Edit: All ages are shifted one year up (So students receive their letter when they are 12, not 11).

The Great Hall was alive with the chatter of students as Harry, Ron, and Hermione settled into their usual seats at the Gryffindor table. The third-year schedules had just been handed out, but none of them were paying attention to Divination or Care of Magical Creatures at the moment. All eyes were on the new student—Percy Jackson.

"Victrix Arcanum," Ron whispered, his voice low but brimming with curiosity. "You'd think Dumbledore would've told us more about this school of his."

"It's not "his" school," Hermione corrected, her brow furrowed as she sipped her pumpkin juice. "Victrix Arcanum is extremely exclusive. Almost no one ever transfers from there. It's… legendary."

"Sounds dodgy to me," Ron muttered, glancing toward the Slytherin table, where Percy sat with an air of casual detachment. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his green eyes flickered across the room like he was assessing every face. Despite sitting among Slytherins, he seemed only vaguely interested in their company.

"I don't think he's dodgy," Hermione said, though her tone held a note of doubt. "Dumbledore wouldn't let someone dangerous into Hogwarts."

"Dangerous?" Ron scoffed. "Did you see Malfoy? He's been kissing up to him since day one. That's suspicious enough for me."

Harry followed Ron's gaze. Draco Malfoy was leaning slightly toward Percy, gesturing animatedly about something. Percy, in return, gave a small, nonchalant smile—polite, but distant, like he wasn't entirely invested in the conversation. Malfoy seemed to know him, though, and treated him with an unusual amount of respect.

What struck Harry most, though, was the way Percy carried himself. There was a confidence there—quiet, assured, and unshakeable. Percy didn't flaunt it, but it was obvious in the way he moved and how people reacted to him. Even some of the older students, who normally ignored younger years, seemed unable to avoid sneaking curious glances in his direction.

"Who do you reckon his family is?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low. "Everyone's saying he's part of the Olympiad family."

"The Olympiads?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide. "Harry, they're practically mythical! No one knows anything about them except that they're… powerful."

"Powerful, mysterious, and apparently related to both the Blacks and the Malfoys," Ron added grimly. "Mum told me both family tree's got ties to all sorts of weird branches. You-Know-Who might be one of them."

Hermione looked scandalized. "You can't just say he's related to Voldemort without proof!"

"Well, look at him!" Ron hissed, gesturing discreetly. "The dark hair, the whole 'I'm-so-mysterious' thing, and he's sitting there like he owns the place!"

"He's not even talking to anyone properly," Harry added, noting Percy's slightly stand-offish demeanor. He wasn't rude, but he didn't engage deeply with anyone either. Even Malfoy seemed to get only fleeting attention.

Then Percy glanced over—directly at Harry. Their eyes met, and Harry felt a strange chill run down his spine. There was something unsettlingly familiar in Percy's gaze, something knowing. It wasn't unfriendly, but it wasn't warm either. It was like Percy could see through him, past every wall Harry had ever built, and into something Harry himself wasn't even sure he understood.

Percy's lips quirked into a small smirk—just for a moment—before he turned back to his plate, as though nothing had happened.

"What was that?" Ron whispered, clearly spooked. "Did you see the way he looked at you?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered, his heart still racing. "It was like he… knew something."

As the three of them stared, Percy reached for his goblet of pumpkin juice. Something bronze glinted under his sleeve—a bracelet or maybe a watch—but it was unlike anything Harry had seen before. It looked ancient, etched with symbols he couldn't place, and for a moment, Harry swore it shimmered.

"Whatever it is," Hermione said, her voice tight with determination, "we need to find out more. About him, about Victrix Arcanum, and… the Olympiads."

"And why Malfoy's suddenly gone all friendly," Ron added darkly.

"Let's start with the library," Hermione said, already pulling out a fresh roll of parchment. "There must be something about Victrix Arcanum or the Olympiad family in the Restricted Section. If Percy's tied to them, it could explain a lot."

Ron groaned. "Not the library. Can't we just ask Hagrid? He knows loads about old wizarding families."

"Hagrid wouldn't know about something as secretive as Victrix Arcanum," Hermione retorted. "And he definitely wouldn't know anything detailed about the Olympiads. They're practically a legend even in wizarding circles."

Harry nodded, his mind racing. "Besides, we've got to be careful. If we ask too many questions and he finds out, it could make things worse. Did you see the way Malfoy was practically licking his boots? If Percy's tied to something that powerful, we can't just blunder in."

