[ thirteen, nick and other residents ]

[Later, when all of the first years are sorted in their houses, all of the students are talking to each other. McGonagall dings on a cup.]

McGonagall: Your attention, please.

Dumbledore: [rising from his chair] Let the feast... begin.

[From the aerial view of the Great Hall, food magically appears on all the tables, and the hall is filled with awe and chatter.]

Whilst their Grand Feasts were nothing to sneer at, for they were just as opulent as they were pointless at times, the Westerosi citizens were still left in awe of the magical spread that appeared out of thin air on each table of the Great Hall. There was no shortage of delicacies, almost as if someone had ensured everyone's needs had been catered to and not just provided whatever the Royal Family ( or, in this case, the Headmaster ) favoured, a shocking and disturbing concept to a few present.

Many of the younger generation looked longingly at the screen, wishing they could attend such an event, one free of the politics that stifled them and where they could meet like-minded individuals with whom to share anecdotes and enjoy their time. From what they could observe, the children on the screen were truly enjoying themselves without resorting to the use of courtly masks perfected throughout the years, a true breath of fresh air.

A bittersweet smile tugged at Ron's lips as he stared at the screen, for he'd never experience such a wondrous event again now that he'd finally understood what life had in store for him. He'd never regret signing up to become an Auror, regardless of the gruelling path he knew awaited him, yet at times, he wished he had taken the same stance as his companions and girlfriend if only to walk Hogwarts' halls again without his personal ghosts clinging to his person.

Aemma: Wow.

[Draco looks at all the food, raises his eyebrows and digs in. Ron stuffs his face.]

Although his facade remained impenetrable, Aemond's eye reflected the disgust and disappointment he harboured towards Aemma's chosen companion. He failed to understand how such a barbarian could be of any use to her in the years to come, for he was confident there would have eventually been a conflict, and Aemma would have needed only the best standing beside her, not this poor excuse of a wizard whose lack of knowledge of the most essential things ( such as manners ) was beyond alarming.

Seamus: I'm half and half. Me dad's a Muggle. Mam's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.

Feeling several gazes on them, Hermione sighed heavily and took point. "It's part of the Statute of Secrecy, and while it's currently being amended, for the longest time, a witch or a wizard couldn't tell their spouse the truth about themselves until their child received their Hogwarts letter." She explained. "As you can imagine, many didn't take it well; our friend Seamus was one of the lucky ones." The request for the amendment had been one of the many things the Golden Trio had asked Kingsley in return for their war efforts, for they couldn't take another child suffering because of the Wizarding World's paranoia.

"So that's the meaning of 'half and half'?" Clarified Rhaenys, for something told her there was more to the colloquial expression.

Neville ran his hand through his hair nervously, for this was a subject he'd wished they could postpone as long as possible, but he should have known better than to aim so high. "Partially," He began. "He's also a half-blood like Aemma since her mother was a muggle-born. Hermione is a muggle-born: a witch born of non-magical parents and one who inherited her magic because she's a distant descendant of a Squib, a witch or wizard born without magic to magical parents. Meanwhile, both Ron and I are purebloods. However, blood doesn't mean anything; what truly matters is who we are regardless of it."

Oh, how Aemma had laughed upon discovering the identity of her mother's ancestor, which, in hindsight, hadn't been a wise move when she'd just robbed the bank that offered to aid her in her journey of self-discovery. Apparently, all Second-Years slanderous accusations weren't as far-fetched as she'd initially believed, for her mother was the first magical descendent of none other than Ominis Gaunt, a self-exiled member of the infamous inbred family tied to Salazar Slytherin himself, and the reason Aemma was now in possession of more Heirships than quills.

Daemon tilted his head, the thought that blood was such an insignificant matter to them striking him odd and sounding laughable, yet he didn't utter a word, silenced by his son's stern look and his daughter's challenging stare. Obviously, there was more to the matter they had yet to disclose, enough to ignite the Targaryen anger they'd carried over from their previous lives, so the king consort wisely held back.

