The White Dragon - Targaryen's fury. (Patreon)

Harry Potter, Great Hall – Hogwarts.

“Good morning,” said Daphne elegantly as she took a seat in front of Harry.

“Good morning,” said the young lion, watching as Daphne seemed… worried for some reason, and apparently, he was not the only one who noticed.

“Are you alright, Daphne?” Hermione asked at his side, looking at the blonde with concern.

“I am, it’s just that Lord Stark called for a meeting in Slytherin this morning, it was quite extensive,” said the blonde with a sigh, as she began serving herself breakfast with the natural elegance of a pureblood princess.

“Are you ready for your meeting?” Daphne asked after taking a bite of her toast.

Harry nodded with sobriety, a slow and calculated gesture that revealed how focused he was on the matter.

“Yes, it is important that everything goes according to plan. Jon says that the Headmaster is not our enemy, but his questionable actions in recent years make me doubt,” confessed the young Gryffindor, making all the witches around him nod.

“That is understandable. Dumbledore’s actions have left much to be desired, and I’m not only referring to the tournament,” said Hermione, just as Cho and Susan took a seat, both smiling at Harry, who returned the gesture.

The conversation continued pleasantly until, from the entrance of the Great Hall, the rest of Slytherin began to arrive.

They all entered in synchronization and took their seats in a hierarchical arrangement, leaving the central part of the table empty, evidently for Jon.

And speaking of Jon.

His brother entered the hall calmly and with presence, surrounded by all his witches—Fleur and Lucrecia at his side, while María and the Carrow twins followed behind like faithful shadows. The group walked in silence toward their place at the table.

Harry noticed with amusement how Fleur and Lucrecia were limping slightly, although their faces seemed radiant, it was more than evident that they had had a busy night.

Of course, he could not say anything about it, considering how busy Hermione had kept him the previous night.

And speaking of Hermione.

“Do you have any progress on what I asked you, Hermione?” Harry asked calmly, surprising the brunette.

“Oh, yes, Harry. Ginny couldn’t stop trembling with excitement. I know she sent an owl to her mother to… prepare properly,” said the young witch with a slight blush on her face, something Harry had always found adorable for some strange reason.

“Help her with everything she needs. I have already sent the official proposal to the Weasleys. Once I receive the signed response, we will introduce her formally into House Potter,” said Harry calmly, but making it clear that it was an order.

The young Granger nodded with a soft smile, and the group enjoyed the rest of breakfast in peace.

As usual, the young Potter felt the heavy gazes of most of the students upon him, the looks of judgment, the disdain, and above all, the envy.

Sheep. All of them. They are unhappy with their pathetic existences and incapable of doing anything about it. Typical of the mediocre witches and wizards of the Magical World, too trapped in their comfort and stupidity to truly strive for something.

And therefore, irrelevant to the world Harry now moved in.

Some time later, breakfast ended, and Jon approached him with complete calm.

“The Headmaster is waiting for us, brother,” he said simply, making Harry nod and stand up, ready to leave.

However, he could not help but look down at his uniform with a slight frown. The meeting with the Headmaster would be an official matter of the Alliance, not a school matter, so this attire was not appropriate.

With an elegant flick of his wrist, Harry transfigured his school robes into something more fitting for Lord Potter, a tailored red coat with golden an leather details, a pair of twin lions on his chest, and the ring of House Potter shining on his finger.

“An excellent transfiguration, brother. It won’t last long, but enough to finish the meeting,” Jon said with evident pride in his voice at Harry’s magical ability, making him smile in gratitude at the words, and without wasting any more time, he began walking toward the Headmaster’s office.

Fully aware of the gazes around him, but frankly not caring in the slightest.

Both wizards walked in silence. They knew that the conversation with Dumbledore would be… complicated, to say the least.

Even more so, the discussion regarding the soul anchors and their corresponding hunt. And apparently, something about him gave it away to his brother.

“Don’t worry, Dumbledore wants to get rid of Riddle as much as we do,” Jon said calmly.

Harry nodded, but he could not help responding.

“I know. We will have to reach some kind of compromise, that is obvious. Will you bring up the subject of his ridiculous plan in the Wizengamot?” asked the young lion.