"Fine," Ron grumbled. "Library it is. But if this ends with me getting hexed by Madam Pince again, I'm blaming you."

The trio quickly finished their breakfast and headed out of the Great Hall, slipping away before the crowd of students began to disperse. On their way to the library, Harry couldn't help but replay the brief moment when Percy had looked at him. There had been something in his eyes—sharp, calculating, but not unkind. Like he was measuring Harry, deciding if he was worth the effort.

As they rounded a corner, a familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Potter."

The tone wasn't the usual biting drawl they'd come to expect from Draco Malfoy. It was steadier, almost casual, but it still carried the edge of someone who didn't want to be ignored. Harry turned, already tensing, but Malfoy wasn't smirking or sneering. His expression was serious, his arms crossed as he leaned slightly against a nearby pillar.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his voice clipped.

Draco straightened, stepping closer. His pale face looked sharper in the morning light, but his usual air of smugness was muted. "Look, I'm not here to fight," he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening. "I'm here to tell you something."

Ron groaned loudly. "Oh, this should be good. What's next? Are you going to warn us about the big, bad Perseus Jackson?"

Draco's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he locked eyes with Harry. "You need to stay out of his way," he said simply. "Whatever you're planning, just… don't."

That threw all three of them off. Harry blinked, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Stay out of his way?" he repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Draco replied, his voice calm but firm, "you don't want to get involved in something you don't understand."

Hermione frowned, stepping forward. "And what is it that we supposedly don't understand, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed, running a hand through his platinum-blond hair. "I know you three can't help yourselves when it comes to sticking your noses into things. You hear someone's name whispered a bit too often, and suddenly you're on a crusade to uncover their deepest secrets. But trust me on this—Jackson isn't someone you should go digging into."

Harry's irritation bubbled to the surface. "And why's that? What do you know about him that we don't?"

Draco hesitated, his expression unreadable. He looked as though he was weighing his words carefully. "More than you do," he said finally. "And that's all you need to know."

"Oh, that's helpful," Ron muttered, crossing his arms. "Great talk, Malfoy. You're really convincing us not to look into him now."

Draco ignored him, focusing on Harry again. "I mean it, Potter. Just leave it alone. Jackson isn't like the rest of us."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line. His gray eyes flickered with something—pity? Frustration? "It means he's had a rougher life than you could imagine," Draco said quietly, his tone softer now. "He's here because he has to be, not because he wants to be. And believe me, you don't want to know what he's capable of."

Ron snorted, though it lacked his usual bravado. "What, you mean he's dangerous?"

Draco gave Ron a sharp look. "If he wanted to be, yes. But that's not the point. Just… don't make it harder for him, alright?"

Hermione frowned, her curiosity deepening. "What are you talking about, Malfoy? What happened to him?"

Draco shook his head. "Not my story to tell." He glanced at Harry again, his gaze piercing. "But it's not just him you should be worried about."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

Draco exhaled, his tone dropping to a near whisper. "His family." He paused, as if debating how much to say. "The Olympiad family… they aren't like mine. They're not concerned with appearances or Ministry posts or making headlines. They don't need influence because they are influence. If you upset him, if you even look like you're crossing him, they'll know. And trust me, what they'll do makes what my father's capable of look like child's play."

For once, even Ron didn't have a snarky comment. Draco wasn't boasting—he was warning them. The weight behind his words settled heavily in the air.

"You're saying his family would… retaliate?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"I'm saying they wouldn't have to," Draco replied. "One word from him, and it'd be handled before you even knew what hit you. That's how much power they have. You don't mess with people like that."

Harry clenched his jaw. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more—Malfoy's genuine concern or the realization that Perseus's family might actually live up to the legends.

"Why do you care?" Harry asked finally, his voice sharp. "Why warn us?"

Draco hesitated again, his expression unreadable. "Because you're annoying," he said, a faint trace of his usual sarcasm slipping through. But it was half-hearted at best. "And I don't want to see you get obliterated over something you don't understand."

For a moment, Harry considered pressing him, but Draco took a step back, clearly done with the conversation. "That's all I'm saying," he said, his voice firm but not hostile. "Do whatever you want, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He turned and walked away, his steps measured and deliberate. There was no dramatic flourish of his robes, no parting insult—just the sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"Well," Ron said finally, "that was… weird."

