[ eight, the girl who lived ]

[Later back in the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid and Aemma are at a long table, eating soup. Everything is too quiet, Hagrid soon notices this.]

If Alicent had thought the establishment dingy beforehand, seeing it partially empty only worsened her opinion of the place, for it looked like something that wouldn't be out of place in the sinful and dirty streets of King's Landing. Furthermore, regardless of what the witches and wizards had said about Hagrid, the former queen considered him foolish and thoughtless for bringing a young Lady to a location that not only was well below her station but also threatened her overall position in society due to possible unsavoury rumours.

Hagrid: You all right, Aemma? You seem very quiet.

Aemma: He killed my parents, didn't he? The one who gave me this. You know, Hagrid. I know you do.

Aemma lowered her head, her twirling wand suddenly becoming a more fascinating sight than the scene unfolding on the screen. Whilst her memory wasn't as good as Hermione's, she could never forget this conversation, for it haunted her like a shadow that had sunk its long and pointy claws into her tender flash, unshakable and oppressive. Nothing could ever free her from the anguish she'd felt upon discovering how her parents had met their demise, an emotion no eleven-year-old should ever experience, let alone be able to comprehend; one she was confident would soon engulf her all over again.

Hagrid: [Sighs and pushes his bowl away] First, and understand this, Aemma, 'cause it's very important. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad.

"It looks like your people and ours have more in common than we might have thought," Baela commented offhandedly, her judgemental stare drifting towards the Greens and halting onto Aemond Targaryen, the kinslayer. She was confident that if the conflict hadn't been thwarted by Lucerys' sacrifice, he would have committed some of the most heinous war crimes to ever be recorded in the annals of history.

Hagrid: A few years ago, there was one wizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V-...his name was V-...

Aemma: Maybe if you wrote it down?

Despite the sombre atmosphere, Rhaena couldn't help but smile as she registered yet another similarity between her sister and Aemma. "I see you're just as inquisitive as ever," She stated fondly, reminiscing about all the time she'd spent with Lucerys, sneaking around to gather information that would otherwise be kept from them.

Whilst her boyfriend snorted amusedly, Hermione sighed in faux exasperation before addressing the twin who'd just spoken. "You don't even know the half of it," She shook her head, looking challengingly at Aemma upon noticing her defensive stance, which promptly disappeared, for she knew that Hermione was right.

Hagrid: No, I can't spell it.

Hiding behind a blank and impenetrable facade, Aemond looked upon Hagrid with disgust and judgement, having already deemed him unfit as a guide for the woman he loved. The man was clearly more of a hindrance than anything else, and his inability to do the simplest of things, such as writing, only confirmed Aemond's theory. How could his beloved not see that she deserved to be surrounded by better people than this oaf?

Hagrid: All right. [Quietly] Voldemort.

Neville stiffened, reaching for his wand out of habit before being hit by the powerful reminder that the war was over, and there was no more reason to fear the wizard's name. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed he wasn't the only one who'd reacted thusly: each one of his friends sported an equally determined and relieved expression, and none of them cared about those surrounding them and the looks they were receiving.

Amongst the people observing the witches' and wizards' reactions was Otto Hightower, who was masking his current glee behind a carefully crafted courtly mask. The man silently took note of the apparent weakness the otherwise powerful individuals displayed and their inability to conceal their feelings, confident that he could use both flaws against them if they ever chose to side with Rhaenyra when this farce was over. After all his hard labour and sacrifices, he wouldn't allow a group of heretics to prevent him from seeing his blood on the Throne.

Aemma: Voldemort?

Hagrid: Shh!!

[Aemma looks around to see if anyone heard it]

Hagrid: It was dark times, Aemma, dark times. [We flash over to a flashback on the night at Godric's hollow, consisting of a cloaked man walking towards a house, breaking in with his wand, and proceeding to terrorise. Hagrid narrates.] Voldemort started to gather some followers, brought 'em over to the dark side. Anyone that stood up to him ended up dead. Your parents fought against him, but nobody lived once he decided to kill 'em. [Aemma's mother, Lily, screams in pain as she is killed by Voldemort's wand.]

Usually at odds with each other, the room's inhabitants found themselves mostly united in their admiration of the Potter's bravery, especially Lily's actions when faced with evil incarnate.

As grief on behalf of her daughter seized Rhaenya's chest, a deep desire to thank the couple for all they'd done for her sweet girl took root within her; this pair she'd never known ( and might never do ) had fought valiantly and laid down their lives to protect their kid from the jaws of death, something she'd forever be grateful for.

Tears brimmed in Rhaenyra's eyes as she saw Aemma's mother meet her end bathed in a shade of green ( it was always green that wounded her daughter ). Her heart shattered for all her sweet girl had lost, what had been ripped from her by a monster that had targeted her family, leaving her all alone and far too young to remember the parents who'd loved her so fiercely they didn't hesitate in the face of death.

Rhaena didn't even realise she'd started crying until she felt her grandfather's comforting hand on her shoulder, his grip steadying her like an anchor. "If this happened to Aemma's family, what tragedy befell Neville's?" She asked between hiccups.

