Not Bloody Likely
September 1st, 1917
Daenerys Targaryen was nervous. Nervously excited, as per usual. Which was predictably how she felt every morning on this day for the past five years.
Here we go. Year number six... she thought, clutching the leather handle of her suitcase tighter. This will be the best year yet, she promises herself.
Dany exhales a long, shuddering sigh— reeling out the ironic contrast of anxiety and relief, now settling down in the pit of her stomach. To any observing outsider, she looked like any other returning student, donning the traditionally black, school robes of her Gryffindor house. However, to anyone returning to Hogwarts... well, they knew she wasn’t like the rest at all. No—
Daenerys Targaryen did not blend.
Everyone knew her— and almost everyone avoided her. Especially when she was so distinctly chained to her most sinful last name. She thought back to first year when the sorting hat (unwillingly) took her desperate pleas into account.
You apparently are no true Targaryen, then, it told her.
Dany knew she would have been sorted into Slytherin house if it were not for her begging thoughts loudly repeating the mantra, Please not Slytherin. She was, and would never become what her family was infamous for. She was good.
Today however, she was especially determined to not let anything or anyone bother her. Because, once she saw the train, and then her friends, everything would feel much better.
She loosened her maroon and gold striped scarf, feeling the cold air sting her skin. She continued to squeeze through the shoving crowd of Platform 9 and 3 quarters. Then she stopped, shifting restlessly on her feet, scanning her vision up at the list of changing destinations—thoroughly searching the names and times. She couldn’t see what time Hogwarts’ boarded bags were being loaded. She packed more than allowed, and was hoping her friend, Tyrion could give his extra spot to her— considering he never brought more than an eighth equivalent of her luggage amount.
Ohwell, she thought, deciding it wasn’t even worth the trouble. She’ll just keep her extra suitcase as a carry-on. Everyone judged her as a primadonna anyway. She sighed, standing impatiently alone among the people-flooded crowd of Platform9and3/4.
Kings Cross Station had actually been a bit less crowded than usual today, though she wasn’t totally complaining. She mentally checked off her list of returning student boarding requirements, and having already gone through the wall and dropped off her main luggage, she takes in another cool breath, spotting it far up ahead... A silhouette of the shiny-red and black, Hogwarts Express.
And what a beautifully familiar sight it was.
She weirdly loved the smoky-mildew smell, the permanent fog— the dullish, gray filter over it all... She even loved the constant echoing of conductor announcements or dispatched timeslots— which always followed with a wave of bombarding, boarding passengers. Yes, she loved all of these oddly horrible things because when it was all chaotically synchronized together... it was just, so wonderful.
Well, everything, except the—
A gust of wind suddenly rips through the platform, knocking her off balance, and back into the arms of a braced stranger—
“Woah—“ the off-footed stranger shuffles behind her with a short chuckle— the wind still howling past them, “Sorry miss, are you all right?”
She scrambled herself off of the person in a huff of ignorance, holding her gaze in the opposite direction, unfazed. She quickly grabs her luggage and ducks into the crowd, unadmittingly slightly embarrassed.
Yeah, everything was wonderful... except that.
The wind. The absolutely daunting weather. If this was autumn, what would become of winter? Not that she would become as hysterical as the news editors have been... but still, it was unusual.
She was wise enough to breathe slowly while outside today... as the frigid London air and its oxidized, sharp edge pricked her lungs. And honestly, compared to this, Diagon Alley had actually felt warm earlier— surrounded by the close knit crowd of shuffling shoppers.
But here at the station, the icy atmosphere had been ailing more bitter and unpleasant by the minute. She dips her nose down into her warm scarf, while she headed towards the loading area, continuing to weave around the sea of departing families.
Her pale cheeks were now stung a rosy pink color, flushed from the exposure, as she pushes through the mass of hugging adults and cloaked children. She really was growing more irrationally impatient now. And she didn’t want to reason it to being only the wind— well, the air, actually, because that would just be silly. And it’s not that it was cold, it was just...
Colder than it should be. She hated admitting she was cold, because she wasn’t. Everyone else was.
