Baelor Targaryen, The Observatory – Ocean of Souls

"What would you like to know?" Lady Lily asked as she made herself comfortable on a sofa beside her husband.

Lord James unconsciously took his wife's hand, a gesture of intimacy that revealed the close and loving relationship they shared, while absentmindedly stroking her hair with his other hand, gazing toward the Goddess's sphere with longing.

"That won't do much good. The sphere will only light up when the Goddess wishes it to," Queen Rhaenyra said softly, regarding the Lord and Lady with a sad smile.

Baelor could sympathize, to be entirely honest. This couple had died without knowing whether their beloved son was still alive, and when the Goddess finally confirmed that young Harry was indeed alive, offering them a tantalizing glimpse of hope, she had simply stopped showing Aemon's life.

Again.

Even Baelor, who was known for his patience, wanted to tear his hair out at the particularly inconvenient moments the Goddess chose to interrupt the visions. But that was another matter. What truly mattered was that they could learn more about this world in which Aemon now lived.

"You studied at Hogwarts, correct? This…magical school. What is it like?" Baelor asked with his characteristic courtesy.

The question silenced the entire House of the Dragon, everyone eager to learn more about this magical world.

Lord James and Lady Lily exchanged surprised glances, as though, for some reason, the question had caught them off guard. They then turned their attention toward Baelor.

"You don't know Hogwarts? Then you must not be from England or the United Kingdom. Hogwarts is the premier school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place where wizards and witches learn to control their magical gifts. It's a school that has existed for more than a thousand years," Lady Lily replied naturally.

Her words caused everyone present, kings and queens, princes and princesses alike, to focus their full attention on the couple before them.

Lord James leaned forward slightly, adopting a more relaxed and approachable posture as he regarded the nobles surrounding him. His hand remained firmly intertwined with Lady Lily's, who listened with a small smile upon her lips, undoubtedly lost in memories of this…Hogwarts they spoke of so frequently.

The young wizard inhaled deeply, gathering his thoughts before addressing the curiosity he had awakened among those present.

"It's a tradition," James began with a friendly smile. "Among both noble families and the humblest households, it's customary to send our children, wizards and witches alike, to study at Hogwarts when they turn eleven. There, they learn to understand their gifts, control their magic, and develop the abilities that will accompany them throughout the rest of their lives."

Everyone listened in silence, immersed in his explanation and eager for more knowledge about this strange and magical world.

Although the idea of Lords and Ladies studying alongside commoners was…strange, to say the least, even for Baelor.

James paused briefly, absentmindedly caressing his wife's fingers with his thumb. Speaking of Hogwarts seemed to awaken particularly pleasant memories within him, and his expression acquired a warmth that did not go unnoticed by the members of the House of the Dragon, who were listening with rapt attention.

"Over the centuries, it has become something practically everyone accepts and looks forward to with excitement and anticipation."

The young Lord chuckled softly, as though he had just remembered some mischief from his school years. Lily turned her face slightly toward him, giving him a look filled with affection and a touch of exasperation, although she did not interrupt his explanation.

"And believe me when I say that those are the best years in the life of any wizard or witch," James continued, this time with nostalgia he could not conceal. "Hogwarts is much more than an academy where you learn spells and study ancient rituals. It's the place where you make your first true friends, establish connections for your future, discover who you are and what your calling might be. You'll see it in greater detail yourselves, if this magical sphere continues showing us the lives of Aemon and Harry."

His smile softened considerably as he regarded the Targaryens gathered before him. Baelor was preparing to ask another question when someone else spoke in his place.

"And the Starks? What do you know about that family?" old King Jaehaerys asked, leaning forward with interest.

At those words, every Targaryen present, Baelor included, fell silent, genuinely interested in the couple's answer.

And this time, Lady Lily provided it.