[Neville laughs. Aemma is sitting next to Percy. She leans over.]

Aemma: Say, Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?

Percy: Oh, that's Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house.

Aemma: What's he teach?

Percy: Potions. But everyone knows it's the Dark Arts he fancies. He's been after Quirrell's job for years.

It almost pained Neville to admit it, but Snape was amongst the best Professors they'd ever had in the subject. Whilst he couldn't stand that loathsome man who derived a sick sort of pleasure from bullying innocent children who'd never done anything to him besides being born to those whom he happened to hate, there was no denying his skill as a DADA Professor. A part of him couldn't help but wonder if the only reason Dumbledore kept denying Snape, one his biggest pawns, the position was the jinx that would have otherwise been a threat to him, not out of care, but out of necessity.

[Ron, having just finished a chicken wing, reaches into the bowl for more, and a ghost, called Sir Nicolas, pops out.]

Ron: Ahh!

Like eleven-year-old Ron, several Westerosi citizens were startled upon seeing something they'd always believed to be fictitious. They'd embraced the existence of reincarnation, for they wished to reunite with their loved ones; they'd accepted magic, for, whilst a practice long lost to them, they'd once boasted its use, but ghosts had always been nothing but a folktale.

A mildly terrified Alicent clung to her pendant, whispering silent prayers for the safeguard of the heretics' souls within the room before addressing them. "What are those ━ monstrosities?" Her voice shook as she spoke, betraying how truly bothered she was by the ghosts' appearances. By the Gods, she already struggled to accept the unnatural ways of the four visitors; this was too much, for it went against all the teachings of the Seven.

Almost as if It'd sensed the witches' and wizards' annoyance with the woman, Death, who'd been silent most of the viewing, chose to reply in their stead and mitigate the situation regardless of Its feelings towards intolerable and close-minded individuals.

The Being's explanation was short yet precise. It ensured everyone understood the difference between souls who chose to stay behind or had unfinished business and those who crossed over and were therefore unreachable, well aware that many of the present individuals longed to connect with their lost ones. It didn't mention the Resurrection Stone Aemma currently wore on her finger, believing Its Champion deserved her hard-earned peace, something she hadn't known since birth.

Although saddened by the fact that he would have been unable to communicate with his children again, for they would have certainly chosen an existence of peace instead of being tied to their torturous world, Corlys couldn't help but wonder if perhaps some spirits reached out regardless. "Do you ever communicate with any ghost besides those who inhabit Hogwarts?" He asked his grandchildren.

Aemma shook her head with a bittersweet smile. "Trust me, I wish I did; maybe I could speak to my parents then." An awkward silence descended upon the room as everyone was reminded of James and Lily Potter's dreadful fate. It made sense that, regardless of her previous connection to their families, the people she'd wish to reconnect with would be the birth parents who'd been taken from her when she was far too young to truly recall them.

( Aemma made no mention of the times she'd spoken to her parents, for they hadn't been ghosts but mere echoes of who they'd once been )

Nick: Hello! How are you? Welcome to Gryffindor.

[Numerous ghosts come pouring from the walls, sailing along.]

Bloody Baron: Whoo-hoo-hoo!

Girl: Look, it's the Bloody Baron!

Whilst magic fascinated her like the rest of her family, Rhaena couldn't deny that the existence of ghosts had taken her by surprise. "There are so many of them," She whispered to her twin and a nearby Daeron, flabbergasted. She couldn't understand why these poor souls would deny themselves peace and absolution when they had an opportunity to cease their suffering.

Equally puzzled by their choices, Baela finished her twin's sentence. "And they seem so upbeat about their current situations." Some of her wished she could converse with the ghosts that haunted her siblings' school and discover why they'd chosen such an afterlife. If given the choice, she knew for certain that she'd never linger in a world so riddled with cruelty and injustice, even if it meant leaving her loved ones behind.

Percy: Hello, Sir Nicholas. Have a nice summer?

Nick: Dismal. Once again, my request to join the headless hunt has been denied. [Begins to leave]

Ron: I know you! You're Nearly Headless Nick!