She quickly sniffs her running nose, slightly knocking past another hugging mother and son. She purses her lips, then sighs. Almost there.
Still lugging her suitcase through the crowd, she half-stands on her toes, now able to see the thick, white smoke pooling up in the distance— gathering in a thin cloud under the arched brick ceiling of Kings Cross Station.
A chill runs through her body. A happy one though, as she becomes more present and aware that she’s back for another year. That she’ll be around people again. That Hogwarts was only half a day away.
Her home.
And she’s ready for the day too, coolly confident in her fresh-pressed uniform, clad in the plain polo and grey sweater—neatly tucked in its matching grey skirt and stockings. The accent maroon and gold tie hanging bold over the polo, layered under her thickly wrapped maroon and gold scarf. And of course finally, her black cloak draped smooth over her shoulders, blowing gently as she strode down the platform.
She loved showing off her house colors on the first day. It was actually her fondest, yet most oddly, favorite part about returning. She loved catching the first years, candidly gaping in awe at the wild greatness of the train. She loved smiling down at them, and welcoming a little more warmly, to the clearly more nervous ones, as they tilt their heads up curiously at her, wandering about, stumbling themselves eventually onto the train.
She knew it was a lot to take in— it was just fun to watch.
But what she has noticed especially, was that the goodbyes seemed to be more difficult today for everyone— and it was rather odd. Like it was sadder than usual.
And as she nears closer to the train, she hears distant crying... Like little girl kind of crying.
Up ahead, she spots a small, red-faced girl, no more than seven, hiccuping to her mother in dramatic despair. The cries becoming more muffled, as she clings to her mother’s leg.
Dany glances back at the girl’s boarded, older brother waving awkwardly from the train window.
She’s probably so upset he’s leaving her.
Dany knows what that’s like.
Well sort of. But she’s also seen it too many other times to count— the goodbyes to a guardian, a sibling, a friend, and then poof, they’re gone until Christmas.
She feels sad for her, glancing back briefly, as she walks past them. Poor girl’s probably going to miss him so much.
”Mama, please, my face hurts.” The freckled little girl wails, burying more sobs into her mother’s coat. “Can we go now, please? I’m s-so cold.”
All right— so she suspects there may be another, definitive reason behind the more emotionally charged atmosphere.
The weather has technically been getting dramatically cold here in London—but by degree, not her opinion. And quickly, seriously cold, and much too early. Muggles were completely oblivious to it, but the magical world’s, well, just recently actually— become just a tad bit more concerned since hitting negative twenty-one degrees Celsius two days ago. And as much as she was fine right now, she was prepared for it to only get worse. It was only September, for Merlin’s sake.
She bumps her luggage up the steps behind her, quietly loading the train, already feeling the warm, heated air blow hot against her cheeks. She relaxes, feeling her nerves dissipate back to normal. Student quads were grinning wide in anxious conversation—though just how she remembers, retreating back as she passes through, secluded inside in their privately shadowed booths. But some hung out into the aisle too, laughing outrageously across at each other in nostalgic sincerity, too busy to notice her.
Her long, silver hair fell soft and wispy from the wind under the low-resolution lighting. Silk white strands woven intricately into her signature braids, as the rest hung in loose, messy waves down her back. The curls bounce gently across her shoulder, as she marches past an older clique of giggling, Hufflepuff girls. She hesitates a moment, about to say hello to her friend—when they abruptly stop talking, shifting their bodies back in more towards their cabin.
Doreah.
Why she spared that girl any friendship at one time was beyond her recollection. She’d grown up into a real, pompous witch.
The hummed engine of the train chugs on relentlessly, vibrating the floor, as she strides on down the aisle in vain, searching for her usual cabin. She steers angrily around the carelessly jutted-out ankles, rolling the rest of her luggage behind her shamelessly— and yes, Daario, she already loaded her other bags with everyone else's, but there simply wasn't enough room for her extra essentials.
Where is her cabin.
How was it possible to forget every year that it takes this long to find? The numbered express carts changed daily, rotating in a systemless fashion, of course. Because Hogwarts would always tradition rules that bore no absolute attention to logic.