"Everyone knows who the Starks were. They were one of the founding clans of the Council of Wizards, the unifiers of the ancient Celtic clans. They helped shape much of magical society. Their gifts lay in runes, magical beasts, and druidic magic. As revered as they were feared, they disappeared around five hundred years ago," the redhead explained, causing everyone around her to frown at the…reverence with which Lily spoke of the Wolf Lords.

"I see, I…" old King Jaehaerys attempted to reply, only to be interrupted by the sphere, which illuminated once again.

This time, it showed Aemon walking alongside Harry.

Baelor smiled softly as he watched Aemon defend young Potter from another boy, one considerably larger and stronger than him.

"Two against one is hardly an honorable confrontation," Jon remarked, regarding the two... creatures with unmistakable disdain.

"Stay out of this! Big D is going to teach Potter a lesson!" the skinny boy exclaimed.

Baelor watched curiously as Lord James and Lady Lily regarded the group of boys with barely restrained fury. He even swallowed nervously when he saw the expression of absolute rage and hatred in the redhead's eyes.

She reminded him of his wife, he thought affectionately, missing Jena as he did every day in this Observatory and wondering whether he would ever see her again.

"Who does that little shit think he is? I hope Aemon puts him in his place," Aegon II declared, taking an entire bunch of grapes and making himself comfortable.

Baelor couldn't help shaking his head, still astonished by how different some of his ancestors were from their historical reputations. But that could wait. The former Prince of Dragonstone simply returned his attention to the sphere.

Only to watch Aemon frown and clench his fists. His expression remained impassive, but Baelor could easily detect the fury in his eyes.

This would be interesting, he thought.

"Your presence is beginning to irritate me," Jon said softly. "Leave. Now. Before you come to regret your foolishness."

The two boys hesitated uncertainly.

Then the obese one stepped forward.

"You think you're tough, huh?" he demanded, raising his fist as he advanced toward Jon.

"What do you think of this?"

With that, he threw a punch.

In Jon's considerable experience, it was quite possibly the most pathetic punch he had ever witnessed.

Slow, clumsy, and utterly devoid of technique.

Jon effortlessly stepped aside, avoiding the blow before retaliating with a punch of his own.

His fist struck the boy directly in the stomach.

Disbelief swept through everyone in the Observatory. Kings and queens, princes and princesses alike stared incredulously as the small, obese boy threw what was undoubtedly the most pathetic punch they had ever witnessed.

"Even I don't throw punches that badly," Prince Vaegon remarked, only to hear Lady Lily, whose face was filled with wicked satisfaction, muttering to herself.

"It should have been his face. And at least seven punches, so the little shit would learn his lesson," she spat furiously, causing the surrounding Targaryens to regard her with caution.

"Your presence disgusts me, little piggy," Jon whispered coldly. "If you insist on behaving like an animal, then I shall treat you like one."

He tightened his grip slightly.

"If you ever disrespect me again, I assure you that today's pain will be the least of your concerns."

Jon leaned closer.

"Now, squeal if you understand me."

The other two boys stared at him in utter disbelief.

"I understa—AAAH!"

The piglet's attempted response was cut short when Jon pulled his hair even harder.

"I didn't tell you to speak," Jon interrupted coldly. "I told you to squeal like the little piggy you are. Do you understand?"

The boy began crying even harder.

"Ha! Look at that! The dragon emerges in response to that little pig's insolence!" his brother Maekar declared with amusement, causing Baelor to snort softly.

"The little shit is going to crap himself," Prince Aemond remarked, clasping his hands behind his back with interest, prompting several nearby princes to nod and whisper among themselves.

What they saw next was the pair of insignificant worms crawling away before fleeing, after which the sphere focused on Harry and Aemon once again.

Young Potter was staring at Aemon with astonishment written across his face, along with unmistakable relief.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, James! Look at him! He's so thin! What happened to him?" Lily asked worriedly, gripping her husband's hand tightly. James was frowning, staring at the sphere with helpless frustration.

"That was incredible!"

Jon turned toward the voice and discovered the bespectacled youngster staring at him with undisguised amazement.

