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Chapter Text

Quick Introduction:

Sometimes a plot bunny just worms its way in and won’t let go. I started writing… kept writing… and now I somehow have just over 100K words and the beginning of a grand adventure. Let me know what you think.

Synopsis:

An ingenious, possibly immortal Harry and his elven allies flee a treacherous Ministry, diving through the Veil to emerge in a new land of seemingly endless ice. Miraculously, Sirius is there too. Together they traverse this new land, seeking adventure and a much-needed break from the burdens of the wizarding world. Their journey is marked by the forging of powerful alliances and new rivalries.

With knowledge from the modern muggle and wizarding worlds, they uncover forgotten magics and introduce innovations, uplifting quality of life for smallfolk and lords alike. Despite trying to fly under the radar and hide their magic, they become enigmatic figures—saviours to some, disruptors to others. All in a day’s work when Harry’s wild luck and “saving people thing” come into play.

There will be skirmishes. There will be old and new Magics. There will be a burgeoning trade empire. And there will be a lot of confusion on the part of the locals as two secretly magical Lords sweep across their lands. Dobby naturally follows Harry everywhere, helping where he can, and causing his own brand of chaos.

Notes:

The story begins in 256AC, 25 years before Robert’s rebellion, giving plenty of time for our long-lived Harry and Sirius to settle-in before things get messy.

This story is somewhat inspired by “Veiled Dimension” by Riyer, and “Harry Potter and The Land of Ice and Fire” by kossboss. Both of which I recommend reading. Unlike most crossovers that start with Harry being born into a ruling house of Westeros, I want Harry to build his little kingdom from the ground up as a complete outsider, and a wizard from the modern world.

DISCLAIMER: That part of this world and those characters you've seen before belong to their Creator: JKR. or G.R.R. Martin

Chapter 1: A Whole New World – the Adventure Begins

Harry Potter stood in the dimly lit Department of Mysteries, surrounded by towering shelves filled with dusty, leather-bound tomes. His heart pounded in his chest as he replayed the words that Hermione had whispered to him mere hours before.

"It's a trap, Harry," she had said urgently. "They're planning to betray you, take your magic, and turn the wizarding world against you. You must leave now."

As he stood there, his mind raced, struggling to accept the betrayal that seemed all but imminent. But he knew Hermione would never lie to him, and so he had taken her warning to heart. With a great sense of urgency, Harry began to gather his things, preparing for a journey into the unknown.

This was honestly no surprise, but it still shocked him that the time had come. Harry had been preparing, and was pleased that he’d managed to gather just over 150 house elves for this venture, rescuing them from the oppressive bonds they were held under through subterfuge and sometimes even direct threats. He also had one of his closest friends, Dobby, along for the ride, wearing more hats than was healthy, and lifting spirits with his endless enthusiasm, Harry smiled lightly before concentrating.

A large, enchanted trunk lay open on the floor. This powerful artefact held a fully self-contained life support system, and was large enough for various farms to be maintained, and even some small forests to be grown. Inside were all the elves, along with all his storage trunks, filled to the brim with clothing, food, and magical supplies amongst other things. Living beings couldn’t travel in the trunk for long periods without the magic of a Ley Line feeding it, but he’d be able to sustain it for a few weeks with his own magic if necessary.

Harry was pretty sure Hermione had copied every library, muggle and magical, she could get her hands on, and included it in the trunk. He had just nodded along when she reasoned he couldn’t know what kind of knowledge he’d need on the other side.

“Really though”, he thought, “surely even his questionable luck couldn’t justify a book on how to build a rudimentary flushing toilet, or ‘The Secrets of Soap in the Middle Ages’.”

As he worked, doing last checks and building up his motivation to take the leap Harry couldn't shake the feeling that his whole life was about to change, hopefully for the better. It seemed like only yesterday that he had been a downtrodden young boy, living with the Dursleys, completely unaware of his magical heritage. Now, he was faced with the prospect of leaving everything he knew behind. Yet, if he was honest with himself, all he could feel was excitement, and a whole lot of adrenaline.

Few in the Magical or Muggle worlds had ever been good to him, he wanted freedom, and this seemed like the best way to get it. His only sadness was in leaving his best friend Hermione, but he reassured himself that he’d try to find a way to contact her again some-day, and they’d both agreed there was no other choice for him. Nowhere on earth was safe if the entire wizarding world turned against him.

With one last glance around the Department of Mysteries, Harry patted the pocket that now contained a, possibly stolen, gold pocket-watch that may or may not allow for short spurts of time travel. Harry was still mind blown at times with the power of the magical artifacts just laying around in this department. He was equally mind blown with the irresponsibility of the magical world for not having them under better security. Oh well, more fun for him, he didn’t expect to need it, but who would turn down a time turner just in-case?

Harry checked no one was coming, checked his trunk one last time, closed the lid, and shrunk it to the size of a thumbnail. Now came the hard part, neither Harry or Hermione could confirm that anything more than his body would make it through the Veil, other objects might burn up or be otherwise lost, or land in a separate destination. With that in mind Harry cast a light cutting curse at his forearm, and levitated the trunk inside the wound, wincing as he pushed it further in, then relieving the pain with a simple numbing charm and quietly wondering why he hadn’t done that first. Harry finished with an episkey, and closed the wound over, safely storing the trunk and its precious cargo with him.

Harry’s gaze paused for a moment on the small tattoo sitting just a bit further up on his forearm. A small circle sat inside a triangle, bisected by a line; the sign of the deathly hallows. Boy had it been a surprise the day after defeating Voldemort when he woke up and reached over to retrieve his wand, only to discover it missing. Adrenaline had shot through him as he realised he had misplaced the most powerful wand in the world; the one he had only just won from Voldemort the night before. He’d jumped up without a thought, and immediately run around levitating everything in sight hoping to find it, before the realisation crashed into him that he was performing magic without any wand in sight.

He smiled softly at the thought of the frenzy of research Hermione dived into on discovering he had merged with the hallows. They never did discover what being the ‘master of death’ actually meant, other than the boost he had received to his magic and the ability to cast without a wand. Though they did more recently observe that he appeared to have stopped ageing. What that meant was beyond them. Was he now immortal? Harry had never been game enough to find out.

Gathering himself from his thoughts, Harry shook his head and focused on the Veil in front of him. Hermione had long ago regaled him with her theory that the veil was a portal to another world. To her, it was an interesting piece of magic, but Harry had immediately seen it as something else. An opportunity to escape and start anew.

Taking just one more deep breath, he stepped forward and crossed the veil that he hoped separated the wizarding world from a land unknown.

As Harry stepped through the Veil, he felt an inexplicable sensation envelop him, like he was being drawn into an infinite abyss of darkness. Time seemed to lose all meaning, and his very essence felt as if it was being stretched thin, on the verge of being torn apart. There was an otherworldly hum resonating around him, filling his ears and his soul with an eerie melody that he couldn’t quite place.

He felt something like a cold hand touch his forearm in the place where the tattoo of the deathly hallows sat. Then he was flung faster in another direction and, as suddenly as the experience had begun, it ended.

The darkness dissipated, and Harry found himself sprawled in a drift of soft snow in a completely foreign environment. The cold air hit him like a wave, sending shivers down his spine as his eyes adjusted to the stark contrast of the snowy landscape.

The world he had arrived in felt both surreal and tangible at the same time. Towering trees with snow-laden branches surrounded him, and the ground was blanketed in a thick layer of untouched snow. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the whisper of the wind rustling through the trees and the distant howling of what sounded like a lone wolf.

As he took in his surroundings, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was in a very different world The land was untouched, and something about the place felt ancient. The strange feel of air thick with magic seemed to vibrate around him. The magic seemed much more prevalent than he was used to, but equally wilder.

Despite the surreal nature of his journey through the veil, Harry’s tension seemed to bleed away in place of relief and a large dose of excitement. A quick air quality spell proved the place had safe, breathable air, and the surroundings seemed to be safe, at least for now.

Pulling himself from the snow drift, Harry immediately sought to release the elves. He cast a low powered cutting curse at his forearm, and summoned the shrunken farm trunk out, wincing as he yet again forgot the numbing charm. Thankfully, everything he was wearing arrived in one piece but he now wished he hadn’t insisted on storing the trunk inside his own arm. Of course, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Grumbling, Harry healed the cut with a quick episkey, placed the trunk on the ground, and unshrunk it, making sure to feed it more magic to keep the life-systems running in the absence of a Ley Line.

As the elves climbed unsteadily out of the trunk, somewhat spaced-out and looking a might travel-sick, Harry began to pay attention to his surroundings. The cold was starting to hit him like a fist. That would be annoying, they’d need to set-up the shelter quickly. He sincerely hoped the whole world wasn’t some ice-covered wasteland. With his luck it would be just him against a horde of strange ice zombies, he chuckled to himself, what a ridiculous concept, his luck couldn’t possibly be that bad.

Before setting up camp, Harry pulled out his firebolt to get a better view of where they’d landed. Mounting the broom, he soared into the sky, the cold wind whipping at his face as he climbed higher and higher. From his elevated perspective above the canopy, Harry could see for miles, the vast snow-covered landscape stretching out before him, seemingly endless. Harry found a vast snow-covered forest tracking to the horizon in one direction, and in the other a snow-covered expanse that stretched as far as the eye could see. Tall mountains loomed in the distance, and a biting wind whipped through the air, sending chills down his spine.

"Where are we?" Harry murmured to himself, his breath visible in the frigid air. He was a little disappointed to see no immediate signs of civilisation, but that was just wishful thinking.

Upon landing the house elves huddled around him, their tiny bodies shivering in the cold. "Master Harry! Dobby is thinking we set-up the tent. Is we safe here?" Dobby queried, his teeth chattering.

Nodding in agreement, Harry reassured, “the world seems liveable Dobby, that’s about as much as I can say for now”. Dobby summoned the expanded camping tent from one of the storage trunks the elves had retrieved. And with a flick of his wrist, Harry triggered the self-set-up function of the tent, before lifting the flap to reveal the much-appreciated warm interior. “In, in, everyone in” Harry ushered the house elves inside, listening to their chatter as he made sure they were settled.

Before entering the tent himself, Harry couldn’t help but marvel at the magic that made it possible. The exterior appeared as a simple, two person waxed-canvas tent; in-fact, it was built to be camouflaged in any world, so it look deceptively shaky, held up seemingly by sticks that could have easily been foraged from the forest floor. But within its canvas walls lay a comfortable apartment-sized living space for all of them.

Harry double checked the wards and magic charge on the tent, ensuring that the enchantments remained strong and functional and stepped into the tent, immediately feeling the difference in temperature. “Gotta love Magic” he mumbled to himself in relief.

The interior of Harry's expanded tent was nothing short of astonishing. It was the most expensive one he could buy, and an impressive feat of magical engineering, with various rooms that easily defied the laws of physics. The tent was obviously designed to cater to the utmost comfort for its inhabitants.

Upon entering the tent, one would find themselves in a cosy living area, complete with plush sofas and armchairs that surrounded a warm, crackling fireplace. Harry observed one of the younger elves stoking the fire as he strolled into the room.

The walls were adorned with moving portraits pulled from his family vaults, some of which were already asking the elves what all the excitement was about. Others turned up their nose at the idea of talking to an elf, but you could see the curiosity in their eyes. A wireless wizarding radio sat on a side table, though it was unlikely to be very entertaining. An elf was already frowning as they fiddled with the dial, trying to find any sign of a live frequency either muggle or magical in this new world.

To the right of the living area, a fully-equipped kitchen provided all the necessary tools and ingredients for Harry and the house elves to prepare their meals. An enchanted stove cooked food to perfection, while a runic icebox kept perishables fresh and crisp. There was even a small pantry that used protean and switching enchantments to replenish supplies automatically from one of their food stasis trunks.

Adjacent to the kitchen, a spacious dining area featured a long, wooden table that could comfortably seat a dozen people. The room was illuminated by never-melt floating candles that filled the space with a warm, golden glow, making it the perfect setting for shared meals and conversations. At the moment it seemed some of the older elves were setting up some knitting work on the table, already getting back to work despite the uncertainty of their trip.

On the opposite side of the living area, a door led to the library, stocked with the books Hermione had gathered, covering a wide range of subjects, from potions and charms to engineering, history and agriculture. In the far corner was Harry’s favourite comfortable reading nook, complete with a soft armchair and a small stand for his tea set.

Harry had found himself to be quite the reader once his life settled down. With less death eaters after him, his pace of learning skyrocketed. Though Hermione also theorise that the Deathly Hallows might have had some influence on this behaviour. Either way, this nook invited hours of quiet contemplation and study.

The tent also boasted several bedrooms, each furnished with soft beds, warm blankets, and enchanted wardrobes that cleaned and pressed any deposited clothing. Each bathroom offered a magical shower that provided an instant source of hot water, and a large bathtub perfect for soaking after a long day's exploration.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t use the farm trunk for any extended period without either straining Harry’s magic, or the use of a ley line to feed it magic, so they’d all be living in the tent for now.

It would be cramped with so many Elves, but Harry had thought ahead and prepared for this scenario. He’d paid a Master of Charms and Ancient Runes to expand four of the bedrooms to far greater proportions, resembling a barracks in shape and content, each with a large bathroom facility. It wouldn’t necessarily be comfortable, but all 150 elves could fit, which mattered more than comfort.

The tight fit would give Harry and the elves plenty of motivation to find civilisation. Though given the apparent wild nature of this land, Harry was certainly thankful for the protection it would provide from, the elements, and the opportunity to rest their weary bodies after what might be some long days of exploration ahead of them.

Harry settled into an armchair as a few of the elves huddled in-front of the fire for warmth. The daylight seemed to be waning in this forest, and the trip had been draining, so as the elves chattered together about their situation and threw out increasingly outrageous theories about this new world, Harry just rested. They knew they were far from the world they had known, but had no idea where they were or even whether other humans or magical creatures shared this world with them. They’d set off in the morning to explore this new land and try to find some form of civilisation.

As Harry drifted off, he chuckled quietly at a few of the theories he picked up from the Elves, he’d admit dragons could be a thing here, but Yappy seemed sure there would be a civilisation of dragon riders. What a fanciful idea, he thought as he fell asleep.

As the group sat around the crackling fire in the living room, eating a hearty morning meal, it was time to devise a plan. With shelter sorted, and easily movable, their most pressing need was now to understand their surroundings, and that would require exploration.

Harry unfurled a large specialised map parchment, which he’d created and cleverly charmed to update with the information they gathered during their travels. Harry equated the charm he’d created to something between the original Marauders map, and a slowly revealing map in a videogame. Thus, in honour of the now useless original, he would carry-on calling this the Marauders Map. In-fact, he was quite proud of how clever this set of charms was. To his knowledge, this was an entirely new invention.

To finish the set-up, he just had to cast a customised sight-based protean charm on himself, and all his companions, and link it with the map. From this point forward, all the lands, and possible towns they covered in their explorations would be drawn up as accurate topographical details on this parchment.

As the map grew, information would be stored, and with the flick of a wand or wrist, the map could scroll or zoom allowing anything from the full map, down to a specific building to be seen. Of course, for all he knew there might not be any buildings, as there was no sign of civilisation yet.

The map could also show people, but would require buried ward stones in the vicinity to capture such information, or proximity to one of the linked observers. At this time it showed only a ‘you-are-here’ type dot, some vague trees and some snow piles in their immediate vicinity, the rest was blank.

"Alright, everyone, we need to be organised about this, there are a lot of us, and we can cover a lot of ground, but we need to stay safe and unseen," Harry declared, his eyes scanning the eager faces of the house elf friends. "We should also gather food and supplies as we go, our packed supplies are plentiful but not infinite; we’ll need to become familiar with subsisting on this land, for all we know we could be alone in this world.” A few of the elves winced at the idea of being completely alone, whilst others seemed unconcerned. “the Farm Trunk will be viable when we find a ley line to settle over, so keep an eye out for any subtle directional flows pulling on your magic" Harry finished, feeling strangely like some sort of battle commander giving orders to his troops.

Dobby stepped forward, his ears twitching with excitement. "Dobby be suggesting we split into teams, Master Harry. One team can spread out to explore and gather information”, Dobby paused to think, “another team can investigates the wildlifes and foods, and the elders can try to sense for- a ley line”

"That's a great idea, Dobby.” Harry nodded, impressed with Dobby's suggestion., “but remember, we must remain invisible while we're out and about, at least until we know more about the potential people and civilisations we could be dealing with."

Winky, raised her hand timidly. "Winky can help with magical concealment, Master Harry. Winky is well versed in casting invisibility spells on old Master Barty, elf versions of your disillusionment charm” Winky nodded to herself, proud of her own skill, “I’s can also be teaching the others to cast spells to hide our tracks and mask our presence."

"Excellent, Winky. That will be incredibly helpful," Harry replied, somewhat relieved that the elves seemed to be getting a sense of independence; he was a little afraid all 150 beings would rely solely on him for direction in all things; this however, was a good sign that he had help on this journey, and not just hangers-on. "We'll be sure to use those spells when we're out exploring or foraging."

Over the next hour, Harry and the house elves prepared for their tasks, and took a mass lesson in spells for hiding track from Winky. Harry’s first lesson from a house elf wasn’t so productive, as he wasn’t yet sure he could use house elf magic, that would need to be investigated later, but he gave it a shot anyway.

With a sense of purpose, the group broke up to spread across the snowy landscape. This, Harry thought to himself, is already looking like an interesting adventure.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Wilderness Wandering Walkabout

That evening, after a day of freezing himself trying to scout by broom, Harry sunk back into his armchair and took a moment to watch the crackling fire. Finding a bit more energy after some rest and a cup of good British tea, he turned to Dobby, who was also splayed across an armchair looking pretty exhausted.

