PJO: A Professor of Hogwarts

By the time we made it back to the castle, Hogwarts was practically vibrating with gossip.

Whispers, excited murmurs, exaggerated retellings of their lesson by the Black Lake.

It seemed like every student, even the ones who hadn't been there, suddenly had an opinion on Professor Jackson.

"He didn't even use a wand," a fourth-year was saying near the fireplace, eyes wide. "Just raised a hand, and boom—Kraken."

"D'you reckon he's more powerful than Dumbledore?" someone else asked.

"No way," another voice chimed in. "But he might be close. I mean, he's an Olympian."

That was the part that confused Harry the most. Olympians. People kept saying it like it meant something—like it was obvious. But if it was, he had no clue what they were talking about.

And then there was the other thing.

He was there at Flourish and Blotts.

That day in Diagon Alley when Lockhart had ambushed him for a photoshoot, when Malfoy and his father had shown up, when Ron's dad was fuming with rage and nearly punched Lucius Malfoy in the face—somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, He was there watching the entire disaster unfold with a kind of lazy interest.

I hadn't thought much of it then—just another wizard, maybe a bored shopkeeper—but now?

Now, that same man was his professor.

Upstairs, Ron flopped onto his bed with a groan. "I'm telling you, mate. This is bad. The bloke's insane. You saw the way he smiled before summoning that thing? No sane person smiles before summoning a sea monster." 

I pulled out the syllabus and frowned at it. Care of Magical Creatures—Professor Percy Jackson. He ran a finger over the name, feeling the weight of it, the familiarity.

"Maybe he's not insane," I said slowly, flipping through the parchment. "Maybe he's just… different." I tried to reason with Ron

Ron scoffed. "Different is McGonagall turning into a cat. This is a whole new level of 'should we start running?'"

Harry didn't disagree. He skimmed further down the syllabus and nearly choked.

"If You Hear Ominous Music, Run," he read aloud.

Ron sat up. "What?"

Harry turned the parchment so he could see. Sure enough, written right there in what looked like Professor Jackson's own handwriting, was the single most concerning sentence Harry had ever read in a class syllabus.

"See?" Ron said. "Mental."

Harry didn't argue.

Because, really, what kind of professor needed to warn his students about ominous music?

And more importantly—what exactly were they going to be dealing with next?

***

By breakfast the next morning, it was official—Professor Percy Jackson was the most talked-about person in Hogwarts.

The Great Hall buzzed with theories, each one wilder than the last. Harry could barely take a bite of his toast without hearing someone speculate about their new professor's origins.

"I heard he fought off a dragon barehanded," a Ravenclaw whispered.

"That's ridiculous," a Hufflepuff scoffed. "Dragons breathe fire. You can't just punch fire."

"Well, I heard he's part Veela," a fifth-year Gryffindor suggested. "That's why he doesn't need a wand—his magic just works differently."

A Slytherin down the table snorted. "You lot are all stupid. He's an Olympian. That's all the explanation you need."

Harry frowned. That word again.

Olympian.

Nobody seemed interested in actually explaining what it meant.

He turned to Hermione, who was skimming through a massive book while absently stirring her tea. "Hermione, what exactly is an Olympian?"

She sighed, flipping a page. "I've been trying to figure that out since yesterday. There are mentions of the name in historical texts, but nothing concrete. It's like they're some secret wizarding family that no one writes about."

Ron, who had been slathering an alarming amount of marmalade onto his toast, muttered, "Maybe there's a reason no one writes about them."

At that moment, the morning post arrived. A flurry of owls swooped into the Great Hall, dropping letters and newspapers onto the tables. A copy of the Daily Prophet landed in front of Hermione, and she unrolled it with practiced efficiency—until her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no."

Harry and Ron leaned in.

*NEW HOGWARTS PROFESSOR STUNS STUDENTS*

The article was short, but it was enough to make Harry's stomach twist.

"Sources confirm that Hogwarts' newest professor, Percy Jackson, put on a shocking display of non-wand magic during his first lesson. Witnesses claim he summoned a Kraken from the depths of the Black Lake and walked on water—an ability previously unheard of among wizards. When asked for comment, the Hogwarts staff declined to answer, but speculation remains: who is Percy Jackson, and why has Albus Dumbledore allowed such an enigma into Hogwarts?"

Ron groaned. "Brilliant. Now the whole country's going to be talking about this."

I stared at the article, my mind whirling. The Prophet had exaggerated plenty of things before, but for once, this wasn't an overstatement. Percy Jackson had walked on water. He had summoned a Kraken. And even after witnessing it with his own eyes, Harry still had no idea how.

Hermione was biting her lip, scanning the article again as if hoping new information would magically appear. "This still doesn't make any sense," she muttered. "Even wandless magic has its limits. No wizard should be able to do what he did."

Ron huffed. "Yeah? Try telling that to the Kraken."

Before Hermione could respond, a shadow fell over them. A stack of pancakes landed on their table, along with a distinctively American accent.

"Morning, kids."

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. Percy Jackson stood there, looking completely unbothered by the fact that he was the subject of national gossip. In fact, he looked amused. He plopped down across from them, casually stealing a piece of toast from Ron's plate.

Ron sputtered. "Oi—"

"Thanks, mate." Percy grinned, taking a bite like he hadn't just interrupted their entire conversation.

Harry didn't know what to say. It was one thing to speculate about their mysterious new professor—it was another to have him sitting right there, stealing breakfast like an older brother who had no concept of personal boundaries.

Hermione, to her credit, recovered first. She cleared her throat. "Professor Jackson."

Percy waggled his eyebrows. "Professor Jackson? Wow, that still sounds weird. Just call me Percy."

Hermione looked scandalized. "But—you're a professor!"

Percy shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm also not eighty. No offense to Dumbledore."

"Pretty sure Dumbledore's at least a hundred," Ron muttered.

Harry finally found his voice. "Er—what are you doing here, Professor?"

Percy pointed at the pancakes. "Eating."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said.

Percy smirked. "Yeah, I figured." He leaned back, glancing at the copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. "Let me guess—big dramatic headlines, lots of speculation, probably a quote from some very concerned Ministry official?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Something like that."

Percy clicked his tongue. "Man, you'd think I did something truly shocking. Like, I don't know, taught kids something useful."

Ron made a strangled noise. "You summoned a Kraken."

Percy waved a hand. "Details."

Hermione looked like she was trying very hard to restrain herself. "Professor—Percy—you do realize this is only going to make people more curious about you?"

Percy gave her a pointed look. "Yeah. And?"

I exchanged glances with Ron. "And… you don't think that's a problem?"

Percy's expression didn't change, but there was something in his eyes—something knowing. Like he'd had this conversation before.

He tapped the table idly. "You ever hear the phrase, 'It's better to be underestimated than overestimated'?"

Harry nodded.

"Well," Percy said, stealing another bite of toast, "I don't have that luxury."

For a moment, the three of them were silent.

It wasn't the answer Harry had expected.

It wasn't a denial. It wasn't even an excuse.

It was a fact.

I had spent years dealing with rumors, whispers, people making assumptions about me because of things I barely understood myself. But Percy Jackson? He wasn't just being talked about—he was choosing to let it happen.

I studied him carefully.

What was Percy Jackson's secret?

Because one thing was now certain.

He wasn't just a professor.