"It was nothing," Jon replied casually at the same time he extended his hand.

"Jon Stark."

At those words, the Targaryens present frowned, Baelor included.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this," his father whispered, while several others grimaced uncomfortably before returning their attention to the sphere.

The boy regarded the offered hand for a moment before accepting it.

"Harry Potter," he introduced himself.

Then, unable to contain his curiosity, he continued.

"You're a wizard, aren't you?"

"Of course he is! He will be the most powerful Targaryen of our dynasty, the one who will return to Westeros with fire and blood to destroy those filthy usurpers and reclaim our throne!" his nephew Aerion declared with sickening devotion, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Unfortunately, such behavior was perfectly normal as far as Baelor was concerned.

But it caught Lord and Lady Potter by surprise, both of whom regarded his nephew with caution and disbelief.

"There's something very wrong with that boy," Lady Lily remarked.

Baelor could only nod in agreement.

They then watched a sincere exchange of words between the two youngsters, culminating in Harry and Aemon walking down the street.

And although Baelor knew that the architecture of this strange place was probably the least important aspect of what he was witnessing, he couldn't help admiring how sturdy and well constructed everything around them appeared.

"This place, Midgard, is far superior to anything we possess. Look at that, Baelor. Their smallfolk live in greater luxury than even a minor Lord in Westeros," his father, Daeron II, remarked as they watched the youngsters walking together, chatting about seemingly meaningless things.

For several minutes, the two proceeded in comfortable silence, one that eventually, Jon broke.

"So, are you Heir Potter? Son of Lord James and Lady Lily?"

Harry stared at him incredulously.

"My parents were lords?"

Jon returned his astonished expression.

"That's what I read. Lord James and Lady Lily, the last known lord and lady of House Potter."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Lord Hadrian Potter is expected to assume his position as the next lord of the family at the age of fifteen. That's you, right?"

Harry was speechless.

"I... I didn't know any of that. Are you sure you haven't confused me with another Potter? And my name is Harry, not Hadrian."

"No, my love. Your name is Hadrian," the redhead whispered as her Lord husband held her in his arms.

Baelor could only watch sadly as the redhead stared toward the sphere, utterly devastated.

"Look at him, James. Look at our little boy. He's just…I…"

Lady Lily couldn't finish. Her eyes filled with tears as she buried her face against Lord James's chest, and he simply wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and firmly.

"It's all right, Lily Flower. Harry is safe, and apparently he's getting along rather well with Aemon," James said with a smile, although Baelor could easily see the pain filling the man's eyes.

Moved by an impulse that came from deep within, Baelor walked toward the Lord and Lady before speaking.

"I know it's difficult. I'm a father myself, to those two boys, in fact," the Prince explained, gesturing toward Valarr and Matarys.

"But Hadrian, Harry…seems like a good boy, and he appears to have a good relationship with Aemon. I'm certain they'll become very close, and I'm equally certain they'll look after one another at Hogwarts," the Prince said in his characteristically calm voice.

Lord James and Lady Lily looked at him in surprise, the pain in their expressions softening into gratitude before they nodded gently.

The black-haired man was the first to respond.

"Aye, you're…you're right," he said softly.

Lily smiled and continued.

"You must have been a wonderful King in life, Baelor," she said with a sincerity to which Baelor was simply unaccustomed.

It was…refreshing, how sincere these two young people were.

"I appreciate your words, my Lady, but I'm afraid the crown never rested upon my head. I had the…good and bad fortune of never living a single day without my beloved parents, although I know perfectly well that my death left them both devastated," he replied with a sigh.

Especially when he saw the sorrowful expression on King Daeron's face and the guilt and pain in his brother Maekar's eyes.

Even after almost a hundred years, his brother still hadn't forgiven himself, Baelor thought heavily.

However, those sorrowful matters were soon forgotten when they watched Harry and Aemon arrive at a…peculiar and strange establishment.