Corlys did his best to mask his dread, for it wouldn't have been of any use to his granddaughter. Truthfully, he was just as perturbed as Rhaena, each information they'd received about the siblings' lives echoing endlessly within his mind and haunting him like a horrid nightmare. "I do not know; possibly something just as atrocious, if not more." He wouldn't lie to his granddaughters nor offer false promises, so he settled for the truth, however bleak it might have been.

Usually the levelheaded amongst his brothers, Daeron felt as if someone had set his blood aflame when he noticed the anguished look Aemma was attempting to conceal from the rest of them. Safely held by Neville and surrounded by her companions, the girl who didn't know how to lie was doing a stellar job at pretending, but Daeron had grown up surrounded by snakes, and there was no fooling him. Witnessing Death's memories from that fateful night and seeing his childhood best friend in such a state only fed the young man's hatred for the man who'd been the cause of all her sorrows, furthering his desire to seek revenge.

[Green flashes are seen from the windows outside the house. Then, we see Voldemort pointing his wand at an infant Aemma Potter's head.]

The silence was shattered by a chorus of horrified gasps as people witnessed the weapon that had ended Aemma's parents' lives being turned against her, an innocent babe. This was far too much for many of them regardless of the world they hailed from, one where violence was deemed a regular occurrence. Their dislike for Voldemort suddenly increased, for how could anyone be so soulless as to attempt to murder such a pure soul?

Fear swept through Rhaenyra as she jolted forward in her seat, the only thing keeping her rooted in place being her husband's firm embrace. "Not my sweet girl!" She cried out, desperate to shield Aemma from any harm even if she knew she couldn't.

Whilst she might not have seen it, Daemon struggled as much as Rhaenyra. Not even knowing that his daughter had come out of that encounter relatively unscathed could quell the worry that had taken hold of his heart. Within him, a deep-seated rage festered towards the coward who'd dared go after his child, a feeling that he strove to keep under control, for his wife needed him now more than ever.

Hagrid: Nobody, not one. 'Cept you.

[We flash back to the present time.]

Aemma: Me? Voldemort tried to kill me?

Hagrid: Yes. That ain't no ordinary cut on your forehead, Aemma. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse, and an evil curse at that.

No one could blame the Westerosi citizens for their disbelief as they slowly digested what Hagrid had just said; after all, it wasn't every day that one was told a mere child survived a curse no one else ever had. However, even the most sceptical amongst them all couldn't find it within themselves to disregard the man's statement after having witnessed the attack that had claimed the girl's parents' lives and felt the odd aura that constantly surrounded Aemma Potter.

Cole eyed the witch in question and laughed derisively. "So she truly is just as tainted as we believed." Oh, how he felt vindicated in knowing that Rhaenyra's former bastard wasn't as perfect as everyone else thought her to be.

An irate Rhaenyra turned sharply towards the knight, her fiery gaze boring into his own. "Mind your tongue, Ser Cole, or I shall have it removed post-haste. I care not what you think or say of me, but I will not stand for any disparaging comments made about my children." She retorted, her voice cold and biting.

Tired of the knight and his incessant need to spark a confrontation whilst attempting to retain his power, Ron exhaled heavily before looking at him with contempt. "Do us all a favour: get your top and your bottom lip to become friends, meet up for good, and close up," He said while mimicking the action with his right hand, and causing several people to burst into laughter.

Aemma: What happened to V... to You-Know-Who?

Hagrid: Well, some say he died. But one thing's absolutely certain. Something about you stumped him that night. That's why yer famous. That's why everybody knows yer name. You're the girl who lived.

Eyes fluttering shut, Viserys silently mourned for his granddaughter. Regardless of what had truly befallen Voldemort and the shocking discovery that Aemma had both thwarted death and played a part in whatever happened to such a loathsome individual, the former king couldn't bring himself to celebrate as he often did. All he could think about was that Aemma's fame had come at a terrible price, that surely his sweet granddaughter would have swiftly given up her stardom if it meant having her parents back in her life and not being the sole survivor of that terrible ordeal.

Rhaenys fisted the material of her dress, enraged by what she'd just heard. Nobody seemed to care that the 'The Girl Who Lived', a moniker that left a bitter taste on her tongue and made her want to unleash dragonfire on whoever had coined it, would forever remind her granddaughter of all she'd lost. Why would they when they didn't see Aemma when they looked at her, but only the image of the person they'd cultivated over the years?

Baffled by what they'd learned, several people looked at Aemma with awe and disquiet, for they never would have thought someone capable of slipping past Death's grasp.

What had begun as a simple tale of magic and rebirth had suddenly become so much more, promising both wonders and terrors alike and a long transformative journey through the unknown.

author's note.      Today's message is slightly more serious; I hope you don't mind it.
I never thought I'd have to write this, but I will delete any comment I perceive as insulting and disrespectful toward other readers or myself. You don't have to read this story if you don't like it. It's simple: don't leave insulting comments that might make others uncomfortable. This is a safe space, and I aim to keep it one.