The wolf and the lioness - An apex predator arrives. (Patreon)

Neville Longbottom, Chamber of Secrets – Hogwarts.

Being honest with himself, Neville had never felt so insignificant in his entire life—not even when he faced Lady Voldemort last year, possessing Professor Quirrell’s body.

—Who the hell are you?!— Riddle shouted, her voice carrying a tone Neville had never imagined hearing from her.

Terror.

And to be fair, if a complete stranger suddenly appeared out of nowhere and, using only his voice, sent a ten-ton basilisk flying through the air like a sack of potatoes—and then, powerful torrents of lightning burst from his hands and began to incinerate the beast—Neville would be terrified too.

The stranger looked at Lady Voldemort with something close to contempt and spoke without the slightest restraint.

—Did you really think I wouldn’t know what you are, filth? If there’s something I despise, it’s necromancy… but don’t worry, I know exactly how to deal with your kind, witch,— the powerful mage spat.

The sheer amount of disdain in those words made Neville shiver, more so when he saw an aura of flames wrap around the man, while he was preparing something.

The stranger was doing all of this… without a wand.

A bloody storm of magical flames manifested around the terrifying man, who, without the slightest hesitation or mercy, directed it with mastery and precision toward the still-stunned beast.

The flames engulfed the basilisk, which could do nothing but screech in agony, writhing in pain as its emerald scales were slowly burned away.

The bright emerald color blackened rapidly, cooking the basilisk alive without a hint of mercy.

The beast, completely desperate, launched one last attack toward the mysterious man, who simply responded with three words.

Simple. Almost meaningless to Neville.

But overwhelmingly powerful.

—FUS RO DAH—

The moment those words left the man’s mouth, a blast erupted from his throat, releasing a powerful and utterly unknown magical force to Neville.

It was like some kind of invisible power, an...Unrelenting Force so strong that the basilisk was once again hurled against the wall, this time with far greater force than before, enough to crack the cavern walls and leave the agonizing creature completely stunned.

—Pathetic, insignificant beast,— the mage spat, while Neville watched in disbelief as the ancient basilisk shrank before that dominant presence, as if it recognized its own inferiority and simply wanted to escape.

Without success.

The stranger shouted another spell, with shocking results.

—WULD NAH KEST—

Neville watched, stunned, as the man seemed to… move at an absurd speed, far faster than he could follow, appearing only a short distance from the beast.

And without wasting a single second, he shouted again.

—YOL TOOR SHUL—

From the warrior’s mouth burst a torrent of arcane flames, far hotter and more powerful than any spell Neville had ever seen in his life.

The monster of Slytherin stood no chance.

The flames were so intense that the cave walls where they struck turned white hot and, to Neville’s disbelief, began to melt like simple candles.

The young Gryffindor heard the creature’s screams of agony… at least for a time.

Until they simply stopped.

When the fire faded, all that remained of the once-imposing basilisk was… a charred carcass, twitching weakly in pathetic spasms.

The beast was still alive. Barely.

And that, strangely enough seemed to please the warrior.

—You endured a Thu’um at point-blank range… you deserve a worthy death, beast— the man said, and Neville could detect something in his voice.

Respect.

The stranger looked around, ignoring Lady Voldemort’s screams and threats, and focused his gaze on Neville.

Or more specifically, on the sword he held in his trembling hands.

The warrior said nothing, but extended his arm toward the young lion, who felt how an invisible force ripped the Sword of Gryffindor from his hands and sent it calmly flying toward the expectant hand of the sorcerer, who caught it in the air and, with evident mastery in the art of the sword, thrust it into the beast, piercing the cavity where its eye had once been.

The imposing beast that had terrorized the castle for months died with a choked gasp, becoming something Neville had never imagined.

Prey.

The mysterious mage pulled the sword from the basilisk, now bathed in its blood. His blue robe seemed to shine, and that… magical armor that made him resemble a dragon began to glow even more strongly, as if the defeat of the basilisk had granted him some kind of increase in power.

The battle mage turned around, ignoring Neville completely and focusing all his attention and power on the terrified Riddle. She raised the wand in her hand, her face furious.