"Dobby, I think it's time we start properly testing our magic in this world both Wizard magic and Elf magic. We need to know what we can rely on and what might be different."

Dobby nodded, not quite ready to get up yet, but interested nonetheless. "Dobby is ready, Harry Potter, sir" he said, not really looking ready at all, "What spells should we start with?"

"Let's begin with some of the basic ones – Lumos, Stupefy, and Protego," Harry suggested as he stood up. He began by casting a simple Lumos, his hand immediately lit up with a bright, steady light. He couldn't help but notice that the light seemed more vibrant, as if the magic in the air was amplifying its intensity.

Next, he tried a Stupefy, aiming the red spell at a nearby rock one of the elves had inexplicably dragged inside from their explorations. The spell struck the rock with a powerful force, leaving a small dent in its surface. Harry's jaw dropped at that. He'd never seen a stupefy have a physical effect before, it only pushed people back if it was overpowered. To chip away at a rock suggested even greater power by an order of magnitude.

Encouraged by these initial successes and now feeling somewhat more excited and energetic, he proceeded to cast a Protego.

A shimmering, translucent shield appeared before him; at a glance the shield seemed thicker, and more opaque than usual, as though it was denser. It also covered him in a complete dome, where it should have simply formed a half-body shield in front of him. Harry was speechless for a moment, before breaking out of his stupor and smiling like a loon. "Huh… … there's definitely something to this thicker feeling of magic in the air… … fun!" he declared to no-one in particular.

Harry looked to Dobby with a mixture of surprise and excitement. "My magic seems to be doing more than just working, it's practically thriving here" he stammered, "But there's something different about it, too. It feels raw and unrefined, like the spells themselves are less polished."

Dobby tilted his head, deep in thought. "Perhaps the magic here has a wilder nature, Harry Potter, sir. I's be hearing once that magic be more refined in our time than Merlin's," Dobby reflected, making a surprisingly poignant observation, "refined by all the seasoned magic users and magical peoples on Earth."

Harry nodded, contemplating Dobby's words. "You might be right. Let's try some more advanced spells and see how we fare."

Harry decided to test the wizarding Disillusionment Charm, having already used it earlier in the day, but not having taken much note of how it's effect might have differed from the norm. Harry cast the spell on himself and felt the familiar sensation of an egg cracking on his head and trickling down as he began to blend into the background.

"How do I look Dobby? Can you see me?" he asked. The house-elf easily pointed him out, chucking a small cushion at the human shaped camouflaged Harry moving about the tent for added emphasis.

"It seems the Disillusionment Charm isn't any more or less effective here, it still works, and we'll still be able to use it to keep hidden" Harry reflected, "but despite the greater amount of magic in the air, the charm doesn't seem very different. Though the magic feels less refined when it's cast, much more primal and natural, and it seems to take a bit more willpower to form into the desired effect."

Harry mused after a bit more testing, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "And the Silencing Charm seems to be more of a sound dampener rather than completely silencing, though with a bit more power it seems to work properly. It's like the magic is happy to do what I want, but the path it usually takes is a bit more rugged, and less well trodden; I just need to push a bit more to get there. I'm not ready to test Apparition yet, but I have a feeling it might be affected as well, and will require great care." Harry had no interest in splinching himself in a world with no St. Mungo's.

The two continued their experimentation, discovering that Transfiguration was largely unaffected and even slightly more potent in this world. Harry was relieved with that discovery, as this branch of magic could be invaluable in building sturdy shelters and temporary tools when needed.

Dobby, too, found that his house-elf magic was mostly unaffected and even seemed to be stronger. He excitedly reported to Harry that he felt a welcoming sensation when casting spells, as if the magic in this land was embracing the elves specifically.

As the night wore on, Harry and Dobby continued their magical exploration, sharing their findings and discussing the implications for their adventures. It was pleasing to know their magic would remain a powerful ally in this new world. They eventually found some rest, despite Harry still being on a bit of a high from discovering just how much more powerful his magic would be in this world.

Harry and the elves continued their exploration the next day, packing away the tent and heading out to seek either civilisation or some context as to where they are.

The day wore on as they trudged through the snow, laying down hardening and grip spells on the snow ahead of them so they could walk along it like a rough road, and avoid sinking in to the deep windswept snow hills. The elves coming up behind would diligently cancel the spells and clean any evidence that they'd passed the area. It was tedious work.

Harry did try using his trusty Firebolt again, but honestly found the extremity of the cold winds too much to stomach for any extended period. It was too much for both the broom, and for his own warming spells when moving at any speed. It did however give him the ability to scout the area from a higher vantage point, and give some sense of where they should go. Harry had them heading towards some mountains in the distance where he hoped to find running rivers, and by extension, hopefully people.

Of course, even without the wind shear, Harry's broom wouldn't hold more than three people at a squeeze. Alas, asking the elves to get into a storage trunk for transportation in his pocket sounded tempting, but most were keen to join the exploration, so here they were, trudging onwards together.

Through his tedium Harry's thoughts turned to the various other methods of magical transportation available to them. Or possibly available, they had yet to properly test any of them, and Harry was a tad nervous to try.

Apparition, a common form of travel in the wizarding world, was one of the most useful, but had its own set of limitations.

Honestly Harry was still shocked at the power of Apparition, even after all these years, the idea of instant teleportation was difficult to comprehend for a muggle raised. Apparition could be massively useful in any number of situations. With Harry's luck, he'd had to use it regularly, as an escape route both from angry purebloods, or from fanatical fans. It was unbeatable, except under anti-apparition wards. As a form of travel it was uncomfortable but massively cut down on travel time. And as a method of sneaking around it would also be immeasurably useful.

However, apparition was not without its dangers and restrictions. One of the most significant limitations was that a witch or wizard could usually only Apparate to a location they had previously visited and had a good mental image of. This was to ensure a safe and accurate arrival, as attempting to Apparate to an unknown location could result in severe consequences, the worst of which was definitely being splinched. Harry shuddered at the thought.

Splinching was a painful and dangerous side effect of unsuccessful Apparition, where a witch or wizard would leave a part of their body behind at their starting point, or become fused with an object at their destination. To avoid such risks, a clear and detailed mental image of the destination was essential. This mental image was a core part of the "Three D's" of Apparition: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation.

Destination in this case was the most important missing factor for Harry and the Elves. Harry needed a target when attempting to Apparate and at this time, he had none. Of course, Harry was thankful for his Occlumency studies that allowed him to retain enough detail to Apparate to places he'd been even for only short periods, but even that wouldn't help him now.

Harry could sight-line Apparate to cover great distances quickly, even in areas he didn't know; worst case scenario, he could even target the air above his destination to avoid Apparating into a wall or tree. But to do so for any great distance would be tiring both physically and magically. Harry had deep reserves, and in an emergency he would certainly push through the exhaustion, but for now it seemed unnecessary.

For longer trips port-keys were also an option, as they significantly reduced the power requirement, and only required the creator to know the destination. But that still wouldn't help him until he knew the location. Harry also had a bit of a love Hate relationship with portkeys. They were convenient, but his inability to land a portkey was still a sore point.

For now, Harry would continue hiking along with the elves, but maybe a bit of experimentation with line-of-sight hopping would be in-order if boredom took over.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and the house elves ventured further into the frozen wilderness. They encountered various wild animals, from elk, and what shockingly might be a variant of woolly mammoths, to enormous wolves, that seemed almost like the extinct Dire Wolves of earth's wizarding history.

The elves, in particular, found the untouched nature of the land enchanting, feeling a strong connection to the earth and its magical energies.

Harry was now theorising that he had either travelled in time or possibly found himself in the distant past of a new dimension. Though, the presence of some unique creatures had him leaning towards the idea that he was not merely displaced in time but had indeed stumbled upon an entirely different realm.

He was at least pleased that during his few reconnaissance flights, when he could motivate himself to brave the cold on his Firebolt, he had discovered primitive humans. He spotted herds of animals moving across the plains and small hunter-gatherer tribe that followed them from a distance. Harry chose to remain invisible, simply observing the tribes from a safe distance; partly because he hoped to find a more permanent settlement first, but also because these people seemed less than welcoming to outsiders.

He also noticed that the thick magic in the air seemed to be concentrated in specific areas, forming a web of magical energy that crisscrossed the landscape. This almost seemed like ley lines, which he was pleased to find, but the concentrations seemed to centre around some red leafed trees.

The group was also keenly aware of the dangers of this land. No mundane creature would prove a threat, but the Dire Wolves suggested there might be hostile magical creature around. For all they knew this land might have Nundus to contend with, or with Harry's luck, there'd be dragons.

He had a mixed relationship with Dragons ever since the First Task in Fourth Year. But this was a new world he reminded himself, there'd surely be no Dragons, and even if there were, they could be small, fluffy and friendly for all he knew.

Harry was pleased to be travelling with a large contingent of elves, their food supplies were a godsend in this place, though the elves also enjoyed a good hunt. He was sure the elves could cook anything anywhere with their specialised magics.

A few of the elves were also trained in herbology and potions, having previously worked in green houses or for apothecaries. They chose to while-away the hike looking for any interesting new or known plant-life. Anything that could possibly prove useful in potion creation. Where possible they'd take the whole plant, root and stem to put it in stasis for future growth in special cold sections of the farm trunk.

Thankfully, one of the older elves had knowledge of anti-frostbite salves which proved useful, especially after his flights, as warming charms weren't perfect.

As they gathered around the fire after an exhausting day of hiking, Harry turned to Dobby and shared a thought he'd repeated a few times on their hike so-far, "I can't help but feel that we've been thrown into an entirely new world, Dobby" he sighed, while rubbing his sore feet. "These creatures, the magic in the air – it's all so different from what we've known."

Dobby nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Master Harry, it's strange. But in some ways the magic here feels like it's telling us we're finally home," Harry nodded, having heard this from a few of the elves, "Dobby thinks we can live well in this place… but Dobby wants to feel the sun please!" Harry chuckled, very much in agreement with that sentiment.

Harry smiled at Dobby, "You're right, you're right, this place feels like the magic is welcoming us, but the landscape certainly isn't welcoming."

Throughout this time, Harry often found himself reflecting on what he would do if he were the only properly civilised person in this world. The responsibility of guiding hunter-gatherer tribes toward building a society weighed on his mind. He could do it, but it was a big ask.

The possibility of having to start from scratch and share his knowledge to create a new world was daunting. This was a responsibility he definitely did not want now that he had his first taste of freedom. He wanted that freedom to last at least a year or two at least, before settling down somewhere. That ultimately seemed like a good rough plan to be moving forward with. Though he knew his saving people thing would kick in sooner or later, it was inevitable; darn his Potter luck.

As they continued their journey, the group discovered occasional ancient looking ruins scattered throughout the landscape. They deduced that there must have once been a more advanced, possibly medieval type civilization in the region, but it had long since vanished, leaving only traces of its existence behind.

Harry and the elves had been exploring the vast, frozen landscape for weeks, and their spirits were starting to wane. As they approached the latest forest, however, they noticed a change in the air, almost like they'd crossed a weak but ancient ward line. The biting cold seemed to lessen, and the scent of wood smoke and cooking food wafted through the trees.

Cautiously, Harry led the elves deeper into the forest, and they soon came upon a series of well-worn dirt paths. Curiosity piqued, they followed the paths until they could spot the outskirts of a small, bustling village, surrounded by a wood palisade wall. It was evident that this was the home of a more civilised society than the wandering tribes. The ward line also suggested they might be magical.

Before revealing themselves, Harry decided to observe these people invisibly for a while, to better understand their culture and gauge whether they were friendly enough to approach. Harry cast a blanket Disillusionment Charm on himself and the elves, effectively rendering them nearly invisible to the naked eye, proving even more effective the white snow-covered landscape.

Over the next day, Harry and the elves quietly observed the villagers as they went about their daily lives. They observed an apparently well-organized village society, likely somewhere in the bronze age of development based on the occasional basic bronze weapons and tools they saw. The villagers worked together, tending to crops, crafting tools and weapons, and caring for their children. Harry was particularly impressed by their ingenuity in using the natural resources in such a cold but somehow habitable land.

As the sun set on their day of observation, Harry and the elves gathered in their hidden tent to discuss their findings.

"These villagers" Harry started once everyone had quietened down, "they look like a people we can trust. They seem like a good first foothold into civilisation in this world" Harry said, somewhat relived with their findings. This was much better than having to uplift a hunter-gatherer tribe.

"Master Harry, they seem friendly enough" Dobby agreed. "Dobby thinks it might be safe to approach them."

"I'm also keen to learn more of these wards we felt, I haven't seen any magic from them yet, but they must have some sort of have magic" Harry continued, "at the very least I think this village may be sitting atop a strong ley-line, powering the wards." A few of the elves nodded at this, having sensed the same.

"If they're amenable to us, we might be able to finally set-up the Farm Trunk in a stable location". The Elves' eyes brightened at Harry's suggestion.

"Yappy be's keen to get back to work in the Farm Trunk if possible, Master Harry sir", one of the younger elves declared. Harry knew many were eager to end their long hike and get some normality back in their days. Harry chuckled at that, he wasn't done with his newfound freedom and adventure by any stretch, but he could understand their need for normality.

"We's been walking for too longs, with little actual work to do" Winky said sagely, "it not be being good for an elf to have no work." Many were agreeing and chittering away now.

They might be able to pause their searching for a temporary place to settle, at least for a short while, Harry concluded.

Harry raised his hand for quiet, "It's agreed, at sunrise we'll carefully introduce ourselves to the villagers, and look into some of you temporarily settling here if they're agreeable". At that the gathering broke-up.

Harry and Dobby agreed to approach alone to avoid overwhelming any welcoming party. Harry, would also be cautious about discreetly using magic, to avoid alarming these potential new allies. though he wondered if they'd be familiar with house elves. That might freak them out regardless.

In preparation for their meeting, Harry asked Dobby and the elves to hunt for some suitable kills to offer to one of the village hunting parties, as both a peace offering to the elders, and a good justification for the hunting party to cut their hunt short and guide them into the village.

Harry should have known his elven friends were occasionally a little too enthusiastic, he should have given them more detailed instructions, he should not have been surprised to find them returning with a massive floating mammoth. Harry palmed his face, and sighed in amused exasperation. What was he going to do with them he thought fondly.

Nonetheless, the plan would go forward, and they'd have an a particularly welcome offering to show for it he thought as he thanked Merlin for the levitation charm.

As Harry and Dobby approached the hunting party, they could see a few dropped jaws, and some nervous twitching of swords and axes. Though despite the possible nervous hostility the surprise on their faces was definitely worth it. Then again, who wouldn't' be surprised by a lone man seemingly strolling atop the snow with a dead mammoth floating behind. Harry's plan to hide magic wasn't going to well.

"Peace, peace" Harry called, with his empty hands raised, "we come in peace!".

Harry flicked his wrist to cast a temporary translation spell and repeated his last statement, hoping it would work with the likely unknown language of this land.

"My name is Hadrian Black Peverell, and this is my companion Dobby.", Harry had long since decided his more formal first name 'Hadrian' would be better received here, not knowing how well the word 'harry' would translate. He also wasn't sure if it was best to be known as a 'Potter' in a medieval world, where pottery was probably still a major profession. He'd never made a pot in his life after all, and thought it would be best to avoid the confusion, just in case someone ever actually asked him to make a pot. So reverting back to the lesser known, original name of the Potter clan seemed like a good idea.

"We bring this small gift as a token of our goodwill." Harry said, while noting a few sceptical looks and raised eyebrows at his description of a Mammoth as a 'small' gift. With a wave of his hand, Harry levitated the mammoth over his head to land between the two parties. Much to the amazement of the hunting party.

The leader of the hunting party, a tall, muscular young man, stared at the levitating mammoth, seemingly trying to figure out if he was still sleeping. "I am Torvald," he said slowly, finally pulling his eyes from the mammoth to the magic man. "My father is Chief Sigvald. We shall take you to him. Your magic is... incredible."

Oops, so much for subtle Harry thought as he looked over to his obvious house elf friend who had started levitating the Mammoth again.

He privately admitted to himself that he might have to pay a little more attention to the art of subtlety in future, but nobody's perfect. He also admitted that magic had become such second nature that hiding it would require real effort. He'd have to work on that in future too.

Chapter 3 Teaser:

… "That creature seems... uh… a little loopy." Dareg muttered. He and Svegg cast a few side-eye glances at the one called Dobby. The creature was standing atop the inexplicably floating woolly mammoth like some conquering hero. It was difficult to gauge Dobby's sanity with just a glance, but Svegg couldn't help but notice the not one, but four, hats he wore, and they were both pretty sure the creature had an array of coloured socks pinned to his outfit. …

Chapter Text

Last Time:

"We bring this small gift as a token of our goodwill." Harry said, while noting a few sceptical looks and raised eyebrows at his description of a Mammoth as a 'small' gift. With a wave of his hand, Harry levitated the mammoth over his head to land between the two parties. Much to the amazement of the hunting party.

The leader of the hunting party, a tall, muscular young man, stared at the levitating mammoth, seemingly trying to figure out if he was still sleeping. "I am Torvald," he said slowly, finally pulling his eyes from the mammoth to the magic man. "My father is Chief Sigvald. We shall take you to him. Your magic is... incredible."

Oops, so much for subtle Harry thought as he looked over to his obvious house elf friend who had started levitating the Mammoth again.

He privately admitted to himself that he might have to pay a little more attention to the art of subtlety in future, but nobody's perfect.

Chapter 3: Thenn There Were Two

As the hunting party returned through the snowy landscape they each made their own observations of their strange guests, suspiciously eyeing them, and quietly muttering to each other when it seemed they'd not be heard.

Svegg was known to be the gossip of the group, and suspicious of everything, so he was naturally the first to comment to his peers. "Look at that one," he said, gesturing towards Harry. "His clothing is completely unsuited for this cold weather. It's a wonder he's not frozen solid."

