parents were nobodies — good-for-nothing drunks who had died in a car crash, leaving him as a burden. Now a single letter had shattered that story. A school for magic. A place where he was wanted.
The door creaked, and Percy leaned casually against the frame, his presence filling the little room with an ease that Harry both envied and admired. He wore the same quiet confidence as always, the kind that made Dudley grind his teeth and Aunt Petunia clench her jaw whenever Percy so much as walked down the street.
"You've opened it then," Percy said, his voice low but edged with a smile.
Harry glanced up, uncertain. "It's… real, isn't it? This isn't some trick the Dursleys are playing?"
Before Percy could answer, footsteps padded behind him. Artemis slipped in, her silvery eyes sharp but amused, dressed in a short, modern dress that made Petunia purse her lips whenever she caught sight of it. Athena followed, more composed, wearing a fitted blouse and skirt, dark hair falling across her shoulder as she carried herself like a queen stepping into a throne room.
The tiny bedroom suddenly felt too small for them — three figures whose very presence seemed to crack the dull, ordinary world of Privet Drive.
Artemis moved first, perching on the edge of Percy's chair, her arm brushing against his as though she claimed the space without thought. Athena went further, sitting gracefully at Percy's side on the bed itself, her fingers slipping around his hand with practiced familiarity. Percy accepted it without hesitation, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Harry, still reeling, blinked at the three of them. "So you… you knew about this?"
Percy tilted his head, studying him with eyes that seemed far older than they had any right to be for someone Harry thought was his age. "I knew, yes. Magic has always been part of who you are, Harry. That letter only confirms it."
Artemis leaned closer to Percy, lips near his ear. "You should have seen his face," she murmured, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "Wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the moonlight."
Percy chuckled, his arm sliding around her waist. "He's allowed a little shock. The world just changed on him."
Athena rested her chin lightly on Percy's shoulder, her voice smoother, steadier. "And it will keep changing. But better he hears the truth from us than from those who'd twist it." Her eyes flicked toward the closed door, as though the Dursleys' shadows pressed against it.
Harry tightened his grip on the envelope. "The Dursleys never told me anything. They always said my parents were—" His throat clenched. "They lied to me. Didn't they?"
Percy's gaze softened, though his hand continued to stroke absent circles across Artemis's back, his other hand now caught between Athena's fingers. "They lied," Percy said simply. "Your parents were nothing like the story you were told. They were brave. Brilliant. Loved you fiercely."
Artemis tilted her head, her hand sliding lower along Percy's chest as she spoke, her voice sharper than his. "And these relatives of yours kept you in the dark, starved you of truth. You deserved more."
Harry looked down, fighting the sting in his eyes. It was strange — even with Percy's arms tangled between two impossibly radiant women, even with the intimacy of their touches so blatant, Harry didn't feel excluded. Instead, the warmth between them made Percy's words sound truer, more solid. Like they belonged to someone who knew the weight of love and loyalty better than anyone.
Athena's lips brushed Percy's temple, tender and deliberate, before she spoke. "We'll explain everything. But you must be ready to listen, Harry. The wizarding world isn't as simple as you think. It's beautiful, yes, but dangerous. And full of people who will want to shape you into their pawn."
"Like Dumbledore," Artemis muttered under her breath, her hand squeezing Percy's thigh possessively.
Harry frowned. "Who's that?"
Percy smiled faintly, though his eyes were thoughtful. "That will come later. For now, all you need to know is that this letter is your key. To freedom. To truth. To power. And I'll be at your side when you step through that door."
Artemis leaned in then, pressing a slow kiss to Percy's jaw, her eyes catching Harry's for a brief, unflinching moment. It wasn't shameful or hidden — it was a declaration, a reminder that passion and power often walked hand in hand. Athena followed with a softer kiss against Percy's lips, a balance of fire and wisdom meeting in him.
Harry flushed and looked away, clutching the letter tighter. The Dursleys would be furious if they knew what was happening in his room right now. Furious at the magic, furious at Percy's unashamed romance, furious that Harry had something — someone — they couldn't control.
And for the first time, Harry thought he didn't care what they felt.
The silence after Percy's promise hung heavy in the little bedroom, broken only by the faint hum of the streetlamp outside. Harry turned the letter over in his hands, staring at the green ink as though the words might shift into something more sensible if he looked hard enough.
Finally, he asked the question that had been scratching at the back of his mind.
"How do you know all this? You've only just moved here. Same age as me. You can't have known for long."
