The hospital wing smelled faintly of dittany and damp linen.
Percy lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling while Madam Pomfrey muttered about "reckless lake-side dueling" and pressed another glowing compress to his forearm. His muscles still trembled. Not from injury, from absence. The lake's voice had receded, but its echo remained, like the pressure in your ears after diving too deep.
Across the room, Ron was recounting the fight for the fifth time, each retelling making the creature larger and himself narrowly more heroic.
"And then it swung this massive arm, right? Like, whoosh! Nearly flattened me. I rolled, gracefully, mind you, and blasted it straight in the chest."
"You tripped over a rock," Hermione said without looking up.
"I strategically descended."
Harry sat on the edge of his bed, quiet. He hadn't laughed once.
Hermione's parchments were spread across the blankets in front of her. The strange script curled and shifted as she read, as though it disliked being stared at too long. Her lips moved silently, translating.
Percy pushed himself up slightly. "You figured it out yet?"
She didn't answer immediately. Her brow furrowed deeper.
Then she went still.
"I have it."
The air in the hospital wing seemed to tighten.
"It's not just 'Aequor,'" she said slowly. "That was only the first half. Aequor means sea, yes, but in this context, it means 'the unbroken surface.' The guardian of balance between depth and sky."
Harry's fingers curled against his mattress.
"And the second name?" he asked quietly.
Hermione swallowed.
"Thalorath."
The word settled heavily in the room.
Even Percy felt it, a shift, like something vast had turned its head underwater.
Ron blinked. "That's… not good, is it?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It's very not good. Thalorath isn't a title. It's a corruption. The script says it was once Aequor, keeper of equilibrium. But after it was betrayed and bound beneath shifting tides, it became Thalorath — 'He Who Waits Beneath the Drowned World.'"
Silence followed.
Percy's pulse began to pound.
"Betrayed by who?" he asked.
Hermione flipped to another page. "It doesn't say clearly. The text fragments are damaged. But it mentions 'wand-bearers of stone towers' and 'sky-children of lightning.'"
Ron frowned. "That sounds like us."
"It sounds like wizards," Harry said.
Percy's throat tightened. "And demigods."
The implication settled like cold water.
This wasn't just some ancient monster sealed by unknown forces.
It had been sealed by both worlds.
Hermione continued reading, her voice softer now. "It says the binding required a convergence. Magic of mind. Magic of storm. Magic of sea. Together."
Harry let out a slow breath. "So if it took all three to seal it…"
"…it might take all three to stop it," Percy finished.
A faint tremor ran through the floor.
All four of them froze.
Madam Pomfrey glanced up irritably. "Probably the staircases shifting again."
But Percy knew better.
He felt it, not in the ground, but in his bones.
Far beneath the castle, the lake stirred.
By morning, the news had spread.
Students whispered in corridors. The Giant Squid had surfaced before dawn, thrashing violently before vanishing again. The merfolk had been seen gathering near the shore, singing in low, warning tones.
Dumbledore called them to his office before lunch.
The circular room felt heavier than usual. Silver instruments spun slowly, emitting soft chimes. Fawkes regarded them from his perch, feathers faintly glowing.
Dumbledore listened without interruption as Hermione explained the translation.
"Aequor Thalorath," he repeated at last.
His eyes, usually twinkling, were grave.
"There are records," he said quietly, "older than Hogwarts. Fragments stored in the Department of Mysteries. References to an entity worshipped before structured magic. A balancing force tied to oceanic ley lines."
"Ley lines?" Ron echoed blankly.
"Paths of ancient magic," Hermione supplied automatically.
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Precisely. When disturbed, they awaken what sleeps upon them."
Harry leaned forward. "Is Hogwarts on one?"
"Yes."
The word dropped like a stone.
Percy felt the pull again, faint but unmistakable. Like a tide drawing back before a wave.
"It's not fully awake," Dumbledore continued. "Last night's manifestation was a fragment. A testing of strength."
"It looked pretty awake to me," Ron muttered.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Percy.
"And you, Mr. Jackson. How does the water feel to you now?"
Percy hesitated.
"Closer," he admitted. "Like it's not just out there anymore. It's… here." He pressed a hand to his chest. "When it rose last night, part of me wanted to let it. It wasn't anger. It was recognition."
Hermione's fingers tightened around her parchment.
Dumbledore studied him carefully. "Aequor was once guardian of balance. If that essence still exists within Thalorath, it may respond differently to you."
"You mean it might not try to kill me?" Percy asked dryly.
"I mean," Dumbledore said softly, "it might try to claim you." The words lingered long after they left the office.
That night, the storm came. No warning clouds. No distant rumble. Just wind, sudden and violent, tearing across the grounds. Students rushed to windows as rain began to fall in sheets. The Black Lake churned violently, waves slamming against the shore hard enough to send spray halfway up the lawn. Harry stood in the common room, staring at the lightning splitting the sky. It wasn't random. It struck in patterns. Percy felt it too, the rhythm beneath the chaos.
"Not a storm," he whispered. "A signal."
Hermione joined him, eyes wide. "The text mentioned sky-children of lightning." Another bolt struck the center of the lake. The water exploded upward. And this time, what rose was not a mindless construct.
A vast shape emerged, only partially visible, like something too large for the world to fully contain. Coils of water wrapped around a core of shifting darkness. Ancient, immense, watching. The same single eye from Percy's vision opened above the surface. Golden. Endless. It did not roar. It spoke. The voice did not echo in the air, it pressed directly into their minds.
Aequor… remembers.
Harry staggered, clutching his head. Percy stepped forward without realizing it. "No," he breathed. The eye shifted, focusing.
Storm-blood. Stone-mind. Sea-born.
Lightning struck again, closer.
The seal fractures.
Hermione's voice trembled beside him. "It's not fully free. The binding is still there." Percy could feel it, tension beneath the water, chains made of magic pulling tight.
The eye locked onto him.
You were claimed once.
His breath caught.
Memories surged, the ocean accepting him, the tides answering.
Claimed again.
The lake began to rise, climbing higher and higher, spiraling around the emerging mass. Harry forced himself upright, wand raised. "You're not taking him!" The eye flickered toward Harry.
Lightning-child. You carry fracture within you.
Harry's scar burned faintly. Not in pain, but in recognition. Hermione shouted something in the ancient tongue, runes blazing in the air. The magic wrapped around the rising water like glowing chains. For a moment, the lake held still. Percy's heart hammered. He could push back. He could force it down again.
But something inside him whispered that pushing was not the answer. Aequor Thalorath was not mindless fury. It was imbalance. And imbalance could be corrected.
He stepped forward into the rain.
"Stop!" Harry yelled. Percy ignored him. He walked to the very edge of the water. "I hear you," he said, voice steady despite the storm. "You were broken. Bound. Twisted." The eye narrowed. "You want balance restored." The waves faltered. Hermione stared at him in disbelief. Percy lifted his hands. Not to command, but to offer. "I won't be claimed," he said firmly. "But I won't fight you blindly either." The storm hesitated. Lightning flickered uncertainly.
The eye studied him. And then, slowly, the waters receded. Not gone, not defeated, but withdrawn. The storm dissolved as suddenly as it had formed. The lake returned to uneasy stillness. Only the rain remained, soft now. Percy lowered his arms. Behind him, Harry's breathing was ragged. Hermione whispered, stunned, "It listened." Far beneath the surface, the golden glow dimmed, but did not vanish. Aequor Thalorath was awake. Not fully risen. Not yet unleashed. But no longer sleeping. And it knew Percy's name.
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