Nick: I prefer Sir Nicholas if you don't mind.

Hermione: "Nearly" headless? How can you be nearly headless?

Nick: Like this. [Grabs head and pulls it to the side. His head is hanging on just by a thread.]

Ron: Ahh!

[Hermione moans in disgust; Aemma just simply rolls her eyes. Nick reattaches his head back to his body.]

A wave of disgust enveloped the room as several people struggled with the bile that crept up their throats. Meanwhile, those used to violence weren't overly bothered by the sight, thus merely observing silently and offering support to their struggling loved ones, for it wasn't every day you witnessed such a gruesome sight.

A slightly sickly Daeron ceased his consumption of his delectable Sugar Quills before any trouble could arise, his already fair complexion now paler than most. "Did you really have to question him on the matter?" He asked, his voice slightly shakier than usual. He couldn't exactly blame her for it either, for he, too, was a curious spirit whose thirst for knowledge was never truly quenched.

( He was glad the witch didn't take his question to heart and merely shrugged in response, wishing to bond with this new version of his childhood best friends and their companions above all things. )

A bark of laughter escaped Daemon's lips as he beheld the image on the screen. "He was lucky: at least he got to keep his head," He chuckled, thinking back to the man he'd happily cut down after he'd dared slander the love of his life and their children in open court.

[Later, Percy is leading the Gryffindors to the staircase tower.]

Percy: Gryffindors, follow me, please. Keep up. Thank you.

Boy: Ravenclaws, follow me. This way.

Percy: This is the most direct path to the dormitories. Oh, and keep an eye on the staircases. They like to change.

[The camera pans up and we see a vast amount of staircases, people walking on them, and some switching places.]

Most people in the room gazed in complete awe and wonder at the endless maze of moving stairs portrayed on the screen. Whilst they knew magic was afoot, never in their wildest dreams could they have imagined something just as peculiar as breathtaking.

"How many times did you get lost?" Aegon queried, a smirk tugging on his lips. By the Gods, he barely showed up on time for his lessons; he could only imagine the chaos that would ensue if moving stairs were added to the equation.

The fondness on the visitors' faces was unmistakable. Still, given the silence that initially followed, many thought this to be a topic they did not wish to speak about ( they wouldn't have been mistaken, for many a friend had been lost on those very staircases during the 'Battle of Hogwarts' ). That was until, eventually, Ron cleared his throat. "Far too many times to keep count; it's all but a rite of passage," He explained. "Eventually, you know them like the back of your hand, down to the last vanishing step."

Percy: Keep up, please, and follow me. Quickly now, come on. Come on.

[They begin walking up the stairs, several of the portraits began greeting them]

Wide-eyed, people were struck by yet another marvel of the Wizarding World. Ever since they'd been gathered in that room, it was as if their imagination was constantly challenged, and all things they'd believed to be myths had been proven true. This, however, went beyond what any of them could have ever fathomed: a breathtaking creation that inspired a childish glee even in the toughest of hearts.

Even the usually cold-hearted Otto stared at this feat of magic with admiration and greed. He was confident that the connection between two portraits would have been an easy feat through magic, offering a foolproof spying technique that wouldn't have forced any member of his prestigious House to deal with less-than-trustworthy individuals whose loyalty was fickle and could always be bought.

Unlike Otto, forever fuelled by greed, Viserys could only dream of how the moving tapestries of their ancestors could enrich the Red Keep and offer counsel to their descendants, guiding them through both perilous and times of peace alike. Whilst their current tapestries kept their histories alive, such marvellous creations would have ensured that their teachings wouldn't have been lost to time and third parties' interpretations of what had unfolded.

Neville: Seamus, that picture's moving!

Ron: Look at that one, Aemma!

Aemma: I think she fancies you, don't you reckon Neville?