Dareg nodded, "True, true... but I'm more concerned that no one seems bothered by the fact that his friend looks just like those creatures from the Elder's stories of old." he scratched his head, "Is no one else bothered by that? That's a literal Child of the Forest, and we're saying nothing?" he finished, almost a little desperate in his incredulous whispered observations.

Some of the other stragglers listening in looked over at Dobby, then back at Dareg and shrugged. "Huh... I just thought his friend was short and ugly... seemed rude to comment" Svegg replied, now watching a little more closely.

"At the very least, that creature seems... uh… a little loopy." Dareg muttered. He and Svegg cast a few side-eye glances at the one called Dobby. The creature was standing atop the inexplicably floating woolly mammoth like some conquering hero. It was difficult to gauge Dobby's sanity with just a glance, but Svegg couldn't help but notice the not one, but four, hats he wore, and they were both pretty sure the creature had an array of coloured socks pinned to his outfit.

Svegg shook his head and replied, "every clan has their occasional strange member, maybe Dobby was just a bit too strange to keep around the others." Daregg eyed Dobby speculatively, "for all we know, he's the last of his kind. Maybe they were all a bit loopy. The legends do speak of them as powerful but somewhat over-enthusiastic creatures. They did carve faces into every Weirwood tree after-all. Can't expect a sane person to do that."

They all nodded sagely at Dareg's observation. Svegg piped in, "Well, those things are for the Elders to sort out. I'm just a simple man, Dareg. All I want is a warm hearth and a warm meal. As long as they're not a threat to us, I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt."

Dareg chuckled, still eyeing the peculiar duo. "You're right, Svegg. It's not our place to question. Let the Elders figure this out. Besides, there's mammoth on the menu, so you'll not find me complaining"

With that, the party continued to follow their feet back to their home, mainly arguing over the best way to cook a mammoth.

As Harry entered the main wood hall of the village, he couldn't help but be reminded of the Viking longhouses he'd seen in history books. The hall was vast, with a high, pitched roof supported by large wooden beams. Long wooden tables spanned the length of the hall, accompanied by benches on either side, where the villagers would presumably gather to eat. At the centre of the hall stood a great fire-pit stove structure, notable in that it was clearly large enough to roast an entire mammoth. The fire filled the space with warmth and the satisfying scent of woodsmoke.

Towards the end of the hall, Harry noticed a group of elders gathered around a smaller fire pit. The flames cast dancing shadows upon their weathered faces, highlighting the lines and creases that spoke of age. Some looked welcoming, whilst others were clearly cautious or concerned, nonetheless, all were watching Harry and Dobby with interest as they approached.

It was evident that one of the hunters had run ahead to brief the elders on Harry's arrival. He imagined they'd been given the longer walk through the village to give the elders some time to gather. Despite looking cautious, Harry was definitely picking-up on a welcoming vibe from the lot of them.

Upon reaching the elders, Torvald introduced Harry and Dobby to his father Sigvald, the Magnar or Chief, who looked them up and down, and gave a diplomatic smile. "Hadrian Black Peverell" Sigvald started, seeming to roll the name around in contemplation, "The people of Thenn Valley welcome you and your... friend" he glanced at Dobby seeming a bit unsure on that point, but continued anyway, "you bring us this mammoth as a gift, but what is it you seek? We rarely receive visitors"

Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "We seek refuge and respite in exchange for this mammoth, Magnar Sigvald. We've travelled far, from another land, and know not where we are."

Sigvald's eyes narrowed. "We don't know you, and we don't know your people. You've yet to even tell us of your tribe or its size." he paused, "We welcome visitors" he added, in a more friendly tone, "but refuge is a lot more to ask. You'll have to tell us more. What brings you so far from home?" A few of the other Elders nodded and grumbled in agreement.

With a nod, Harry began his tale, keeping it short. "I fought in a war to protect my people. But after the war ended, I was betrayed by those I once fought to save. In search of a new life, I found myself here through magical means, accompanied by my loyal friends, the elves, who chose to follow me." harry gestured at Dobby, getting some strange looks at his mention of elves. "Your village is the first sign of civilization we've encountered in this cold land."

After a moment of silence and apparent contemplation, Sigvald spoke. "Your tale is an honorable one, and we'll hear more of it later. We will consider your refuge request." Sigvald looked around getting mostly nods or grunts from the other Elders.

"But there might be more to this than you thought. Your Peverell name is of great interest to us." Our founding ancestors millennia ago were led by a powerful Shaman Magnar, the great Ignotus Peverell.

He appeared from a far-off land, much as you have. With his knowledge and magic he led us through a great war we call the Long Night. He led us and our other First Men allies to fight the White Walkers in the Battle for Dawn."

Much of the context of this apparent ancient war was going over Harry's head, but he was shocked to hear the connection with these people and his own direct ancestor Ignotus Peverell.

Sigvald continued, "After the great battle, we Thenns chose to maintain our independence in the True North" he gestured widely "That is where you find yourself, a cold land, but a free land"

"We continued trade with our southern allies for a time. But, over the centuries, they forgot our relationship, and the Battle for Dawn became a distant memory. We have little contact with the Southerners now, as our only harbor, Hardhome, was destroyed long ago, and those who live below the Wall view all above as savages."

So much of this was going over Harry's head, but he nodded along appreciating the brief history lesson, and still wrapping his head around his ancestor having made his way to this land. Likely through the Veil.

Harry would also have to ask later about this Wall, which seemed to carry some meaning beyond being a simple wall.

Sigvald paused before adding, "You may still have distant kin in this world, Ignotus Peverell's only daughter married a southern Magnar, Brandon the Builder, who took the name Stark. The Starks still rule the lands just below the Wall. But we can speak more on this later" Sigvald finished, clearly wishing to get onto the next topic of interest.

At this the Thenn Elders turned their questioning gazes towards Dobby, it seemed they'd been patiently waiting to address the one Harry had called an elf, but many suspected to be a Child of the Forest.

"And to our other friend here" Sigvald started, "Dobby, it is an honor to meet one of our old allies again. It does my heart good to know that these old friends of our people yet live."

Dobby glanced at Harry, looking confused and a little unaccustomed to being addressed directly.

Another Elder chimed in, asking Harry, "How did you come to be traveling with a Child of the Forest? We thought our old allies had vanished from this world centuries ago."

Harry furrowed his brow, puzzled. "Who are the Children of the Forest?"

The Elders looked at Harry, then to Dobby, and back to Harry with a deadpan look. Sigvald raised an eyebrow and gestured to Dobby.

One of the oldest amongst the elders chimed in, "Dobby, we know not how you've lost your history, but you are, as far as we can tell, a creature of this land. Your people were the original inhabitants in-fact"

Sigvald nodded, "despite initial conflicts with our First Men ancestors, the eventual alliance between ourselves and your people was crucial in our war with the White Walkers."

Another elder chimed in, "We've not seen one of your kind in living memory, but the alliance stands" the other elders nodded along.

Harry listened intently, absorbing all this surprising information. He'd intended to introduce himself to the first civilised people he'd encountered. Instead, he was being introduced to apparent ancient allies of both his ancestor, and Dobby's. What a weird day.

Harry thought on this, "I can't say for certain that they're the same beings, but it seems sensible to conclude that this world might be the true origin of House Elves." Harry looked to Dobby for confirmation, "No one in my world knew where they came from."

A few theories were clicking into place as he thought on this. The elves had expressed a satisfaction with the magic of this world, if they were truly from here, Harry could see how creatures that were used to this thick magic might find the sparser magic of his old world untenable.

Harry could imagine the Children, lost in the wizarding world, might have needed to bind themselves to the magic of witches and wizards to keep their powers. Harry would definitely be investigating whether the Elves could gain true freedom from dependence on the bond magic in this new world. He could see Dobby was thinking much the same thing.

"If what you say is true, we might be able to resolve a great injustice done to the elves, in my lands" Harry shared, "they live off my magic through a bond, but with this possibly being their native land, there is sure to be a way to free them from that bond."

The Thenn Elders exchanged glances, their eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity, mainly in relation to the casual references to magic Harry kept making.

The Sigvald nodded thoughtfully. "If there is a way to help the Children, or Elves, regain their independence and reconnect with their true nature, we would owe it to our alliance to try. We would gladly support such an endeavour."

Dobby, had been silent for most of this, letting Harry lead, but spoke up as the leader of his people in this matter, not really knowing if this was true, but willing to take the chance. "Dobby is pleased to renew the alliance" he stated, with a puffed-up chest, "Dobby's people is already free enough under friend' Harry's bond." he looked at Harry with admiration, then looked back to the Elder's with determination, "But Dobby's people are strong, and will experiment without a bond to see if it be possible" he declared.

At this Harry clapped his hands once, to bring it all back to the ground. "Well, it seems we're welcome, and an alliance already exists, so if you'll allow us, we'll get settled in. Can we be shown to a village plot to build on?"

With a few more platitudes the gathering of Elder's broke-up leaving Magnar Sigvald and his son to lead Harry and Dobby to an open space to settle, asking a few more questions as they strolled. Harry was definitely happy with this result. He may not wish to stay too long, but a place to settle the elves while he travelled would be a welcome outcome.

Standing in front of an empty plot between two village huts, Harry realized he hadn't introduced Sigvald or any of the other elders to the rest of the elves. "I should mention that I've actually been traveling with an entire tribe of House Elves, approximately 150 in total," he told Sigvald and the assembled group of hangers on.

Sigvald raised an eyebrow, quizzically, "I'd gathered you had a small tribe with you, but I assumed they'd mostly be human." looking around to emphasize the lack of any unknown elves or Children of the Forest in the vicinity, Sigvald continued, "I assume you've left them at your campsite? Shall we send a team to greet them?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head, "Uh. No. No that won't be necessary, I have them here." He pulled the shrunken trunk from his belt, placed it carefully on the ground, and unshrunk it. This definitely dropped a few jaws, with some jumping back at the sudden re-sizing, and others reaching for weapons on instinct.

Sigvald gathered his wits first and glanced from the now-normal-sized trunk to Harry, with a raised eyebrow.

Dobby astonished the gathering even further by opening the lid and stepping physically into the trunk as if walking down a staircase, disappearing entirely.

Moments later, pops began to sound as more and more Children of the Forest – or elves, as they now appeared to be called – appeared all around the group, while some walked out of the trunk itself. A trunk that definitely shouldn't fit so many sentient beings.

Svegg, who had been observing from the sidelines leaned into his favourite group of town gossips, "Did anyone check if Marge put hallucinogens in our morning broth again?" he asked in all seriousness.

Harry, who'd heard this faint query from Svegg had to chuckle at that particular theory. Though he also made a note to determine who Marge was and double check any broth she served.

The elves shuffled in tightly around Harry, looking nervously at the surrounding strangers. At this display of nerves, Sigvald stepped up, putting on his most open and friendly face for clearly anxious potential allies.

To the surprise of his people, Sigvald bowed deeply. Followed by his advisors and the other observers after some slight hesitation.

"What a great honour it is to know our allies once more, and to see that your kind survive." Sigvald declared, speaking as a leader to trusted allies. "Be welcome here in our home. What is ours is yours. This is a bright day for the people of Thenn"

Harry was delighted to find a people who respected his friends. After looking to Harry, who nodded at him, Dobby stepped forward, bowing back to Sigvald, "Dobby speaks for the Elves" he declared, again puffing up his chest again, though unused to so much respect. "We's be accepting your welcome and offer of renewed alliance with my peoples".

Having concluded the slightly awkward semi-formal portion of the greeting, Dobby looked around at his still nervous brethren, "If it pleases all, the elves would like to return to their work for now?"

At the nods of approval from those around, the elves bowed and popped away, disappearing back into the trunk.

The Thenns exchanged astonished and pleased glances. They were largely alone amongst the people of the True North, being the only proper settlement and civilised nation. It was definitely pleasing to have friendly supporters and allies. They'd all witnessed the casual use of magic to pop in and out of the area, and felt safe in the knowledge that such powerful being were to be friends as opposed to enemies.

At this point Sigvald decided to break-up the impromptu gathering to collect his thoughts, "For now, get yourselves settled, feel free to erect a tent or structure here." he vaguely pointed at the empty plot. "We'll prepare a feast for this evening to welcome you all properly."

With the Thenns having accepted Harry and the house elves in full knowledge of their magic Harry felt a load fall off his shoulders. No matter what happened, it seemed the elves had a friendly home for the near future. Apparently their surprise shared histories and previously unknown pre-existing alliances was a huge help.

He also had no doubt, that in a harsh environment like this, there would be no shortage of work for them to pick-up alongside the villagers.

Harry was mostly pleased to have found some minor level of civilisation. Sure they appeared to be a large bronze age village or minor city-state by the loosest of definitions, but it was a much better start than he'd expected after encountering all those underwhelming nomadic tribes.

That they were both friendly and distantly connected with his family was a boon he put down to the better part of his Potter luck.

The feast that night in the long hall was a cosy and lively affair, with villagers of all ages gathered to celebrate the arrival of their unexpected guests. Musicians played drums and simple whistles, filling the air with tunes reminiscent of old Irish folk music. Harry could feel the sense of warmth and camaraderie that permeated the air, binding these people together in the face of the harsh environment that surrounded them.

Harry and Dobby were seated at a high table, in places of honour next to Sigvald and his family, while the elves had scattered themselves amongst the villagers, mostly overcoming their initial nervousness. Harry had cast a blanket translation charm over everyone for the night. Though they'd need to figure out the new language in due course, as such charms are imperfect.

He also chuckled at the few elves who had insisted on joining the cooking crew and servers for the night. It took a bit of convincing, especially with some of the pots being larger than the elves. But they were nothing if not persistent. The bemused servers were left to watch as the many shared platters flew around the room to their designated tables.

The villagers ultimately treated Harry and the elves with respect and curiosity, sharing their stories and eagerly asking questions about their magics and the wizarding world.

As the feast went on, the Sigvald mentioned in passing that another man, much like Harry, had arrived in their village a few solar cycles ago, this immediately caught Harry's attention.

"He's also a wizard, but doesn't possess as much magic as you, he requires a wand." Sigvald shared, contemplatively, "but he has been a great addition to our people. He's proven himself to be a skilled fighter and a wise advisor. He's out on a hunt, but should return in two to three days," the chieftain said, his voice warm with affection for the relative newcomer.

Intrigued, Harry asked for the man's name, wondering if it was another magical refugee like himself.

"Our new friend goes by the name Sirius, though he's rarely serious about anything" Sigvald chuckled to himself on that last comment, using one of their friend's own inane jokes. "we don't use family names here as we're all family in a way, but from recollection he's a Black." He concluded

Harry choked on his mead, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. Dobby took to smacking him on the back to relieve the coughing fit.

"Sirius" he choked out, in a state of shock. His lost godfather, the closest thing he had to a father figure. The man he'd practically killed through his stupid misadventure in fifth year. Sirius who was surely dead after falling through the Veil...

"Of course" he whispered, "the veil. The veil brought me here, why wouldn't it bring Sirius?"

The thought that Sirius could be both alive and living in this remote village that he'd stumbled upon by chance was beyond belief. But with Potter luck in-play, he could just about see it happening.

Harry took a moment to calm his emotions, taking a deep breath to release the mix of elation and trepidation. He, was already convinced this had to be real, who else would have the name Sirius? Infact, he was desperate for it to be real.

Sigvald was watching him with some concern. Harry straightened himself up and continued the conversation following his coughing fit, "I.. I think I know him." he stammered.

"He's been here for years you say? Or I think you call them cycles?" Harry asked, still finding it hard to believe that his Sirius could have been among these people for so long.

"Yes, indeed," the chieftain replied with a smile. "He's become a valued member of the Thenn."

"He introduced basic wards to help with the preservation of our food, which has been a great boon during this last harsh winter. He also recharged our ancient wards, that stood since the time of Ignotus. We knew little of these things." Sigvlad admitted

"These wards help hold back the worst of the cold and blizzards, providing our village with a measure of security and comfort" he paused, for a moment, looking over his happy people, "We had not realised how weak the wards had become, it's more comfortable now than it's been in living memory. We've even managed to grow a few small crops this winter."

Sigvald went on to explain how Sirius had spent many moons searching for a way home, a quest that had taken him far and wide across the True North. That was the reason he still joined the hunts.

"Of course, even with his magic, Sirius is one of the worst hunters we have ever seen." Sigvald admitted with a find smile. "Nonetheless, we allow him to join the hunts for the magical warmth he provides, along with his uplifting spirit, he can certainly brighten even the worst day of hunting."

"When he first arrived, he was quite depressed, weighed down by grief" the Magnar continued. "But over time, he seems to have accepted his fate here. He often grumbles about how this place is far better than his home, which he seems to suggest was 'Demon Tor Island' or some 'Grim Old Place,' I've never been able to get more details, he doesn't like to talk about it"

Seeing he had Harry's rapt attention on the topic of Sirius, he concluded Harry truly did know the man.

Sigvald clapped Harry on the back and suggested, "It seems a grand reunion is due! Sirius will return in just a few days. For now, perhaps you should seek rest and recover from your journey."

At this comment Harry looked over the crowd, noting that many had already departed, with a few elves feverishly cleaning up, leaving the cooks watching on somewhat bemused again.

"Harry, from your earlier comments, I gather you intended to settle the elves in, but I never got the impression you'd hang around too long. You seem restless." Sigvald observed. "There's nothing wrong with a little youthful adventure, but please, settle in for the next few days with your friends, and we will ensure that you meet with your Sirius in due course. " Sigvald finished with a solid slap on the back and rose from the table.

Harry nodded, as they parted, his head still somewhat of a mush from the shock. "You're an observant one Sigvald" he said in parting, "but I definitely have no intention of venturing onward before linking up with Sirius. Good night, and thanks again for the warm welcome to your home".