Percy didn't answer immediately. Artemis smirked, sliding down so that her head rested lazily on Percy's shoulder, her fingers idly playing with the buttons of his shirt. Athena stayed composed but her hand never left Percy's — steady, claiming, protective.
"You're right," Percy said at last, his voice calm. "I am your age. But my bloodline carries… legacies. Old ones. House Chronos is ancient, older than the families who like to call themselves the pillars of wizarding Britain. When you're born into something like that, you learn quickly. You must."
Harry blinked. "House… Chronos?"
Artemis let out a soft laugh, tilting Percy's chin toward her to kiss the line of his jaw. "You should see their faces when he says it at the old gatherings. They choke on their wine. They want what he has but can never touch it."
Athena's voice cut in smoothly, less teasing but no less intimate as her thumb brushed Percy's knuckles. "It makes him a target, Harry. He learned about the wizarding world not because it was safe, but because he couldn't afford ignorance. Politics, bloodlines, rivalries — they circle him constantly."
Harry shifted uneasily. "So… you researched all of this because you had to?"
Percy's gaze locked onto his, steady as stone. "Yes. If I didn't understand the wizarding world, it would eat me alive. And now, because of who you are, it will try the same with you."
Harry's fingers tightened on the envelope. The weight of Percy's words pressed harder than he expected. The wizarding world wasn't just about magic wands and flying broomsticks — it was power, manipulation, survival.
And Percy — sitting there with two women pressed against him as if they were extensions of his own soul — looked like someone who had not only survived it, but mastered it.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Harry asked, his voice smaller than he wanted.
Percy's expression softened. "Because without that letter, it would have been only my word against the Dursleys'. And they've poisoned your view of the world for years. You deserved proof before truth."
Athena leaned into Percy, her lips brushing his ear before she spoke, her tone gentle. "He waited because he wanted you to believe in yourself first. Not in us. Not in me, or Artemis, or even him. In you."
Harry swallowed, unsure how to respond. His face burned slightly as Artemis's hand slipped lower across Percy's chest, tracing idle patterns while her sharp eyes stayed fixed on him. "And now you see," she said softly. "The first crack in the cage they built around you."
From somewhere below, the floorboards creaked. Uncle Vernon's muffled voice rumbled, Petunia's sharper tones hissing in reply. They were listening. Harry knew it. And for once, that thought didn't fill him with dread.
Instead, a strange satisfaction curled in his chest. They could listen all they liked. They couldn't unwrite the words on his letter.
Percy's smile was faint but approving. "The world is bigger than you've been allowed to see. Tonight we begin to break the lies. Tomorrow, we prepare for your first steps into it."
Artemis tilted her face up, catching Percy's lips in a kiss that was anything but shy, her silver hair spilling across his shoulder. Athena followed with one of her own — softer, longer, lingering until Percy's hand slid to the small of her back.
Harry turned away, ears hot, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Somehow, their closeness didn't feel like mockery. It felt like truth — raw, unashamed, and powerful. The kind of truth that made him believe Percy's words even more.
Harry's grip on the letter tightened until his knuckles turned white. His voice came low, almost hesitant, as though afraid the answer might hurt more than silence.
"My parents… what were they really like? Because all I've ever been told is that they were… drunks. Useless. People who got themselves killed and left me to be a burden."
The venom in the Dursleys' words echoed in his tone, and Percy's eyes darkened immediately. Artemis shifted against him, her head resting now on his chest as though to anchor his temper. Athena's fingers twined with his, urging him to answer with calm instead of rage.
"They lied to you," Percy said firmly, every syllable edged with steel. "Your parents were not weak. They were not drunkards. James Potter and Lily Evans were among the bravest people in the wizarding world. They fought against a Dark Lord when most others cowered in fear."
Harry blinked, stunned. His throat tightened. "Then why… why would the Dursleys—"
"Because your mother was Lily Evans," Athena interrupted gently. "A witch. Brilliant, kind, powerful. And your aunt could never stand that the sister she despised was special while she was not."
Artemis snorted softly. "Petunia wanted her sister's gifts but got only bitterness instead. So she twisted the truth, made poison into words, and fed them to you every day until you believed her lies."
Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart hammering. "So… everything I thought… all of it—"
"Was a cage," Percy finished. He leaned forward, his voice dropping low, intimate, like the stroke of a blade sharpened against stone. "And you've lived in that cage too long. Your parents loved you. They died to protect you. Never doubt that again."
Harry's eyes stung, but the tears didn't fall. He pressed his lips together tightly, swallowing hard as the weight of years of abuse cracked and broke under the truth.