Neville: [stifles his laughter, Ron shoves him playfully]

Hermione had always known Aemma was charismatic and never struggled to befriend others. She couldn't deny that when she first saw her, she'd been jealous of this trait of hers, for whereas Aemma attracted people like bees to honey, Hermione seemed to somewhat repel them, a battle fought since her younger years and only partially won with time. "You know, I was jealous of you three back then," She easily admitted, for she saw no point in lying now that they all called each other 'best friend'. Instead of the words of encouragement she might have expected, she received a collective hug, one she cherished deeply.

Helaena smiled sadly at the group Fate had brought together, the only one who'd been granted the ability to battle the darkness that had been slowly consuming their world, for the adults before them had failed them spectacularly and had thus thrown four teens to the wolves, uncaring of the wounds they might have sustained in the process, all for 'The Greater Good'.

Girl: Oh, look! Look! Who's that girl?

Man in a painting: Welcome to Hogwarts.

Girl: Who's that?

[A bit later on the seventh floor, the students in the corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower. They come up to a large painting of a large woman in a pink dress. She is known as "The Fat Lady".]

Aegon, far more tipsier than before, struggled to contain his mirth as he stared at the portrait. "How did they manage to fit her all in there?" He hiccupped, never once considering the thunderous expressions etched onto half of the room's faces.

Not one to sit idly by when someone insulted another who could not defend themselves, Neville sneered at the poor excuse of a prince. "The same way you fit your tiny willy in your pants every morning: very easily." His quick retort made several people burst into uncontrollable laughter, some going as far as wheezing in their futile attempt to compose themselves.

The Fat Lady: Password?

Percy: Caput Draconis. [The Fat Lady smiles and nods in confirmation. The painting opens up to reveal a doorway in the wall, leading to Gryffindor Tower.]

Unable to personally assign some guards to the children, Daemon was pleasantly impressed by this type of security measures. Whilst not a foolproof plan, the presence of a password only those belonging to Gryffindor House would know was enough to quell his anxiety regarding his kids' safety within their new home. All he could do now was hope that the password would constantly change and that no one would be foolish enough to share it with outside sources or, Gods forbid, lose it.

Percy: Follow me, everyone. Keep up. Quickly, come on.

Girl: Oh, wow.

Percy: [Inside the common room] Gather around here. Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room. Boys' dormitory is upstairs and down to your left. Girls, the same on your right. You'll find that your belongings have already been brought up.

A wistful sigh escaped Rhaena's lips as she beheld the beautiful room projected on the screen. Bathed in Targaryen red ( she willfully chose to ignore the other shade, for she'd never acknowledge the similarity to House Lannister ), it was nought but cosy and full of warmth, enough for her to wish she'd joined her siblings and left a world where women's voices didn't matter behind ━ a wild thought Baela shared if her meaningful look was anything to go by.

[Later at midnight. Aemma is sitting by a window in her pj's, with Hedwig after she's bonded with her roommates: Hermione, Lavender, Fay, Lisbeth, and Parvati. She pets the owl and looks out the window, sighing with content, knowing that she will love it here at Hogwarts.]

Whilst the magic of the Castle had truly been mesmerising, nothing compared to the happiness Rhaenyra noted on her children's faces ever since they'd first been Sorted. Their carefree smiles and joy had been contagious enough to make her temporarily forget about the gruesome ends they'd both met in their previous lives and had fooled her into believing nothing had changed in their idyllic existence, one shattered by traitors alongside her half-brother and his dragon.

Nevertheless, she was delighted that both her children would finally have the opportunity to flourish amongst their peers and away from those who should have loved and cared for them yet did the opposite, either treating them as servants or constantly comparing them to someone they were not and getting enraged when this became apparent.

Gazing at her sweet girl on the screen, Rhaenyra's tight nerves slowly unwound as she recognised her expression, one she hadn't seen on Aemma since the memories started playing. Her chest warmed with infinite love, for even though she hadn't found home amongst them, her beloved daughter had finally found a place where she truly belonged, and as a mother, she couldn't be happier for her.

author's note.      So sorry for the late update, but alas, here we are!
I still can't believe we're nearing 50k; it makes me want to celebrate somehow because I never thought this story would get this far.