At this Harry made his way back to the tent some of the elves had set up on their designated plot, going over all the implications of having his Godfather back. He was frankly giddy.

Over the next three days Harry, Dobby, and the elves found themselves welcomed by the Thenns with open arms. The Thenns, led by his new friends Sigvald and Torvald, were eager to show Harry their way of life and proud to show him around their village.

Harry had taken a great liking to the friendly, simple people of Thenn Valley, and was keen to contribute something in return. The most obvious contributions would naturally be of the magical kind, but he was also acutely aware of his modern knowledge that could somewhat uplift their way of life, or at least ease some of the more complex tasks.

Harry didn't intend to make any major changes, for fear of damaging their finely balanced co-operative economy. In-fact, he'd have to be cautious everywhere he went in this world, as any technology in the wrong hands, or too advanced could be highly disruptive to the local economy and would counterintuitively damage the quality of life of the local inhabitants instead of improving it.

That said, Harry could think of many improvements that would be incredibly helpful without being overly disruptive. And maybe in future he could help these people more, in a slower, more planned evolution of their tech.

He was also very keen on figuring out some kind of magical solution for their toilets and waste handling. He wasn't sure how Sirius had overlooked that, but one whiff of the latrine area on the outskirts of the village was enough to put that towards the top of the list.

First, though, he'd make observations, figure out where the biggest gaps were, and only then would he be comfortable making changes.

He actually had Yappy follow him around with a clipboard taking notes on some of his ideas. Though he'd not forget anything in his mind palace, Yappy was so keen to help that he couldn't bear to turn him down.

The village itself was protected by a sturdy wooden palisade, expertly crafted and tall enough to deter any potential threats. Two large gates stood at opposite ends of the village, allowing for easy access and exit when necessary. A deep moat, filled with cold fresh water from the nearby river, surrounded the entire perimeter, providing both drinking water, fish, and an extra layer of defence against invaders.

Inside the village, large family huts were scattered throughout, each made of wood and insulated with moss and animal hides. The roofs were covered with layers of thatch, expertly woven to keep out the harsh elements. Each hut housed an extended family, with shared sleeping quarters and communal areas for cooking and socializing.

In the centre of the village stood a large communal building, used for feasts, meetings, and various ceremonies. It was adorned with intricate carvings, depicting the history and legends of the Thenn people.

The food storage vaults were located near the river, allowing for easy access to fresh fish and to ice for preservation.

Inside the vaults they had large wooden racks filled with smoked meats. Though, Harry observed that a supply of salt might help them extend the life of their meats even further, so he added it to the list. He could easily share a few years' worth of salt with the Thenns, without dipping too far into his reserves.

Baskets on other shelves contained an assortment of vegetables, roots, and berries. The Thenns took great pride in their hunting and gathering skills, as well as their ability to preserve food for the long winter months, often with the use of plentiful ice.

Villagers were shuffling in and out of the food storage vaults, preparing for the midday meal. Harry thought he also saw Marge, who he'd already had pointed out to him, pull some suspicious looking herbs from underneath some sacks, while muttering something about "the best soup they'll ever have". He resolved to stay away from the pumpkin soup at lunch.

Various other structures could be found throughout the village, each serving a specific purpose.

There was a blacksmith's forge, where skilled craftsmen fashioned everything from axes and, swords, to pots and pans, largely from bronze.

A small tannery processed animal hides, transforming them into durable leather for clothing and insulation.

A woodworking area, filled with shavings and the scent of fresh-cut wood, was where skilled carpenters crafted everything from furniture to the palisade walls themselves. They also spent their spare time carefully carving grand designs into wood, as a form of storytelling and record keeping. Harry suspected they would be excellent at the careful art of carving runes if he could come up with some simple strings to share with them.

During their stay, Magnar Sigvald and Torvald ensured that their guests were well taken care of, providing them with warm meals. Though they were all getting used to the elves taking up part of the cooking workload with gusto. None complained, it's not like there weren't other tasks to pick-up.

They were also offered more comfortable lodgings, after it was observed that Harry had only a simple tent. That conversation turned into a jaw dropping demonstration when Harry led a line of curious villagers into his humble abode.

The Thenns were also fascinated by Harry's tales of his world and the magical creatures he had encountered. Some of these creatures were actually known to the Thenn, which Harry was pleased to hear, because he'd be able to share some simple potions with the Thenn as well. Harry wasn't sure if they'd have enough magic to make them, but the elves certainly would.

One of the more surprising things Harry noticed was the importance put on education among the Thenns. He'd rather ignorantly expected them to be people of action, as opposed to knowledge.

While they didn't have much in the way of written record, he watched as the village elders, taught the children an array of core life lessons, with a particular focus on essential survival skills.

Upon further investigation, Harry was surprised to discover that the village healers, though lacking in more overt magical abilities, were in-fact able to prepare and use basic potions. That answered one of his questions.

They used a mixture of plants, roots, and berries to create poultices and tonics for the sick and injured. Harry reasoned that, with the heavy magic in this world, he wouldn't be surprised if the entire village was made up of squibs or weak magicals.

He also recalled that magic featured in quite a few of the early histories of the Thenns. With that in mind Harry observed the healers at work, taking note of their methods and ingredients for future reference. He suspected he might be able to learn something new here, as opposed to simply sharing his own knowledge. He knew there were a few elves with a special interest in healing and potions that would be eager to connect with these village Healers.

Harry instructed Yappy to share with the right elves, and asked them to spend some of their time creating a written record of the village potions and methods, while he was out exploring this world.

Frankly there was so much activity in this village it was hard to get a sense of it all. Potters crafted earthenware vessels for storage and cooking, while weavers created clothing and blankets from the wool of the hardy local mountain goats.

Harry even witnessed a talented local bard regaling the villagers with tales of ancient battles and heroes with the help of rudimentary props and puppets, clearly keeping the Thenn's oral history alive and vivid in the minds of the listeners.

Among the various roles and tasks in the village, Harry noticed a strong sense of unity and cooperation. Everyone worked together, their individual skills and talents combining to create a thriving community.

They did have a rudimentary form of currency, though it served only occasional purpose in such a self-sufficient community. It was apparently helpful in managing trade with passing nomadic tribes, though even then, some insisted on barter-based trade instead.

Feeling by the third day, that he'd gathered enough information to make a difference here. Harry pushed up his sleeves and got to work on some of the more obvious improvements he could make for the villagers, alongside Dobby and the elves.

First, Harry focused on repairing the village walls and huts. The harsh climate had taken its toll on the wooden structures, leaving them in need of maintenance. And while they had the skills to fix all this, they couldn't easily collect the materials in Winter, and even in summer they were far too busy subsisting, especially growing and gathering food for the next winter.

Thanks to the versatility of the Reparo spell and a few other more specialised construction spells, it just took a few flicks of Harry's wrist to complete many of the repairs needed around the village.

The walls and huts were soon quickly repaired and reinforced, much to the astonishment and gratitude of the villagers. Much of the village hadn't been in this condition since the last long summer.

Harry, also added a few beams and struts wherever he felt they'd benefit the various structures. Knowing that moving these sorts of heavy wooden beamswould usually take teams of villagers to perform manually. Something that would usually betoo much effort for such small structures, and would be overlooked in normal circumstances. He was making sure they'd have sturdy, well-protected homes for years to come.

After completing the repairs, Harry turned his attention to the village's medical facilities. As he had already observed the healers at work, he offered to share some basic potion recipes that could be made using ingredients readily available in the area. He also asked the elves to stock the village with potions they made from the magical creatures and plant life in his trunk farm. If they were going to stay, there was no reason to be stingy with renewable materials like that.

The head healer eagerly gathered all the village healers, who listened intently as Harry lectured on various brewing procedures, the purpose of certain ingredients, and the use of various specialist brewing tools which were also supplied from his trunk.

They'd obviously never seen or felt the need to create anything like a crystal cauldron, or silver stirrers, but each had their purpose for some of the more complex healing potions, and Harry was happy enough to part with some of his spares, knowing he could make more if needed.

Under Harry's guidance, the healers learned the Wizarding version of the all-purpose healing salve for cuts and bruises. He taught them to brew a fever-reducing tonic, and he had Winky share a remedy for common colds, which required some of the trunk ingredients.

By far the most popular potion he shared with the villagers though, was a simple warming potion, usually taught in first year at Hogwarts. It was so simple that it wasn't technically classed as a potion by the wizards and witches of his old world, more as a simple remedy. It was simple enough, and the ingredients plentiful enough, that hunting parties could easily make a batch each night while on the move.

All it needed was some ground cinnamon bark, something he found out they had plenty of in the surrounding forest. In addition to fireweed petals, which were plentiful in mountainous regions like this. When boiled in a pot with a sliver of obsidian, and stirred by a magical or a squib, it produced a powerful warming potion which could ward off even the deepest chill. He found out that obsidian was known as 'dragonglass' here, and was found easily all through the foothills.

On finding out that the forest had plenty of cinnamon trees, Harry also took the time to teach the cooks how to strip the bark and dry it to prepare cinnamon spice. Something he was sure they could trade easily with passing tribes, in addition to using in their own cooking.

Harry also made sure to point out some of the creatures they could find in their own backyard that were seemingly overlooked in their pre-existing village recipes. He even pointed out the possible uses of Direwolves that he'd read in the more ancient journals from his library. Though he wasn't sure whether they'd bother with that route, given how obviously dangerous it would be to try domesticating or hunting them.

The healers, hunters and cooks were deeply grateful for all this knowledge, and Harry could see the difference it would make in the lives of the villagers.

Harry also gained the favour of absolutely everyone in the village when he placed a permanent switching rune on the latrines. He'd just vanish the stuff, but he recognised the inherent value of manure on crops, as horrible as that sounded. So he created a distant pit far from the village walls, that the sewage would be switched to.

He followed that up by placing a minor gas ward around the latrine, to neutralise all smells. He was practically hero worshiped for this, with some of the craftsmen promising, jokingly, to place a wood carving of Harry, watching over the latrines in rememberance of this great undertaking. Harry took the light ribbing in the humour it was meant. At least, he hoped they meant it as a joke.

Chapter 4 Teaser:

… Sirius took a moment to calm himself, then smiled. "We're going to have so much fun Harry. Have you met the village yet?" he asked putting an arm over Harry's shoulder and dragging him back to the gates.

"Of course you have, what am I saying?" he corrected himself. "Better question, have you had any of Marge's excellent soup yet?" he sprouted a broad grin at that. He'd been helping Marge get her herbs into all sorts of food since joining the Thenn. He may be lousy at hunting, but he liked to think that the Sirius/Marge partnership in hallucinogenic mayhem at least lifted the spirits at mealtime…

The Valley of Thenn: Nestled in the foothills of the Frost Fang Mountains, a small oasis of mild warmth in the cold North, thanks largely to ancient weather wards laid down by Harry's ancestor, Ignotus Peverell.

Chapter Text

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...Sigvald went on to explain how Sirius had spent many moons searching for a way home, a quest that had taken him far and wide across the True North. That was the reason he still joined the hunts.

"Of course, even with his magic, Sirius is one of the worst hunters we have ever seen." Sigvald admitted with a fond smile. "Nonetheless, we allow him to join the hunts for the magical warmth he provides, along with his uplifting spirit, he can certainly brighten even the worst day of hunting."

... Sigvald clapped Harry on the back and suggested, "It seems a grand reunion is due! Sirius will return in just a few days. For now, perhaps you should seek rest and recover from your journey."

Chapter 4: A Sirius Reunion

The morning of their fourth day in the village dawned crisp and clear, the first rays of the rising sun casting a soft golden light across the village. Sirius was due back today and Harry could hardly contain his excitement, pacing back and forth in front of the main gate as he waited for any sign of his long lost godfather. Dobby stood atop the wall, resplendent in his best socks as he also kept a lookout for Harry's godfather, his large eyes taking in the curious villagers who were beginning to go about their daily tasks.

A short while later, that felt like an eternity to Harry, the hunting party finally emerged from the tree line. There, amongst the men, was Sirius, trotting along unencumbered alongside the more successful hunters, lugging slain deer and rabbit carcases. He had an upbeat air about him, despite the fact that he had utterly failed to catch anything.

As the group approached the gatehouse, Harry couldn't hold it in, with a quick sonorous on his throat he called out to his godfather.

"Sirius! Sirius!" he waved both arms, his voice full of emotion.

Sirius's head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he did a double-take as a black-haired rocket sprinted across the clearing and slammed into him. He stumbled back a step in shock, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. It couldn't be... how could it possibly be... it was his godson! And was that a house-elf standing on the wall?

"Harry?" Sirius breathed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Is it really you?"

"It's really me, Sirius. I solemnly swear it" Harry replied, voice thick with emotion as he clung to his godfather. Tears welled up in both their eyes as they held each other tightly, the years of separation and the pain of loss not quite fading away even as they stood there, both clearly alive, in the warmth of their embrace.

Sirius pulled back slightly, looking Harry up and down with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "What happened Harry? How did you get here?" he asked, his voice cracking.

That opened the floodgates, as Harry sputtered out a ten mile a minute summary of the intervening time since they were last together

"I won the war Sirius. We won. But after all that, I still lost. They never changed Sirius, and they wanted to blame all their failures on me. I had to run. I... I escaped through the Veil. Hermione had a theory... well. Anyway... it worked. And I found this new place. It's cold and wet but the people are nice. And now you're here!" he stopped to breath, having explained practically nothing, yet somehow summarised everything quite well.

Sirius was a bit muddled having tried to follow it all, but figured it was okay, he'd get a better explanation later.

"I caught the gist of that Harry and... and I'm sorry the wizarding world treated you so poorly... but I have to admit" he paused for effect and held Harry out in front of him to get at better look , "I'm so glad you're here! I missed you. Losing you was my greatest regret. I tried so hard to get back..." he paused again, still feeling a bit scarred by the grief of being stuck here, not being able to reach Harry, to protect him, despite his actual goal being right there in front of him.

Sirius took a moment to calm himself, then smiled. "We're going to have so much fun Harry. Have you met the village yet?" he asked putting an arm over Harry's shoulder and dragging him back to the gates.

"Of course you have, what am I saying?" he corrected himself. "Better question, have you had any of Marge's excellent soup yet?" he sprouted a broad grin at that. He'd been helping Marge get her herbs into all sorts of food since joining the Thenn. He may be lousy at hunting, but he liked to think that the Sirius/Marge partnership in hallucinogenic mayhem at least lifted the spirits at mealtime.

Meanwhile, the villagers watched the emotional rollercoaster of a reunion with a mix of curiosity and pleasure. They'd all grown close to Sirius, and Harry was such a nice young man, it felt right that they had each-other again, they clearly had a deep bond, and Sirius had always been a bit down about his lot in life, despite his otherwise boisterous presence. It looks like this is exactly what Sirius needed. And who knows, maybe Harry could convince Sirius to stop helping Marge put her Herbs in the food.

As Harry led Sirius through the gate and towards the tent, Sirius reached out and ruffled his godson's hair affectionately. "I can't believe you're really here, Harry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," Harry replied, blinking back tears. "More than you can possibly imagine."

"Now show me your tent, and please, please tell me you have a proper shower in there!" Sirius added, lifting the mood a bit. Though he was quite serious about the wish for working plumbing. He'd also be thankful for a working toilet. He couldn't for the life of him remember the ward to prevent gasses or smells, which made using the village latrine a horrifying ordeal.

The villagers smiled warmly at the sight before getting back to their tasks for the day. Frankly everything was a lot easier these last few days, thanks to the 150 Children of the Forest puttering around town, or elves as they were now calling themselves. They seemed so strangely keen to help with all the daily chores.

There was so much more time left in the day for hobbies or relaxation. Dobby had even mentioned something about deckchairs, margheritas, whatever that was, and a temporary sunshine spell that had a few of them quite excited.

Harry and Sirius settled into the cozy living area of the tent, the magical flames providing warmth and comfort. Eager to catch up on each other's lives, they began to exchange stories.

"So, tell me everything, Sirius. How have you been spending your time here?" Harry asked.

Sirius sighed, "Well, it's been an adventure, to say the least" a small smile playing on his lips.

"When I first arrived, I was pretty disoriented, and my wand was damaged" Sirius pulled a cracked and singed wand from his inner pocket, tossing it to Harry. "I've been able to use it for weak spells, but it sparks and burns when I try anything above a first-year spell. I doubt it'll hold out much longer" he sighed.

"With a barely working wand, and absolutely no sign of civilisation I was stuck in this wilderness. I did try apparating home, but obviously that got me nowhere, the magic won't take hold if your destination doesn't exist. I tried to charm a portkey with no success, and even the point-me spell just spun the wand" Sirius looked a bit exhausted just relating all this.

"With no obvious way home, and no sign of where on earth I was, survival became the first priority." At this Sirius looked a bit sheepish. "It turns out I'm not much of a survivalist. Your dad would have been fine, and Remus, was used to living rough. But growing up as a Black, I'll admit I had a lot of dependence on the family elves."

"I was lost for several days before this lot stumbled upon me. I think they could tell I wasn't local. Probably by my lack of furs. Or the fact I didn't even speak their language." Sirius paused for a bit to sip from the firewhisky an elf had set beside him.

"But the Thenns are good people. They took me in and fed me. Merlin am I glad they had food and shelter; I was starving. A faulty wand definitely puts us wizards on the back foot."

"Thank Merlin for the Thenns," Harry said with a small smile, raising his glass slightly in a toast to their new friends, "though, from what Sigvald told me, it sounds like you've made a real difference here, even with limited magic."