She steps begrudgingly over two pairs of Slytherin boys’, purposely, outstretched feet, not looking up to who they belonged to.
She knew who they were. The boys continued on in animated discussion, cackling softer after switching their focus to Dany. She keeps her eyes locked straight ahead, ignoring them— like a mature, sixth year would do. She couldn't be bothered by them today, so she rolls her clunky luggage behind her, gritting a forced smile. The boys quickly jerk their legs back before their feet get run over.
"Oi, watch it!" Joffrey barks, scowling to the boy next to him.
Ramsay pats his back short and smoothly, feigning sympathy. “Hey now, don’t worry, friend? It’s all right.” He chuckles, shouting after her, “Can’t wait for all the fun we’re going to have this year, Targaryen.” He promises, echoing with a flash of his snake eyes when he thinks she’s out of earshot. “Crazy dragon bitch.”
The words ring straight through to her core. And she pauses, squinting an eye at the sound of his voice— asitstill, after all these years, never fails to make her entire body recoil in disgust. She grits her teeth— right before noticing cabin #863 up ahead, bearing two moving silhouettes...
Ah, yes finally! There they are.
Her friends were already settled in, shadows shifting quietly behind the frost-tinted glass door. She moves quickly across the aisle, dragging her bag behind her.
With a dramatic huff, she draws open the curtain in the above storage space, securing in the small suitcase. Then exhales in exhaustion, sliding open the cabin door in quick surprise.
“Hello,” she beams to them inside.
“Dany— hi!”
Missandei grins back at her brightly, dressed in a dark blue Ravenclaw sweater. She was still chuckling in mid-conversation, now bumping shoulders with a shy Greyworm, “I was just telling Grey, how much I missed everyone especially this summer... It really felt like I was away so long,” she sing-songs, standing up sincerely to hug her friend.
”I can’t wait to hear about Dubai.” Dany grins, “but I missed you too!” She hugs her tighter.
“Well, I shouldn’t say that I missed everyone exactly, I definitely didnt miss... everyone,” Missandei snarks, pulling back to eye Dany sternly. “Joffrey and Ramsay...” she frowns, “I already caught them harassing some poor first years. Already... Not that it’s really any shock.”
Dany squints in understanding, then pulls away with a smirk. "Oh, well do I have loads to tell you—“ she looks to Grey, pointing, “—both, about when I saw Bolton today at Diagon Alley.” She laughs again, “His father completely scolded him like a child in front of everyone.” She snickers, now peering out the cabin, “It was so embarrassing—"
“No. No—” Greyworm shakes his head, cutting them off, “Dany,” his voice dripping with feigned annoyance— only to smile at her with a warning. “You know what I going to say.”
Dany waited curiously as he pulled his Hufflepuff cloak hoodie over his head, his tawny brown cheeks breaking into a smile. “I not listening to Missandei and Dany talk gossip entire time like always." He rests his head back against the window, stoically closing both his eyes. “How about about last night Australian-Ukray-yen match?”
Dany realized his broken English clearly had not improved this summer. “Huh,” She rolled her eyes, “Missed you too, Grey...”
”Of course I missed Dany.” He turns to Missandei, “But you... not so much.”
“You really are just a ray of sunshine today, aren’t you?” Missandei lets out a shining laugh. “You don’t have to sit with us, you know?”
“We don’t have to talk about those boys, Grey. I know how much you hate them.” Ramsay notoriously bullied everybody, but him and Greyworm have gotten into more than a few physical tiffs. Leaving little room for patience in conversation in Grey’s eyes. Dany half-smirks at him, then suddenly realizes, “Wait, where’s Tyrion? I was looking for him earlier.”
Missandei shoots Dany a familiar glance, her eyes widening in irritation, "You can tell me your story later,” she whispers, glowering at Greyworm. “I can’t wait to catch up on everything,” she assures her. “And uhm, no, we have no idea where he is.”
“He find us when he wants to.” Greyworm sighs.
