A/N: Here is part 3 (Chapter 4) of Rising Storms! I hope you enjoy it. Oh, it was requested that Harry have 7-9 ladies, but I don't know if I will mention all of them... Also, I'm sorry if I don't follow your expectations of the Greek gods and goddesses. I'm writing this the way that suits the story.

A/N 2: Update on this chapter. You will notice that this chapter is shorter... That's because I had to take a portion and move it to chapter six...

Rising Storms

A Harry Potter and Percy Jackson crossover

Part 3

Chapter 4: Whispers of the Grove

Percy

Percy Jackson stood at the edge of the lush, sacred grove, his senses heightened to the whispers of the wind and the rustling leaves. As a newly ascended god, he was still getting used to the surge of power coursing through him, amplifying his connection to nature and its mystical inhabitants. The grove was alive with energy, a testament to the ancient spirits that resided within it.

He had been tasked with investigating Hera's mysterious disappearance from the throne room, an event that had sent ripples of unease through Olympus. It was a responsibility he took seriously, understanding the gravity of a god vanishing without a trace.

Percy inhaled deeply, letting the earthy scent of the grove fill his lungs. He focused his mind, reaching out with his thoughts to the tree spirits and satyrs hidden among the foliage. His voice, now imbued with divine authority, resonated through the grove.

"Spirits of the trees, guardians of this sacred place, I seek your wisdom. Have you seen anything unusual or sensed any disturbances related to Hera?"

For a moment, there was silence, and then, as if on cue, the trees began to sway gently. From the shadows emerged dryads, their forms shimmering with ethereal light, and satyrs, their goat-like legs and horns marking their otherworldly nature. One of the elder dryads stepped forward, her eyes glowing with a soft green light.

"Lord Perseus," she said, her voice like the rustling of leaves, "we have not seen anything directly related to Hera, but we have felt a disturbance in the fabric of the world, a ripple that suggests something powerful is amiss."

Percy nodded, his brow furrowing. "Can you describe this disturbance? Did it leave any trace behind?"

A satyr with silver-flecked fur stepped up, his expression grave. "It was a fleeting sensation, like a shadow passing over the sun. It left no physical trace, but the air felt charged, as if anticipating something."

Percy's heart quickened. This was not the concrete lead he had hoped for, but it was a start. He thanked the spirits and satyrs for their help, promising to keep them informed of any developments.

As he turned to leave the grove, a sudden sensation washed over him, a familiar tug in his chest that signaled something being sent to his temple. It was an urgent feeling, one that couldn't be ignored. With a final glance at the grove, Percy willed himself to his temple, the world around him blurring as he moved with divine speed.

He materialized at the entrance of his temple, a grand structure made of shimmering sea-green marble, adorned with intricate carvings of ocean waves and sea creatures. The sensation grew stronger as he stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the altar at the center. There, placed with care, was a note.

Percy approached the altar, his heart pounding. The note was simple, written on parchment with a hasty scrawl that he recognized instantly—Camp Half-Blood. His pulse quickened as he unfolded the note and read the urgent message within:

"Percy, we need you at Camp Half-Blood immediately. It's an emergency. Hera left a note for you. Please hurry. — Chiron"

A sense of foreboding washed over him. Chiron, the wise and steady centaur, rarely called for help unless it was truly dire. Folding the note carefully, Percy steeled himself for whatever awaited him at Camp Half-Blood. He couldn't afford to waste any time.