Sirius chuckled. "I've tried, Harry. I've been teaching them about better sanitation, helping them preserve their food with rune based wards, and generally trying to improve their quality of life. You know, it' s not all bad being stuck here. The Thenns are a strong, resilient people, and they've taught me a lot about survival and community, especially after how poorly the wizarding community treated me." Harry winced in agreement, neither had been treated well in the Wizarding world. "Though, without a properly functioning wand, it took a while to learn their language to even communicate effectively"

"You've learned their language, then?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, I have," Sirius replied with a hint of pride, "and I can share it with you and the elves using an old Black family spell if you want. Well, I can if you're happy to lend me your wand to perform the spell" he finished with a frown.

To this Harry gave a sly smile, lifted his empty hands, and flicked his wrist, causing a bluebell flame to sit comfortably atop his palm. "I'm not sure I can share my wand Sirius" he added smugly and laughed at Sirius's dropped jaw.

"What... what?!... Harry! Is that wandless?... Since when? How?" Sirius sputtered.

"Ah, yes, the how is a longer story, we can discuss it some other time" Harry replied, not really wanting to dive into the Deathly Hallows saga just yet. "But in short, it's less like fully practiced wandless magic, more like I've absorbed a wand, or become a human wand."

Thinking for a moment he expanded, "The difference being that I didn't have to practice this, and it's not harder or more power intensive. I had been practicing some wandless magic before the change, and I just barely got the summoning spell down. But now" he levitated Sirius's burnt-out wand back to him, "it comes as easily as if I was holding a wand at all times" he finished.

"Only you, Harry, only you" Sirius laughed, "I'm a bit jealous though, I could have used that skill." he grumbled good naturedly.

"You'll definitely be telling me more about this later, but please, please tell me you have at least one spare wand I could borrow?" Sirius asked, with a combination of desperation and puppy dog eyes.

Harry's face lit up with a knowing smile "don't worry Sirius, it seems you're in luck. I brought a whole collection of spare wands with me just in case. I did prepare for any eventuality after all. Or at least the elves prepared."

Harry bounced-up from his cushioned armchair and gestured towards the farm trunk sitting innocuously in the corner. "Let's find one that suits you." At that Sirius also jumped out of his chair and hurried to follow Harry, almost shaking with excitement.

"Merlin Harry... just... thank Merlin you're here. I was going spare without a working wand." Sirius prattled on as he followed Harry into the trunk, before coming to a sudden stop, his eyes wide with shock as he took in the sheer size of the space contained inside.

"This isn't a normal storage trunk Harry! I don't think 'prepared' even begins to cover it. Just how much did those elves of yours fit in here?" Sirius shook himself from his shock and hurried off after his godson, who was laughing softly as he made his way to a small group of storage building a short walk from the entrance.

Harry chuckled at his godfather's shocked expression as he made his way to the building he knew contained an astonishingly large collection of wands. His elves had liberated these wands from the room of requirement and the all the second-hand stores they could find in Diagon Alley, when they knew Harry was leaving to a new world. It was always worth being prepared.

"I told you I came prepared didn't I?" Harry said as they arrived. Swinging the doors open with a flourish, Harry relished the look on his godfathers face as he gazed at the racks and racks of wands. It almost looked like his eyes were actually twinkling with glee.

As Sirius tried wand after wand, searching for a match, Harry shared more of his own time since they were last together. It was not a pretty story, recounting the end of the war, the betrayal he faced and his decision to flee in more detail.

Sirius's expression softened, filled with understanding and sympathy. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Harry. But I'm so glad we've found each other again, you're the only reason I tried to find a way back, and I really did try. Ask the Thenns, I've joined almost every hunting expedition to explore this land for another veil, I tried runic constructs, I even tried divination, nothing worked"

Sirius picked up yet another wand and waved it, before frowning and going for the next. As he did this he looked to Harry, "I can tell you knew this was a one-way trip by your preparation" He vaguely gestured to the storage room they stood in, inside the farm trunk, "so let's put the past behind us. Draw a line under it and make the best of this new start." He grabbed Harry's shoulder reassuringly.

"Sirius, I've honestly never felt so free in my life." Harry declared, really meaning it. "I've been a slave, a saviour and a pariah, in all of that time, I've never really been free, I've never really had a chance to live." He looked to the fields outside where the elves were pottering around.

"We've had a pretty shit time of it these last few years, so I'm with you all the way. Let's draw that line under it all, try to forget it, and start actually living." Harry concluded, smiled, then laughed as Sirius' latest wand attempt left his hair a stunning shade of pink.

Finally waving a wand that spurted golden sparks, Sirius also smiled, "I don't know if you've learnt much about this world yet, but as two fairly powerful wizards from a more modern world, I can't see this going wrong." That seemed a little too overconfident to Harry, especially given his questionable 'Potter luck', but he was willing to accept the sentiment regardless.

Now with a suitable wand, they returned to the living room in the tent. Sirius sat cross legged on the floor, closed his eyes and took a few moments to meditate before initiating the spell to share the language.

Gesturing for Harry to join him on the floor, Sirius touched the tip of the wand to his own temple before drawing it to Harry's, as if passing a memory strand, but one that shimmered more gold than silver and seemed somehow more substantial.

Harry felt an unusual discomfort, which quickly grew into a splitting headache as his grasp on the previously foreign language forcibly established itself within his mind. Even with Occlumency and a well-formed mind palace to help, Harry barely managed to remain conscious.

Having spent a moment to groan in self-pity, grabbing his now throbbing head, Harry gathered himself and stumbled back to the armchair, collapsing into it and gratefully snatching the pain relief potion from one of the elves, who thankfully always seemed to know just when they were needed.

Sirius had requested a pot of tea from one of the other elves and took time to relax in the warmth while Harry dealt with the pain.

Sirius greedily sipped his tea, having missed it almost as much as Firewhisky; and showed an equal appreciation for the scones with jam and cream that appeared on the side-table.

After getting themselves settled and taking in their tea for a moment, Harry re-joined the world of the living, somewhat. Or at least his head was throbbing a little less.

"So, did you have any plans, Harry? What's next?" Sirius queried. "I've managed to get on with the Thenns, but I've got no obligations. We can do what we want, go where we want, it's really up to you. Obviously, whatever you do, I'm coming along" he added.

Harry took a deep breath before he began to explain his thoughts. "You know, Sirius, I've spent my whole life living up to the expectations of others. I've always been forced to fight battles for people who never really appreciated what I did for them. I want something different now. I want to travel, I want a holiday, I want to experience life without any responsibilities or expectations."

Sirius nodded, understanding Harry's desire "And what of the house elves? They've joined you on this adventure, presumably thanks to Hermione's efforts and your 'saving people thing'. Will they travel with us?"

Harry smiled warmly. "Yes, I still have that 'saving people thing' Hermione always talks about. I owe it to the elves to make sure they're taken care of. They've put their trust in me on this journey, and they're my friends first and foremost, so I'm not completely free of obligations." Harry paused. "With that said, enough of them have expressed an interest in staying here, at least temporarily, that I feel fairly confident leaving them with the Thenns while we travel. We can find a new place to settle once we've had time to properly explore a bit."

Harry looked at Winky, happily sewing at a table in the corner with some of the elder elves. "I also want them to feel their own freedom, and I don't think carrying them around a foreign land in a trunk will be to anyone's liking."

Sirius contemplated Harry's words for a moment "We'll speak to Sigvald, but I think they'll get on well here with the Thenns." Sirius paused again to think. "In-fact, I think we can kill two birds with one stone. If you want to go exploring the world, we may be able to help beyond pure travel for travel's sake."

This seemed to get Harry's attention, so Sirius continued, "the Thenns are doing well enough here, but they live a subsistence lifestyle. They could have a much better life in warmer lands, we could help them grow as a people if we can help them farm, mine and build a permanent base for trade".

Sirius took a sip from his tea savouring it as he thought. "Torvald and some of the others have spoken of the tribe's hunt for safer lands, and especially warmer lands, but they have some sort of trouble with a wall, and the people further south."

"Maybe we can find a place suitable for all of us to settle. Ourselves, the Thenns, and the elves" Sirius concluded, quite pleased with this emerging idea.

Harry hummed. "I see no problem with that. I definitely owe it to the elves, and we really should do something for the Thenns, given everything they've done for the both of us. They basically saved your life when you first arrived after all."

He called for Dobby and Winky, quickly sharing this high-level plan to get their input.

Dobby spoke up first, his eyes wide with excitement. "Dobby thinks this is a wonderful idea, Harry Potter, sir! But Dobby will join you and Master Sirius on your travels." Dobby cast a glance at Sirius before continuing "Dobby is being told by the Thenns that Sirius be banned from kitchens, Dobby doesn't want Harry to starve," Harry raised his eyebrow questioningly at Sirius.

"What? I didn't have a wand, I tried to make a warming potion instead, how was I supposed to know they'd mistake it for the lunch menu. Their fur disappeared after just a few days anyway." He finished unconvincingly.

Winky ignored Sirius' antics and looked thoughtful for a moment before she spoke. "Winky agrees with Dobby, Harry Potter, sir. But Winky and the other elves will stay with the Thenns. There's plenty of work here for the elves, and we can always come to your call if needed." She nodded decisively, flapping her big ears in the process.

With that agreement, and a vague plan to travel, Harry nodded in agreement relaxed and chatted a bit with Sirius on the various changes he'd made to the village. They'd speak with the elders later in the day, and maybe they'd get some maps as well, so they could start planning their trip.

Harry was a bit excited now with plans mulling about in his head. This was his first proper holiday, and he'd have both Sirius and Dobby along with him for the ride. A smile grew slowly on his face as he thought of all the fun, and probably chaos they might encounter in this new world. As the son of a Marauder, he liked to think he was fairly good with a bit of chaos.

Dobby was having a great time. There was just so much to do, and Harry had given them permission to just get on with whatever they wanted. He'd already offered his help to the nice people in the village laundry and sorted all the socks by number of holes. Harry was always on at him about matching socks, so he was sure everyone would be very pleased with his efforts.

Right now, however, Dobby was showing the Farm Trunk greenhouses to an unusually eager Thenn herbologist. She'd approached him just an hour ago, making some passing comment that she knew he'd be a likeminded sort of fellow given his bight sock collection and multiple hats. Dobby was highly pleased to get such a compliment on his outfit.

He'd spent the last hour sharing all the medicinal properties and effects of the greenhouse plants with the villager, and he'd even allowed her to take a few cuttings to grow her own. Dobby didn't think Harry would mind him sharing some of the more special plants, given they had already outed their magics to the Thenns, and had formed at least a tentative alliance.

Dobby's new friend had been especially interested in the Alihotsy Tree, which Dobby knew was used in pick-me-up potions, and in raw form would cause uncontrollable laughter. Given her choice, Dobby also dug out a spare bag of Billywigs, thinking they might also be helpful for whatever potion the lovely lady was making. He did use gloves, because Winky had warned him that Billywig stings would cause giddiness followed by levitation.

Dobby loved being helpful, and Marge seemed ever so grateful for all the help. She even promised that tonight's dinner would be especially uplifting. Dobby wondered what was on the menu. Dropping the thought, he went in hunt of the next person he could help.

Chapter 5 Teaser:

... Both Harry and Sirius were shocked to learn that these dragons had human riders. "That was certainly unheard of in the Wizarding World." Harry commented, "It has been tried for sure, but it usually resulted in a crispy wizard."

"No one has ever truly tamed a dragon. In-fact, I was among the rare few known to have survived even attempting to ride a dragon, and that was purely by accident!" Harry noted in an offhand manner, wincing slightly at the memory.

Sirius joined the Elders in throwing Harry an incredulous and somewhat concerned look at that comment. He'd have to get that story from Harry later. Just how does one 'accidentally' ride a dragon anyway?

Chapter Text

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...“If you want to go exploring the world, we may be able to help beyond pure travel for travel’s sake.”

 “Torvald and some of the others have spoken of the tribe’s hunt for safer lands, and especially warmer lands, but they have some sort of trouble with a wall, and the people further south.”

“Maybe we can find a place suitable for all of us to settle. Ourselves, the Thenns, and the elves”  

Chapter 5: Westeros History - The Thennish Perspective

Later in the day, upon receiving an invitation from a messenger, Harry and Sirius made their way through the village to meet with the Thenn Elders. Harry had asked for some time to share their plans, but more importantly, to get a deeper understanding of the history of this world, hoping it would help in planning their travel.

Harry and Sirius were guided into the main wooden hall of the village. Harry marvelled at the craftsmanship of the hall, noting that in the daylight he could see every surface was carved with intricate patterns and reliefs.

As had been the case when Harry first arrived, the elders were gathered around a small fire pit at the end of the hall. The low flames cast a comfortable warmth in the area, something both Harry and the wizened looking elders seemed to appreciate. Sigvald and Torvald, the Magnar and his son sat among the elders as well, distinct in their more youthful warrior physiques compared to the elders around them, though all shared similarly friendly expressions.

"Please come, join us," Sigvald gestured to an open place for them to sit at the fire "I hear you've come to share your plans with us, and maybe hear some of our histories. We, of course, are always happy to share the history of our people"

"Thank you Magnar," Harry said as he took a seat, "I am also interested in understanding why the Thenns are on the hunt for a new place to settle; assuming Sirius has actually understood your intentions correctly."

Harry wasn't necessarily surprised they would be looking for somewhere new. After all, the land here was definitely cold, and not the easiest place to live. However, the settlement itself sat within a slightly warmer valley, nicely sheltered from the harsh winds, and helped immensely by the ancient wards. He wouldn't be surprised if there was more to their desire to leave

The answer came pretty quickly, and left Harry a bit shocked. "White Walkers, and the Long Night".

Harry sighed. He wasn't surprised per-se, this fit comfortably in his usual pattern of finding new and unlikely foes around every corner. But it would have been nice to land in a completely peaceful place instead.

The Elders spoke of the Long Night, an ancient winter that had once enveloped the world in darkness. The White Walkers had nearly wiped out all life before a great alliance of the First Men and the Children of the Forest managed to drive them back.

Harry could imagine the Children of the Forest would have been powerful allies if they were truly the same as his elves.

"It may have happened thousands of cycles ago, but the White Walkers are not just a legend," an Elder warned, his voice grave, seemingly thinking Harry wouldn't believe such an old tale to be real.

Harry didn't need to be convinced though; a horde of inferi seemed pretty par for the course in his experience of evil wizards. The ice affinity seemed unusual, but he'd seen stranger.

"They are a dormant evil, waiting for the right moment to return and unleash their icy wrath upon us once more."

Another Elder spoke up, his voice filled with the weight of years. "We have enemies to the south, but the White Walkers are the true threat. They will return, it is inevitable. We've noticed that each winter seems to be growing colder, and we believe it may be less than a dozen more winters before they make their move from the Lands of Always Winter."

Harry furrowed his brow as he considered this. The strange cycle of long winters and long summers seemed unnatural to him. They weren't just insanely long, but of inconsistent length, it made no sense if you understood how a planet's rotation affected seasons. Harry strongly suspected it was all connected to whatever magic was going on to raise these inferi

Harry and Sirius exchanged glances, this seemed like the sort of disaster a wizard should deal with, not bronze age warriors. Harry sighed. "We can't ignore this, and we won't ignore it" Harry reassured the elders. "I'm honestly glad we're learning of this now and not later." Harry took a moment, then continued. "I'll not leave you to deal with this inferi problem alone, but I do feel you're on the right track with the ideas to move anyway. Not only is it cold here, but you risk your people's lives by staying." Harry paused, then added gravely, "you'd be the first line of defence, and inevitably, the first people to fall in a battle your. And it doesn't sound like those to the south would care all that much."

Sirius chimed in, his voice thoughtful. "It's likely there's some powerful magic at work here, Harry. These White Walkers remind me of some of the ancient necromantic catastrophes I studied in our magical history lessons. It might even be possible that a powerful necromancer was thrown through the Veil and found themselves in this world at some point in the past."

Harry slumped back, it seemed the problems of the wizarding world would follow him even here. "If this is a problem from our lands, then we have an even greater responsibility to deal with it" Harry sighed. "Though I'm glad it's not an immediate problem, if these White Walkers have been dormant for so long, I imagine we've got a fair chunk of time before we really have to take action."

The Elders nodded along to those conclusions, some of them contemplating this new set of theories on the origin of the problem. Some of them were fairly convinced the problem arose from a ritual gone wrong in the war between men and Children of the Forest, but it barely mattered, they'd take the help of two wizards regardless. The elders exchanged glances, considering the implications of this additional support, many felt a bit of the weight lift off their shoulders.

"It is true," one of the Elders mused, "that our legends speak of a time when the White Walkers first appeared, emerging from the Lands of Always Winter. If what you say is correct, then the Veil could have been the means by which this great evil found its way to our world. Or it could have emerged for other reasons, but we welcome your help either way." the elder concluded sagely.

"It's said the White Walkers cannot be felled by mundane blades, and that they are as immortal as the winter found in the far north."

Sirius' eyes widened. "Liches, definitely liches" he whispered. "Necromancers that have performed abominable acts to separate their soul from their body and store it in a golem. It's not impossible they chose a golem of ice."

Silence followed his pronouncement and Sirius took the opportunity to continue. "There's not much known about them, as Liches have been gone from the world for millennia. They've not really been seen since the fall of the ancient Egyptian Empire of Magic."

Sirius scratched his head, trying to recall his readings, "Even the Black family library only held mentions. They were considered difficult to destroy because of their soul magic, and they would stay eternal until destruction found them. They can't be undefeatable though, because there certainly weren't any around in the modern era. I seem to recall they had fairly specific weaknesses to certain materials, I'll have to look into it."

Harry's mind was reeling as he thought back to the difficulty they had destroying horcruxes, which were undoubtedly a similar kind of soul magic. His mind drifted to the sword of Gryffindor now thankfully sitting in his trunk.

Harry was extremely proficient with the sword, having received swordsmanship training from a goblin master as thanks for helping them restore Gringotts bank after the defeat of Voldemort.

