novelraw Chapter 2 Hogwarts
Chapter 2 Hogwarts
Hogwarts, 1991.
The stones on the lake shore were digging into his knees.
Viserys knelt on the grass, with Daenerys lying on his lap, her face pale and her lips purple.
"Dani." He called her, but there was no response. "Dani." He called again, but still no response.
His right palm was still burning. When that ball of fire started, he thought he was going to die. He didn't. The woman died twice, but Dani never opened her eyes again after falling into the lake.
He held his sister even tighter. His mother was dead, Ser Darryl was dead, the Iron Throne was gone, his father was gone, his brother Rhaegar was gone, he had nothing left but this one and only relative in his arms.
She cannot die; she is a Targaryen. True dragons do not die in the gutter. She must live, live to reclaim the Iron Throne with him.
Footsteps approached from afar, and two people emerged from the mist.
One was extremely tall and thin, with a white beard so long it could be tucked into his belt, and wore an indigo robe embroidered with stars and moons. The other was a woman, wearing a green robe, square-framed glasses, and her lips pressed into a stern line.
"That child needs help," the tall man said calmly. "My school has a medical clinic with a stove and people who know medicine."
Viserys didn't reply, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his dagger. An old man and a woman appeared in the morning mist by the lake, just as he was carrying his unconscious sister ashore. It was too much of a coincidence.
Behind every seemingly coincidental event, there's someone pulling the strings.
Professor McGonagall took a step forward, slowly crouching down to bring her gaze level with Viserys's. Behind her square-framed glasses were a pair of stern eyes with fine lines.
"Child." Her voice was deep and rough, tinged with the harshness of everyday life. "The little one in your arms has choked on water. If you delay any longer, even if he survives, he might suffer long-term health problems."
Before she could finish speaking, Viserys understood. The look in McGonagall's eyes as she looked at Daenerys was genuine heartache, the kind of heartache one feels when looking at something so fragile.
Viserys loosened his grip on the dagger, slowly sheathed it, pulled Daenerys closer to him, and stood up, supporting himself on the grass.
"lead the way."
McGonagall immediately turned and walked ahead, her pace just slow enough for Viserys to keep up. The three of them walked through the dissipating morning mist toward the castle.
The fireplace in the infirmary was burning brightly.
Lady Pomfrey pressed her wand against Daenerys's chest and chanted a spell Viserys couldn't understand. A pale blue light shone from the tip of the wand, and a trickle of grayish-green liquid escaped Daenerys's throat. She coughed softly, her brow furrowed, then her breathing became long, and she fell asleep.
"She'll be alright." Mrs. Pomfrey turned around. "Now, let me see you."
Viserys stood at the foot of the bed with his back against the wall.
Lady Pomfrey pressed her wand against the bruise on his neck, a chill seeping in. Then came his ribs; the moment the wand touched them, Viserys's vision went white for a second, and the bone clicked softly beneath his skin as it returned to its rightful place.
"Bone-Regenerating Elixir." She handed him the small bottle. "Drink it, and avoid strenuous exercise for three days."
Her wand stopped right in the center of his chest, the light at its tip changing from pale blue to colorless, and his brows furrowed tightly.
"Your magic is almost empty."
Viserys didn't respond. He had never heard the word before, and it wasn't a good word, as could be seen from Madam Pomfrey's expression.
McGonagall took half a step forward. "Popito, what do you mean?"
"It's not overexertion," Madam Pomfrey said, putting away her wand. "It's been drained, like a well where the water level has dropped and the bottom has been exposed."
McGonagall turned to Viserys, her lips pressed into a stern line, but her voice was softer than usual.
"Child, have you ever been exposed to magic before?"
"no."
McGonagall paused for a moment, then sat up straight in the chair by the bed, folding his hands on his knees, his gaze fixed on the rune in his right palm.
"Your situation is different from normal magic consumption. Normal consumption will recover on its own, but yours is different. Your magic is completely depleted."