Missandei leans back, her tightly frayed chestnut curls bouncing back as she spoke, “Yeah... if you haven’t noticed,” her eyebrows lift, as she cups the back of her hand to her face, pretending to whisper, “Our friend’s a little grumpy today. He missed his port key time yesterday—”
”—I took muggle train all day. I took muggle taxi all night. It was not fun. Oh— and you know what, you both send me twenty-two letters this summer. Each.” Greyworm bites, his eyes still remaining quietly closed. “Why? That is twice amount as last year. There is nothing left to talk about.” He sighs again with a slight smirk. “Unless quidditch. I talk about quidditch.”
”Wow... all right. No more letters then,” Dany quips. “Unless it’s about the Holyhead Harpies?”
Greyworm opens his eyes and smiles warmly, “Yes. I write back to that,” closing his lids again.
Missandei shakes her head at Dany. “Boys...” she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Greys lips twitch a sly smirk, one eye peeking back at her fondly.
•
The buzzing sound of reuniting students scuttle past their cabin in a rushed blur. She straightens her posture and faces out towards the window, staring longingly out at the massive crowd. Watching all of the departing families finish their final bittersweet goodbyes, smothering their last tight hugs, however only temporarily sustaining for their childrens’ long farewells. She bites her lip softly, frowning at her own bitter-sweet goodbye memory; or more rather, the empty space of a figure who used to be there.
•
In the midst of a budding day dream, she flinches— startled by the sudden, blaring roar of the Hogwarts Express steam engine, signaling its ready departure. Her stomach flutters at the grinding sound of clanky metal wheels beginning to turn, slowly hitching itself forward on the iron rails. Her mood instantly lifting in giddy anticipation, as Missandei glows back at her, the both of them then turning to watch the platform slowly disappear down the tracks.
•
Eager to seek out some old faces and the new comers, Dany opens up the cabin door, first leaning in to the two of them.
"Do either of you want anything else from the trolley when it comes by?" Her voice stiffens, now trailing in irritation, "—Or if Tyrion, ever even makes it back to us by nightfall.”
She glances out the window, scanning over the sky-blurred blend of pink, red and lavender. It was sunset, so she knew they had to be almost there.
“Coming through,” a small deep voice warns with a knock on cue, and she lunges back in short surprise, to Tyrion pushing through her and the doorway, stumbling into the cabin.
"Already scoping out the fresh meat I see, Dany?" He bumps through with a grin, sliding the door closed with his shoulder.
She squints at him teasing, "I was just wondering where you went... again." now waving a hand out at him accusingly.
She eyes him up in shocked amusement, as he unloads onto the booth an entire armful of treats from his Ravenclaw robes. "Though I can see, you've obviously found your way," she smirks, reaching over to sort through the pile.
"I always find my way, you should know that by now?" He empties out some more from his sleeve.
She digs through the crinkling wrappers before finally pulling out a milk Chocolate Frog box with a grin. "Well, I thought you were summoning her over... not raiding the whole lot for us?" she giggles, stashing another Peppermint Toad in her pocket for later. "But this works."
"Dany. My father gives me money. If I didn't spend it on important things like BertieBott’sEveryFlavorBeans, what good use would it be?" He raises a brow, tossing a second chocolate frog to Missandei with a grateful nod, as she nudges a sleepy Greyworm awake.
Dany flits her eyes back from Greyworm sitting up to Missandei waiting with her frog, and then clears her throat. Hiding back a small smile, she bites her lip, as the four of them raise their tiny enchanted boxes in the air.
"Ahem."
"To tradition," she starts, announcing with pretend poise.
She carefully opens her box, holding the squirming frog down between her fingertips and the cardboard. "We, my friends, met here in this very cabin, our very first year. And by fate, we shared these here, chocolate frogs—" Missandei giggles at Dany's stone-serious face, "And may this, our sixth year at Hogwart'sSchoolofWitchcraftandWizardry, bring us the most epic and daring adventures yet to come—"
"And may our houses never tear us apart." Missandei adds with fervor.
Tyrion, her and Greyworm nod back, simultaneously stuffing their mouths with their frogs, as well as its symbolized promise. But the two girls can't help but break composure, suddenly bursting into a fit of laughter—Missandei straining politely to cover her mouth, slurping back in a squiggling frog leg.