The Goblins had been very receptive after hearing the truth behind the horcrux hidden in their vaults and the betrayal of Griphook, which they considered a stain on Goblin honour.

The Goblins considered it only right to make Harry into a more deadly warrior worthy of wielding the Gryffindor's legendary Goblin forged blade.

Harry was confident he would not come across any sword-masters in this world that could best him. Particularly after the application of a few charms and internal magic techniques he'd come across which enhanced his speed and endurance.

He'd found internal body-magic techniques written down in some of the journals in the Black library, he doubted they'd been common knowledge even in medieval Wizarding society, so he counted himself lucky to have stumbled across them.

Though he imagined it was for the best. Battling a thousand year old lich or 'white walker' would likely require every advantage he could muster. Of course, the basilisk venom imbued in the blade was one hell of a trump card. Now Harry was convinced he should start carrying the sword so it would be close to hand if needed.

Another Elder chimed in, bringing Harry out of his thoughts. "This all seems like solid theory, but in the end, it doesn't really matter, we don't have the numbers to fight, and if the winters keep getting worse, we won't be able to survive here anyway. "

The room fell silent at the weight of this observation. Harry saw the cold logic in what he was being told. If they couldn't grow crops, or hunt, they'd all starve. Longer, colder winters suddenly sounded like a greater risk than even the White Walkers. They'd all be dead before the enemy even arrived.

"We will help you find a new home," Harry declared to the slightly surprised Elders, breaking the heavy silence.

"I obviously have no idea what we'll find on our travels, but Sirius and I can more freely explore with our magic to lean on. We might not immediately find anywhere to settle, but we will make it one of our highest priorities as we explore."

Sirius nodded along, "The elves will be able to keep in contact with us, and we will keep you posted on what we find. I'm just thankful you're not in a rush, this could take us years."

The Elders nodded, and many smiled, pleased with the young wizard's resolve, and even more pleased to finally have a possible solution to a nearly unsolvable problem. With that damn wall in the way they had no way to flee south, and there was no-where left to go in the True North, but with Wizards on the case, it felt like they'd find a way eventually.

Deciding to put aside discussion on the White Walkers and that emerging disaster for a bit, Harry brought up another question he'd been keen to ask the elders.

"Would you be able to share any insight on the other peoples in the 'True North' as you call it? Are there any other cities like the Thenn Valley that we might visit before we continue our journey further south? Or any other magical people?"

This led the Elders to recount the tragic tale of Hardhome, their only port north of the Wall. Once a thriving harbor, it was destroyed by dragons and their riders in a single night of flames and terror, leaving behind a desolate and haunted landscape. Leaving the Thenns with no choice but to retreat further north, cut off from the rest of the world.

Both Harry and Sirius were shocked to learn that these dragons had human riders. "That was certainly unheard of in the Wizarding World." Harry commented, "It has been tried for sure, but it usually resulted in a crispy wizard."

"No one has ever truly tamed a dragon. In-fact, I was among the rare few known to have survived even attempting to ride a dragon, and that was purely by accident!" Harry noted in an offhand manner, wincing slightly at the memory.

Sirius joined the Elders in throwing Harry an incredulous and somewhat concerned look at that comment. He'd have to get that story from Harry later. Just how does one 'accidentally' ride a dragon anyway?

The Thenn Elders continued with a detailed account of the people and cultures north of the Wall. "The Free Folk," one Elder began, "are a diverse group, but they have mostly forgotten their First Men roots. They have developed their own customs and ways of life, which we Thenns often find savage and distasteful."

"However," another Elder interjected, "not all Free Folk are hostile. Many simply wish to survive in this harsh land, but their lack of connection to their First Men heritage sets them apart from us. We try to maintain our distance from them, lest we become entangled in their conflicts and disputes."

"They do, however, have Wargs amongst some of their tribes." Sigvald added. "This is a magic allowing the melding of your mind with an animal, enabling control over the animal" he explained after noticing the confusion from the two Wizards. "It is incredibly rare these days, but we come across them from time to time. You're unlikely to stumble upon any on your journey though, as they tend to keep their abilities to themselves. We can always gather some of the more amenable among them for you to meet when you eventually return."

"That would be excellent" Harry agreed, quite interested in this completely foreign magic.

"We'll send word through the elves before we return, so you can gather your contacts. I'm always happy to learn new magics." Sirius could see the gleam in Harry's eyes when hearing about this hitherto unknown field of magic. He felt sure this wouldn't be the last time Harry went in search of new magics to learn during their travels.

Sirius was quietly pleased with Harry. He seemed to have really grown into the intelligence Sirius always suspected was hiding beneath the surface.

Eventually, the Thenn Elders turned their attention to what the trio would need to know as they began their travels. So naturally they started with the Crows, or the Night's Watch, their expressions growing more solemn as they spoke. "If you're to cross the Wall, you'll inevitably encounter the Night's Watch." The others nodded gravely.

"In the beginning," Sigvald continued, picking up the story, "the Night's Watch was established with a noble purpose. They were meant to be the shield that guards the realms of men, protecting the people from the White Walkers and other threats beyond the Wall."

"But as the centuries passed," another Elder continued, "the Night's Watch forgot its original mission. The men who serve now are often criminals or outcasts, sent to the Wall as punishment rather than out of a sense of duty. They've become hostile to anyone from north of the Wall, viewing us all as enemies rather than potential allies."

"We've seen their oppressive presence firsthand," the first Elder explained. "They are quick to judge and condemn us, even though we, too, are descendants of the First Men who fought alongside them in the Battle for the Dawn. They have lost sight of their true purpose, and it has driven a wedge between our people."

Harry and Sirius listened intently as the Thenns shared their experiences with the Night's Watch. They could sense the frustration and disappointment in their voices, and they couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the Thenns' plight.

"Approach the Night's Watch with caution," the Elder warned. "Though some of their members may still believe in the original purpose of their order, many are quick to anger and slow to trust. It would be wise to tread carefully around them and avoid any unnecessary conflicts."

Harry nodded, "We will definitely keep your words in mind. We'll be prepared to handle them with magic if necessary."

Sigvald continued. "Beyond the wall to the south, you'll find the land of the Starks." He paused and gestured to Harry. "You mentioned earlier that you are a descendant of Ignotus Peverell," he said, looking at Harry. "That means you share a connection with the Stark family, as Ignotus's daughter married into their line."

Harry nodded, having mulled over this piece of information since the first day in the village. "Yes, it's strange to think that I have distant relations here in this land."

The Elder smiled. "Indeed, it's a remarkable coincidence. The Starks, like us, are descendants of the First Men. Despite intermingling with the Andals over time, they have managed to maintain some of their ancient customs and traditions. It is said that they might still possess some of the magical abilities passed down through their bloodline."

Sirius chimed in, "It could be worth trying to make contact with them directly. They might be more open to helping us, and through us, you, given our shared heritage."

The Elder nodded, though his expression remained serious. "It is possible, but you must approach the Starks with caution as well. Best not to mention your connection with us at the outset, they have faced many challenges from the nomadic Free Folk tribes over the years and will likely lump us in with them."

"Over the centuries, there have been several instances when a powerful leader, known as a King Beyond the Wall, has united the Free Folk. These kings have been a source of great tension between the people north of the Wall and the lords of the North, especially the Starks."

"This tension," the Elder continued, "has unfortunately severed our previous ties with the Starks and other Northern families. They have come to view us as no different from the Free Folk, even though we have retained much of our First Men culture and traditions. We have been unfairly grouped together with our more wild counterparts."

Harry and Sirius exchanged glances, having seen the behaviour of some of the less developed nomadic tribes firsthand. "Good to know. We'll keep that in mind," Harry assured him. "We'll make the connection anyway, these Starks could be valuable allies, and I'm woefully short on family, no matter how ridiculously distant the connection."

The Sigvald smiled again, "We are glad you see the potential in forming such an alliance. May the wisdom of your ancestors guide you as you navigate these complicated relationships."

Harry & Sirius took that as a bit of a dismissal, it seemed the Elders had much to discuss among themselves.

Later that evening, the village gathered for a feast, anticipating some important news from the elders. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement as everyone speculated about the announcement. Gossip naturally moves at quite a pace in a village, especially one with Svegg in it.

As the villagers enjoyed their meal, Magnar Sigvald stood and called for everyone's attention. "My friends," he began, "we have gathered here tonight because we have important news to share. Our new friends, Hadrian Peverell and Sirius Black have made us a generous offer." he paused for effect, "They have proposed to embark on a journey to find a new land for our people, where we can thrive and live in peace."

A murmur of surprise and excitement rippled through the gathered crowd. Magnar Sigvald continued, "We, the elder council, have discussed this offer at length and have decided to accept it. We believe that the ancestors have brought Harry and Sirius to us for a reason, and we trust that they will guide us to a better future."

The villagers erupted into cheers and applause, their hope for a better future renewed. Some of the villagers were so happy they could have sworn they were levitating. But that must have been a trick of the light. There was definitely a lot of levity and laughter going around this evening. Marge seemed particularly joyous at the news.

Some of them approached Harry and Sirius, offering their gratitude and well-wishes for the journey ahead.

As they celebrated and continued the feast, Harry and Sirius knew that they were embarking on a journey that would change not only their lives but the lives of the Thenns as well.

Over the following week, Harry and Sirius worked to prepare for their journey. They didn't need to do much packing of their own, but there was still much they could do to help the Thenns.

The current winter was thankfully coming to an end, which would make travel easier, but no one could say how long they would have until the next winter set in.

With the worsening winters, they knew the Thenns would be in an increasingly vulnerable position, so they set to work finishing what Harry started, fixing up the village and adding improvements where possible.

With Sirius now wielding a replacement wand, the pair focused on reinforcing the wards around the village. They poured their combined magical energies into the ancient protections, strengthening them to keep out the worst of the cold and any potential threats, be they human or not.

Next, they turned their attention to the village's food supply. The elves would be able to supply food directly from the farm trunk, which Harry intended to leave behind for the elves to use. Harry would take some lesser expanded trunks on their journey, still carrying a vast supply of food and other goods, but not requiring ley-line connections.

Just in-case the elves had to leave for whatever reason, Harry and Sirius transfigured small glass houses for the Thenns to grow their own crops in. Although the transfigurations wouldn't last forever, they hoped that the glass houses would remain stable for at least a few years, thanks to the supporting wards.

With the Thenns' food supply secured, Harry helped the elves properly connect the Farm trunk to the local ley line, finally enabling them to get back to full operation. The elves were ecstatic to get back to the work they so loved, whatever that might be.

Harry knew some of them were focused on growing their herds and collections of magical creatures, Others were keenly taking care of the magical plant life. Whilst quite a few of them were tending to mundane crops and cattle.

Some of the elves had even inserted themselves fully into roles within the village. The eldest among them was even invited to join the Thenn council as an envoy of the elves.

Harry even saw one elf happily standing guard at the main gate, dressed in full guards' uniform, dwarfed by his fellow guards. He looked ridiculous in an oversized helmet. Though Harry was pretty sure the elf did that to mess with people, because he knew they were entirely capable of shrinking the uniform.

Harry hadn't really put much thought into the massive advantage the farm trunk was for the Thenns. But he got the message when they marvelled at the tropical fruits Winky supplied for breakfast one morning. Merlin, Harry loved the cheat that was magical self-contained and temperature-controlled environments.

The Thenns were certainly excited when given a tour of the trunk, and were equally curious about the magical creatures, some held in pens, others being held carefully in stasis in vast sheds within the farm trunk.

Harry and Sirius also assisted the elves in constructing a comfortable and functional structure for them to call home next to the trunk and in a prime place in the village so that they could feel more a part of the village itself, and not just visiting guests.

As the day of departure drew near, the village buzzed with anticipation and excitement. The Thenns had grown to respect their powerful wizard allies, and many had connected well with Sirius over the years. They were sad to see them go, but understood both Harry's craving for travel and freedom, along with the opportunity they posed with the chance to find a new, safer home for the Thenn.

With their preparations complete, Harry and Sirius shared a heartfelt farewell with the elves, promising to keep in touch through the communication mirrors Harry had provided. Turning their feet south as they left the village, Harry, Sirius, and Dobby finally set off to explore this new world with a great deal of excitement for what they might find on their journey.

Chapter 6 Teaser:

...The trio carefully stalked one of the Night's Watch deserters as he stepped away from the main settlement. Seeing their chance Harry swiftly stunned the man and levitated him further out of sight for a hasty interrogation.

A nearby rogue brother of the Watch scratched his head. He'd just come out from pissing behind a tree and he might be a tad drunk, but he could have sworn he'd seen John trip over on flat ground then float away into the forest. That didn't seem normal. He looked down at the mushrooms he'd gathered, but none of them looked like those spotty blue ones the others warned him about.

Chapter Text

Last Time:

... As the day of departure drew near, the village buzzed with anticipation and excitement. The Thenns had grown to respect their powerful wizard allies, and many had connected well with Sirius over the years. They were sad to see them go, but understood both Harry's craving for travel and freedom, along with the opportunity they posed with the chance to find a new, safer home for the Thenn.

With their preparations complete, Harry and Sirius shared a heartfelt farewell with the elves, promising to keep in touch through the communication mirrors Harry had provided. Turning their feet south as they left the village, Harry, Sirius, and Dobby finally set off to explore this new world with a great deal of excitement for what they might find on their journey.

Chapter 6: Towards the Wall

Harry, Sirius, and Dobby had been traveling through the True North for a week since leaving the Thenn village. It was a long journey south towards the Wall from the Valley of Thenn, but they weren't in a hurry, and they were enjoying the breathtakingly beautiful wilderness on the way. Towering ice-covered mountains, vast stretches of snow-blanketed forests, and the ever-present biting cold painted a landscape both harsh and serene.

The extreme cold made it impossible for them to fly for more than a few hours a day, significantly lengthening their journey. Harry, Sirius, and Dobby had to rely on a combination of walking and flying which made for slow progress by wizarding their standards, but certainly faster than it would have been for an average muggle.

Harry thankfully had a compass to rely on for this journey, which he was incredibly grateful for, as the dense forests and lack of landmarks often made it difficult to maintain a sense of direction. The compass had become an invaluable tool as they trudged through the endless white landscape, and Harry couldn't help but thank Merlin for whichever elf had the forethought to pack one in the trunk before they left.

Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure if a medieval world like this would have invented the compass. Harry made a mental note to investigate that once they reached civilisation.

During their journey, Harry had taken the opportunity to learn how to hunt and live off the land, something he thought could have come in helpful back in his jaunt around England looking for horcruxes. The Thenns had presented him with a bow and arrows before they departed, and Harry quite enjoyed taking the time to learn the knack of it. It was a way to pass the time after all, and he was on vacation.

To Harry's complete surprise, he found the experience of catching his meals to be enjoyable and somewhat satisfying. It definitely made him feel comfortably self-sufficient. Harry found his finely honed reflexes and keen eye from quidditch translated well to hunting with a bow and arrow. He was a natural.

Much to the perpetual amusement of Harry and Dobby, however, they quickly discovered that Sirius was quite possibly the worst hunter they would ever encounter.

Harry gained great enjoyment teasing Sirius after his latest hunting mishap.

"Sirius, I never thought I'd see the day when a deer would outsmart you," Harry chuckled, having greatly enjoyed Sirus' latest failed attempt to catch dinner.

Harry had stifled his laughter as he watched a curious young deer sneak up on Sirius from behind and nibble on his belt for a bit before trotting off without a care in the world. All while Sirius watched and waited patiently for any potential prey, completely unaware of his unexpected nibbling companion.

Sirius rolled his eyes, a playful grin crossing his face. "I may have my talents, Harry, but hunting clearly isn't one of them. I'll leave that to you and Dobby."

Dobby, who had proven to be quite adept at hunting, looked up from the rabbit stew he was preparing. "Dobby is happy to help, Harry Potter and hopeless Master Sirius, sir" he said with a proud smile.

Sirius grumbled, and waved his new wand in hand for emphasis, "I'm far more inclined to simply summon the nearest rabbit, or Dobby can just knock us up something more substantial in the tent kitchen using our vast supplies in stasis." The hunting wasn't entirely necessary, but Harry enjoyed it anyway.

Harry laughed, feeling the warmth of friendship and camaraderie in his small found family, here by the fireside. A good bit of friendly ribbing never hurt anyone, and this whole experience, even here in the wilderness, felt freeing in a way the wizarding world never did. Despite the cold and snow, the experience of traveling through the True North with Sirius and Dobby was one he wouldn't trade for the world.

After another day of tedious hiking and flying, Harry, Sirius, and Dobby stumbled upon a small settlement of roughly built huts. From their concealed vantage point, they observed the occupants and realised based on their rough look, and monotone dress sense of all black, that they were either a ranging party, or more likely rogue brothers of Night's Watch. Oath-breakers who had abandoned their posts. It was equally clear that these men were made up of the sorts of lowlife criminals the Thenns had warned them were now commonly sent to the Wall.

The trio had very little interest in interacting with the group, but they did see this as an opportunity to gather intel on how to reach the wall, and how to cross it by normal means.

Based on the descriptions from the Thenns, Harry was not confident his firebolt could carry all three of them over the wall. It wasn't the height of the wall that worried him, but the magic woven into it. After all, a 700 foot wall of ice doesn't stay up by itself for thousands of years through all seasons without some heavy magic. Whatever wards might be in place were sure to prevent something as simple as flying over the wall. At least he hoped they'd thought of that.

Since neither Harry, Dobby nor Sirius spoke the common tongue, this was also a great opportunity to learn the language of the people south of the wall. They would simply use the language sharing spell from the Black library that Sirius had already used to teach Harry the Old Tongue. It wasn't any harder to use the spell on an unwilling participant, it just knocked them out and gave them a shocker of a headache when they work up.

