The first thing Percy registered was the sound of waves.Not the real ocean, but the memory of it: Rolling surf breaking against rock, water curling and withdrawing, endlessly repeating. It was inside his head, echoing like his heartbeat. He blinked awake to the sight of a high, arched ceiling and the sharp smell of potion herbs. His body ached in places he didn't know could ache, but he was alive.
The hospital wing.
He pushed himself upright slightly, only to realize he wasn't alone.
To his left, Harry was sprawled on a bed, one arm bandaged, brow furrowed even in sleep. To his right, Hermione sat upright with a stack of parchment on her lap, eyes flicking over symbols she had copied down from memory. Ron snored loudly two beds down, his bandaged leg sticking out at an odd angle.
"Finally," Hermione said sharply without looking up. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to spend a week sleeping like Ron."
Percy groaned and rubbed his temples. "Feels like I have been asleep for a week." His throat was dry; even talking hurt.
"You were out for two days," Hermione said, setting her parchment aside and finally turning to him. Her sharp tone softened. "You scared us. Madam Pomfrey said your body was overloaded. Too much raw magic, too much strain. I suppose it makes sense, considering what you did down there."
Percy winced. Images of the collapsing temple, the water pressing in, the searing blue glow of the Eye, it all rushed back to him in fragments. "Did we stop it? The Eye? The collapse?"
"We sealed it," Hermione confirmed. "Or at least… something did. I'm not sure if it was us, or the temple itself, or—" She cut herself off, biting her lip, eyes flickering uneasily toward Harry.
Percy followed her gaze. Harry had stirred, sweat beading on his forehead. His hand clenched at the sheets as if warding off some nightmare. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, Harry's eyes shot open. Green, wide, haunted.
"Harry?" Percy asked carefully.
For a moment, Harry didn't answer. His gaze darted around the room, then fixed on Percy with an intensity that made the son of Poseidon uneasy. "It's not over," Harry whispered hoarsely.
Ron, woken by the sound, grumbled. "Of course it's not. Nothing's ever over. Voldemort's still out there, isn't he?"
But Harry shook his head. "It wasn't just Voldemort. It was… bigger. When I touched the Eye, I saw… I don't even know how to describe it. Something under the sea. Something ancient. It—" His voice broke off, and he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. "It knew I was there. It saw me."
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Percy shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to admit it, but Harry's words resonated with what he had felt too. Since the temple, the ocean inside him felt… different. Wilder. When he closed his eyes, he swore he could hear the waves, not metaphorically but literally, as if the sea itself was whispering at the edge of his mind. And his control? Shaky at best. Earlier, when he had stirred in his sleep, the pitcher of water beside his bed had rattled and spilled, though he hadn't touched it.
Before he could speak, the heavy oak doors creaked open.
Dumbledore entered.
The Headmaster's presence filled the room instantly. Not with noise, but with the sheer weight of his calm authority. His eyes, sharp yet kind, swept across the four bedridden students. "Ah. Awake at last, Mr. Jackson. And you too, Harry. Good."
He conjured a chair with a wave of his wand and sat beside Percy's bed. "I imagine you all have questions. Allow me to provide what answers I can."
Hermione leaned forward at once, parchment forgotten. "Professor, the language in the shrine, the runes, they weren't just decorative. They were instructions. Warnings. I can still remember them as if they've been branded into my mind. It's like the temple wanted me to carry them out."
Dumbledore nodded gravely. "That would not surprise me. Magic of such antiquity often imprints itself on chosen vessels. It seems you were deemed… worthy, Miss Granger."
Hermione flushed slightly, but her hands trembled as she clutched her quill.
"And what about Harry?" Ron burst out, unable to contain himself. "He's been muttering about visions and monsters under the sea. What's that supposed to mean?"
Dumbledore's eyes flickered briefly to Harry. "That is what concerns me most. The Eye was not merely a prison. It was a… connection. A window, if you will. When it opened, even for a moment, it allowed something on the other side to glance back. And Harry, as always, is uniquely sensitive to such forces."
Harry swallowed hard, throat tight. "It saw me."
"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "And that is both a burden and a warning."
Percy frowned. "What about me? Something's wrong. Since the temple, the sea feels different. Stronger. I don't know how else to explain it. It's like… like I've been claimed again. But this time it isn't just Poseidon. It's… something older."