But her hand trembled.

And something inside Neville simply enjoyed immensely the fact that Elizabeth Riddle was terrified.

—Avada…— began the Dark Lady, only to be interrupted decisively by the stranger, who simply whispered a word.

—Zun!—

The effect was instant.

Riddle’s wand flew out of her hand, falling harmlessly to the ground, near the agonizing body of Ginny.

Riddle froze completely, totally incapable of moving, looking with fury and terror in equal measure.

—What… what are you?— she whispered, her face full of hatred and an uncontrollable desire.

Not toward the sorcerer.

But toward his power, toward the ease with which he dominated the situation.

The stranger did not respond, instead looking toward Ginny’s body, before his draconic features focused on Riddle again, with complete calm, with the naturalness of someone who knows he has total control of the situation.

—Stealing the life force of a child is despicable, but what can I expect from someone who fragments her soul in such a monstrous way,— he spat full of hatred.

Those words made Elizabeth’s eyes widen with surprise and absolute terror, shaking her head to herself.

The man’s body language was overwhelming.

He did not see the most powerful dark witch in history as a threat.

But as vermin to be exterminated.

And without saying another word, the warrior speaks again.

However, he did not shout.

he whispered.

—Rii Vaaz Zol—

Neville watched as a purple-colored spell emerged from the mage’s mouth and launched itself voraciously toward Voldemort, who had no time to react.

The moment the spell touched the dark witch, she let out a deep gasp before collapsing. Her spectral form began to fade, while a kind of… threads of purple magic flew toward a pale purple gem in the sorcerer’s hand.

The diary that started all this disaster began to convulse, for lack of a better word, as it slowly turned to ashes, now incapable of maintaining its original form.

And as quickly as everything began, the fight had ended. The basilisk was dead and, apparently, so was Voldemort.

—Are you alright?— asked the warrior, at the same time that the draconic armor disappeared, revealing an elegant and luxurious blue battle robe with dragons and wolves embroidered in silver with exquisite detail. The body was that of a warrior, tall and lean, a body clearly dedicated to combat.

His face was quite young, perhaps around fifteen or sixteen years old, and showed the highest nobility, high cheekbones and harmonious, symmetrical features, wavy jet-black hair and grey eyes that shone with monstrous magical power.

Neville had no idea who this man was, but he had saved his life and apparently, he was not hostile.

He could work with that.

—Yes… I’m fine,— said Neville with relief and extreme exhaustion. Now that the danger had passed, his body demanded rest.

As soon as Ginny was safe.

The stranger nodded, at the same time that he simply turned around and walked calmly toward where the still unconscious Ginny was.

Neville walked behind him with extreme caution, not wanting to disturb such a powerful mage.

—Is she alright?— he asked, seeing how the stranger knelt beside the redhead with a frown.

—She suffered greatly, it is more than evident that she has been subjected to a kind of long-term possession, but she is alive, that is what matters,— he said with a sigh, even his voice was… powerful and dominant.

Neville watched as he put his hand into the travel pouch at his waist and summoned a kind of potion completely unknown to the young lion.

—I’m Neville, Neville Longbottom— he said awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation with the sorcerer, who looked at him calmly and, nodding his head, replied.

—A pleasure to meet you Neville, my name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen,— he said, while taking Ginny’s head and giving her the strange potion to drink slowly.

Merlin, even his damn name sounds powerful and imposing, thought the young lion, at the same time that he opened his mouth to ask more questions.

There was too much he wanted to know, what kind of magic had he used? Why didn’t he use a wand like everyone else? Could he teach him to fight like that?

However, the thousand questions of the young lion died in his throat when he heard a third voice, familiar, beautiful and terrifying, one that had been his torment during his two years at Hogwarts.

—Mr. Longbottom,— said the implacable woman, while the sound of her high heels echoed throughout the chamber.

Lily Evans, Chamber of Secrets – Hogwarts.

Lily walked through the entrance of the chamber with complete calm, her high heels echoing through the empty place. She was not in a hurry, to be honest with herself.