The trio carefully stalked one of the night's watch deserters as he stepped away from the main settlement. Seeing their chance Harry swiftly stunned the man and levitated him further out of sight for a hasty interrogation.

A nearby rogue brother of the Watch scratched his head. He'd just come out from pissing behind a tree and he might be a tad drunk, but he could have sworn he'd seen John trip over on flat ground then float away into the forest. That didn't seem normal. He looked down at the mushrooms he'd been out gathering, but none of them looked like those spotty blue ones the others warned him about.

Looking down at the relatively flat snow-covered ground and back at where John had tripped over on the seemingly nothing, before floating away, he demurred for a moment. Thinking it was best to be safe he called out to the others "watch 'yer step around here brothers, can be treacherous footing". That should do it. He'd never liked John much anyway; too good at cards.

John came-to groggily, wondering what he had to drink last night, because it sure knocked him out like a light. Trying to stretch his arms and legs, he found he couldn't budge. Suddenly he was far less groggy and filled with adrenaline, realising he was very tightly tied down to a chair. He must have been caught by the Watch!

His eyes flying open, he was immediately confused again. He was tied to a strangely sturdy chair in a forest clearing. Who has a chair in a forest north of the wall? Craning around he couldn't see anyone around. This must be a joke. Some kind of hazing by the rest of the gang for cheating at cards the other night.

"Real funny fellas" he shouted in a huff, "come on out, you can untie me now".

"Ah, we weren't planning to untie you yet" came a smooth voice from behind him. Not a voice he knew. Well Seven take him, this was not turning out to be his day, he'd been kidnapped by wildlings.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Two well-dressed men came into his view, inexplicably wearing tailored clothes better fit for a lordly feast in the South than for travel through the wilderness north of the wall. How weren't they frozen already?

Coming from the south himself and only having recently joined the Watch, which he promptly deserted, John readily admitted to himself that he wasn't all that familiar with the wildling clans north of the wall. Though he could've sworn they were supposed to look... more savage maybe? Where did they even find tailors out here anyway?

"Oh, don't worry yourself so much. We're just two travellers out for a a bit of a walk and we're looking for directions. In a manner of speaking."

"aha" he responded sceptically, "travellers, north of the wall, and you lugged a chair along with you?" he paused, testing for any give in the chair or the ropes, "a very heavy, solid oak chair by the feel of it." he finished

"yep" the man replied, popping the p and looking as casual as anything.

Looking around again he could see they clearly didn't have any pack animals, so he could only assume these two ridiculous men had carried the chair here. What kind of crazy well-dressed wildlings carried a solid oak chair out into the forest to kidnap John?

"...well then let's get this over with, what are you looking for?"

John quickly thought back to everything he'd learnt on the geography of the North, hoping he'd have the answers they wanted. He wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, and he was worried what they would do if he couldn't answer their questions. He'd heard horror stories about cannibal wildlings.

"The Wall"

That brought John up short "... ah, the big ice wall directly south of here?" he asked looking over his left shoulder where, yep, he could clearly see the wall above the treeline on the distant horizon.

Looking back at his captors, now more worried that he'd been kidnapped by probably the dumbest wildlings in Westeros, he continued "... that one?"

"Well, yes, but more specifically we're looking for the door."

"Right," that made a bit more sense, at least John knew this one "you'll be wanting Castle Black then. Three days walk directly south-east from here. All the other tunnels have been sealed up."

Perfect, never had John been happier to have deserted the Night's Watch. He'd just direct these crazy wildlings there and the Nights Watch brothers could deal with them. Maybe a bit of encouragement would speed things along.

"I'm sure the brothers of the Nights Watch would be happy to help some fine upstanding gentlemen like yourselves. Just walk up to the first ranging party you see, and they'll take you right to where you need to go" John declared confidently, thinking they'd take these two dumbasses right to the dungeons.

The well-dressed wildlings looked happy at that response.

"Right then, serious, take his common tongue" the shorter wildling said, altogether too happily, motioning his companion toward John

What?! Take his tongue?! John panicked and struggled, trying to get free of his bindings. He just knew these wildlings would turn out to be cannibals. It was just his luck.

The taller man stepped forward quickly and ... tapped him on the head with a tiny, thin stick of wood, of all things. It certainly wasn't big enough to knock a man out if that was what he was going for. Maybe better for a bit of light poking, or eye gouging at worst.

Suddenly a long rope of shining gold light flowed from his from between his eyes and into his captor's head.

That's it, he was blaming this on those blue hallucinogenic mushrooms the other rogue brothers kept cooking into the broth. That had to be it. There really was no other explanation, John thought as he passed into unconsciousness again.

"Well, that was easy," Harry said happily, as they packed up, leaving their sleeping captive on the ground, where he would wake up later with a headache but otherwise no worse for wear.

As a small gesture of goodwill, Harry cast a warming charm on the man to ensure he wouldn't succumb to the cold before waking up, and dropped a package of fresh fruits under a preservation spell next to him. They felt it was a fair trade for his less-than-willing guidance.

"The fellow didn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, but at least he knew where we needed to go. I didn't feel like walking halfway across the continent trying to find the way through this Merlin damned ice wall."

"Certainly, the simplest way to learn the language," Sirius replied happily, after downing a pain relief potion to deal with the headache. He then took a moment to share the new language he'd learned with Dobby, before moving over to do the same with Harry.

"I wasn't looking forward to trying to talk our way through the wall without knowing the language in advance. The translation spell isn't infallible. Who knows what kind of trouble we could've landed ourselves in with a simple miscommunication. Good to think ahead"

With new information in hand and a direction to head in, Harry, Sirius, and Dobby continued their journey through the north. Following their feet, and the handy compass, to Castle Black.

That evening, as they warmed up in front of the large fireplace in the tent's living room, Harry thought it was time to address an issue he'd been pondering more and more as they got closer to the wall.

"We need to talk about Dobby," Harry said into the comfortable silence, gaining mildly confused looks from his two companions.

"Huh? what about Dobby" Sirius questioned, giving the elf an inquisitive look as he tried to puzzle out what his godson was on about.

"Sirius, we can't just go walking up to Castle Black in the company of what the locals will likely think is one of the 'children of the forest' from their legends. The Thenn very clearly told us the 'children' haven't been seen in thousands of years. Dobby's appearance will attract all sorts of unwanted attention from the Watch and any other people we encounter south of the Wall"

"Ah, right, that could be a problem" Sirius agreed, now on the same page as Harry.

"Dobby doesn't mind attention" the house elf chimed in, happy to be part of the conversation, "as long as it doesn't interfere with Dobby's work."

"Not this kind of attention Dobby." Sirius said with a frown, as he reached out and patted the house elf on his tiny shoulder. "This is the pitchfork wielding villager, 'burn it at the stake' sort of attention. It'll be a right nuisance, I assure you."

"Any ideas how to deal with this" Sirius asked as he turned back towards Harry. Hoping his godson already had something worked out.

"I might have something we could use" Harry nodded "we'd have to test it though. I'm not sure if it will work for house elves."

"Back when I was dodging reporters from the Daily Prophet, I did some research into illusions and disguises that could be woven into enchantments. I don't think I'll ever willingly taste Polyjuice potion again, and simple glamours were too easy to see through. It took a bit of effort, but I finally found a solution in the Black Family Library" Harry explained.

"Here" he pulled a small golden amulet out of his pocket and floated it across to Sirius. The amulet glinted in the light of the fire, showing intricate silver runes carved across the surface in neat lines. "I found a rune sequence in the library that could be carved into an amulet to essentially give the user abilities similar to those of a metamorph."

Dobby and Sirius eyed the amulet closely, trying to read the small runes, while Harry sauntered over and picked an old tome off one of the shelves that lined the living space. "The sequences are outlined in this old Black journal. It was apparently designed by a Black ancestor who wanted to emulate the Metamorph abilities of his children so he could help train them. The amulet doesn't have quite the same level of control, but you can pre-form several identities through transfiguration and lock them into the amulet for future use. With just a twist of the amulet, similar to a time turner, you can switch between your natural look and up to three others" Harry finished, holding out the book open to the relevant pages for Sirius to read, while Dobby continued to turn over the amulet.

Sirius was kicking himself as he flicked through the pages, considering all the pranking opportunities he clearly missed by not researching illusions in his family library.

"That's a brilliant idea," Sirius said happily, as he finished reading the relevant section "It says here the effect is physical, as opposed to just an illusion. That's perfect! As long as it doesn't hinder Dobby's elf magic, it'll be exactly what we need." he concluded, putting the parchment down and looking to Dobby for his thoughts.

Dobby, who had been listening, finally spoke up. "Dobby trusts Master Harry. If it helps us on our journey, Dobby is willing to wear the amulet. Dobby also wouldn't mind being taller for once." He said, standing as tall as he could and puffing out his chest.

"This one is attuned to my magic signature" Harry said, as he took back his original amulet, "so we'll have to make a new one for you to use Dobby, It will also give you a chance to choose your own looks."

"Dobby can choose?" Dobby asked, seeming to almost shake with excitement at the prospect of choosing his own look.

"Of course you can." Harry said with a smile "Come on then. We'll head to the workshop and try out the sequence on some wooden amulets first to see how it works for house elves"

The trio spent the next few hours poring over the journal, alongside a number of large runic reference manuals Harry had used in his original research. The runic scheme required a few tweaks to work for an elf, but it turned out not to be too complex. A bit of trial and error got them to a working solution in the end. Though Harry found it interesting that it was the addition of a small, nature attuning rune that got the best result.

Having agreed on the preferred approach, Harry set about making a permanent version for Dobby. He started by melting some of their gold galleons, and forcing the molten gold into the appropriate shape with a small application of magic. With the experience from making his own, Harry was able to form the amulet quickly. The gold took on a shape much like a time turner, but with a blank gold disk in the middle to spin, as opposed to an hourglass. He then began the slow work of carefully etching runes onto the centre gold disc, inlaying each with sliver so it would retain its magic over multiple uses.

Finally, he charged the runes directly, pumping it with enough energy to last for years, though it barely put a dent in his large magical reserves. In-fact, the amulet would likely have enough energy to start attracting more from the ambient raw magics in the environment, and would probably never require another charge. In that sense, he'd crafted the roughest type of self-sustaining magical artifact.

"That should do it" Harry huffed, as he held the completed amulet up to the light, admiring the delicate work.

Trotting out to the living room, Harry tossed the amulet to Dobby who was sprawled in the armchair conducting the dishes to wash themselves from a distance. Harry felt Dobby might be picking up some of Sirius' lazier habits.

"Here you go Dobby, your very own metamorph amulet" Harry said with a smile

Grabbing it out of the air with little difficulty, Dobby looked over the amulet, sensing some of the magic imbued, but not really having enough familiarity to disentangle what each strand did. He trusted Harry to get it right anyway, he doubted there'd be much danger of the device breaking or hurting him.

Lost for words, Dobby reverently placed the amulet around his neck, admiring its beauty.

"Alright Dobby, now Sirius and I just have to transfigure you into a new look so the magic can set. Have you considered what you want to look like?

Snaping his attention back to Harry, Dobby didn't waste a second in replying with excitement "Dobby is a Potter elf. Dobby would like to look like his family"

Smiling, Harry nodded at the exited elf "I'd be happy for us to look like family Dobby. Let's get started them"

Harry and Sirius set about carefully transfiguring Dobby into the form of a young man, similar in looks to Harry but a bit younger. This process was noticeably uncomfortable for the elf, but would only need to be done once to lock in the identity, subsequent transitions would be near instant and painless.

They also set up a second identity at Dobby's request. Transforming the diminutive elf into the hulking form of a muscled soldier, with a menacing sneer, a scar across his face, and a bald head. Harry and Sirius had a bit of fun making this character. It never hurt to walk around with tough looking protection. They went all-out making Dobby look as unapproachable as possible with that in mind.

Finally they released the transfigurations and stopped for tea. After resting from their exertions, Dobby tested the amulet, twisting it on and off several times with great success. His appearance changed near instantly, with a morphing process like water flowing over his skin, and he now looked like a fit young man with black unkempt hair, green eyes, and a slightly too innocent and adorable face. Harry suspected Dobby would be using that innocent face to get out of all sorts of trouble, but just chuckled at the chaos they'd create together.

Despite the dramatic transformation, there were still enough recognisable characteristics that both Harry and Sirius could pick him out of a crowd with no trouble. And Dobby's eyes still held the same spark of loyalty, determination and utter cheek that Harry and Sirius knew so well.

"Well, I'll be," Sirius said with a grin, looking at the transformed Dobby. "That worked even better than I thought it would. You're quite the dashing fellow now, Dobby."

Dobby blushed at the compliment and glanced at Harry. "Thank you, Master Harry, Master Sirius. Dobby is enjoying being taller and stronger." Dobby spun the disc to take on his menacing form. "Dobby is going to have so much fun" he declared with an excited attitude not at all matching his suddenly deep and growling voice.

With Dobby's new disguise in place, the trio felt more confident in their ability to navigate the lands south of the Wall without drawing too much attention. Though Harry committed to encouraging Dobby to adjust his speech patterns a bit.

Dobby had already made much progress on this front, but he still slipped up now and then. Many of Harry's selves had taken it upon themselves to start shedding the old speech patterns the wizarding world had forced on them. Harry was just happy that the elves were doing this for themselves, and he always tried to help whenever he could.

After another day of flying and hiking, the trio finally spotted a patrolling group of Night's Watch rangers from the air. They landed quietly, some small distance further along the group's apparent hiking trail to ensure an encounter.

The trio had already spent much of their day preparing a loose backstory to justify their unusual presence here beyond the Wall. Though if all else failed, a little magic could go a long way, so Harry wasn't too worried that their story might have a few holes. All they had to do now was wait.

As the ranger patrol of Black Brothers approached, they made a little extra noise, stumbling through the woods and out onto the trail, appearing slightly dishevelled and exhausted.

Ser Jorik, the patrol leader, a gruff man with a bushy beard, eyed them warily. Taking in their high-quality clothes and glancing pointedly at the valuable jewelled sword on Harry's hip. Clearly wondering what these apparent lordlings or wealthy merchants were doing north of the wall.

"Halt!" Ser Jorik demanded. "You there, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Harry stepped forward, trying to appear as desperate and disoriented as possible. "We're just three tired travellers my friend. We had booked passage on a ship from Braavos to White Harbour, and were headed on to Winterfell, but had a slight disagreement with the captain. Now we're not entirely sure where he dropped us off." Harry had learnt the names of those two ports from the descriptions of the southern realms shared by the Thenn, and could only hope they still existed.

The other members of the patrol exchanged glances, clearly sceptical. Bael, a tall, thin man with a scar across his cheek, narrowed his eyes. "And how did ye manage to make it all the way here from the coast on foot without running into any trouble? "

Sirius chimed in, his voice full of desperation. "We managed to overpower a few ruffians who stumbled on us the first night, and we've been on the run ever since, trying to find our way back to civilization." He was quite happy with his performance. He'd learned to act in his years as a Marauder and prankster alongside Harry's dad, though he never imagined he'd use the skill in such a scenario.

Dobby, in his disguise of a small, thinner version of Harry, nodded vigorously in agreement, his green eyes wide with imagined fear. "It's true, sirs. We've been hiding and traveling for days, just trying to survive."

Ser Jorik studied the trio for a moment before sighing. "Very well, we'll take you back to Castle Black. You can rest there, and we'll figure out what to do with you." He gave them one last long look before turning away.

The men were all in their own way, wondering what kind of outrageous disagreement would lead a captain to dump these poor fools on the wild shoreline north of the wall. Many of them also wondered how these idiots had not noticed the added week to their voyage as they tracked all the way up the coast. Not the brightest bunch, they concluded.

A younger member of the patrol, a fresh-faced boy looked at the trio with honest concern and dug out some dried meat to share with the probably starved men. "I'm glad you managed to find us, it's dangerous out here. We'll make sure you're safe now."

As they walked back toward Castle Black with the Night's Watch patrol, the trio exchanged relieved glances. Their false backstory had worked, at least for now.

They just needed to tread carefully and keep their story straight until they made it through the wall. After that, it should be easy to give these muggles the slip. Harry had already confirmed that the wall was impassable by any form of magical transportation. All three of them could sense the waves of power emanating from the ancient wards anchored along the enormous structure.

Harry had no doubt that men of great power and skill built this wall, but based on what he'd learnt from the Thenns, none with such power remained today. In-fact, Harry wondered if these Night's Watchmen even knew this was a magical structure. Surely they should know you can't stack ice like that and have it remain unmelted through the summer without a bit of magic help.

Chapter 7 Teaser:

Lord Commander Qorgyle huffed, his gaze shifting to the trio. He wasn't convinced by their story, and he was unsure as to whether they fell into the category of enemies, victims, or the increasingly more likely bucket of utter fools.

"You three will be held in the cells of Castle Black," he informed them coldly. "You will be provided with a basic meal and will keep quiet and stay out of trouble until we sort this out. My Commanders and I will decide what to do with you." Qorgyle was inwardly miffed that the trio seemed just as openly curious and un-ruffled being led to the cells, as anyone would be taking a tour of a flower garden.

Harry was quite pleased with how things were going.

Chapter Text

Last Time:

Ser Jorik, the patrol leader, a gruff man with a bushy beard, eyed them warily. Taking in their high-quality clothes and glancing pointedly at the valuable jewelled sword on Harry's hip. Clearly wondering what these apparent lordlings or wealthy merchants were doing north of the wall.

"Halt!" Ser Jorik demanded. "You there, who are you and what are you doing here?"

Harry stepped forward, trying to appear as desperate and disoriented as possible. "We're just three tired travellers my friend. We had booked passage on a ship from Braavos to White Harbour, and were headed on to Winterfell, but had a slight disagreement with the captain. Now we're not entirely sure where he dropped us off."

