A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful support! I really appreciate it. I would also like some reviews on how you like the story so far. Am I making things interesting enough? Constructive criticism, please... not destructive. :)

Update: I meant to have this chapter uploaded yesterday when I finished it, but it was a late hour, and I was tired. Also, some of you think my story is too fast, and others think it's too slow. Please remember that we are still in part one of the story... think of it as the 'before' story of Harry and Percy, where neither one knows the other 'world' exists... you can also think of Part one the Act one of the whole story, which is their old world. Part two, happening within a few more chapters perhaps, will cover the joining of their worlds (or Act two, if you will). Part three of the story is where they attempt to go back to their old lives after their new experiences only to find out that they can't.

I'm trying to make this story make sense, without rushing it too much. It wouldn't make any sense for Harry to know about the Greek gods and goddesses when he's supposed to be focusing on other things, like Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the horcruxes.

Rising Storms

A Harry Potter and Percy Jackson crossover

Chapter 46:

Harry

The train ride back to Hogwarts was eventful. Ron Pruitt was heard talking to Hermione Granger about Harry making the Ministry look down on Dumbledore.

"I can't believe that they are letting that murderer come back to school!" Granger screeched.

"And, he tore my family apart and my mom is always on my case." Pruitt was pacing back and forth in their compartment when Harry and Daphne had walked past on their way to the Prefects' compartment.

"Maybe if we're quiet, they won't make it to the meeting," Harry said, having noticed their Prefect badges on their tops.

Daphne shook her head as they walked away. "I still don't see how they became Prefects. They aren't even in the top ten of the year."

Granger and Pruitt actually did end up missing the Prefects' meeting, and so, didn't know their patrol schedule for the train ride. The Head Boy and Head girl weren't happy with them, and said that they would take care of the situation.

Harry and Daphne made their way back down the train to their friends, and Harry noticed Susan Bones watching him as he passed her compartment. He smiled at her.

The Welcoming Feast was horrible. Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore's speech, which was kind of funny, but her sickly-sweet voice was less so. She spoke as if they were all five-year-olds, which pissed a lot of people off. Harry and Daphne helped lead the first year Slytherins to the common room.

As Harry settled into his fifth year at Hogwarts, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that hung over Slytherin House. With Dolores Umbridge appointed as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the atmosphere in the common room was tense and apprehensive.

Draco Malfoy scoffed as he tossed the latest assignment onto the common room table. "Can you believe this rubbish?" he sneered, pointing to the brightly colored textbook in front of him. "It's like she's teaching us to defend against Nifflers, not Death Eaters."

Harry sighed in agreement, flipping through the pages of the infantile book with a growing sense of frustration. The content was simplistic and patronizing, a stark contrast to the dark and dangerous realities they faced.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Umbridge's sickly sweet voice filled the air as she droned on about the spells in the book. She was reading aloud from the book, having them write notes.

Harry exchanged incredulous glances with his fellow Slytherins as Umbridge prattled on, her words falling on deaf ears. It was clear that she had no intention of teaching them anything of substance, preferring instead to focus on maintaining her iron grip on the classroom. "Excuse me, Professor," Harry said, raising his hand.

Umbridge looked at Harry. "Yes, Mr. Potter," she simpered.

"Are we going to practice any of the spells we are learning?" Harry asked politely. He didn't like her, but he wanted to make sure that she didn't have to complain about his attitude.

"The ministry has decided that a theoretical knowledge would suffice," she answered with a smile.

"So, it's okay for fifteen-year-old students and seventeen-year-old students to not practice any spells and 'somehow' pass our end of year tests?"

"Detention, Potter. Tonight at seven pm. The Minister has said that you don't need to practice your spells. So, you don't need to practice your spells. You'll pass or fail on your own." Her smile was creepy.

That evening, Harry found himself in Umbridge's office for detention, a punishment for speaking out against her outdated teaching methods. As he sat at her desk, forced to write lines with a blood quill, he couldn't help but feel a simmering anger bubbling beneath the surface.

Umbridge watched him with a sickening smile, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I hope you're learning your lesson, Mr. Potter," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

But Harry refused to back down. With each stroke of the quill, he channeled his frustration and defiance, determined to resist Umbridge's attempts to silence him.

It was Midnight before Harry made his way back into the Slytherin common room. He was so tired that he didn't notice the figure in the dark corner until they spoke.

"What are you doing coming back so late, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape asked in his silky voice.

Harry jumped, dropping his left hand. "Professor. I'm sorry. I was in detention with Professor Umbridge."

"Since seven?" He asked, in disbelief. His dark eyebrow rose as he stepped out of the corner of the room.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, tired. He swayed on his feet.

"What's wrong, Potter?" Severus Snape stepped forward.

"F-fine," Harry said. He could feel blood flowing down his hand.

Snape's eyes narrowed further as he caught sight of the blood on Harry's robes, his expression darkening with concern. "What happened to your hand, Potter?" he demanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to explain the events of Umbridge's detention without provoking Snape's wrath. But as he met Snape's gaze, he saw something unexpected flicker in the depths of the Potions Master's eyes—concern.

"It's… it's from detention," Harry admitted reluctantly, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. "Umbridge… she made me use a blood quill."

Snape's expression hardened into a mask of fury as he processed Harry's words, his fists clenched at his sides in barely contained rage. "That woman," he spat, his voice thick with disgust. "To think that she would resort to such barbaric methods…"

Without another word, Snape ushered Harry to his office, guiding him to a chair by the fireplace. With a flick of his wand, he summoned a vial of healing potion from a nearby shelf, carefully administering it to Harry's injured hand.

As the soothing potion took effect, Harry felt the pain in his hand begin to subside, replaced by a sense of warmth and relief. He glanced up at Snape, his eyes wide with gratitude.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "I didn't know where else to turn."

