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Harry Potter, Marauder's Den – King's Landing.

"Oh, by the Old Gods! Marauder's Den! Just as the books described it!" Desmella whispered with such profound reverence that Harry couldn't help looking at her in surprise, his eyebrows raised with curiosity.

"You have books about this place?" Harry asked incredulously, causing Desmella to nod rapidly.

"Aye, Historical Sites of Modern Magic. They study in great depth the magic used to raise the great fortresses of Westeros: Winterfell, Sky Tower, Snake Pass, and Casterly Mines. We don't know much about Marauder's Den, only that it was the lost fortress of House Black, hidden behind magic so powerful that it seemed to have been erased from the continent itself," she explained solemnly, causing Harry to nod before answering.

"A Fidelius Charm, an extraordinarily powerful enchantment that conceals a location from the very fabric of reality. That's what protects this place," Harry explained solemnly, taking the time to truly examine his surroundings.

The place was beautiful. Everything remained immaculate, to the point that it didn't even appear to have been abandoned for two hundred years. The garden was symmetrical, filled with beautiful red roses that seemed to release a delicate vapor. Harry couldn't recognize them.

But Desmella could.

"By Sirius! Those… those are Sunset Roses! They're supposed to be extinct! They disappeared with the fall of Valyria! They were endemic to the peninsula!" the blonde exclaimed in disbelief, while Alicent walked gently through the beautiful grounds.

"This place is gorgeous, my love. Is this where our children will live?" the redhead asked, her face filled with excitement at such a beautiful sight.

Harry looked at his redhead with a gentle smile, watching as Alicent's delicate fingers softly caressed the beautiful flowers. Her eyes were dilated, lost in that sweet fantasy, in the future Alicent so desperately desired.

Harry remembered that particular conversation had been… interesting. During one of the many nights when he had made love to Alicent, the redhead had confessed that she wanted a large family, as many children as the Gods and Harry would allow her to have. She had admitted that she wanted a peaceful life, free of worries and obligations. She wanted peace, an enormous library overlooking the ocean, warm family afternoons, and passionate nights.

Alicent wasn't lacking in ambition, but her family, and her duty toward the family she would build with Harry, was her highest priority.

Harry walked toward her, gently wrapping an arm around the redhead's waist and drawing her body slightly closer to his own.

Alicent responded immediately, by this point more than accustomed to Harry's gentle caresses, while he answered softly.

"I don't know yet. Magical houses tend to become infested with dangerous pests after several years of disuse. Two hundred years without a wizard or witch to take care of the household chores will undoubtedly have caused problems," Harry replied, gently caressing Alicent's hand as she held the flower, smiling softly when he saw the petals begin to dance at the touch of his magic.

Little by little, the other flowers in the beautiful garden imitated the dancing blossom, swaying among the bushes like tiny red maidens. They were… beautiful, unlike anything Harry had ever seen before.

"Oh, by the Gods, Harry, look at this!" Alicent whispered, utterly dazzled, while Harry nodded gently.

Lord Potter nodded softly, looking around. At the center of the garden stood a beautiful, enormous heart tree, its snow-white trunk shining beneath the morning sunlight, while its leaves, as red as blood, glowed with a crimson radiance.

"I understand why they're revered. These trees are… monstrously powerful. They feel like an intense magical heartbeat." There was something about them that drew Harry like a moth toward the light, as though… they desperately wished to show him something, with fervor, almost pleading with him. The sensation was… strange and peculiar.

But Harry shook his head. He could study the tree in greater depth another day. For now… he needed to discover what Sirius had left behind in this place.

"Come along, Alicent. We need to explore the castle," Harry instructed kindly, causing the redhead to nod distractedly before turning around and walking arm in arm with him toward the castle's entrance, casting one final glance at the beautiful garden before approaching the immense doors.

Harry followed the garden's cobblestone path directly toward the enormous ebony doors, so colossal that Alicent was greatly surprised.

"Such enormous doors? But they look so… simple. No engravings, just plain doors," she remarked in amazement, running her hand across the immense surface, so heavy that it would take at least ten men to move them, while Harry answered.

"They're magical doors, darling. Even if a hundred men tried to break them down, they wouldn't be able to move them. The enchantments are slowly awakening, but the wards are reacting to my presence, as though… they were waiting for me," Harry whispered, pressing the palm of his hand against the wood.

