After a forbidden night with Ser Criston Cole, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen is forced by her father, King Viserys, to drink the moon tea and protect her honor. To shield her image further, she weds Ser Laenor Velaryon, and together they move to Drift...
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Present Day
Old Valyria, Ruined City
Whoosh!
"Merlin's beard!" squeaked Professor Flitwick as witches and wizards crashed onto hard stone. He clutched at his hat, which had flown off in the chaos. "That was a rather rough landing!"
"Is everyone all right? No serious injuries?" Professor McGonagall's voice cut across the groans and mutters. Her emerald robes were thick with dust, her spectacles sat askew on her nose, and her pointed hat had vanished entirely. She looked frantically about, scanning students and colleagues alike.
All around, the survivors of the fall stirred—some groaning on the floor, others already standing, brushing dirt from their robes. A few clutched at bruised elbows or twisted ankles, while others simply looked wide-eyed at their unfamiliar surroundings.
"Did we just—did we just go through a portal?" Theodore Nott asked, bewildered, his hands patting down his robes in search of his wand. "Or am I losing my mind?"
"If it was a portal, it wasn't like any I've ever known," Narcissa Malfoy answered coolly, though her voice carried a tremor. Her pale hair hung loose and disheveled, her elegant robes marked with dust. She turned sharply to Professor Snape, her eyes narrowing. "This felt different—heavier. Stronger. It wasn't ordinary magic. It was old."
Snape's gaze flicked to Remus and Sirius. The three shared a grim, wordless understanding before he finally spoke, his voice low. "Not merely old. Ancient. Raw, untempered, and powerful." He hesitated, his throat tightening. "In all my years, I have felt magic like this only three times. The first in Albus Dumbledore. The second in the Dark Lord. And the third..."
His words trailed away as his dark eyes fixed on Dahlia Potter. She stood a little apart from the others, staring down at the blue blanket cradled in her hands—the one embroidered with the name Aemma. Her brow was furrowed in confusion, her fingers brushing the golden birds stitched into the cloth as though they pulsed with an energy only she could feel.
A heavy, uneasy silence fell over the group, every eye fixed on Dahlia.
No one dared to speak.
At last, Ron broke through the hush, his bafflement echoing across the strange land. "What just happened? Where are we?" His eyes were wide, darting about in confusion. "You can't Apparate in or out of Hogwarts unless you're the Headmaster or Headmistress. So, technically, we should still be near the castle... right?"
Hermione frowned, chewing her lip as she sought the logic in it. "Well... if we're being technical, we didn't Apparate. That was some kind of portal—ancient, powerful. I'm not entirely sure Hogwarts' protections even apply to that. So it's possible... we've traveled outside the grounds." Her gaze turned anxiously toward the professors for confirmation.