Tyrion rolls his eyes at them flatly, as him and Greyworm chew theirs unceremoniously, shaking their heads in unison. “Well, as per usual, that was truly moving, Daenerys," Tyrion says dryly. "I hope our adventures of endless homework and essays live up to your expectations."
Dany scoffs. "Oh of course... And don't forget about the Quidditch matches? I am team Captain this year, you never know what could hap—eh-uhg—"
She flies forward—
In a split second, Dany and Tyrion are launched across the cabin—her, flying right past Missandei, and him, straight into Greyworm. She coughs out, thudding right smack into the wall. She cradles her ribs, sinking powerless to the cold floor in paralyzed pain. Her lungs contract in a spasm, temporarily unavailable from the blunt trauma of collision—the wind, being brutally knocked out of her.
And the wind outside, roars.
Her chest, slowly beginning to fill with air again, contracts to relax as the entire train plummets forward— the breaks screaming to a screeching halt.
Yellow and silver sparks fly up outside their window pane like reversed rainfall— and the iron wheels, sear loud against metal, scraping harsh against the tracks.
Did they crash? Were they crashing?
Was it a threat— a person?
Instinctually, the four of them whipped out their wands, now holding on to each other desperately— mirroring similar, panicked expressions. Dany calls out, her voice now less of an empty shell, gripping a hold onto the seat cushion, pushing herself strong against the crushing gravity. Her adrenaline kicking in.
"What's... happening?!"
She glares back at Missandei wide eyed, as a few first year girls scream in high-pitched terror a couple cabins down from them.
And then, there it was, the startling sound of a fire-blasted wind, brutally plowing open a new door from the outside— sending her heart into a stuttering panic.
What was that? Where were they even?
It’s so foggy all of a sudden, she could barely see out the window anymore? And even worse, it was dark now.
Hopefully, they were close to Hogwarts— A suddenly sensed recognition of a sound startles her thoughts.
Wait— what is that—
She could now hear the— the sound of fast singing air, rushing in cold, sucked in through the hinge-dangling door, the outside bolts rattling in its frame— no doubt close to their cabin.
And she knew the sound wasn't just an accident, and that it wasn't just hazard from the terrible weather they've been having. But that some thing, a being, had blown open that door.
And that thing, was now on board with them. She could feel it burning in her chest.
A monster.
•
The train finally slowed down, falling steady to a complete standstill; and then with a sharp jerk, it cuts short to a final— full, dead, stop.
Though she could swear that she felt suddenly... as if they were... swaying.
Rocking?
Missandei collapses forward onto her knees with the pull of the short stop, panting hard in sharp attention. A fizzing, zap buzzes hot above their heads, shaky bulbs dimming in and out of their ceiling sockets. The flourescent lights start to tap out, flickering off down the train, as more panicked student screams begin to drown out the howling, heavy wind. And worse, the outside darkness was now swallowing the train whole— leaving its passengers to shiver in silence.
Crouched on the carpet floor next to Greyworm, Dany notices a strange crystalline dust rapidly beginning to fog up their window to a sleet of pure white frost— and then a sudden windchill mist, starts to seep its way in through the cracks...
Tyrion carefully kneels up to the window, wanting to peek a glance outside, but yelps back in shock, as the newly frosting glass cracks icily beneath his hand.
"Tyriongetback. Be quiet."
“Dany.” He squeezes his eyes shut in terror.
She glances back at him fiercely, eyeing him the question what.
“We’re...” he trails, nodding at Grey, then whispers gravely, “we’re on the bloody damn bridge.”
Oh...
Shit. Of course this would happen.
Ofcourse they ended up on the rickety old, tower bridge. Its rickety wooden planks, probably stressing to snap at this very moment, boarded sky high above the rocky sea cliffs of Scotland. It was the bridge they crossed every year, yet no one really understood the reason for it when it’s so poorly constructed. Again, Hogwarts and it’s weird ignorance of logic.
But that would explain the swaying. Okay. No. They’re fine. She closes her eyes.