It was filled with bright colors and surrounded by small children, making two youngsters like Aemon and Harry rather conspicuous.

"What a picturesque place, wouldn't you agree? Although those dishes are…interesting," Prince Aemon remarked, gently stroking his chin as he watched Aemon pay for both their meals, much to Harry's embarrassment, before the two sat down to chat while waiting for their food.

"By the Gods! What is that delicacy?" Baelor's grandfather, Aegon IV, exclaimed, practically drooling as he watched a young woman bring food to Aemon and Harry's table.

And for once, Baelor found himself agreeing with his questionable grandfather.

The food was…completely unlike anything he had ever seen before. An enormous piece of meat between two pieces of bread, accompanied by strange golden sticks from which delicate wisps of steam rose, making them, in his opinion, even more visually appealing.

"Oh, fuck! That shit looks delicious!" Aegon II exclaimed, practically salivating over the hamburgers Aemon and Harry had ordered.

Baelor had to admit that those things did indeed look exquisite.

However, before he could say anything about it, the former Targaryen King knelt upon the floor, raised his eyes toward the ceiling, and shouted.

"Oh, Goddess of Amber Eyes and Dragon's Temperament, would you please bless us with the opportunity to taste those delicious delicacies?" he declared with determination, spreading his arms expectantly beneath the incredulous gazes of everyone around him.

"Aegon, please…stop making a fool of yourself. I…" Viserys I attempted to say.

However, his words were interrupted by a beautiful, gentle blue light.

To Baelor's absolute astonishment and disbelief, an enormous table filled with the same succulent food Aemon was eating appeared within the chamber.

For several seconds, nobody said a word.

At least until Aegon rose to his feet, laughing triumphantly, before raising his gaze and shouting with joy.

"HAHAHA! THANK YOU, GODDESS! YOU'RE THE BEST! I'M A FAN OF THE OLD GODS!" Aegon shouted before eagerly approaching the table, beneath the interested yet cautious gazes of the remaining Targaryens.

Baelor merely shook his head before returning his attention to Aemon and Harry's conversation.

"Blessed be the delicate hands of the Maiden who prepared this glorious feast!" Jon exclaimed reverently before taking another enormous bite of his hamburger.

Harry looked utterly mortified.

"Lower your voice, Jon! People are staring at us!" he whispered urgently, glancing around the restaurant.

Jon remained thoroughly focused on his meal.

"Perfectly natural," he replied casually. "These people have probably never found themselves in the presence of two lords, Harry. Let them stare. There's little else they can do."

Having delivered that declaration, Jon promptly took another bite of his hamburger.

Harry merely shook his head and continued eating.

At Aemon's words, many of those present snorted with amusement, while others gently shook their heads, although amusement was evident on most of their faces.

"It seems our dragon has his head a little in the clouds, don't you think?" Princess Alyssa asked, receiving an answer from Aerion, who was eating one of the hamburgers.

"As he should," he declared smugly, just as everyone's attention returned to the sphere.

"I shall introduce this sublime delicacy to the palates of the wizarding world! An excellent opportunity to earn a considerable amount of gold!"

Before Harry's incredulous gaze, Jon retrieved a notebook, quill, and ink from his belongings and began writing enthusiastically.

"We'll have to discover a way to improve it with magic. Hmm... enchanted bread that never grows cold and always remains soft."

He continued scribbling notes.

"Only the finest cattle, naturally. Perhaps I could establish a suitable supply chain. I'll have to discuss this with Balka. She might have some ideas."

Harry nearly panicked when he saw Jon casually producing magical objects in the middle of a Muggle restaurant.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "We're surrounded by Muggles! You're violating the Statute of Secrecy!"

He frantically glanced around, searching for anyone who might have noticed.

The young Stark dismissed his concerns with a lazy gesture, never once interrupting his writing.

"Relax, Harry. I cast a Confundus Charm when we arrived. They don't know what's happening. Look around you."

Harry fell silent.

Reluctantly following Jon's suggestion, he glanced around the restaurant.