Snape regarded him with a rare moment of vulnerability, his usual mask of stoicism slipping for just a moment. "You are my student, Potter," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of remorse. "And it is my duty to protect you, no matter the cost."

As the final bell rang on Friday, signaling the end of another long day of classes, Harry slipped quietly out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and made his way to the library. With the looming threat of O.W.L.s and Umbridge's ineffective teaching weighing heavily on his mind, he knew that he needed to find a way to get ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Harry focused his thoughts, channeling his metamorphmagus abilities to alter his appearance. In a matter of seconds, his hair lengthened and changed color, his features shifting subtly to resemble another student. The only thing he couldn't change just yet was the forming scar on his left hand. It itched and burned too much for Harry to focus on changing the scar to plain skin.

With a sly grin, Harry slipped into the library, blending seamlessly into the throng of students milling about. Under the guise of his altered appearance, he spent hours poring over textbooks and studying notes, absorbing as much information as he could before the library closed for the night.

As the days passed and the workload only seemed to increase, Harry found himself turning to more unconventional methods to keep up with his studies. He found himself in Umbridge's office several times, mostly when the pink toad felt that Harry was too happy. Every time, As he sat at her desk, forced to write lines with a blood quill, he couldn't help but feel a simmering anger bubbling beneath the surface.

Umbridge watched him with a sickening smile, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I hope you're learning your lesson, Mr. Potter," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

But Harry refused to back down. With each stroke of the quill, he channeled his frustration and defiance, determined to resist the urge to yell at the Ministry cow over the injustice.

With the help of his trusty Time-Turner, he managed to carve out extra hours at the end of each day, sneaking into Dumbledore's office under the cover of darkness.

With a few flicks of his fingers, Harry activated the Time-Turner, the golden hourglass spinning rapidly as time seemed to warp and bend around him. Stepping out of the office, he found himself back in the bustling halls of Hogwarts, the echoes of laughter and chatter filling the air.

With each extra hour granted to him, Harry delved deeper into his studies, immersing himself in the intricate world of magical theory and spellcraft. And as he emerged from Dumbledore's office each night, exhausted but exhilarated, he knew that his efforts were paying off.

Despite Umbridge's oppressive presence, Harry and his fellow Slytherins refused to be cowed into submission. In secret, they joined forces with students from other houses to form the Defense Association, a secret group dedicated to learning practical defense magic.

Under Harry's leadership, they met in the Room of Requirement, honing their skills and preparing themselves for the inevitable confrontation with Voldemort and his followers.

With the Time-Turner granting him precious extra hours, Harry spent countless nights in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by the comforting embrace of knowledge and learning. Armed with his metamorphmagus abilities and unwavering determination, he delved deeper into his studies than ever before, unlocking the secrets of magic and unraveling the mysteries of the Wizengamot and the Lordship system.

After each detention, Harry tried getting help from Snape for his hand, and the Head of Slytherin promised to get help... but nothing seemed to happen, so Harry began to stop going to his Professor.

And as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Harry's studying efforts bore fruit, culminating in a newfound confidence and proficiency that would serve him well in the trials and tribulations that lay ahead. With his metamorphmagus abilities as his secret weapon and the Time-Turner as his ally, Harry knew that nothing could stand in the way of his pursuit of knowledge and mastery.

...

Dear Dad,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to tell you about what's been happening at Hogwarts lately, particularly in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's been a nightmare, Dad. Professor Umbridge, our new teacher, is a real piece of work. She's not teaching us anything useful, just making us read from this ridiculous textbook that's like it's written for first-years. And the worst part is the detentions.

The first detention, and every one since, she made me use a blood quill to write lines. It's this awful thing that cuts into your skin as you write, and it makes your blood become the ink. It was excruciating, Dad. I couldn't believe a teacher would do something like that.

But the weirdest part is what happened after the first detention. Snape saw my hand bleeding and he was furious. He said he was going to get help for me, but... he never did. I don't know why. Maybe he couldn't. But it just felt like a betrayal, you know? I thought he was going to help me, but he didn't.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what's been going on. Draco is making me write this now instead of later, since I have already put this off for long enough. I'm doing my best to get through it, but it's tough. I miss you a lot, especially when things get rough like this. But I'll keep pushing on. I have to. Take care, Dad. I'll write again soon.

Your son,

Harry

...

As the school year drew to a close, Harry and his friends found themselves embroiled in a harrowing battle at the Ministry of Magic. With Umbridge's true colors exposed and Voldemort's forces closing in, they fought bravely against impossible odds.

In the midst of the chaos, Harry's determination never wavered. With his wand raised high, he faced down Death Eaters and dark creatures alike, his unwavering courage inspiring those around him to stand firm in the face of darkness. James, Sirius and Remus, other members of the Order of the Phoenix, and some of the Aurors arrived to help the young fifth years and one fourth year.

And as the battle raged on, flashing lights and loud noises, Harry knew that despite the challenges and sacrifices they had endured, they had emerged stronger and more united than ever before. And with the support of his friends and allies, he was ready to face whatever the future held, armed with the knowledge that together, they could overcome even the darkest of times.

Harry noticed that the the Death Eaters were fighting fiercely, with killing curses. Lucius was fighting alongside Sirius, his cousin-in-law, fighting as fiercely as the other man. James and Remus fought side by side, with their backs to Lucius and Sirius. Dumbledore was fighting a few Death Eaters, pretending that he was the benevolent leader of the light.

A shocked noise had Harry looking at Fudge. The Minister was staring at the Death Eaters and the partially transformed werewolves. He then looked at Delores Umbridge, who shot a crucio at Harry Potter.