The moment Harry's hand touched the door, a silver radiance emerged from his palm and fingers, slowly spreading through the wood and causing the previously flat, simple surface to begin changing.

The plain edges gave way to elegant intertwining vines, accompanied by glowing runes carved into the beautiful wood. Harry recognized runes from his former home, clusters of Norse and Egyptian symbols that would undoubtedly be unknown in this land, but he could also distinguish new arrangements containing runes entirely unfamiliar to him. They weren't as refined as those he had studied at Hogwarts, but that didn't make them any less powerful. The magical residue Harry could detect was monstrous, and he intended to study them thoroughly.

Upon each of the doors, Harry watched as beautiful engravings of two identical heart trees slowly appeared. And at the center, Harry looked on with sorrowful eyes and a melancholic smile as the images of Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony emerged beneath the moon, proud, happy, and free.

The image was… devastating and beautiful at the same time. Harry could only feel two treacherous tears roll down his cheeks as old wounds, wounds buried deep beneath the identity of Director Potter, Head of the Aurors, began to reopen.

The three best friends, practically brothers, stared directly at Harry, as though waiting for something, and Harry knew perfectly well what it was.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said slowly, feeling his voice break ever so slightly as he finished the sentence.

The result was instantaneous. The three silhouettes began dancing across the doors, while the enormous structures groaned with effort, opening for the first time in centuries.

"By the Gods," Alicent breathed in disbelief, her mouth opening and closing as she clung tightly to Harry's arm. Behind them, Desmella couldn't help releasing a squeal of surprise and excitement.

"Ohhh, Marauder's Den! This is Marauder's Den! Cersei and Johanna will be green with envy," she whispered to herself, both hands gripping her staff excitedly as the doors revealed the atrium of Marauder's Den for the first time in centuries.

And without hesitation, Harry entered, followed closely by Alicent and Desmella, becoming the first people to set foot inside the ancient Black sanctuary in Westeros.

And to Harry's surprise, the place was… immaculate. There were no cobwebs, and his magical senses couldn't detect a single magical pest. Everything was… ready to be inhabited. Lord Potter smiled as he watched dozens of brooms and feather dusters moving by themselves throughout the building, cleaning constantly. Although he was interested in discovering what kind of enchantments Sirius had employed here.

The ceilings were enormous, evidently enchanted, considering that the interior was twice as large as the exterior. An immense skylight overhead displayed shifting images of the constellations Harry knew.

Lord Potter couldn't help snorting. Although considerably better than the rest of his family, Sirius was still a Black, and his beloved godfather shared his ancestors' obsession with stars and constellations.

The atrium's pillars were guarded by imposing bronze statues. Unlike those at the Ministry, however, these weren't made of enchanted bronze, but rather an alloy Harry had only encountered in two other objects.

"Valyrian steel statues. What the fuck were you doing in here, Sirius?" Harry muttered to himself. Drawing his wand, Lord Potter made an elegant movement, commanding his magic to ignite every brazier and torch at once.

The atrium of Marauder's Den was instantly illuminated, revealing a place that was a strange mixture of English architecture and unmistakable Valyrian influences, as though the entire building had been constructed to… feel familiar to someone.

But everything else in the chamber ceased to matter the moment Harry focused his eyes upon the immense portrait dominating the entrance, directly above the elegant staircases leading toward the rest of the castle, as well as those that appeared to descend into the very heart of the hill itself.

"Is that…" Alicent whispered, only to be interrupted by Desmella.

"Lord Sirius Black! But… who's that woman? Lord Sirius never married. That would have been recorded in history," Desmella remarked curiously, while Harry approached the immense, animated portrait.

Harry couldn't help smiling when he saw his godfather, older than he remembered him, much to the young Potter's delight. Perhaps around sixty years old, Sirius looked happy, with a few wrinkles upon his face and strands of gray in the hair he had once been so proud of.

Beside him sat a beautiful young woman, extraordinarily similar to Rhaenyra. Her Valyrian ancestry was unmistakable: snow-white skin, silver hair like moonlight, and beautiful amethyst eyes. She couldn't have been more than twenty years old. She sat to his godfather's right in an intimate pose, holding a small child with amethyst eyes and black hair in her arms. Behind them stood the silhouette of a young dragon, curled protectively around the family, its scales black and its eyes red.

This was… a family portrait, and considering its place of honor, one that Sirius himself had commissioned.