Percy's hand rested on his shoulder, steady, warm. "You are their son. And you carry their strength. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."
The moment hung thick in the room. Artemis leaned up suddenly, her lips brushing Percy's neck in a kiss meant as much for Harry as for him. "You speak truth like a warrior," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin.
Athena's gaze softened, her hand sliding over Percy's chest, her head against his shoulder. "And you give him back what was stolen — pride, belonging."
Harry shifted, his face heating, but he couldn't look away. Their closeness no longer made him feel excluded. Instead, it painted a picture of loyalty — of bonds that refused to be broken or diminished by others' opinions.
For the first time in his life, Harry wanted to belong.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Percy's smile was faint but certain. "Don't thank me. Thank your parents for leaving you a legacy worth carrying. I only remind you of it."
From below, the Dursleys' muffled voices rose again — sharp, angry, venomous. But Harry didn't care. For the first time, their words felt like nothing more than background noise.
Inside this room, with Percy's truth and the warmth of Artemis and Athena's presence, Harry felt something stronger than fear. He felt… free.
Harry sat cross-legged on the bed, letter still clutched in his hands. He looked less fragile now, though confusion still tugged at his brow.
"So… there's more, isn't there?" he asked quietly. "Not just wands and spells… there's a whole world out there."
Percy leaned back against the headboard, Artemis curled against his side, her long legs draped across his lap. Athena sat close on his other side, one hand absently tracing patterns over his forearm while her sharp gaze never wavered from Harry. Their closeness wasn't for show — it was how they existed, always together, always in touch.
"You're right," Percy said. "The magical world isn't just about learning charms and waving wands. It's about history. Power. Bloodlines. Houses. Politics."
Harry frowned. "Politics? Like… boring government stuff?"
Athena gave a low laugh, soft and rich. "In your world, perhaps. In ours, politics decides legacies. Wars. Lives. Some families would rather see thousands die than give up an ounce of their power."
Artemis tilted her head, her lips brushing Percy's jaw as she added, "And they'll try to drag you into their games, Harry. Especially someone like you."
Harry blinked. "Why me?"
Percy's eyes locked on his. "Because you're not just some orphan, Harry. You're heir to House Potter. An Ancient and Noble House. That means wealth, history, and influence — things that pureblood families crave."
Harry's mouth went dry. "House… Potter?"
Athena nodded. "It was your father's legacy. An old family, wealthy enough to rival most pureblood houses. Respected, though not as dark as the others. When Voldemort rose, your parents used their influence to fight him. That made them targets."
Harry's pulse quickened. For the first time, his name felt… heavy.
"But…" Percy leaned forward slightly, his tone sharpening, "that same name can protect you — if you learn how to wield it. Houses are shields and swords both. If you don't use yours, others will try to use it for you."
Harry's mind spun. He thought of the Dursleys, of being shoved in a cupboard and treated like less than nothing. Now Percy was saying he belonged to something old, powerful, respected.
Artemis pressed a kiss to Percy's shoulder, her voice low and almost teasing. "Tell him about the purebloods, love. About the vipers who think themselves kings."
Percy smirked faintly, his hand brushing along her thigh before he turned back to Harry. "Purebloods are the oldest wizarding families. Many of them are obsessed with keeping bloodlines 'pure,' meaning they don't marry Muggle-borns or half-bloods. They use their wealth and connections to control the Ministry, Hogwarts, even society itself."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Sounds like the Dursleys with wands."
Athena's laugh was quick and sharp. "Exactly."
Percy's smile faded as he continued. "Some of those families followed Voldemort. They still whisper his ideals, even after his fall. Others claim to stand against him, but all they really do is protect their own influence. That's why you'll need to be careful, Harry. Because to them, you're not just a boy. You're a prize."
Harry's stomach knotted. "So, everyone's going to try to… use me?"
"Yes." Percy's answer was blunt. But his tone softened as he reached out, his hand steady on Harry's shoulder. "But you won't be alone. You'll learn. You'll grow stronger. And when the time comes, you'll decide who you are — not them."
Artemis leaned against Percy more fully, her lips brushing just below his ear. "Spoken like a lord yourself."
Athena smirked faintly, resting her head against Percy's shoulder. "Our Percy knows more of politics than he pretends."
Harry's chest tightened — but this time not from fear. From something fiercer. For years he had been nothing. But now… he was someone with a name that mattered. Someone who could matter.
He looked up at Percy, determination sparking behind his glasses. "Then teach me. Teach me how to not be a pawn."