They’re fine.
But Tyrion’s not. “We’re not going at a stable speed— to keep the weight balanced? If the bridge doesn’t collapse, we’re going to tip over.”
“Shhh.” Dany hushes him, scooting back further away from the cabin door and window, pulling him back down with her.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”
She catches a glimpse of something through a corner of the foggy glass— a hallow trail of shadowy figures coming to drift inside the train. Floating inside through the ripped-open door, echoing a new, harrowing sound in their path— making her blood run cold.
The wind cuts around them, beginning to sting her skin, violently rippling a current in and around the train, pushing it to rock and sway more.
A lot more.
And this time everyone noticed— clearly, as the screams, now started to sound a lot like crying.
Inside, the black shadows swam nearer, and for a second, she could have sworn through the glass that they hesitated at their door—for just a brief moment, before drifting back on further down the aisle. Her chin falls to her chest, oddly relaxed in relief.
Though only for a moment.
Suddenly she felt something— Something inside her mind... something that she had never felt before. Like a new voice had awoken inside her, calling her.
Drogon? Her dragon?
Had he finally come back home? Back to her? She truly wished for that more than anything.
But this... this didn’t feel like Drogon. No... this was stronger. Only just less clear, and more muddled.
Her eyes widen further upon hearing a strangled cry, shout out down the aisle in low, familiar terror.
She felt an odd sensation in her chest, like something was pulling her. Not physically, but merely a lightly tugged thought, focusing her in towards that low, familiar voice. One that she couldn't quite particularly place.
Get it off. The voice spins slowly through her skull. I will not—die like this.
It was a boy’s voice. He sounded strangled.
Determined.
Then suddenly, Dany felt tired. Tired— and really, really, terribly sad. In fact she felt so tired and sad even, she was certain she’d possibly never have the strength to laugh ever again.
And then in a washed wave of blue light— a sudden blast of brightly channeled energy, exploding like a gust of blue-wind outside their door, knocks her back against Tyrion, just by the shock force alone.
An older wizard's voice bellows again out from down the aisle, "Expecto Patronum!"
•
The four of them remain clenched onto each other, still shaken and torn, cold with sweat. Missandei gasps in relieved surprise, as the lights suddenly flicker back on. The train seemed to be trying to fix itself, it’s mile long body lifting slightly, hovering gently in the air. Protecting itself, as its wheels re-lock strong and stable into place.
”Is it over?” Missandei whispers.
Dany thinks it to be so, as the hauntingly, sharp chill had now almost completely faded. The new heat bringing the train back to life.
”I think so,” Dany says, judging a look over at the defrosting window.
Surely the adults must have killed what had clawed its way onto the train. She could hear the magic repairing the broken glass. Sealing the shredded steel.
They all cautiously let go of each other, awaiting some kind of an authoritative direction, though still sharing nervously-puzzled expressions.
A few moments later, and the train suddenly clicks forward into place, hitching itself back correctly onto the tracks, and then gradually begins move again, speeding back up on its scheduled path, on land. And through the uncertain mist, a different man's voice, more wise and weathered, calls out calmly for their attention from outside their door.
"Everything is alright, children," he announces serenely. Voice echoing down the train in an enchanted loudspeaker.
“There is no further need to panic, as there was no real danger anyone was in, just a small technical error...” he assures them all, “But everything has been fixed, and everything has been handled.”
Dumbledore. Always had such an odd way of prioritizing danger.
"So, I am here now to advise you to simply remain in your seats, keep your cabin doors closed... and we should be arriving at Hogwarts Castle shortly."
Still on the floor, Tyrion gawks quietly at the three of them, “A technical error?” he mocks.
Greyworm frowns. Not understanding him. “What does that mean?”
"It means that he’s claiming it’s the train’s fault... No dark magic involved,” he puffs out a breath, “But yeah, uhm, not bloody likely."
Grey’s face contorts back in thought, still confused. “But how?”