Jon simply shook his head.

“No, I won’t. It is irrelevant to us. By the time that ridiculous law is approved, the Stark lands and all our assets will be out of the Wizengamot’s reach. Bringing it up would only put Dumbledore on alert, and Riddle’s death is far more important,” Jon said in a calculating manner, making Harry nod softly.

“I have begun with the Potter assets. We spent a fortune on specialized trunks to transport all the magical beasts, as well as to prepare a greenhouse, but it is promising. Everything should be ready by the solstice,” Harry said calmly.

Jon looked at him with a small smile.

“So you’ve made your decision. You will travel with me to Westeros?” asked the young Stark, pleased by the answer.

Harry looked at his brother and smiled calmly.

“I will. You are my brother, perhaps not by blood, but in everything that truly matters. I know Clarissa and Sirius will go with you. There is nothing tying me to this island full of idiots,” Harry said, releasing years of accumulated frustration.

Jon smiled, pleased.

“You won’t regret it. Westeros is… beautiful. Especially the North, where I grew up. My uncle Eddard’s lands are vast and beautiful. Of course, we’ll have to deal with some traitors along the way, but no one said the life of a king would be easy,” Jon said with a sigh, making Harry snort in amusement.

“I’m not calling you Your Grace, and I’m definitely not kissing your ass,” said the young lion with determination, making Jon laugh loudly.

“Fine, then I’ll name you Prince Harry, the young black lion of Westeros! I’ll have all the Lords kiss your ass instead of mine, even throw in a daughter or two, you know?” said his brother cunningly, making Harry look at him in horror.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said without conviction, knowing perfectly well that Jon was entirely capable of doing exactly what he said.

Jon simply looked at him with that amused smirk, and both continued walking in complete silence until they reached the Headmaster’s office.

“Come in, Lord Potter, Lord Stark,” said the elderly Headmaster, who was already waiting for them with Sirius inside the office.

Lord Black looked toward Harry with a smile, clearly annoyed with the Headmaster, though Harry did not know the reason, to be honest.

“Lord Dumbledore, I believe we have much to discuss,” said his brother, wiping his face of any emotion and adopting that mask Clarissa had named “the Dragon.”

The mask Jon normally used in political discussions.

“So it seems, Lord Stark,” said the old man, offering seats to both wizards.

As he did so, Harry inspected the office. Nothing had changed since his visit after the basilisk fiasco, but now he saw it with different eyes.

Everything in Dumbledore’s office, the portraits, gadgets, and artifacts—was strategically placed. The books in plain sight, the school awards, everything arranged to influence the perception visitors had of the old man.

Here, Dumbledore appeared to be an eccentric old professor passionate about teaching, the image he wanted to project.

In this place, it was easy to forget that this man also possessed magical and political power that was simply monstrous, with hundreds or even thousands of connections up his sleeve.

One of the most dangerous men in the Magical World.

It is truly curious how your perspective changes when you possess the proper knowledge, thought the young lion.

Harry and Jon sat down calmly, but the young Potter noticed something… peculiar.

The way Jon, out of the Headmaster’s sight, placed his finger over his Lord ring—but not over the Stark ring.

The Targaryen one.

The three-headed dragon glowed faintly for an instant before returning to complete stillness.

Jon had done something, perhaps sent an order or something similar, though at the moment, Harry did not know what.

He could not afford to be distracted. Not now.

Especially when Jon pulled out the locket from Grimmauld Place and placed it in front of the old man, watching as his eyes widened in surprise for a fleeting instant before returning to normal.

Dumbledore leaned forward, moved his wand, and completely sealed the Floo network, understanding that the conversation would be quite delicate, giving it his full attention, something Sirius, Jon, and Harry also did.

Without having the slightest idea that, hundreds of miles away, in the depths of the Ministry of Magic…

The Department of Mysteries would pay for meddling with magic that did not belong to them.

And they would pay with Fire.

And blood.

Saul Croaker, Department of Mysteries.

“Report!” shouted Saul as he rushed into the room dedicated to the study of the mysterious draconic helmet.