The moment she opened the entrance to the chamber, Lily expected to hear the sounds of the beast or signs of struggle from young Longbottom.

However, she heard none of that.

Only voices.

Two, to be precise.

One was easily recognized as Longbottom’s voice, as familiar as it was irritating to the redhead.

But the other…

—My name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen,— said another voice, deeper, calmer and above all… powerful.

Who was this… Aegon Targaryen?

Lily did not recognize the name.

Upon reaching the central chamber, the redhead observed how a stranger in blue robes was giving an unknown potion to Miss Weasley, while the Boy Who Lived watched with relief, his small body trembling, as if he remained standing only by the grace of Mother Magic and nothing more.

Perhaps that was the case.

—Mr. Longbottom,— she said, wand in hand, her green eyes focused entirely on the stranger, frowning when she saw the potion in his hand.

Or more specifically, frowning at not recognizing the potion in question.

It was small, a kind of bright blue concentration with an unknown purpose, but Lily was able to observe how a kind of blue aura manifested for a few moments around Miss Weasley’s body, who slowly began to regain her natural color.

—Evans… I mean, Professor Evans,— said the inconvenient boy with a stutter, making Lily raise an eyebrow precisely and say without the slightest mercy:

—Five points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect and another five for your cheek— she said coldly, though distracted, completely focused on the mysterious stranger, who was now administering a red potion, quite similar to the previous one, to the unconscious student.

Without hesitation, the professor raised her wand and said with finality:

—I do not know who you are, but step away from Miss Weasley,— she said decisively, while discreetly placing Longbottom behind her, ignoring his pleas and rambling.

Without even deigning to look at her, the man not only did not obey, but had the audacity to threaten her.

—Lower that Foci before you hurt yourself,— he said naturally, while continuing to administer the potion.

Lily, annoyed and with her pride wounded by such insolence, cast a rapid chain of spells at the man, designed to incapacitate instantly. The spells, evidently, were cast without movements or incantations.

Only talent, emotion and raw magic.

The spells shot forward like lightning toward the stranger, who did not make the slightest motion to defend himself.

However…

The moment Lily’s spells were a blink away from hitting their target, a kind of defensive enchantment manifested, neutralizing all three spells before disappearing again.

it was...a strange spell, very simple and at the same time, very powerful, it color was white, a shield that she didn't recognize.

All of this without the stranger reacting in the slightest, completely focused on Miss Weasley.

—What the…— Lily whispered to herself, extremely cautious, her wand ready, while her sharp mind tried to find an explanation for what she had just witnessed.

—Professor Evans! He is Aegon Targaryen! He is the one who killed the monster of Slytherin and defeated Lady Voldemort!— shouted young Longbottom, making the redhead hesitate for a moment and take the time to properly observe the stranger.

Clearly a magical noble, his robe was very evident.

She could not fully make out his height or face yet, but what she could see was how… surprisingly efficient the potions he used were.

Potions completely unknown to Lily.

Something that hurt her pride, if she was being honest.

—What are you giving her?— the redhead asked, wand ready, already forming countless plans in case she needed to fight.

A deep, masculine and young voice responded simply:

—Minor potions of restoration: magic, vigor and health. She is in a… complicated state of health, undoubtedly the result of the possession she was subjected to,— he said with a sigh, just as Miss Weasley woke up in alarm, looking around in absolute terror.

—Neville! I! The chamber…— she said frantically, beginning to hyperventilate and cry.

Lily frowned with concern and moved toward Miss Weasley, ready to assist her.

Alas… it seemed her help was not necessary.

Aegon, Lily reminded herself, placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder, channeling a soft green spell that calmed her slowly. The tears stopped, and young Weasley was able to breathe normally again.

—Easy, you are safe,— said the mysterious stranger, his voice firm and gentle, filled with certainty and quiet authority.

The young redhead looked at the man with a deep blush before nodding silently.

—Thank you,— she said, as she stood with difficulty, her legs like jelly, needing to hold onto Aegon to remain standing.

At that moment, Lily was finally able to properly look at him.

He was young.

Far younger than she expected.

His body was clearly built for battle—tall, strong, visible even beneath his heavy battle robes.