"This is a family portrait," Alicent declared with conviction, causing Desmella to shake her head, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"But… a Valyrian? Lord Sirius had a Valyrian wife?" she asked incredulously, as though everything she had ever been taught was a lie.

Because it was, Harry thought furiously, gently caressing the plaque beneath the enormous portrait before reading aloud.

"Three Years After the Fall of Valyria. Lord Sirius and Lady Daenys Black, accompanied by young Aemon James Black, Primary Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Black," he read softly, shocking both Desmella and Alicent, although for entirely different reasons.

"Then… House Targaryen and you are family, my Lord?" Alicent asked incredulously, causing Harry to nod gently.

"That… that appears to be the case. But I'll get to the bottom of this, one way or another," Harry replied. Before he could continue, however, a commotion drew the attention of all three visitors, a familiar furious shout belonging to Daemon's irritating voice.

"OH, SHIT!"

Followed by the loud laughter of his future wife and mischievous princess, Rhaenyra, who had undoubtedly witnessed the castle's appearance and come to investigate.

Harry sighed. He could explore this place thoroughly later, but for now, he needed to prevent that idiot Daemon from hurting himself.

Or perhaps not, he thought with amusement, before turning around and leaving the castle, prepared to face the royal family.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, Marauder's Den – King's Landing.

"GET ME THE FUCK DOWN FROM HERE!" her uncle Daemon screamed in terror, while strange vines held him suspended upside down, directly above the immense branches of the beautiful heart tree dominating the mysterious mansion's exquisite courtyard.

Beside her, Viserra regarded their uncle with a sigh, gently shaking her head.

"I told him the rocky vines of the West were dangerous! Why does he have to be so stubborn and foolish?" her sister demanded incredulously, glaring furiously at the sight of Uncle Daemon dangling several meters above the ground.

At those words, both Rhaenyra and King Viserys snorted with amusement at Viserra's complaints. Her sister held her staff, attempting to aim it toward Daemon, while the vines swung him from side to side as though he were a toy.

"Get me the fuck down!" the Prince demanded, causing Viserra to narrow her eyes and answer furiously.

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TRYING TO DO! STOP FUCKING MOVING, YOU DAMNED IDIOT!" Rhaenyra's sister shouted angrily before casting another spell, causing the vines to swing Daemon's body once more, hurling him through the air and lifting him several meters higher before catching him again, as though he were nothing more than a toy.

"This is ridiculous," her beloved mother remarked, little Baelon in her arms, as they watched the… comical yet concerning spectacle, especially considering that Daemon's face had turned green with nausea.

However, just as Rhaenyra was beginning to worry, Harry's masculine voice made itself heard.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Goldilocks?" he asked incredulously, and the result was instantaneous.

The rocky vines turned toward the source of the voice before launching Daemon's body directly toward an unsuspecting Harry at tremendous speed, much to the sudden terror of everyone present.

"Daemon!" her father and grandmother screamed, watching in horror as Daemon hurtled toward the ground at tremendous speed. Beside her, Viserra had seized her staff with both hands, her lips parting to cast a spell, while Rhaenyra could only watch helplessly, incapable of doing anything.

However, as always since Rhaenyra had been blessed with the opportunity to meet him, Harry took care of everything.

A simple gesture, without words, without any elaborate movements… and Daemon's body simply stopped in midair, mere centimeters above the ground, to the obvious relief of the entire royal family.

"Harry!"

"My Lord!"

Rhaenyra and Viserra shouted simultaneously, excitement evident in both their voices, before looking at one another and blushing again.

By the Gods, it was going to take some getting used to this, the Princess thought as Harry approached them. Behind him came Alicent and the blonde witch who had become her future husband's shadow, much to Rhaenyra's disapproval.

"Harry! It's good to see you," her father declared with a smile, while the rest of the royal family and the Kingsguard followed behind them.

"Lord Black," Rhaenyra's grandmother declared, and to Rhaenyra's confusion, she bowed submissively before Harry.

Harry merely shrugged and answered.

"There's no need for that. But I'm glad you're all here. I have some interesting news, Viserys. Apparently, we're family," Harry remarked with an amused laugh, much to the surprise of the entire royal family.

"Family? Are you referring to your marriage to Rhaenyra?" the King asked curiously, a curiosity the Princess shared.

The Realm's Delight felt butterflies in her stomach at those words, as she always did whenever her future betrothal was mentioned. But this time, Rhaenyra couldn't help noticing how Viserra frowned slightly, tightening her grip upon her staff with both hands.