Just as Jon had claimed, the Muggles were completely ignoring them, continuing their conversations and meals as though nothing unusual had happened.

Harry shook his head before turning back toward Jon.

"You're a pure-blood, aren't you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm a pure Stark, if that's what you're asking," Jon replied indifferently as he returned his belongings to his bag.

"Excellent answer," Lady Lily declared firmly, while Lord James nodded approvingly beside her, attracting the attention of the surrounding Targaryens.

"What does that expression mean, my Lady?" the Prince asked.

James and Lily looked at him in surprise before Lord James replied.

"A pure-blood is a wizard or witch whose ancestral lineage consists entirely of witches and wizards. Harry asked that question because of how naturally Aemon uses magic, and his answer was perfect," James explained with approval in his voice.

Baelor nodded gently.

"So... where do you live, Jon?" Harry asked somewhat uncertainly.

He wasn't entirely sure how to behave in this situation.

After all, he had never really had friends, and his social skills were rather dreadful.

If Jon noticed the uncertainty in his voice, he chose not to comment on it.

"I live in my family's castle, Wolf's Den, near Cranleigh. It's been the ancestral stronghold of House Stark for generations!" Jon declared proudly.

Harry stared at him in disbelief.

"A castle? Like Hogwarts?"

He sounded positively astonished.

Jon shook his head.

"If you mean a magical castle, then yes, Wolf's Den is rather like Hogwarts. But if you're referring to its size, I'm afraid not." He smiled faintly at the same time he finished his burger.

"My home is a relatively small castle, with a few towers and several halls. It's not that far from here. Perhaps you could visit me someday!"

His expression became slightly more reserved.

"I don't really have many friends, and the castle can be... lonely."

"Loneliness can be merciless. Being close to Harry will do him good. Both of them, in fact," his father Daeron II remarked, prompting several people around him to nod gently.

"I see the beginning of a close bond, Father," Baelor said softly, smiling as he watched Harry and Aemon laugh and joke as though they were already good friends.

It hardly seemed as though they had only just met.

At that moment, the image changed once again.

"Our baby is safe, Lils. Harry is alive," Lord James sighed with unmistakable relief, pulling Lady Lily into his arms, relief written across his face.

"He is, my love. That's all that matters," the redhead replied firmly.

The members of the House of the Dragon began rising to their feet, assuming that the visions had ended for the moment.

However, the Goddess was feeling particularly generous today, for the sphere did not go completely dark.

Instead, the image changed to Aemon, who was entirely focused on working on some project at an enormous table.

All manner of wood and carving tools surrounded him, and the young dragon was muttering to himself, completely absorbed in his activity.

"What is he doing?" Prince Baelon asked, receiving a distracted answer from Lady Lily.

"He's…carving arcane runes. With enviable skill, I might add," the beautiful woman replied, causing Lord James to nod gently beside her.

"He's a Stark, darling. Runes are to the Starks what Transfiguration is to the Potters," he declared proudly.

Lady Lily rolled her eyes with a mixture of amusement and exasperation as everyone concentrated on the images of Aemon.

Jon was completely absorbed in his work, carefully carving the final runes into the stone Professor Babbling had provided. His movements were deliberate and precise, each symbol etched with the patience of someone who understood that even the smallest mistake could compromise an entire runic sequence. He was nearly finished with his first project, and although it was a relatively simple creation, he could hardly contain his excitement.

"I'm surprised by the discipline you've shown in your study of Ancient Runes, Jon," Professor Babbling remarked from her desk, watching him with quiet interest. "Most young wizards find this particular branch of magic rather tedious."

Jon continued carving, unwilling to break his concentration when he was so close to finishing.

"I find runes fascinating, Professor. They're incredibly useful and, in many ways, far more versatile than conventional wand spells. I honestly don't understand why the subject isn't more popular."

"Because mastering runes requires discipline, dedication, and an extraordinary amount of practice," the professor replied dryly. "Most wizards simply lack the patience to learn even the fundamentals properly, much less develop anything of their own."