"Well, those were obviously dementors.” Tyrion laughs, “I mean, how many times have we read about them in class? Does he really think that we wouldn't have... noticed them? Or that nobody would talk to each other about what they saw? We all go to the same school—“
“Well if that were true,” Dany furrows her brow at him, though she did have to agree. "Then what reason would they have to possibly be on our train for? Aren’t they only supposed to be guarding the prisoners in Azkaban?"
She was definitely not bringing up the part about her ‘hearing voices’, right now either. More likely, if she ever tells anyone about that bizarre experience, she was probably slipped some Veritaserum. Naturally acquired legilimency leads to madness. Everyone knew that. She would never mention that to anyone, ever.
"Hmm, dementors out of Azkaban," he blinks back a pair of wary eyes. "Well, that's the better question, I’m afraid. Either someone’s escaped or—"
“No,” unsatisfied, she huffs at him, "I think there was something else.“ She nods suspiciously, “Yes. Something dangerous came on board. But not a person. A thing." She crouches down to carefully crawl over towards the door.
Tyrion giggles, “A thing? Dementors don't go after beasts, Dany. Only psychotic inmate murderers...”
Dany slips her fingers to the edge of the door, just to slowly slide it open, just a smidge. Missandei reacts fast, reaching for her arm. “No stop—" she inhales sharply. Dany shrugs her off.
"Dany? Dumbledore said to keep the cabin doors closed. We're not allowed to open them."
Ignoring her completely, she was already stealthily peeking out into the hall. "No, actually he advised us, so it’s not...” She squints, trailing off, trying to catch a glimpse down the empty aisle. Then she stops, in rigid recognition.
Wait- What if the monster’s still on the train?
Or worse, what if it’s—
That boy.
Her lips curve downwards subtly, as the blood oily drains from her face, slowly processing the sight before her. Quietly holding her breath, her eyes fixate on the collapsed boy with soft dark hair, laying limp on the ground.
What—
She narrows her eyes, softly confused.
That can’t be a monster... he’s so...
He’s... just a boy— just an innocent-looking boy?
But who is he—
Or who, was— he... she thinks guiltily. Was.
Was he dead or just knocked out? If that’s the same boy, and she knew it was— his thoughts sounded like he was suffering the dementor’s true kiss.
And it felt like it too.
Wow, she really was insane.
Grim, aiding professors hover over the boy in an attentive circle around him, blocking the rest of her vision.
She turns to Tyrion solemnly, “It’s... it’s a boy. Here. Can you tell who it is? ...I think, that he’s dead.” She slides back, making room for him to see for himself.
Unsure of the situation, he peers over at a nodding Greyworm, and then in contrast, at a frowning Missandei. And though still skeptical himself, he leans his face forward anyway, peeking out through the slightly open crack.
She sighs a few moments later, impatiently waiting, as he still observes the scene. She thinks for a moment, remembering something her uncle Illyrio had told her before she left. About an expelled transfer student.
Oh—
Of course? That’s it! It has to be him!
The one everyone’s been talking about. The one everyone’s afraid of.
“Well? Who is it? Do you know him?" She pesters.
Though wouldn’t he have been on board with them when they left? And worse, she couldn’t even imagine what else could have broken in onto a moving train, then?
"One second, Daenerys,” Tyrion chides.
Then suddenly, he sucks in a breath, gaping, "Oh wait a - Merlin, that can’t be? Hmm—" He pulls back in short realization, quietly closing the door with him.
"Well, he was definitely attacked by a dementor, they were feeding him chocolate.” He distracts her comedically, his dark tone lightening, “But he was sitting up, so I don’t think that he's dead, Dany. Though he did look dreadful..."
She purses her lips sharply. "I'm serious, Tyrion. Who is it?” She presses, “I know that you know. I can tell when you know something.”
“Oh, so clever, you are.” His eyes first dart over suspiciously towards the door; before he glances back at her, nodding. “Okay,” he takes a breath, leaning in, "Okay... so I'm almost certain, that that's Jon Snow." He whispers grimly, "The transfer boy, the one that’s been in the Prophet." Dany’s eyes light up curiously.
It is him.
“Jon... Snow?" she prompts, innocently enough, just record for more information.