The Headmaster regarded Percy thoughtfully, as though weighing his words. Finally, he said, "The ocean has many faces, Percy Jackson. Poseidon is but one. There are depths even gods fear to name. If your powers have grown… unruly, it may be because you brushed against one of those depths when the Eye cracked open."
Percy's stomach dropped. That explained the whispers, the pull, the raw force in his veins that felt almost too much to contain. "So what am I supposed to do? Just… hope it doesn't get worse?"
Dumbledore's gaze softened, but his answer was no comfort. "Control, Percy. Discipline. You must learn to master the gift, lest the gift master you."
Hermione raised her hand like they were in class. "Professor, what exactly was the Eye? Who built the temple? There must be records somewhere—"
"There are fragments," Dumbledore admitted. "But knowledge that old is often buried for a reason. Still, Miss Granger, your memory of the language may prove invaluable. Write down what you can. Every detail matters."
Hermione nodded fiercely and began scribbling at once.
Ron groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. "Brilliant. More homework, even when we're half-dead."
Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Percy cracked a small grin. "Better get used to it, Ron. She won't let you sleep until she's written an entire encyclopedia."
The laughter, brief though it was, broke the tension. For a moment, it felt like they were just kids again, recovering from a rough adventure. But Percy's smile faded quickly. Because deep down, he knew this wasn't just another scrape with danger. This was something bigger, darker.
And the whispers of the waves in his skull didn't let him forget it.
That night, long after Madam Pomfrey dimmed the lights, Percy lay awake staring at the ceiling. He tried focusing on his breathing, willing himself to sleep. But each time he closed his eyes, the sea surged up inside him, roaring louder, tugging harder. He could almost see shapes moving in the darkness of the water.
Beside him, Harry stirred restlessly, murmuring in his sleep. Snatches of words spilled from his lips: "rising… shadows… coming…"
Percy shivered. Because though Harry was dreaming, Percy could feel the truth of it in his own bones.
Something was rising. And they had only just begun to stir it.
Percy hadn't realized just how much Hogwarts whispered at night until he started walking the halls sleepless.
It was supposed to be curfew, but he couldn't stay in the hospital wing forever. The restless ocean inside him kept tugging him awake, urging him to move, to do something (#relatable). So he found himself wandering the corridors, the stone floors cold beneath his bare feet, torches flickering as though stirred by an unseen breeze.
The castle was alive. Percy could feel it, humming under his skin, every step echoing against ancient magic. Hogwarts wasn't just a school, it was a fortress, a living creature, a keeper of secrets. And lately, those secrets were restless.
It started small. A tapestry at the end of a corridor that had been perfectly still suddenly rippled as if touched by a wave. A suit of armor clanked, though no one was near it. Percy swore he heard whispers in languages he didn't recognize. Not English, not Greek, not even the strange runes Hermione had described, but something deeper.
When he pressed his palm against the stone wall, he nearly yanked it back in shock. It was damp.
The whispers inside him surged. The sea again, breaking into Hogwarts itself.
He stumbled back, chest heaving, when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"Percy?"
Harry stepped out of the shadows, wand raised cautiously. His face was pale, eyes shadowed from nights of bad sleep. "What are you doing out here?"
Percy swallowed. "Could ask you the same thing."
Harry lowered his wand, but the tension in his shoulders never left. "Dreams," he said shortly. "Or visions. Whatever they are, they won't stop. Every night it's the same. The sea, the Eye, something pressing against it from the other side. And a voice, whispering…" His words trailed off, as if saying them aloud made them too real.
Percy didn't admit it, but he felt a shiver of recognition. His own whispers weren't just voices; they were tides, insistent, pulling him toward something he wasn't sure he wanted to face.
"Something's wrong with this castle," Harry added after a long pause. "Can't you feel it?"
Percy nodded grimly. "Like it's… leaking."
They exchanged a glance, silent agreement passing between them: they weren't imagining things.
The next morning, Hermione came rushing into the Great Hall with ink stains on her hands and wild excitement in her eyes.
"I've got it!" she announced breathlessly, dropping a thick pile of parchment onto the table where Ron, Percy, and Harry were picking half-heartedly at breakfast.