"Ha! That woman certainly seems to have quite a strong personality! Haha!" Prince Baelon remarked with amusement, prompting his Lady Wife, Princess Alyssa, to respond.

"But she's clearly very competent," she replied, returning her attention to the image.

For several seconds, they watched Aemon work with remarkable skill and complete concentration on his project.

Baelor regarded him with a certain pride, to be honest. He would never say it aloud, but he considered the manner in which Aemon had been raised a tremendous blessing.

Throughout everything they had witnessed, he had never seen any despotic or particularly troubling attitudes from the boy.

Quite the opposite.

As he was demonstrating now, constructing what appeared to be an extremely complicated magical artifact.

And judging by the impressed expressions on Lady Lily's and Lord James's faces, it was something remarkable.

"Am I to assume that Aemon's abilities are acceptable, my Lords?" Baelor asked curiously, immediately attracting their attention.

And receiving an answer from Lady Lily.

"It's not exactly something groundbreaking, but the concepts and techniques he's using are very advanced, worthy of a master runesmith. If he manages to create those bridges and connect them to those runic matrices, he'll have the foundations necessary to undertake far more complex projects," the redhead explained.

Lord James nodded beside her.

"He's a true prodigy. A true Stark," the Lord declared, causing several princes and kings present to frown.

"He's a Targaryen, not a Stark," Aerion declared firmly.

But before another argument could begin, everyone returned their attention to the scene.

Jon looked up at his professor expectantly.

"What do you think?"

Professor Babbling studied the seemingly ordinary stone with a more analytical expression. Her eyes moved slowly over the engraved symbols before settling on the three matrices connecting the individual arrays.

"Interesting," she murmured. "I don't recall teaching you how to construct bridge matrices, Jon. Where exactly did you learn to make these connections?"

"In my family's library, Professor," Jon replied without hesitation. "There's an entire wing dedicated to Ancient Runes and their practical applications."

"I see."

The professor nodded slightly before returning her attention to the stone. She examined each cluster with considerable care, following the connections and occasionally tilting the artifact to better inspect the individual engravings.

"The carving is remarkably precise. Not a single rune is misplaced, and the overall structure is sound. Your bridge matrices could benefit from some refinement, particularly in how they distribute magical energy, but that is something experience will correct."

"It looks…ordinary," Aegon II remarked, causing his brother Aemond to roll his eyes.

"It's merely practice, Aegon. A school project," the Kinslayer replied.

And once again, Baelor couldn't help noticing just how…different he was from the man history remembered.

"Jon, that is the sort of independent runic construction I would normally expect from a student preparing for their N.E.W.T.s, not someone completing his first practical project."

Jon's smile widened at the praise.

"However," she continued, raising a finger, "a well-carved array is only half the achievement. What matters is whether the enchantment actually functions as intended. Shall we test it?"

"Of course, Professor!"

"Then activate it."

Jon placed his hand lightly upon the runestone and spoke a single word.

"Lux."

The response was immediate.

A soft white radiance emerged from the engraved symbols, spreading across the stone until the entire artifact glowed with a steady, brilliant light. A moment later, the triangular stone rose gently from the desk, hovering in the air and illuminating the surrounding workspace with a brightness far greater than that of an ordinary candle.

Baelor smiled proudly at Aemon's success, while the more…enthusiastic members of the family watched the achievement with equal measures of envy and pride.

"I was expecting something more…interesting," his grandfather remarked, evidently disappointed by the result.

His grandmother Naerys looked at him with surprise and disbelief.

"You've just watched Aemon make a piece of wood shine like a torch and levitate above his table…and you're neither impressed nor proud?" the Queen asked incredulously.

Aegon IV merely shrugged indifferently.

Everyone present watched as the professor praised Aemon's skill and ability, although she made certain to remind him of the importance of safety in his own projects.

