Bonds of Blood and Magic

Second Year

Rhaenyra and Jacaerys sat with their cousins on the journey aboard the Hogwarts Express. They had spent the summer in Astapor alongside Bartimos, Vamar, and Vysella. They filled their days with explorations of ancient ruins and secluded beaches, while they enriched their nights with tales of old Valyria around glowing bonfires. Together, they practiced spell work and High Valyrian by the sea, under the guidance of the Maesters.

Finally breaking the silence, Vysella remarked, "I wonder how Lockhart will be at teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." The mention of Hogwarts redirected their thoughts from the summer, and conversation flowed effortlessly from that point.

Upon arrival, the Sorting Hat's song ominously hinted at dark times ahead. As the feast began, the group eagerly filled their plates with food.

"Dragonstone is incredible. You all should visit someday," Jacaerys suggested, his eyes sparkling as he glanced towards Malfoy, Theodore, and Blaise.

Draco Malfoy raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled. "And why would we want to visit?" he asked dismissively.

Rhaenyra, not missing a beat, replied, "Because it's steeped in history and magic that goes beyond anything you've read in your books."

Theodore Nott leaned forward with genuine curiosity. "Is it true? The stories about your ancestors and the dragons?"

"Every word," Vysella chimed. " Their legacy is one of fire and blood, a bond that time cannot sever."

Blaise inclined his head thoughtfully. "I would want to see it. There's something to be learned from every corner of the world."

Malfoy smirked. "Well, if it's as grand as you say it is, perhaps one day."

"What about you, Daphne?" Rhaenyra asked, turning her attention towards the blonde witch who had been listening quietly. "Fancy a trip to Dragonstone?"

"Count me in too," Pansy added.

Daphne smiled enigmatically. "Why not? I'm always up for it."

As the school year progressed, whispers thickened about the Chamber of Secrets being reopened and the mysterious attacks on Muggle-born students. "It's them," a voice sliced through the murmur of the Great Hall. Harry Potter stood, eyes blazing with determination as he pointed a finger at the Targaryen twins. "Rhaenyra and Jacaerys Targaryen. They're the Heirs of Salazar Slytherin." A collective gasp echoed around the hall, and every eye snapped toward the Slytherin table. Rhaenyra felt as if a hand had clamped around her throat, her breath stolen away. Jacaerys's hand instinctively found hers beneath the table, their fingers intertwining.

"That's absurd! You're the one who can speak parseltongue." Jacaerys's voice rang out.

At the head of the staff table, Professor Dumbledore rose. "Proof must support accusations. We cannot condemn students based solely on suspicion and hearsay." Yet the damage was done.

Whispers and suspicious glances followed Rhaenyra and Jacaerys everywhere.

The warmth of the library and the scent of old parchment around Rhaenyra made her feel safe. Pansy, Daphne, Vysella, and Rhaenyra huddle together at a corner table on the second floor. Their books and notes spread out before them.

Pansy scribbled furiously, trying to perfect her potions essay. "I don't understand why we have to learn this," she muttered, her brow furrowed in frustration. "It's not as if I'll ever need to brew potions in real life. I can just buy them."

Daphne gently reached out to turn Pansy's book around. "You never know, Pansy."

"Knowledge is power, after all." Vysella, who had been observing the exchange, spoke up.

Rhaenyra noticed pansy glaring at someone behind her. She turned around and saw Harry staring at her. Rhaenyra scoffed loudly.

Pansy's eyes narrowed even more and if looks could kill, Rhaenyra never wanted to be looked at like that.

"What is he on about now?" she muttered.

Daphne followed her gaze. "He can't seriously still think Rhaenyra and Jacaerys are the Heir of Slytherin," she said, rolling her eyes.

Vysella was shaking her head. "Potters a prat,"

Rhaenyra was looking at her friends, a smile on her face. "Thank you, guys," she mumbled. "That means a lot coming from you."

Pansy reached out and squeezed her hand. "We know you would never stoop that low. You wouldn't dare touch some filthy Muggleborns."

Rhaenyra snorted.

Daphne leaned in, "And don't forget, Potters is a Parselmouth. He's one to talk."

Vysella cut the conversation short. "Now, shall we get back to studying? I, for one, have no intention of letting Potter's ridiculous accusations distract me from my exams."

By the end of the year, the true heir emerged, and Harry never offered an apology to the twins.