“It’s a complete fucking disaster! Terrifying magical fluctuations have been manifesting nonstop since Samhain. The helmet seems to be alive and furious. We have more than ten personnel maintaining the defensive runes active, but we don’t know how long we can hold like this!” one of his subordinates snapped, completely terrified.

Saul cursed under his breath as he watched the erratic helmet begin to move on its own, an aura of black flames and lightning surrounding it as it slammed against the magical glass again and again.

It was more than clear that the damned thing wanted to get out—something they absolutely could not allow.

“Have you called Dumbledore?! The magical readings are astronomical. This thing looks more like a damn bomb than armor!” said Saul, pulling out his own wand and helping the witches and wizards who were trying to keep the damned object contained.

“I did! The Floo line is blocked! The Headmaster is not responding!” said the wizard in question.

“FUCK!” Croaker shouted immediately, his paranoid mind telling him that this was not a coincidence, but a premeditated act.

An attack against the Department of Mysteries.

“Get one of our agents to Apparate to Hogwarts and contact Dumbledore before...”

However, his words were cut short by a crack.

A horrible one.

One that made it feel as if his ears were about to burst.

Coming from the magical display case that held the helmet.

“WE CAN’T CONTROL IT! EVERYONE OUT!!!” Croaker shouted as he watched the helmet begin to tremble uncontrollably. Unknown runes glowed in a blood-red color, as if awakening from a deep slumber.

And then...

Hell was unleashed.

Voracious black flames burst forth from the helmet, tearing apart the magical display case and completely incinerating the ten witches and wizards closest to the explosion.

“SHIELDS!!!” Croaker shouted as the remaining Unspeakables raised the most powerful shields they knew, trying to contain the terrifying magic.

“What the hell is this, Director?” said a young recruit at his side, trembling with fear.

Croaker could not answer. He had no fucking idea what was happening. He tried one counter-curse after another against the cursed fire.

And all of it was completely useless.

The voracious flames began to take shape, hiding the helmet within a fucking three-headed dragon made of black fire. The heat was so intense, and the magic so powerful, that to Croaker’s absolute disbelief and terror… it was capable of burning magic itself.

The Department’s wards—powerful, dangerous, and ancient—were beginning to give way before the overwhelming beast straight out of hell. The runic clusters started to collapse, and the fire began to spread, making the dragon larger and more terrifying than ever.

Several agents tried to escape, but the overwhelming magical pressure made such a task practically impossible. The flames advanced slowly throughout the entire damn Department, and Croaker could only curse as he felt more and more wards collapsing.

Including the truly terrifying sections, such as the study of time magic, the prophecies, and the fucking veil.

Though Saul had more important things demanding his attention—like the fact that the dragon’s three damn heads were staring directly at him.

And then, to his surprise…

It spoke, all heads at once.

“You dared to lay your filthy hands upon the magic of the Dragon Lords!” the magical entity roared as it rose and continued spreading flames throughout the entire damn place.

“I only—” he tried to speak, but was interrupted almost instantly.

“In the name of Aemon of House Targaryen, Lord of Dragons and the last Archon of Valyria, I sentence you to die.”

And before Croaker could even blink, a massive explosion of black flames surged toward him at overwhelming speed.

The only thing he could do was close his eyes…

And watch his entire life flash before them.

It was over.

And apparently not just for him—but for every witch and wizard within the Department of Mysteries.

Those who had played with the Dragon…

And thought they would live to tell the tale.

The flames kissed the head of the Unspeakables, and he felt the greatest agony of his entire life…

At least for an instant.

And then...

Darkness.

The flames devoured the rest of the Department, everything. Every room, every secret, every investigation was consumed by the draconic magic.

In the end, the flames returned to the helmet, being completely reabsorbed into it, before the ancient helm of Daemon Targaryen also disappeared, leaving behind a completely destroyed Department.

The alarms throughout the Ministry had already begun to sound, and the Aurors and Hit Wizards were heading toward the mysterious location to find out what the hell had happened.

When they arrived, they would find the entire Department and all its members present completely burned, everything destroyed and rendered useless.

With a single exception.

The Veil of Death, still buried under hundreds of rubble and forgotten.

At least for now.