Eventually, the lesson concluded with the professor instructing Aemon to deliver some coins to another teacher whom nobody, not even Lord James or Lady Lily, recognized.

Professor Trelawney.

"That's not a name we're familiar with. She wasn't at Hogwarts when we graduated," the redhead remarked, concentrating once again on the sphere.

Everyone watched in silence as Aemon arrived at a solitary tower within Hogwarts, entering a classroom very different from any they had seen before.

One in which something strange was evidently taking place.

Something they were able to confirm from Aemon's reaction.

The young dragon grimaced uncomfortably, and his eyes flashed amber for an instant before he concentrated once more.

And at that precise moment, the unknown professor appeared, presenting a…truly pathetic sight.

"That thing barely looks like a woman," his grandfather Aegon spat, drawing several contemptuous looks before everyone returned their attention to the sphere.

"Oh, darling! I didn't see you. Welcome to the realm of Divination!" a voice exclaimed behind him. Jon turned to find Professor Trelawney, dressed in shabby robes and surrounded by the overwhelming scent of incense and something else he couldn't quite identify.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney. Professor Babbling asked me to deliver this to you," Jon explained, handing her a package.

The professor smiled pleasantly, but the wolf within Jon remained restless. His instincts warned him that something was terribly wrong.

"Oh, the money! Just leave it on my desk, dear... Oh! What is this?" she suddenly exclaimed, her eyes rolling upward. "My Third Eye! It shows me your future! I see... DEATH!"

"What the fuck is wrong with that bitch? How can she say something like that to someone so young?" Queen Rhaenyra snapped, rising to her feet and glaring at the sphere with ferocity and fury.

Sentiments shared by several princesses around her.

"Something is happening. Look at Aemon. He's extremely uncomfortable. Something isn't right," Prince Jacaerys remarked, crossing his arms.

As observant and intelligent as the history books described him, Baelor thought, having noticed exactly the same thing.

Something was terribly wrong.

Her expression became wild and unhinged, yet Jon remained alert. Something about the entire situation felt unnatural.

He placed the package on her desk, but his attention was drawn to a nearby candle. Its flame burned strangely, unlike any fire he had encountered. Focusing his magic, Jon attempted to manipulate it, only to discover something impossible.

The flame had no will because the flame did not exist.

Illusion magic. The entire classroom was an illusion.

Jon's eyes flashed brilliant amber as he spun toward the professor.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" he roared, advancing toward her.

"Boy, control yourself! You're frightening me!" Trelawney cried, retreating in apparent terror.

Jon's mind insisted everything was normal, but his senses and magic screamed otherwise. Unable to reconcile the contradiction, he raised his wand and unleashed an overcharged Depulso.

The professor flew backward, smashing through several tables.

"FUCK! HAHAHA! NOW THIS IS GETTING INTERESTING!" his grandfather exclaimed, leaning his obese body toward the sphere.

Everyone remained silent, incredulous and concerned by what they were witnessing.

Aemon's eyes betrayed the fact that his Stark blood had been disturbed by something. They were amber, like a wolf's, and he looked around with fury and confusion.

"This isn't normal behavior for Aemon. What is happening in that classroom?" old King Jaehaerys wondered aloud, drawing everyone's attention back to the sphere.

"Monster! You're a monster!" she sobbed, writhing in pain.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" Jon demanded, ignoring her cries as he began destroying the classroom.

Spells flew from his wand, shattering furniture and tearing through the surrounding walls, yet nothing revealed the deception. Finally, remembering a simple counterspell, Jon gathered his will and, for the first time since beginning his magical education, spoke an incantation aloud.

"FINITE INCANTATEM MAXIMA!"

A powerful wave of magic erupted from his wand, briefly distorting the entire room before the illusion restored itself. Every chair, desk, and brick was false, sustained by a powerful witch with an iron will.

Everyone in the Observatory was left completely paralyzed by what they had witnessed.

Nobody said a single word.

Not even Baelor.

"Fuck," his brother Maekar whispered.

