Chapter 1

Emma had never imagined being snuggled up with some Slytherin and Seamus in an abandoned building while they were piling up on an improvised campfire or eating dry granola bars.

Well, Emma Potter never imagined that the zombie apocalypse would come. Maybe she imagined the end of the Zombie world as in Return to Living Dead, with smelly corpses that moved slowly in search of brains.

This end of the world was of damned ice zombies difficult to eliminate. He had catastrophically decimated the magical and muggle population. Many experienced magicians like Kingsley and the whole body of Aurores and curse breakers died while trying to face them.

The Muggles, what they could mostly save, only reached the number of a few hundred and the magicians prospered more, more children and teachers who were in Hogwarts as a point of salvation.

Emma closed her eyes, remembering how Hogwarts fell moments after they opened the first portal to the other world that the order had registered when the first magical war happened.

"You should sleep a little, Potter," Marcus Flint said while passing him a flask with Whiskey of fire. She took it and took a long drink.

"I must be alert," Emma hugged Gryffindor's Sword as if it were a teddy bear. Emma misses Deery, as a child she called her safety blanket that served as a plush doll.

Since his miserable childhood with the Dursleys, that blanket gave him love. When he arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had told him that his parents permeated part of his magical form, something that the pure blood had accustomed their children, so from there, Emma clung to Deery more tightly.

He had to give it to Sirius as a promise that she would cross the portal.

"Potter, go to sleep," Malfoy said in a hoarse voice.

His breath stank of Fire Whiskey, there was nothing left of the well-polished and combed Malfoy. Emma wanted to brush her hair and file her nails, even a bath with roses and aromatic salts sounded like a dream right now.

"Yes Potter, go to sleep now," Pansy said shacked. "We need your dragon to end the frozen asses."

The small group of six laughed.

Parkinson, Flint, Malfoy, Warrington and Seamus were experts in creating fire, wild fire and cursed fire that they managed to eliminate. In a hasty way some goblins who survived forged swords in goblin iron. Pure silver that magicians of ancient houses gave to forge twenty swords for the survival of magicians and witches.

The Gryffindor sword was made of the same material.

Each one had a sword and with their talent with fire they were the last link to prevent the ice zombies from entering the portal, but Emma being the last dragon in the world, her fire was effective.

"Only ten minutes," Emma yawned very sleepily, "IF I don't wake up the first time." Pansy, you can slap me if you like.

"With pleasure, Potter."

It had been exactly two months since the survivors crossed the portal. Some teachers tried to comfort children from first to third, especially the children of Muggles who never knew about their families.

At first, it was Professor McGonagall who spoke with Lord Otto Hightower who represented the king, and she as the former director of Hogwarts.

Lord Hand had come a small garrison of golden cloaks and a man in white cloak, who had a certain familiarity on his face and green eyes, Hermione thought.

They explained the situation and had been placed outside the city walls. Narcissa Malfoy along with her sister Andromeda set up improvised tents for the exact number of 356 people who passed through the portal.

Molly Weasley along with some muggles prepared food with what they could find such as vegetables from the magical garden that bloomed immediately or as a man and a woman who were medical surgeons verified that everyone was well, under the orders of Madame Pomfrey and Mrs. Carroll, who despite her almost seventy-five years used her knowledge of military nursing acquired in the Second World War.

Even the Elves had found wild boars and wild deer that were made strips of meat.

Narcissa Malfoy had suggested a gift of thanks to the Targaryen family. Kings who boasted of their conquest based on dragons and fire.

A family tree. Like the last Black, whether of name and blood, Sirius, Narcissa and Andromeda work for weeks on an enchanted parchment as an offering of peace and gratitude to the king.

By mirror they knew that the last group had managed to enter what was the Evergreen House, Neville's home for his texts and the family grimoire. As well as plant shoots that were sheltered under certain sets in the hope that they will be viable.

They were taken to the council room. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, Sirius and Mrs. Narcissa. The four of them bowed deeply to the king, who looked emaciated, with that golden mask on his face.

The queen dressed in green and with the star of Seven Points around her neck.

Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the throne and next to her husband, Prince Daemon.

Hermione was speechless before the normality of the insect of the royal family, as twisted as families like the Gaunts had been.

"A gift to the Targaryen family, something like evidence of their great lineage and sovereignty," Hermione said, tilting her head and then spreading the parchment, completely blank.

"We don't see anything here," Prince Daemon said with his arms crossed.

"The king must touch the scroll and the whole dynasty of the Targaryen house will appear, from the conqueror," Sirius replied.

"How do we know it's not a trap?" Prince Daemon asked again.

"You cut off our heads right here," Sirius replied as if nothing had happened. "You already have the sword," he pointed with his gray eyes at the sword that hung on the prince's hip. "It won't be a problem for you, your highness.

Hermione opened her eyes in horror, while Mrs. Narcissa and Professor McGonagall had scolding looks at him.

"And show everyone with Targaryen blood?" asked the queen consort. - Any?

"All with the blood of the family," Hermione replied.

The queen smiled and Hermione saw how the princess polysaemia. Before she could protest, the king touched the parchment and the portraits began to appear. From Aegon I and his two wives-sisters, as the continuous line with Rhaenys Targaryen.

Children, grandchildren, granddaughters, nieces. With years of birth and death.

The princess turned pale when her branches were formed. Next to his discharge, there was the image of a dark man with lollipops, Laenor Velaryon and next to her he extended in fire and water to three portraits, three princes, demonstrating his legitimate birth.

It was rare that legitimate children, favour the Arryn blood where the late queen Aemma and the blood of Jocelyn Baratheon, paternal great-grandmother of the three princes with dark brown hair and lilac eyes, came out.

Then to his left, also only with fire, was the portrait of Prince Daemon and the portrait of two baby princes with silver hair.

Hermione choked a scream when she saw how the portrait of the princess joined in a third branch, with fire but with vines of lilies, towards Ser Christon Cole and of them a well-known image spread to the magicians present.

A skin kissed by the sun, a silky black hair like crow's wings next to large and bright emerald eyes, a protruding nose and a faded lightning-shaped scar on his forehead that almost touched his left eyebrow.

Emma's portrait smiled at the king.

Emma Waters

(114 A.D. — )