Missandei scowls at them. "Wait— you mean, The Jon Snow?" she questions rigidly, now shaking her head. "...My father told me all about him… He told me to stay away from him. He said he's dangerous.”
”No, I don’t think so.” Dany bites her lip.
Missandei eyes her cynically. "You don’t think so? You don’t even know him? What do you mean... you don’t, think so?”
”I have heard of him actually. Now that I think about it...” she hums, “And he doesn’t seem like a murderer.”
“Uhm, Dany, no— haven’t you seen the papers? They say his parents were both muggles… And that he was expelled from Durmstrang, for classified reasons. All coincidentally rightafter all of those muggleborn students were killed."
"Why move the boy to new school if he so dangerous?" Greyworm asks flatly.
"Exactly... I don't know. Why would they send him here?" She produces a false smile, her dimpled, warm almond cheeks, not quite reaching her strict eyes, "I mean, to actually allow him to finish his academic career, at Hogwartsit's absolutely mad."
She could be so ignorant sometimes.
"Wow... And what does him being muggleborn have to do with him getting expelled?"
“Is that all you got from what I said?” Missandei scans her thoughtfully. "That’s not what I meant, and you know that. I was just repeating, from what I saw in the papers and what my father told me. He just thinks that the boy must have seriously endangered the lives of those students to have gotten expelled like that. Possibly even had a hand in it—"
”No, I don’t believe it.” Dany sniffs, “No one has enough information. It’s all speculation.”
“Well, there’s a lot of speculation from a lot of reliable sources Dany, if you bothered to check the facts. And you know what’s even worse—" her voice lowers darkly, "Some people say he really did kill his parents..."
Dany snorts sadly. "He was a child. How could you say that?"
Tyrion rolls his eyes, then points out, “You know, you actually seem to know alot about this Jon Snow, Dany?”
She didn’t actually, that was the problem.
"I'm not saying that.” Missandei defends, ignoring Tyrion, “All I’m saying, is that it’s not a crime to be cautious. I mean, don’t you know who the last wizard to be expelled from Durmstrang was?"
The properly postured Ravenclaw exhales a small frustrated sigh, “Okay, well...” directing it at their cluelessly innocent shrugs. “Here’s a hint, it was sixteen years ago..."
Tyrion bows his head in realization then whispers faintly, "Gellert Grindelwald."
Dany crosses her arms. "Well, those are two very unrelated things…” she argues flatly.
”It’s all in the The Prophet, Dany. The two seem to be too similar to be a coincidence,” Missandei raises her brows pointedly.
“Exactly.” Dany twists her mouth in thought, staring severely out the window. “This is why I stopped believing in the papers a long time ago, ever since they sent my father to Azkaban."
Tyrion chokes out a laugh, "Oh, did you really now?” He scrunches his nose sarcastically, “Only since then?"
Greyworm smirks at him. Dany just glares back at him with a shrug.
"So you mean, you've never believed in them,” Tyrion chuckles. “Considering, you couldn't even read yet, when that happened...” he gestures, “you know, when you were a newborn baby."
She turns determined, eyeing him coldly, "I’m not joking, Tyrion. I want to find out the truth. And the truth, is not in those tabloids.”
He groans languidly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ohhh no. Nope, no.”
She scowls back at him, ”What...”
“It is too early for this— Dany, please. I mean, we haven't even gotten to school yet?" He shoves a handful of jellybeans into his mouth, "You know I like to get settled in—“ he cringes, puckering at the flavor, “before you, you know, dragus along into one of your... you know, causes."
A storm of ideas had already begun flooding her mind minutes ago, propelled exponentially by her need to be right. She glares out the window, pondering the possibilities.
Tyrion examines her telling expression. Squinting at her slowly. “Really, what now?”
"Nothing?" She beams quietly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His face falls flat. "Daenerys.” His expression drops coolly, “Let me just tell you what I know, for certain—“ he warns, “If there is any kind of correlation... between this... Jon Snow, and those soul-sucking dementors... which, there definitely is...” he looks her square in the eyes.
“Then the truth, is something, I don't think you want to know."