Percy's answering smile was sharp and sure. "That's the plan."
The room seemed warmer then, wrapped not just in the closeness of Percy, Artemis, and Athena, but in the fire of a boy beginning to reclaim his birthright.
The summer dusk settled outside, faint orange light filtering into the room through thin curtains. Harry sat forward on the edge of the bed, his knuckles white around his letter, his head still swimming from everything Percy had revealed.
But Percy wasn't finished.
"There's one place in the wizarding world everyone respects, no matter how powerful they think they are," Percy said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. Artemis stretched languidly beside him, legs brushing against his, while Athena leaned into his shoulder, her golden hair falling like silk across his arm. Their presence was distracting in its own way — an anchor and a fire.
Harry swallowed. "Where's that?"
"Gringotts," Percy said simply. "The wizarding bank. Run by goblins."
Harry blinked. "Goblins?"
Athena smirked faintly. "Not the storybook kind. Goblins are clever, ruthless, and utterly unforgiving when it comes to their gold. Wizards might sneer at them in public, but in private? Every single one of those proud purebloods bows their head when standing before a goblin banker."
Artemis shifted closer to Percy, her lips brushing against the curve of his neck as she murmured, "Tell him the truth — about the vaults."
Percy's hand stroked slowly over her thigh before he turned back to Harry. "Gringotts doesn't just keep money safe. It keeps legacies. Vaults filled with generations of treasure, artifacts, heirlooms, magic bound to family names. Some of those vaults are older than Hogwarts itself."
Harry's breath caught. "And… I have one?"
Percy nodded firmly. "You do. The Potter vault. Waiting for you. Gold enough to live a dozen lives without worry — though that's not its true value."
Harry's head snapped up. "It's not?"
Athena's sharp gaze cut in. "Wealth alone means little, Harry. But wealth tied to an ancient name? That's power. That's influence. People will measure you not just by your magic, but by the weight of the Potter legacy stored in those vaults."
Harry felt dizzy. For so long, he had been told he was nothing — a burden, a freak, someone better hidden in a cupboard. And now Percy was telling him he had gold, power, a family legacy.
"Why… why didn't anyone tell me this before?" His voice was small, angry.
Percy's jaw tightened. His hand left Artemis to rest lightly on Harry's shoulder, steady and grounding. "Because those who raised you wanted you weak. Powerless. Dependent. They fed you lies so you'd never look beyond their shadow. But that ends now."
Artemis kissed Percy's jaw, her voice low and fierce. "We'll see to it, won't we, love? He'll walk into that bank not as some lost child, but as heir of House Potter."
Athena's lips curved into a sly smile. "And watch the goblins bow."
Harry's heart hammered. He imagined it — walking into a marble hall, people recognizing his name, seeing him not as the boy in oversized hand-me-downs but as someone who belonged.
Percy's eyes locked on him, steady and sure. "Gringotts will be your first true step into our world. You'll claim your vault. Your name. Your legacy. From there, everything changes."
Harry nodded, the fire in his chest burning hotter. For the first time in his life, he felt the weight of possibility pressing forward rather than down.
Artemis and Athena both leaned into Percy then, their touch warm and unashamed, their intimacy woven seamlessly with the gravity of the moment. To Harry, it was almost surreal — power, affection, truth, all in the same room.
And somewhere deep inside, the boy who had been locked away in a cupboard began to believe in something more.
The night was thick and quiet, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on Harry's bedside table. He sat cross-legged on the bed, letter still folded beside him like an anchor to this strange new reality. Percy stood across from him, back straight, presence commanding even in the small room. Artemis lounged gracefully in the chair by the window, moonlight painting her in silver, while Athena leaned against the wall, her sharp eyes following every word.
Percy clasped his hands behind his back. "Before you step into Diagon Alley, before you touch your vault or buy a wand, you need something else."
Harry tilted his head. "What's that?"
"Confidence," Percy said simply. "You've been taught to shrink, to hide, to bow your head. Wizards — especially the kind you'll meet at Hogwarts — will smell weakness. And they'll use it against you."
Harry's throat tightened. "Like the Dursleys?"
Artemis's eyes softened, and she rose, brushing her lips across Percy's cheek as if to soothe the tension she felt radiating from him. "Yes, Harry. Like them. Bullies are everywhere, mortal or magical. But bullies only win when you let them believe you're smaller than they are."
Athena stepped forward, her gaze piercing. "You carry the name Potter. That alone makes you a target — and a weapon, if you learn to wield it."