"Very weird," Hermione agreed, her brows furrowed. "That wasn't like Malfoy at all."

Harry's mind was racing. Malfoy's demeanor, the way he'd spoken about Perseus—it wasn't just strange. It was unsettling. "Whatever Perseus is hiding," he said quietly, "Malfoy knows something about it."

"And he doesn't want us to find out," Hermione added.

Ron huffed. "Well, that's practically begging us to dig into it, isn't it?"

Harry's jaw tightened as he stared down the corridor where Malfoy had disappeared. "It's not just that he doesn't want us to find out," he said slowly. "It's like he's afraid of what'll happen if we do."

"Afraid?" Ron repeated, scoffing. "Malfoy's not afraid of anything unless it's going to ruin his hair or make his dad look bad."

"No," Hermione said thoughtfully, glancing at Harry. "He is afraid. You heard him. The way he talked about Perseus's family, it's like they're… untouchable."

"Untouchable and terrifying," Ron added grimly. "Honestly, if this Olympiad lot can make Malfoy look nervous, maybe we should think about backing off."

Harry shot Ron a sharp look. "You're not serious."

"Of course I'm serious!" Ron threw his hands up. "Malfoy practically spelled it out: his family could snap their fingers and make us disappear. What's the point of digging into something that's going to end with us getting hexed into next week?"

"That's not how they'd do it," Hermione muttered under her breath, her eyes darting to the floor. Harry turned to her, startled.

"What do you mean?"

Hermione hesitated, then sighed. "From what I've read—what little there is on them—the Olympiad family is… subtle. They don't leave traces. They don't need to threaten or bribe like Malfoy's father does because they don't need to. If they wanted to… eliminate a problem, they'd do it so quietly no one would even know it was them."

Ron paled. "Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. So we're dealing with shadowy super-wizards who could vanish us in our sleep. Sounds like a great idea to keep poking around, doesn't it?"

Harry ignored him, his mind spinning. "That doesn't explain why Perseus is here, though. If his family is so powerful, why would they send him to Hogwarts? What does Dumbledore know?"

"And why does Malfoy care so much?" Hermione added. "It's not like him to go out of his way to warn us about something unless there's more to it."

Harry's green eyes narrowed. "Exactly. Malfoy knows something—something he's not telling us."

"Obviously," Ron muttered. "Because if he told us, his precious Jackson would probably hex him into a puddle."

Hermione shot him a look. "Stop being dramatic, Ron. Perseus hasn't done anything to anyone since he got here. If anything, he's been… distant. Polite, but distant."

Harry nodded slowly, replaying every interaction he'd seen Perseus have. It was true. Perseus wasn't like the other Slytherins. He didn't sneer or boast or throw his weight around, but there was something about him—a quiet intensity that made people tread carefully around him without knowing why.

"Alright," Harry said finally, his voice low. "If Malfoy doesn't want us looking into Perseus, then there's got to be a reason. I don't care how powerful his family is or how dangerous Malfoy thinks he is. We need answers."

"Of course we do," Ron muttered sarcastically. "Because nothing bad ever happens when we go looking for answers."

Hermione ignored him, already turning toward the library. "We need to start with the basics," she said briskly. "Genealogies, historical records, anything about the Olympiad family. If there's even a hint of why he's here, it's going to be in the Restricted Section."

"Great," Ron said, throwing up his hands. "Because Madam Pince loves it when we start sniffing around the restricted books."

Harry smirked faintly. "That's why we won't get caught."

"Famous last words," Ron muttered, but he followed Harry and Hermione anyway as they made their way to the library. The trio's footsteps echoed softly in the stone corridors, their determination growing with every step. The library loomed ahead, its towering double doors slightly ajar, offering just a hint of the sprawling shelves and quiet spaces beyond. Hermione was already muttering under her breath, a mental checklist of potential books forming as they walked.

"Alright," she said as they slipped inside, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We'll need to split up. Ron, you start with wizarding genealogies—look for anything about the Olympiad family or connections to Victrix Arcanum. Harry, see if you can find anything on ancient magical lineages. I'll focus on Victrix Arcanum itself. There has to be something."

"Why do I get stuck with family trees?" Ron grumbled, dragging his feet toward the nearest shelf. "I'm rubbish at those. All the names start blending together."

"Because I trust you to at least recognize the name 'Olympiad,'" Hermione hissed, already thumbing through a stack of dusty tomes.