Ron groaned, half-asleep over his porridge. "Brilliant. It's barely dawn and already she's solving ancient mysteries."
Hermione ignored him. "I translated more of the runes. It wasn't just a warning, it was a sequence. A chain. The Eye we found wasn't the only one. It was the first seal."
Percy froze mid-bite. "Wait. Seals? As in plural?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes alight with grim intensity. "The temple wasn't a prison on its own. It was part of a network. Multiple shrines, multiple seals, all holding back… whatever's on the other side. The one we found was just the beginning."
Harry's face went pale. "And when it cracked open…"
"Exactly," Hermione said. "The others may be under strain now too. If one fails, the rest might follow. It's like a dam with cracks spreading across it. Once too many give way—"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
Ron finally sat up, alarm cutting through his grogginess. "So we're talking about more collapsing temples? More evil ocean nightmares? Fantastic."
Percy rubbed his forehead. His powers flared again just thinking about it, a glass of pumpkin juice on the table rippled violently, splashing over the edge.
Hermione's sharp eyes caught it. "Percy… has that been happening a lot?"
"Define a lot," Percy muttered.
She frowned. "You're unstable. Whatever you absorbed down there, it's amplifying your connection. If you don't get control, you might—" She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "You might become a danger yourself."
The words stung, mostly because Percy knew she was right.
That afternoon, Dumbledore summoned them again. The Headmaster's office was lined with whirring devices and ancient books, but it was the Pensieve that drew Percy's eye: a shimmering pool of silvery memory, glowing faintly in the dim room.
Dumbledore stood with his hands folded behind his back. "I have spoken to certain… correspondents," he said gravely. "It seems the disturbance you encountered in the temple has not gone unnoticed. There are reports of strange tides, unusual storms, even disappearances along coastal villages."
Percy's gut tightened. "The seals."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "The ocean remembers. It has been stirred, and now it stirs in turn. What you four must understand is that this is no longer merely a matter of Voldemort, nor of Hogwarts. You have awakened something that predates both wizards and demigods alike."
The silence in the room was thick.
Finally Harry asked, voice quiet, "What do we do?"
Dumbledore's gaze rested on each of them in turn. "First, you recover. Then, you learn. Miss Granger, your translations will be crucial. Mr. Weasley, your loyalty grounds the others when their burdens grow heavy. Harry, you must hone your mind against intrusion, lest what saw you find a way through you. And Percy…"
The Headmaster's eyes softened, but his tone remained firm. "You must wrestle with the ocean inside you. Master it, or risk being mastered by it."
Percy swallowed hard, throat dry. He wanted to say he could handle it, that he wasn't afraid. But the truth was, he was.
That night, trouble found them.
The four had barely reached the Gryffindor common room when the ground shuddered. Not violently, just a subtle tremor, like the ripple of a wave rolling through stone. The torches flickered blue for an instant, and the fire in the hearth hissed as if drenched with unseen water.
Ron leapt to his feet. "Tell me that was just me."
"It wasn't," Hermione whispered, eyes wide.
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open without anyone speaking the password. The air grew damp, heavy, as if the sea itself had seeped into the walls.
And then, from the corridor beyond, came a sound none of them expected to hear in a castle:
The rush of waves.
Percy's chest constricted. He knew that sound. He had lived it all his life. But hearing it echo through Hogwarts' corridors was wrong. Very wrong.
He stepped forward, instinct overriding hesitation. "Stay back."
Water surged into the hallway, not flooding but flowing, a thin stream that shimmered unnaturally under torchlight. It curled around Percy's feet, tugging at him, pulling like a leash.
Hermione grabbed his arm. "Percy, don't—"
But the current was already whispering, urging him forward, toward something lurking deeper in the castle.
Harry's scar burned. He staggered, clutching his head. "It's connected," he gasped. "The seals, they're bleeding through. Something's testing the cracks."
The air trembled, heavy with the smell of salt.
Percy clenched his fists. He could feel the power rising again, hot and cold all at once, wild and uncontrollable. If he gave in, he wasn't sure if he'd stop the flood or become part of it.
And for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Percy Jackson was truly afraid of the sea.
To be continued...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I read the reviews again and dissatisfied ppl (no offence) can see that I added in a little powers again.