Viserys looked down at her palm; the runes burned for a moment when she said "bottomed out" before fading away.
"Where did the scoop go?"
McGonagall didn't answer; she didn't know.
Viserys knew.
When the woman grabbed his neck, his palms caught fire—not from his own volition, but from the blood fire forced upon him by his desperate situation. She wasn't there to kill him; with her ability to resurrect, she had countless opportunities to kill him. What she wanted wasn't his life, but the fire.
The deadly fight in the alley was not an assassination from beginning to end, but a ritual. She forced him to set it on fire and then extracted everything that burned out of him, transforming it into the power to tear the world apart.
He clenched his right hand so tightly that his nails dug into his palm.
"She'll be alright." McGonagall's voice brought him back to reality. She thought he was worried about Daenerys. "Madam Pomfrey is the best healer at Hogwarts. Your sister will open her eyes tomorrow morning."
Viserys loosened his fist. "Her name is Daenerys, Daenerys Targaryen. My name is Viserys Targaryen."
McGonagall nodded and added the name to a list.
"Hogwarts is a magic school where children aged eleven to seventeen with magical talent study. Headmaster Dumbledore has allowed you and your sister to stay in the castle until you recover."
"My sister can learn too."
"Wait until she's eleven, if she has magical talent."
She has it; Viserys doesn't need to wait until he's eleven, because Daenerys's blood is the same as his.
He didn't ask any more questions. McGonagall stood up and retreated to Daenerys's bedside. The edges of her robes were still damp from the lake shore.
Dumbledore walked over from the fireplace, remaining silent for so long that Viserys almost forgot he was in the room. But he didn't forget that the old man was more powerful when he was silent than when he spoke, like an unsheathed sword.
"If you still have the strength to walk, I'd like to show you the castle."
Viserys looked at Daenerys.
"Professor McGonagall will stay with her."
Viserys looked at McGonagall, and saw the stern eyes behind his square-framed glasses, eyes that seemed to value responsibility more than emotion. He recognized those eyes from Ser Darryl, the old knight who had led him and the infant Daenerys to Braavos after the fall of Dragonstone.
"lead the way."
They were the only two in the corridor. Dumbledore's steps were slow, the hem of his indigo robe sweeping across the stone floor. The person in the portrait had awakened, pointing and whispering about Viserys's silver hair. He didn't look at them until the two reached the Astronomy Tower, which offered a panoramic view of Hogwarts.
"You were already by the lake."
Dumbledore did not deny it.
"You arrived before I fell into the lake; you weren't just passing by."
"The castle's defensive magic sensed you," Dumbledore said. "The moment you fell into the lake, the moment the flame in your hand was still burning, some ancient magic, not of this world, touched the castle, and I sensed it."
"You knew I would come. It wasn't by chance that you were passing by the lake, nor was it the first time you had sensed this magic. You knew all along that someone would fall into your lake, so you waited on the shore."
Dumbledore did not answer immediately. He stood by the window with his back to Viserys, his voice not quite like he was recalling something from long ago.
"A thousand years ago, when Hogwarts had just been built, the castle's defensive magic sensed the same power, which did not belong to this world. It was ancient, fiery, and carried the aura of flames."
He turned around, his blue eyes looking at Viserys.
"It wasn't just one person who came; there was also a dragon. It was badly injured, its scales covered in scorch marks and lacerations. It had fallen onto the lakeshore and burned a huge ring of char on the grass."
Viserys' pupils contracted slightly.
"The dragons in this world don't have that size or those eyes. The wizards at the time searched through all the dragon literature and found no record that matched it. It doesn't belong to this world."
"Who is riding it?"
Dumbledore was silent for a moment.
"His name was Damon, Damon Targaryen. He lived in this world for thirty years and then disappeared. He left behind a prophecy, which he called the Dragon Dream, saying that his descendants would return here. The castle's defensive magic remained dormant for a thousand years after that, until today."