His face was… the very definition of nobility.

High cheekbones, severe yet ethereally attractive features, black hair… and eyes that shone with power.

The redhead could not help but shiver at the imposing presence of the sorcerer standing before her.

Something she had not felt in many years, not since the death of her husband and son… more than a decade ago.

—The girl needs specialized medical attention,— he said calmly, completely indifferent to the fact that Lily was still pointing her wand at him. In fact, he seemed to find the situation almost… amusing.

Lily, for her part, simply raised her wand more firmly and asked sharply:

—How did you get here? What are your intentions?— the tip of her wand glowing as a threat.

The redhead used the same voice that, during the first war, had earned her the nickname the Red Fury. More than twenty Death Eaters had fallen dead before her wand, she was a fearsome battle witch.

And even so… this so-called Aegon looked at her as if she were a damn puppy. There was no fear, not even respect in his gaze, just cordiality.

Something that wounded the redhead’s pride more than she would like to admit.

—My arrival to this place was an accident, and I have no ill intent toward you or your students,— Aegon said calmly, with total control of the situation.

—Where do you come from?— the professor asked, unsure what to think about the mysterious young man.

Aegon frowned slightly before answering calmly:

—I… I come from very far away. Are Westeros or Tamriel familiar places to you?— he asked, with a hint of hope in his voice.

Both Neville and Lily looked at him cautiously before slowly shaking their heads.

—No, I’m afraid not,— said the redhead, making the young man sigh in disappointment.

—I see… can you tell me where I am?— he asked politely.

Lily frowned. She was not stupid enough to answer that question and lose the advantage in the...

—You’re in Hogwarts! The best school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!— said that idiot Longbottom with a wide smile, clearly trying to be “helpful.”

However, to Lily’s relief, the stranger did not seem to recognize the name of the school. If anything, he looked even more confused than before—almost incredulous.

—That is a… peculiar name for a school of magic,— he said, choosing his words carefully, though Lily could easily see through him. It was more than obvious that he found the name rather ridiculous.

An opinion that, to some extent… Lily could understand.

—If this is a school of magic, could you provide me assistance in returning to my home? I can pay for the institution’s services without issue,— said the mysterious Aegon.

—Yes!—
—No!—

Lily and Neville looked at each other after answering at the same time.

The ice queen of Gryffindor looked at young Longbottom as if he were the most insignificant insect in the entire school, silencing him instantly and making him swallow nervously.

The Potions professor turned back toward Aegon and began again.

—I’m afraid such a request will...—

But her words were interrupted.

Again.

—It will be reviewed and discussed with all members of the school’s faculty, Lord Targaryen,— said an elderly feminine voice, as a powerful magical presence made itself known within the Chamber of Secrets.

The faces of Longbottom and Weasley lit up upon seeing the headmistress walking toward them, dressed, as always, in the most dreadful and outdated robes in the entire magical world.

—Professor Dumbledore, this situation is...— Lily tried to intervene, only to be interrupted once more.

—More complicated than it appears. The castle’s wards are practically in ruins, and the source of such a magical anomaly… is here, the wards Slytherin put were completely shattered, it allows me to arrives in time— said the old woman, looking at Aegon over her glasses, her eyes shining softly.

—A pleasure to meet you, young sorcerer. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Ariana Dumbledore— she said in a friendly tone, extending her hand toward the handsome young man.

Aegon, with complete naturalness, took the professor’s hand, kissed it, and made a perfect bow of respect, without a trace of submission in the gesture.

—The pleasure is mine, professor. My name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen, and I wish to request your assistance in returning home,— he said sincerely, straightening his posture and looking at the headmistress with a hint of hope in his voice.

—I am certain we can reach an agreement,— said the old woman, her voice serene and calm, her eyes fixed on Aegon with quiet certainty… and something else.

Expectation.

Lily frowned, clearly not in agreement, but unable to oppose it.

She would keep a close eye on this Aegon Targaryen.

Very, very close.

There was something about him…

Something that made her lose control over her emotions.

Poor Lily.

She had no idea that her conflicting thoughts and long buried desires and needs were just beginning.