Then Aegon II spoke, his voice cautious and hesitant.

"Did…did the whole fucking room seem to…change for an instant?" he asked with a hint of fear.

The more devout Targaryens, such as Princess Maegelle, King Baelor, and Queen Naerys, prayed in absolute terror, frightened by anything associated with magic.

But nobody said anything else.

Everyone wanted to see what the fuck was happening with this…Sybill Trelawney, who apparently was far more dangerous than any of them had imagined.

Unfortunately for her, Jon was equally stubborn.

Drawing upon even more magic, he spread his arms and roared once again.

"FINITE INCANTATEM MAXIMA!"

The effect was immediate. The classroom shattered like fragile glass, its fragments dissolving into nothingness as an entirely different chamber emerged.

It was a place of extraordinary luxury. Golden pillars adorned with dragon heads surrounded the chamber, their mouths releasing mystical amethyst flames. Beneath Jon's feet stretched a flawless white marble floor, polished enough to reflect his image. There were no visible walls or ceiling, only an endless star-filled sky that made the chamber appear suspended among the heavens.

At its center stood an enormous bed draped in red and black silk, surrounded by dozens of luxurious pillows. Reclining upon it was the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen.

Her platinum hair framed an ethereally beautiful face, with delicate aristocratic features and pale, icy-blue eyes. A fitted white silk dress embraced her voluptuous figure, emphasizing her generous curves and elegant legs. She regarded Jon with amusement and unmistakable desire.

"Well, well... For the first time in fifty years, someone has broken my illusion. I knew you were different the moment you arrived, darling. Powerful, too," she purred.

"Gods!" the Unworthy exclaimed, devouring the seductive vision with his eyes.

A Valyrian beauty unlike almost any they had ever seen, regarding Aemon as though he were a particularly sweet piece of candy.

"That woman has Valyrian blood. There's no doubt about it," his father Daeron remarked, causing everyone around him to nod, completely focused on what they were witnessing.

Jon's blood was still burning with the wolf's fury.

"It is unwise to meddle with my mind," he warned, his amber eyes reflecting a dangerous mixture of anger, suspicion, and desire.

"Now, now, my love. There's no need for hostility. Very few people are worthy of seeing my true appearance," she replied playfully, shifting into another seductive pose. "Tell me, darling... do you like what you see?"

Her movement revealed elegant legs decorated with luminous runic tattoos. Jon immediately recognized their significance. Such enchantments required extraordinary skill and could be extremely dangerous if improperly constructed.

Whoever this woman was, she was undeniably powerful.

"What is this place? Who are you? And where is Professor Trelawney?" Jon demanded, assuming a dueling stance as magical energy gathered at his wand's tip.

The woman smiled, casually waving her wand. Before Jon's astonished eyes appeared the familiar figure of Sybill Trelawney, complete with oversized spectacles, disheveled hair, and dreadful clothing. Yet the figure remained perfectly motionless, like an abandoned puppet.

"I am Sybill Trelawney, great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, clairvoyant and illusionist, at your service," she purred, inclining her head gracefully.

"And you are Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, brother of Robb and son of Eddard Stark... Or perhaps I should call you Lord Jon Stark, master of Wolf's Den and lord of the ancient House Stark."

Her smile deepened.

"An extinct magical bloodline, recognized by Mother Magic herself as one of the ancient Princes of Winter. And above all, a young wizard powerful enough to sense and destroy an illusion that even the mighty Albus Dumbledore has never detected."

She rose gracefully from the bed, her pale eyes fixed upon Jon as she approached with slow, deliberate steps.

"Very, very interesting... wouldn't you agree, Jon?"

At those words, everyone in the Observatory froze.

Without exception.

Nobody had the slightest idea what to say.

Their minds were completely blank.

Only one thought was shared by every spectator, one that his nephew Aerion took it upon himself to express aloud.

"Shit."

And Baelor could only agree.

This was a disaster.

And it was only beginning.