Rhaenyra frowned, not understanding her sister's reaction, but that could wait, because Harry answered.

"I mean there's Black blood in House Targaryen, which makes us relatives… rather distant ones, of course, but relatives nonetheless," Harry explained with an amused chuckle.

And Rhaenyra watched as the faces of her father, grandmother, and uncle filled with relief, as though this revelation had lifted an enormous weight from their shoulders.

"Where are we, Harry? How did a castle appear out of nowhere upon Visenya's Hill? How did we never see it before?" her father asked, causing Harry to shrug before answering.

"It's simple. We're in Marauder's Den, the ancestral magical home of House Black," he explained before turning around and beginning to walk back into the immense mansion.

The entire Targaryen clan followed behind him in complete silence, everyone admiring the marvel before their eyes.

"This… the Valyrian influence is unmistakable," her uncle Daemon remarked, while her father nodded rapidly beside him.

"I told you! Those flowers outside are Valyrian! They're supposed to be extinct!" the King replied as everyone gently entered the immense building.

The Kingsguard looked around with their swords drawn, much to Harry's disbelief.

"Put those fucking toys away. There's nobody here but us," Harry ordered with amusement as the group reached the central section of the atrium, apparently the point from which one could access the rest of the castle.

And then Rhaenyra saw it. It was enormous, so large that it commanded everyone's attention. A hand-painted portrait of someone she could only assume was one of Harry's ancestors, and beside him… a beautiful young Valyrian woman holding a small child, and behind them…

"Balerion!" her father exclaimed in astonishment, his eyes widening as he focused entirely upon the portrait before him.

"What are you talking about, Viserys?" her uncle Daemon asked curiously, causing her father to raise a finger and point toward the wall once more.

"That… that's Balerion. When I was very young, I saw his portrait on Dragonstone," the King answered, his eyes wide with astonishment. At those words, the entire Targaryen clan regarded the painting with renewed curiosity.

Daenerys couldn't help noticing how beautiful the woman was. She was a Targaryen, there could be no doubt about that, dressed in an elegant black-and-silver robe, sitting in an intimate and affectionate pose beside this… Sirius Black.

What the fuck was going on? the Princess wondered, swallowing nervously as she waited for Harry's explanation.

"This is Marauder's Den, the ancient ancestral home of House Black. That portrait depicts Lord Sirius and Lady Daenys Black, a couple of years after the fall of Valyria. This was their home, and this is where the magical knowledge of Ancient Valyria has been preserved," Harry explained distractedly, shocking the entire royal family in the process.

Rhaenyra saw it clearly: the greed upon her uncle's face, the hunger for knowledge upon her father's, and the need for protection upon her mother's.

Rhaenyra snorted. They all assumed Harry would hand over that knowledge, when the most likely explanation was that, if it had been locked away here beyond the reach of the world, there was a very good reason for it.

"But that can wait. Do you see those stairs that appear to descend into the hill itself? There's something down there… something powerful and ancient that's calling to my magic with desperation, and I intend to discover what it is," Harry declared determinedly. Without waiting for an answer, he began descending the stairs, all the Targaryens following silently behind him, simply admiring the impressive surroundings. The staircases seemed endless, and as they descended, the Valyrian influence became increasingly evident, reaching a point where, to Rhaenyra, the entire place seemed like an extension of Dragonstone.

Although… more magical, more alive, as though Dragonstone were somehow incomplete, as though it lacked magic.

Within moments, the strange group reached the bottom of the staircase, which opened into a tall underground chamber, constructed using the same techniques as Dragonstone. Its walls were covered in glowing blood-red runes, powerful and volatile, and Rhaenyra couldn't help inhaling sharply in surprise.

That… that was Valyrian magic, the magic of her ancestors, different from Harry's or the magic her sister Viserra had learned. It felt… powerful, ancient, and fierce.

"Don't touch anything. This is more volatile than it looks," Harry ordered, wand in hand, as he walked along the main passageway through the network of tunnels beneath the hill.

"All of this has been here the entire time?" her father asked incredulously, while her uncle growled, looking around with wild eyes filled with an overwhelming desire.

Rhaenyra could only swallow nervously and follow Harry. This place was… making her more anxious than she cared to admit.

The corridors were enormous, broad, and triangular. It was like being back on Dragonstone. As they walked, the torches ignited by themselves, illuminating the passageways with gentle wisps of magical flame, as though the castle itself were somehow guiding them toward a particular destination.