Harry made his way toward a section labeled Wizarding History—Ancient and Forgotten, his mind still spinning with Malfoy's words. He couldn't shake the image of the pale boy, his usual arrogance replaced by something eerily close to fear. Malfoy didn't scare easily, and yet there was no denying the warning in his voice.

Still, Harry couldn't ignore the flicker of intrigue that had taken hold. Perseus Jackson wasn't just another Slytherin transfer. He wasn't just the scion of a powerful family. He was something more—something dangerous, maybe, but fascinating all the same. And if Malfoy thought he could scare them off, he clearly didn't know Harry Potter very well.

Ron, meanwhile, was halfheartedly flipping through a thick book on wizarding bloodlines, squinting at the intricate charts. "This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "Who cares who married who six hundred years ago?"

Hermione, perched at a nearby table with a rapidly growing stack of books, shot him a look. "It matters because families like the Olympiads don't just appear out of nowhere. Their influence has to be rooted in something. Keep looking."

Ron sighed dramatically but didn't argue further, his finger tracing the page in front of him. "Fine. But if one more Black or Malfoy pops up, I'm calling it a conspiracy."

Harry glanced over at Hermione. "Do you think Malfoy's serious about their influence? I mean, he sounded… scared."

Hermione frowned, not looking up from her book. "I think he's serious. Families like the Olympiads don't rely on bluster or theatrics the way the Malfoys do. Their power is quieter, subtler, and far more dangerous because of it. If Malfoy's warning us off, it's not just because of Perseus himself. It's because he knows what his family can do."

"And what can they do?" Harry pressed.

Hermione hesitated. "That's the question, isn't it? If they're really as powerful as Malfoy says, there should be some record of it, even if it's just a hint."

Ron groaned softly. "Brilliant. So now we're poking around the lives of super-powerful wizards who probably invented the idea of obliviating people for fun."

Harry smirked faintly. "You're still here, aren't you?"

Ron sighed dramatically, flipping through another page of dense text. "Honestly, this is useless. Either the Olympiad family doesn't exist, or they're so private they don't even bother showing up in all these fancy charts. If they're that powerful, wouldn't they at least be mentioned somewhere?"

"No," Hermione said sharply, not looking up from her book. "That's the point, Ron. The kind of power Malfoy's describing isn't about flaunting their influence. Families like the Olympiads don't need to seek attention. They work behind the scenes because they don't want the spotlight."

Ron huffed. "Well, if they're so private, why are we wasting time looking for them? All I'm finding are pages and pages of Malfoys, Blacks, Lestranges, and about six dozen other families who all seem to marry their cousins."

Harry, sitting nearby with a book of wizarding history spread out before him, frowned as he turned another page. "It doesn't make sense. If the Olympiad family is tied to the myths, you'd think they'd be mentioned somewhere. There's got to be something."

Hermione, perched at the edge of the table, suddenly stiffened. "Wait." Her voice was sharp, her finger trailing down a faded passage in the book she was reading. "I found something."

Both boys leaned closer as she adjusted the book under the dim library light. The text was faint, but readable:

The Olympiad family is one of the oldest and most respected bloodlines in magical history, with records suggesting their existence predates modern wizarding society. Renowned for their extraordinary magical abilities and contributions to the wizarding world, they are believed to have inspired the muggle legends of the Greek gods.

Harry blinked, feeling a shiver run through him. "Greek gods? Are they serious?"

"Apparently," Hermione said, her voice hushed. She scanned further, reading aloud. "They are noted for their philanthropy and quiet influence, often assisting in major magical crises throughout history without seeking recognition. Despite their power, the family is known for avoiding the public eye, preferring to act through subtle guidance and charitable work rather than political maneuvering."

Ron gawked. "So, wait—they're powerful, super-secretive, and apparently nice about it? That doesn't make sense."

Hermione glared at him. "It makes perfect sense. Families like the Malfoys throw their weight around because they need to. The Olympiads clearly don't. Their influence is built on their reputation, not on wealth or fear."

Harry frowned. "If they're so important, why haven't we heard of them before?"

Hermione flipped a few more pages. "Because they don't operate like the Malfoys or the Blacks. They don't care about being in the spotlight. It says here that their focus has always been on maintaining balance in the magical world, often working to aid those in need—wizards and muggles alike."

"And muggles think they're gods?" Ron asked incredulously. "What are they doing, dropping lightning bolts on people who annoy them?"