Harry blinked. "A weapon?"
Percy smiled faintly, sitting down on the bed across from him. His hand brushed lightly against Artemis's as she perched beside him, a casual, intimate touch that Harry was slowly growing used to seeing. "Confidence isn't about arrogance. It's about presence. The way you walk into a room. The way you meet someone's eyes. You don't have to shout your strength — you let them feel it."
Harry hesitated. "But… what if I don't feel it?"
Athena pushed off the wall and sat beside Percy, their closeness deliberate, intimate. She whispered something in his ear that made him chuckle, then turned to Harry with a knowing smile. "Then you pretend. And if you pretend long enough, Harry, one day you'll stop pretending."
Artemis leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Try it. Sit straighter. Shoulders back."
Harry obeyed, awkward at first.
"Now meet Percy's eyes," Artemis continued.
Harry looked up. Percy's gaze was steady, warm but unyielding. For a moment, Harry felt like shrinking again — like old habits were tugging him down. But then he remembered Artemis's words, Athena's sharp smile, Percy's steady hand on his shoulder. He held Percy's gaze.
Percy's lips curved. "Good. That's the start. You'll practice this — every day, until it's second nature."
Harry nodded, something sparking in his chest. It wasn't magic, not yet — but it felt close.
Artemis slipped her arm around Percy's waist, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. Athena's hand brushed against his as well, a subtle but unmistakable gesture of intimacy. Their affection was seamless, as natural as breathing — and Harry realized it wasn't a distraction, but part of Percy's strength. They steadied him, sharpened him. And in turn, he gave them something just as deep.
For Harry, the lesson lingered beyond posture or words. Confidence wasn't just something Percy taught — it was something Percy lived, bound up with Artemis and Athena in a unity so strong it shook even the walls of this small, ordinary house.
Harry swallowed hard and squared his shoulders again. For the first time, he didn't feel like the boy in the cupboard.
The night stretched on, the air in Harry's small room feeling heavier than usual. The letter still rested on the bed, glowing faintly in the moonlight as though it contained more than words. Harry had always imagined magic as firework displays or secret tricks. He hadn't imagined this — warnings, politics, power, and lessons in confidence.
Percy leaned against the desk, arms folded. Artemis perched casually on the sill, her modern dress riding up her thigh as she crossed her legs, earning Percy's passing glance and small smile. Athena, ever composed, sat on the bed beside Harry, her presence like a quiet current of authority.
Percy's tone grew low, almost grave. "Harry, listen carefully. There are things about Hogwarts you won't hear from anyone else — certainly not from Dumbledore."
Harry frowned. "What about him? I thought he was… well… the greatest wizard alive."
Athena let out a soft, humorless laugh. "That's what he wants everyone to believe."
Artemis's eyes flashed silver in the moonlight. "Greatness measured by reputation is hollow. True power isn't about sitting on a gilded chair and pulling strings." She tilted her head toward Percy, brushing a hand across his wrist. "Some wield power without ever needing to boast."
Harry's brows furrowed. "So Dumbledore's… not good?"
Percy exhaled slowly. "He's complicated. He'll smile at you, offer you lemon drops, and tell you he cares. But Harry—" Percy's gaze sharpened. "—he wants you blind. To keep you in the dark about your wealth, your legacy, your strength. He'll try to shape you into a weapon against Voldemort."
Harry stiffened. "A weapon?"
Athena's voice was calm, deliberate. "Yes. The prophecy you were born under makes you dangerous to Voldemort — and useful to Dumbledore. To him, you're not a boy. You're a piece on the board."
Harry looked down at his hands. For a moment, doubt and fear warred in him. But then Percy's hand closed over his shoulder — warm, grounding. "That's why I'm telling you. You'll never be anyone's pawn if you learn early to question everything. Don't take orders blindly. Don't accept 'because I said so.' If something feels wrong — trust yourself."
Harry nodded, swallowing hard.
Artemis leaned closer to Percy, brushing her lips lightly against his cheek in an almost absent gesture of affection, though Harry caught the softness in Percy's eyes when she did. "You sound like a general prepping his soldier," she teased gently.
"Because that's what he is," Percy replied, ruffling Harry's hair with brotherly fondness.
Athena shifted, her dark eyes narrowing. "And then there's Severus Snape."
Harry looked up. "The Potions Master?"
"Yes," Athena said. "A bitter man who clings to grudges long past their worth. He despised your father, and he will project that hatred onto you. He'll mock you, belittle you, even try to humiliate you in class."