And then… it appeared. The end of the corridor opened onto a gigantic stone bridge spanning an enormous natural cavern beneath the hill, leading toward what appeared to be a fortified vault, protected by a kind of cocoon woven from blood-red threads, so characteristic of the heart trees of the First Men.

The door was enormous, as tall as Syrax herself, made from a gleaming metal bearing an unfamiliar symbol. Not the three-headed dragon Rhaenyra recognized as her family's emblem, but something… older.

"By the Gods! This… this… this…" Desmella, the blue-robed witch, stammered, her mouth opening and closing, her hands trembling so badly that Rhaenyra impatiently questioned her.

"Do you know what this place is?" she asked sharply, but the Princess was in no mood for games. This… this was important. It was her family's history being rediscovered for the first time in centuries.

And then the Princess received her answer, not from the witch, but from Harry, who stood with his hand raised, the Black ring glowing softly upon his finger.

"This is the Receptacle, a kind of magical conservatory containing all the most dangerous magical knowledge of the Ancient Dragonlords. The magical legacy of House Targaryen, sealed away and stripped from your family's bloodline after losing the War against the Council," Harry explained calmly, sighing heavily.

Those words struck Rhaenyra like a physical blow. She couldn't help examining the strange place more carefully, just as her father stepped forward.

"Open it. I want…" he began, only for the voices of Harry, Desmella, and, surprisingly, Princess Alyssa to stop him in his tracks.

"Absolutely not."

The determination in all three voices was so overwhelming that her father took a step backward, looking in surprise at Harry and his own mother, who answered.

"That knowledge was locked away for a reason, Viserys. I have read about the atrocities our ancestors committed… monstrosities fashioned from the corpses of their enemies, necromancy, and blood magic. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT! The Council may be a bunch of damned bastards, but if there's one thing they did right, it was ensuring that this magical knowledge never fell into the wrong hands," Princess Alyssa declared with determination.

At those words, Prince Daemon stepped forward and snapped.

"And what the fuck are we supposed to do? Get down on all fours and let that damned Council fuck us like whores? This knowledge is our ancestors' legacy. It belongs to us by bloodright, and…" But Daemon's words were interrupted by Harry.

"No. It doesn't," he declared coldly, staring directly at Daemon before continuing.

"Valyria fell. It was conquered, and this knowledge is now part of the Black family's Grimoire. Let's continue. We haven't reached the end of this mausoleum," Harry ordered, elegantly moving his wand and destroying the bridge connecting the walkway to the Valyrian Receptacle, before the helpless gaze of her uncle Daemon, who could only snort furiously before continuing onward.

The walkway now led them toward what appeared to be a study. It was enormous, and Rhaenyra could see what was evidently a chamber filled with the spoils of war: Valyrian sculptures, ancient scrolls and books, enormous treasure chests containing riches that would make the Iron Bank and the Lannisters look like beggars, all displaying Targaryen architecture.

Statues of dragons made from pure gold, Valyrian steel ingots stacked in piles as tall as houses… and the treasures went on and on.

This place was…

"The Black family's war trophies, plundered from the ruins of Valyria during the war," Harry answered her unspoken question, sighing as he approached an enormous stone circle. It was a raised platform covered in strange engravings written in the ancient language of the Targaryens.

High Valyrian.

"What the fuck is that?" her uncle Daemon demanded, frowning as he examined the perfect circle, recognizing several words in the ancient tongue of the Dragonlords, such as Journey, Threshold, and Tree, for some strange reason.

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he simply knelt upon the stone, gently touching the runes, which glowed softly beneath the Lord's fingers.

One by one, the engravings around the circle began to illuminate, glowing with an intense red, like fire itself, lighting up the entire surface of the stone. All of this was unfamiliar to Rhaenyra, but… to her surprise, Harry's expression suggested something entirely different.

Recognition.

"You know what this is, don't you, my love?" the Princess asked, drawing the attention of the entire royal family.

Harry nodded gently, his gaze fixed upon the runes.

"Aye, I do. This is a ritual, a runic circle, the very same one that brought me to Westeros several months ago, Rhaenyra. This… is my way back home," he declared softly, with reverence.

And at those words, a deathly silence descended upon everyone present. Nobody knew what to say. There were no appropriate words.

The secrets of Marauder's Den and House Black ran deeper than any of them had ever imagined.

And something told the Princess that this was only the beginning.