Ron gawked at Hermione, waiting for her to clarify. She sighed, looking up from the book and shaking her head.

"No, Ronald," she said with a slight frown, then turned back to the text. "It says their family magic is incredibly potent—far beyond what's typical, even for powerful wizards. Their abilities are described as innate, almost instinctual. While they use wands like everyone else, they're naturally gifted in a way that makes them stand out, even among the most skilled witches and wizards."

"Great," Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair. "So they're basically born perfect at everything? I bet they don't even have to try to ace their N.E.W.T.s."

"It's not about being perfect," Hermione said sharply, her tone edged with something that wasn't irritation but maybe something else—something Harry couldn't quite place. She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice softer. "It's about their connection to magic itself. Families like the Olympiads don't just use magic—they embody it. They've been influencing the wizarding world for centuries without drawing attention to themselves, because they don't need to."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "So what, they just do good deeds for fun?"

"No," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing slightly, though she tried to cover it with another turn of the page. "They're philanthropists. They quietly contribute to magical communities and to the broader world. They don't need recognition for their efforts—they just… help. I think that's why they're so well-regarded. People know their worth, even if they don't make a show of it."

Harry was quiet for a moment, then spoke, his voice thoughtful. "That's why Malfoy's so shaken. It's not just that they're powerful—it's that they don't flaunt it. They don't need to, and that makes them even more dangerous to people like him."

Hermione glanced up, her expression more contemplative. "I don't think Malfoy's afraid of Perseus himself, though," she said carefully. "If anything, they seem… friendly enough. Malfoy was actually trying to look out for him earlier, in his own way."

"Friendly?" Ron blurted out. "You mean all that fawning and hanging around like a lost Kneazle?"

"It wasn't fawning," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It was more like… respect. Or maybe even admiration. But Malfoy's fear comes from somewhere else. It's his family that has him on edge."

Harry frowned, recalling the strained look in Malfoy's eyes when he'd warned them earlier. "You think he's worried about crossing the Olympiads? Not Perseus himself, but what his family might do?"

Hermione nodded. "Exactly. Malfoy isn't stupid. He knows his father's influence only goes so far, especially compared to a family like that. If the Olympiads decided Malfoy was a problem, it wouldn't be Lucius or Draco calling the shots anymore. And Malfoy knows it."

Ron gave a low whistle. "So he's buddying up to Perseus because he's scared of his family? Figures."

"It's not just that," Hermione said, a bit too quickly. Her cheeks flushed slightly again as she added, "I think he genuinely respects Perseus, too. Perseus doesn't act like Malfoy or his father—he's... different. It's like he doesn't need to try to impress anyone. People just… notice him."

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. "So, you're saying you're impressed by him?"

Hermione snapped back to reality, her cheeks turning a bit pinker as she cleared her throat. "I—what? No! I just… look, the point is that he's not like the rest of us, and it's not just because of his family. It's how he carries himself. It's fascinating."

"Uh-huh," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "Fascinating. So you've got a crush on the new Slytherin?"

"I do not!" Hermione blurted, her voice too loud for comfort. She quickly lowered it. "Look, we're supposed to be figuring out what he's here for. Not... whatever you're suggesting."

Harry couldn't help the faint smile tugging at his lips. "Sure, Hermione. Whatever you say."

Hermione glared at him, but there was a hint of a smile on her face too. "Alright, let's focus. We still need to figure out why Perseus is at Hogwarts, and what this family really wants. There's got to be more. We can't just stop here."

Ron slumped back in his chair. "I don't get it. We're poking around in ancient wizarding history and acting like we can just ask about the Olympiads without anyone getting suspicious."

Harry ignored Ron's protest, his mind already working. "We don't have to make it obvious. We can start asking people—teachers, other students, anyone who might have heard something. Subtly, of course."

"Subtly?" Ron repeated, scoffing. "You're asking us to be subtle?"

"Just don't let him or Malfoy catch on," Hermione warned, already closing her book with a decisive snap. "If Perseus is as private as his family seems to be, the last thing we want to do is make him suspicious."

Harry nodded, feeling the weight of the task settle on his shoulders. Whatever Perseus Jackson was hiding—and whatever his family had planned for him—it wasn't going to stay a secret forever.

"Alright," he said firmly, his voice steady. "We'll start tomorrow. Subtle questions, careful digging. We'll find out the truth about Perseus Jackson. One way or another."

Ron groaned under his breath. "Famous last words."