Harry scowled. "And I'm just supposed to take it?"
Percy shook his head. "No. You're supposed to out-think him. Snape thrives on fear and submission. If you stand tall, question him with logic, never lose your temper — you'll undermine his games. He can't tolerate those who refuse to bow."
Harry let out a breath, part nervous, part determined. "Alright. I'll try."
Percy gave him a proud nod. "Good. That's the beginning."
Artemis slid gracefully from the windowsill and draped herself over Percy's lap with casual intimacy, one arm looping around his neck. Athena smirked slightly at the sight and leaned her head against Percy's shoulder from the other side.
Harry blinked, cheeks reddening slightly at the sudden closeness between them, but they didn't soften the lesson. In fact, their unity only seemed to reinforce it: Percy wasn't just giving him strategies — he was showing him that strength came not from fear, but from balance, support, and conviction.
As Percy kissed Artemis's temple, his hand still resting firmly on Harry's shoulder, Harry realized the truth — his life would never be the same again. And for the first time, he didn't fear that.
The room had grown quiet, as if the very walls knew what Percy was about to say. The air seemed denser, charged with something Harry couldn't name. Artemis rested against Percy's chest, her legs curled across his lap, her fingers idly tracing patterns along his arm. Athena leaned in close on his other side, her hand resting lightly over Percy's, steady, grounding.
Harry felt like he was watching more than hearing — watching how the three of them fit together seamlessly, their closeness unashamed, almost glowing. But the warmth of their intimacy only heightened the weight of Percy's next words.
"There's one name you need to understand, Harry. Voldemort."
Harry stiffened. The word was heavy, thick with the kind of fear he had only seen in the eyes of grown-ups when they thought he wasn't looking.
"People will call him You-Know-Who," Percy continued, voice low and steady. "Or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Cowards' names for a coward's legacy. But his name is Tom Riddle — and his true terror is how many followed him willingly, not how powerful he was."
Harry's brow furrowed. "So… he wasn't the most powerful wizard?"
Athena's lips curved into a thin smile. "Power without wisdom collapses. Riddle sought immortality, domination, purity of bloodlines — and in doing so, he betrayed the very essence of magic. He was clever, yes. Dangerous, yes. But power? True power doesn't need fear to survive."
Artemis's voice cut sharper, her hand curling around Percy's collar as though anchoring herself to him. "He preyed on weakness. On the desire of men to feel superior. That is not power — it's sickness."
Percy's eyes didn't leave Harry. "He killed your parents. James and Lily Potter. Not because they were weak — but because they defied him. Because they stood between him and you."
Harry swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. "Me?"
Percy nodded. "A prophecy marked you as his equal, someone destined to challenge him. He thought killing you as a baby would end it before it began. Instead, he destroyed himself."
Harry blinked rapidly. "So I… survived him?"
Athena leaned closer, her dark hair brushing Percy's shoulder. "You did more than survive. You marked him. And he marked you." Her gaze flicked toward the scar on Harry's forehead.
Harry touched it instinctively, the familiar burn stirring under his skin.
"He'll return," Percy said, tone sharp with certainty. "Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. And when he does, Dumbledore will expect you to sacrifice yourself for everyone else. To him, that is the greater good."
Harry's stomach turned. "So what do I do?"
Percy's hand tightened on his shoulder, firm, unwavering. "You live. You learn. You prepare. And when the time comes, you face him not as his pawn — but as yourself. With the strength of your bloodline, your friends, and your choices."
Harry drew in a shaky breath, then straightened his back. His voice was small but steady. "I'll do it."
Artemis smiled faintly, brushing her lips across Percy's jaw in a fleeting kiss. "He has your fire," she murmured.
Athena's smirk was softer this time. "And your stubbornness."
Percy's expression softened as he looked between them, then down at Harry. "Good. Because you'll need both."
The silence that followed was not the silence of dread but of resolve. Outside, the night hummed with quiet crickets, ordinary and small. Inside, Harry felt as though the world had shifted. He wasn't just the boy who lived anymore. He was the boy who understood.
The tension from Voldemort's name still hung faintly in the air, but Percy broke it with a shift in his voice — warmer, brighter, carrying the weight of promise rather than shadow.
"Enough of the darkness for tonight," he said, his hand sliding along Artemis's waist as she leaned closer, her silver eyes softening. "You need to know the other side of our world too — the wonder. The living heart of it. Harry, have you ever heard of Diagon Alley?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Is it… another street?"
Athena laughed softly, the sound like chimes. She was curled against Percy's side, her long fingers laced through his. "Not quite. It is a world hidden within this one — a marketplace where magic breathes. Shops for wands, robes, books, potions… everything that keeps wizarding society alive."
Percy tilted his head toward Harry, a grin tugging at his lips. "And at its heart — Gringotts Bank. Run by goblins. Fierce, clever creatures. They value gold, secrecy, and strength. Wizards fear them more than they admit."
Harry's eyes widened. "Bank? For me?"
Percy's hand settled firmly on Harry's shoulder. "For you. You are the heir of the Potter line, one of the old houses. Your parents left you a vault — filled not only with wealth but with legacy. It waits for you, untouched. When we go, it will be the first time you see that your bloodline isn't just whispers and lies. It's real."
Harry's breath caught. "So… I'm not poor?"
Artemis's hand drifted along Percy's chest, her head resting against his shoulder as she spoke. Her voice was gentle, but it carried steel beneath the softness. "Poor? No, Harry. You were kept ignorant. That's not the same thing." She glanced at Percy, and he bent slightly to press his lips against her hair.
Harry looked between them, torn between awe and envy at their closeness — at how natural their touch was, how unashamed. It made him want something he couldn't name.
"What about wands?" he asked, voice a little hesitant.
Athena's eyes lit up. "Ollivanders," she said simply, as though the word itself carried magic. "A shop older than most wizarding dynasties. Every wand has a core, a wood, a song of its own. It is not the wizard who chooses the wand, Harry — but the wand that chooses the wizard."
Harry's scar tingled faintly, though he ignored it. "So I'll get my own wand?"
Percy leaned forward slightly, his expression serious again, though not heavy. "Yes. And listen carefully: your wand will tell you more about yourself than you think. It will be your partner in every spell, every duel, every victory. Treat it as more than wood and core — treat it as alive."
Harry nodded, his heart racing. A vault, a wand, a hidden street — a world waiting for him.
Artemis shifted, swinging her legs across Percy's lap with casual boldness, her head resting back against his chest. "And the robes," she said with a sly smirk. "Don't forget those. Hogwarts requires them. Though, between us, I'd rather burn mine than wear them every day."
Percy chuckled, sliding a hand along her thigh as though agreeing wordlessly. Athena arched a brow, amused, and stole a kiss from Percy's cheek, her voice teasing. "Behave, or Harry will think all wizards spend their evenings wrapped around each other instead of studying."
Harry flushed. "Do they?"
Percy's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and gravity. "Some try. But most? They spend too much time wrapped in politics, greed, or fear. That's why you, Harry, have to be different. You'll walk into this world not as their pawn, but as someone who knows better. And you won't be alone."
Harry met his gaze — steady, fierce, certain. For the first time in his life, he felt not like a boy trapped in a cupboard but like someone standing at the edge of something vast.
The evening air hung still, the quiet of Privet Drive broken only by the faint rustle of leaves. Inside the Chronos estate, candles flickered against the tall windows, their light catching on marble floors and polished oak. Harry sat cross-legged on a thick rug in the main hall, his letter clutched loosely in his hand.
Percy knelt opposite him, calm and commanding, while Artemis leaned lazily against one of the pillars, arms folded, her silver hair gleaming. Athena perched on the arm of a nearby chair, eyes sharp, studying Harry with the patience of a hawk.
"Magic," Percy said, his voice low and steady, "is not in a wand, Harry. Not truly. A wand is a tool, nothing more. The power is inside you. It is will, focus, and spirit."
Harry swallowed, unsure. "But… I've never done anything. Not really."
Athena tilted her head. "Oh, you have. You just didn't know. The glass at the zoo, the times you ran from bullies, the way things broke when you were angry. That was magic — wild, uncontrolled. Tonight, you'll feel it controlled."
Percy stretched out his hand, palm up. A small orb of water shimmered into being, spinning slowly, catching candlelight in rippling blue reflections. With a flick of his fingers, the orb burst into flame — water becoming fire in an instant, then collapsing into sparks.
Harry's mouth fell open. "You didn't use a wand."
"I don't need one," Percy said simply, and his wives exchanged knowing smirks. "You may not reach this level overnight, but the principle is the same: focus."
He gestured to the small silver bowl between them, filled with clear water. "Your task: make it ripple. Don't think about the how. Think about what you want — a ripple — and will it."
Harry stared at the water. His heart thudded. He clenched his fists, then relaxed. Tried again. Nothing.
Artemis moved closer, kneeling behind Percy and draping her arms over his shoulders. Her voice, calm and commanding, floated across the space. "You're doubting yourself, Harry. Stop. Magic bends to certainty, not hesitation."
Athena leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Feel it. Not as something separate — as part of you. The water is already yours. Tell it to move."
Harry drew a breath. He imagined the water as if it were part of him, like an extension of his hand. He pictured a stone dropping into it, pictured waves spreading out. His eyes narrowed.
A faint ripple broke the surface.
Harry gasped. "I—did I—?"
"You did," Percy said, pride flashing in his eyes. He reached across, squeezing Harry's shoulder firmly. "That is the beginning."
Artemis kissed Percy's temple, whispering in his ear, "He's quick." Percy chuckled, his hand briefly sliding along her arm in silent affection. Athena smiled softly, her gaze still on Harry, but the warmth in her expression was mirrored in the way she brushed her fingers against Percy's neck.
Harry noticed their closeness again — their effortless intimacy. It unsettled and reassured him all at once. They were powerful, but they were also human in ways he'd never seen.
He looked back to the water, determination setting in his jaw. He tried again — this time, two ripples.
The bowl trembled.
Percy's grin widened. "Good. Tomorrow, we begin properly. Tonight was only to show you one truth: you are not weak, Harry. Not anymore."
Harry looked up at him, chest swelling with something new — pride, maybe even hope. For the first time, the idea of Hogwarts didn't terrify him. It thrilled him.
The house was quiet that night. The Dursleys had long since shut themselves in, trying and failing to ignore the low, soft laughter that drifted from the garden next door. The moon hung pale and heavy above Privet Drive, silver light pouring across the lawn where Percy, Artemis, and Athena lingered beneath the stars.
Harry had already gone to bed, excitement and nerves buzzing through him as he clutched his Hogwarts letter under his pillow. Tomorrow he would step into a new world. But tonight, Percy's world — the strange, magnetic, utterly unshakable bond between himself and the two goddesses — seemed to claim the air itself.
Artemis leaned lazily against Percy's side, her head resting on his shoulder, while Athena sat opposite, eyes gleaming with a quiet hunger that was softened only by the warmth in her gaze.
"Tomorrow changes everything for Harry," Athena murmured, her voice smooth, her hand brushing against Percy's as though by accident.
Percy caught her fingers and laced them with his, his other arm slipping around Artemis' waist. "It changes nothing for us," he said softly. "We've always been together. We'll always be together."
Artemis lifted her head, her silver eyes sharp and mischievous. "Always?" she whispered, brushing her lips against the edge of his jaw.
Athena leaned in then, her breath warm against his ear. "Prove it."
Percy didn't need to be asked twice. He drew both of them closer, his hands sliding with deliberate care, fingers tracing over the curve of Artemis' back and the softness of Athena's waist. The two goddesses shifted in unison, their movements graceful, practiced, and hungry — one settling into his lap, the other curling against his side, so that Percy was surrounded, enveloped by their warmth, their scent, their touch.
The kisses came slow at first — Artemis catching his mouth with fierce urgency, Athena claiming the next with deliberate, possessive heat. Percy kissed them both in turn, each press of lips deeper, hungrier, more lingering than the last. Their breaths grew ragged, mingling in the still night air as hands roamed — over arms, over shoulders, over hair.
Artemis' laughter broke between kisses, low and sultry. "The neighbors will gossip louder than ever tomorrow…"
Athena's smirk was sharper, her hand sliding boldly across Percy's chest. "Let them. Let them choke on their envy."
Percy answered with a kiss that silenced both their words, pulling them tighter until the three of them melted together, bodies pressed close, heat rising in waves. The world around them disappeared; there was no Privet Drive, no watching eyes, no whispering neighbors. There was only them — lips, hands, heat, devotion.
The garden seemed to glow with their passion. The air itself shimmered faintly as their magic flared with every touch, every brush of skin against skin.
Artemis tilted her head back, breathless, as Percy's lips trailed along her throat. Athena tangled her fingers in his hair, drawing him back to her for another searing kiss.
Three heartbeats thundered in rhythm. Three souls burned as one.
The night deepened. Their touches grew bolder, kisses more insistent, the promise of what came next hanging heavy in the air. When Percy finally lifted his head, both Artemis and Athena gazed at him with eyes darkened by desire, trust, and devotion.
"Tomorrow we guide Harry into his world," Percy murmured, his voice low and husky. "Tonight… you're mine."
And when they pulled him back down between them, the garden faded into whispers of passion and moonlight.
The rest belonged only to them.