Ser Jorik studied the trio for a moment before sighing. "Very well, we'll take you back to Castle Black. You can rest there, and we'll figure out what to do with you." He gave them one last long look before turning away.

Chapter 7: Guests of Castle Black

As Harry, Sirius, and Dobby followed the Brothers of the Night's Watch on what they had been informed would be a two-day patrol, the impatience to finally cross the damn Wall grew. They hadn't really considered how much slower it would be to travel with muggles and forego their occasional stints in the air, cramped together upon Harry's Firebolt.

They walked directly south until they emerged in a clearing between the Wall and the forest. Harry figured the area was clear of trees simply because nothing could possibly grow in the hard, frigid shadow of the Wall. At least this clearing made their progress somewhat easier. From that point, they simply followed the wall east, moving faster without trees, but still excruciatingly slow for Harry's standards. Harry sighed as the landscape stretched before them, vast and frozen.

That being said, there was one point of interest on this hike, and that was the Wall itself. Harry couldn't help but be awestruck by the sheer scale of the ancient structure looming over them. He'd been told it stood from coast to coast across the whole continent, cleanly separating the Southern Kingdoms from the wild lands of the 'True North', as their Thenn friends would call it.

Harry wondered what methods were used in its construction. Either Ignotus or one of his allies was clearly a genius, because Harry couldn't figure it out. Had they somehow grown the ice over time, compacting the snow whenever it fell, and holding the ice under a stasis ward, or did they actually construct it, with massive blocks of ice?

Torvald of the Thenn had mumbled something about giants when Harry had asked. Which Harry had noted, and would have to investigate at some point, in-case they still existed. Certainly, if giants were around at the time, they could have helped build the foundations, and possibly helped move the massive ward stone anchors he could sense underneath the Wall. But the sheer height would leave even a giant in awe. This might need to remain a mystery as he couldn't even begin to fathom how to unravel the technique without a lot more research.

After a final half day of marching, they finally approached a great gate in the Wall, it's black iron and dark wood standing out against the endless white.

One of the accompanying Black Brothers stepped forward and blew on a horn, the sound echoing throughout the frozen expanse. Moments later, a return horn-blow reverberated from above, signalling that their arrival had been acknowledged. A great grinding noise filled the air as the ice-covered gate began to rise slowly, allowing the group to make their way into a vast tunnel.

As they entered the tunnel, Harry felt a powerful sensation wash over him. They had clearly crossed the invisible ward barrier, and Harry let out a breath of relief. He had been quietly concerned that the ward might reject him due to his slight magical affinity for Death magics. Something that had wormed its way into his magical core when he merged with the Deathly Hallows. He'd been worried that a poorly built ward would read it as necromantic energy instead. Then again, on reflection, Ignotius likely built the wards, so he'd have considered such things, having been an original owner of the Hallows, and likely having had the same magical affinity in his own core.

Upon reaching the other end of the tunnel, the trio were held back as the guards spoke, and eventually the final gate ground upwards, allowing them passage out into what appeared to a rough looking, muddy castle courtyard.

Despite the drab black everywhere, the bustle of activity in the inner courtyard of this fort or castle was a nice contrast to the frozen wilderness they left behind.

They were held near the gate by some of the guards, and Harry suspected they'd be in for a bit of a grilling now. Looking around, Harry could feel a rising tension and suspicion in the air.

The Lord Commander, Gulian Qorgyle, was pointed out by Ser Jorik, and Harry watched the man make his way over to them, while directing a few of his men one way or another on various tasks. Clearly a busy man,

Qorgyle had a stern expression on his face. He seemed mightily displeased with the entry of strangers into his keep, and he did not hesitate to voice his disapproval.

"You brought unknown outsiders from beyond the Wall into my Castle Ser Jorik?" Lord Commander Qorgyle ground-out in clear disapproval after receiving an initial briefing of the apparent circumstances. His eyes narrowed with anger.

Ser Jorik bowed his head. "Aye Lord Commander. We thought it best to bring them here. They seemed in dire need of help", leaning in he continued a bit more quietly, "and they definitely seemed too daft to be left to their own devices beyond the wall." He glanced at the horribly lost strangers who were smiling and looking around curiously, seemingly oblivious

"They told us they were heading to Winterfell. I'm not sure what Maester taught these lordlings, but I don't think they even knew what side of the wall they were on." He suggested, still a bit miffed by the whole thing.

Lord Commander Qorgyle huffed, his gaze shifting to the trio. He'd led the Watch for more than a decade and had never heard such a story. He could imagine it being possible, but incredibly unlikely. He wasn't convinced by their story, and he was unsure as to whether they fell into the category of enemies, victims, or the increasingly more likely bucket of utter fools.

In lack of a better solution, and given the winter was only just ending, it would seem he'd need to keep them here for now. The Lord Commander made a decision

"You three will be held in the cells of Castle Black," he informed them coldly. "You will be provided with a basic meal and will keep quiet and stay out of trouble until we sort this out. My Commanders and I will decide what to do with you." Qorgyle was inwardly miffed that the trio seemed just as openly curious and un-ruffled being led to the cells, as anyone would be taking a tour of a flower garden.

Harry was quite pleased with how things were going. The questioning so far had been somewhat cordial if a bit short and cold, but the trio knew it could get worse if they kicked up a fuss. With that in mind, they'd just gone with the flow, following their captors, and curiously examining the first real castle they'd encountered in this new world..

The trio were ultimately led to a large cell by a couple of the Brothers, where they were locked inside and left to their devices.

Checking the coast was clear, Harry casually whispered to Sirius and Dobby. "That went pretty much exactly as we expected." Harry looked around, "thankfully it looks like the wards of the Wall don't extend to the castle itself. We're in a completely muggle enclosure." he concluded tapping the iron bars. "A simple first-year Alohomora would open the cell door."

Sirius nodded but held a hand to pause Harry, "We don't want to draw more suspicion to ourselves. Let's see how this plays out first. They might have information we could use. We're still in need of a map after-all"

Dobby, still disguised as a small man, nodded while quietly cleaning everything in sight. "Dobby agrees, we should be patient. We're not exactly in a rush" he said while polishing the bars surreptitiously. The floor was already much cleaner than when they'd entered.

Harry couldn't really argue with that. What rush could they possibly have, and a map would be useful. He huffed and cast a cushioning charm on the stone floor. "Well I'll be napping then. Either until we get a visitor, or until night falls. If this is the castle of an ancient institution, I'm sure they'll have a library and records. We can go hunting for a map when most of them are asleep. He relaxed on the soft stone floor, tossing a few warming charms around the cell, and nodded off.

Ultimately they didn't do much more than laze about for the rest of the day. All three of them were actually quite pleased to get a bit of a rest day after so much hiking the muggle way. They'd even been stuck camping the muggle way with the Rangers. It was unpleasant. A rest day, despite involving a dungeon cell, was much appreciated.

By the time they felt midnight had passed, the castle was eerily quiet, the cold was more apparent now, seeping through the cracks in the stone walls. The only sound being that of the wind buffeting against the towers of the keep. Harry cast some quick disillusionment and sound dampening charms on Sirius, and Dobby, before doing the same for himself, being the most adept at these spells from his time on the run.

Harry cast a silent 'alohamora' to unlock the cell door and quietly pushed it open to take a look into the long, dark hall beyond. Thankfully, it seemed there were no obvious guards in the area. They were either more short-staffed at Castle Black than even the Thenns had thought, or the brothers of the watch didn't think the Trio were enough of a threat to warrant guards.

Either way, Harry wasn't complaining. Any guard would have had a hard time spotting the trio in the dark with the concealment spells in place, but it was helpful there'd be no need to knock anyone out. With any luck, their escape would go unnoticed until morning.

"Alright, the coast is clear," harry whispered to his companions "remember, we want to find maps of the region if we can. Any books you see could also prove useful, but I won't hold my breath on finding anything substantial in a place like this."

"Dobby saw an old man carrying documents up to the west tower when we came in this morning." the house elf offered helpfully. "Dobby only noticed because he was the only clean man in the courtyard."

"Well that seems like as good a place to look as any, good work Dobby, let's head that way first"

With Harry taking the lead, they moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of Castle Black, trying to avoid any patrolling Black Brothers. The castle was dark and cold, with the flagstone floor caked in mud, and the faint smell of dampness permeating the air.

"It can't be very pleasant living here day-in day-out. This might explain how grumpy Lord Commander Qorgyle seemed," Sirius observed, not noticing Dobby silently casting cleaning charms on everything they passed, leaving a pristine hallway in their wake.

Shadows danced on the walls as they navigated the maze-like structure, their breath actually visible in the frigid air. All except Harry's, who's connection with the Cloak Hallow made his invisibility spells absolutely perfect.

Taking the first set of stairs they found up to the second floor, into what looked like a better maintained, drier section of the castle, they silently moved around towards the tower on the western corner of the castle.

Eventually, coming to the tower entrance, Harry cast another 'alohamora' to unlock the heavy wooden door, and pushed it open slowly, cringing as it creaked with the motion. Taking a peek into the room and seeing it was empty of Nights Watchmen, he quickly led the trio inside.

"Jackpot" Sirius exclaimed slightly too loudly, looking around at what was clearly a small library, illuminated moonlight streaming through the windows. "No idea why they would need a library in this godforsaken place, but I'm not going to complain"

"I can't imagine it was a recent addition, not with the state this castle is in. It must have been a holdover from when the Night's Watch was still an honourable pursuit. Some of these books look ancient." Harry noted with a smile playing on his face as he took in the surprisingly well stocked library.

The room was small, but the walls were lined with rows of ancient, leather-bound books and scrolls, many of which seemed to have been untouched for centuries. Cobwebs adorned the corners of the ceiling, and a thick layer of dust coated many of the shelves.

It looked like the whichever scholar or bookkeeper maintained the library had piled the oldest, most deteriorated tomes and scrolls together on a shelf towards the back, likely for future hand copying. Though it seemed they'd been waiting on that shelf for a while, he imagined the man must have been too busy to work on copying and restoration.

Luckily, a quick reparo would do the job just as well, so Harry resolved to copy as many of those books as he could, before repairing the copy and storing it in his pouch for later sorting. He hoped to at least to avoid the inevitable loss of knowledge through simple deterioration.

Running a hand over some of the precious tomes, Harry read out some of the titles, getting more and more excited as he did so. "Myths and Legends of the True North; Magiks of the Forrest; The History of Hardhome. This is brilliant! We can get a bit of a better feel for the history of the people in this region, and even better, maybe a head-start on learning some of their magics."

Sirius snorted at the look of sheer glee on Harry's face, having learnt recently how much of a magic scholar his godson had become before going through the veil. "Right, well while you engage in the grand old Black tradition of stealing ancient magic tomes, Dobby and I will start looking for some maps."

Failing to receive any sort of response from his godson other than a distracted wave of his hand, Sirius decided he'd better get to his own task. Looking around, he realised that he had also lost the attention of the excitable little elf, who was now on the other side of the room, frantically cleaning dust off rows of old manuscripts.

Rolling his eyes at the antics of the other two, Sirius set about scanning the library for any relevant maps or texts on the geography of the region. In the end, this proved rather easy, as he found all the relevant maps and texts stored conveniently together on a shelf near the front of the room. The shelf and the documents themselves showed far more use than the rest of the library, more wear and less dust. Hopefully this meant there was some useful information here.

Pulling out the most prominently placed scroll, and unrolling it on a nearby table, he found a large map of what must be Westeros. The map showed main thoroughfares, rivers, towns and castles. This was exactly what they needed, it wasn't overly detailed, but it would give them a direction at least.

Continuing to browse through the documents, he also found an extremely old, highly detailed map of the Northern regions dubbed "Kingdoms of The North, The Vale, and the Narrow Seas". It was curious that the vastly more detailed map was by far the most ancient document in the set, but now was not the time to question this discovery. Sirius copied both maps and strengthened the copies with a reparo and some preservation spells to make them hardier and more suitable for the road.

Sirius then finished by picking up and copying a number of other books that showed signs of being more commonly used. He had no idea what most of them would contain, but figured it was a good bet there would be something useful in there when they finally got around to sorting their loot.

Done with his task, Sirius looked around to see Harry shrinking one last pile of copied books into and packing them away in an expanded pouch with a satisfied sigh.

Dobby too, had just finished polishing the brass candle holders on the wall which now sparkled in the moonlight. The candle holders had been so dirty when they first arrived, that Sirius had thought they were made of iron. Come to think of it, they might have been made of iron when they walked in. Sirius wasn't entirely sure how house elf magic worked, but Dobby seemed happy with a job well done, which is all that mattered.

Getting the attention of the other two, Sirius whispered, "I've got the maps. We'd better get a move on, before anyone notices we're no longer in the dungeons. Have you got everything you need?"

"Yep, got everything that looked even mildly interesting, should be some interesting reads." Harry replied, patting the pouch on his belt. "Let's get out of here."

As quietly as possible they retraced their steps through the dark, cold, and silent castle, taking care to re-cast their disillusionment and sound dampening spells to avoid detection.

With their spells in place and maps securely tucked away, Harry, Sirius, and Dobby saw little reason to return to their cell. All were impatient to resume their journey south after their surprisingly comfortable relaxation day in the dungeons. With that in mind, they moved cautiously through the shadows, eventually reaching the staircase they used to get up from the dungeons.

Locking back at his companions and motioning up the stairs, Harry whispered "If we head to the top of this tower, we should be able to fly out. That way they won't be able to track our path."

"Great idea, I wouldn't mind one last look at the Wall from the air either. I always thought you Potters were a bit dramatic, but seeing what your ancestor built, now I know it to be a fact." Sirius replied, earning a snort from Harry as they made their way forward.

Climbing the creaky, wooden stairs, they found themselves on top of what seemed to be the tallest tower in the castle. Though it was dwarfed by the monolithic wall of ice behind them. A panoramic view of the surrounding landscape unfolded before them, lit by the brightly glowing moon. The distant trees to the South were nothing more than silhouettes against the night sky.

Harry pulled his Firebolt from his pack, and the three of them squeezed onto the broom, each re-casting warming spells with extra strength to deal with the inevitable frigid air of broom flight this far North.

"I'm not sure I'd call it a daring escape" Harry said to the others after some distance was covered. "But it was a nice bit of fun regardless." Harry paused, "It's got nothing on stealing from Gringotts though" he finished. Sirius resolved to ask about this apparent Gringotts episode at some point.

Now that he thought about it, Harry had mentioned Gringotts when he spoke about searching for Horcruxes, but he'd clearly not heard the full story. On that matter Sirius still hadn't got the story on how Harry ended up 'accidentally' riding a dragon. Just what on earth did his godson get up to over the last few years?

As they flew southward, the landscape below them slowly transformed from icy wilderness to a more hospitable looking terrain dotted with lighter snow-covered forests and hills.

Spotting a small clearing surrounded by tall trees, Harry steered the Firebolt downward, the trio landing as gracefully as possible. Quickly, they set to work establishing their campsite. Harry and Sirius began casting a series of protective wards around the perimeter, while Dobby set up the magical tent.

Another week had passed, and the lustre of rugged adventure seemed to have worn off with the never-ending hiking and flying. The constant cold and harsh landscape had taken its toll on their spirits. However, Harry eagerly anticipated the warmer weather that would soon arrive both as they made it further south, and as the winter faded further into spring. The warmer weather would allow them to fly for longer periods without worrying about their warming spells losing their effect.

Bringing up his idle thoughts on the weather while they lounged by a small stream one afternoon, elicited a surprising response from Sirius. The man couldn't help but chuckle as he recalled and related a conversation he overheard in Castle Black.

"So, Harry," Sirius began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "apparently, a 'raven' told the folks at Castle Black that winter was coming to an end. Can you believe that?"

Harry snorted, raising an incredulous eyebrow at the comment. "A raven? How on earth did a bird manage to tell them anything? And what would a raven know about predicting the weather anyway? I've spoken to plenty of snakes in the past and the most complex thought they've ever shared on the weather is that it's 'too hot' or 'too cold'. Never spoken to a raven though, maybe it's a thing around here."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you know how it is with Muggles. They have their peculiar ways."

Harry's eyebrow raised further, still sceptical. "But, Sirius, we're in a world with at least squib level magic users. We've seen it ourselves. How can you be so sure it's just a 'Muggle thing'?"

Sirius shrugged, a not seeming particularly concerned with these 'muggles'. "I suppose we can't be certain. But it doesn't matter, does it? Though maybe we should be on the lookout for talking ravens in the next town, just in case."

Harry shook his head, chuckling. "You're right. It's just so odd, but if there are talking ravens around here, I'd love to meet one."

Dobby, who had been listening quietly, was pretty sure that he saw a raven carrying a message on paper for the Castle, but chose not to mention it, because the only thing less likely than a talking raven, was a raven that could write. But Dobby did commit to himself that he'd make sure to capture any talking ravens as a gift for his master, if he did ever encounter one.

Instead, he jumped in with their hypothetical, "Dobby isn't sure, but Dobby thinks talking ravens would make good friends" he said with such seriousness that he had Harry and Sirius laughing, as they imagined Dobby with a small army of talking raven friends. Dobby went back to boiling the tea, pleased with his foray into joking with equals.

The trio joked together, their spirits momentarily lifted by the absurdity of the conversation. The prospect of talking ravens and the promise of warmer weather gave them a renewed sense of adventure as they continued their journey, heading vaguely south and towards the coast.

Chapter 8 Teaser:

"There is no food to spare for the town" Lord Bolton almost growled in a menacing whisper, causing the older man to step back slightly. "My larders are almost entirely bare as it is, and I'll not starve myself for the smallfolk. They should be thankful to have a roof over their heads and that is enough."

... Dobby blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Had Lord Bolton simply misplaced or forgotten about this vast castle larder? It seemed like such an odd oversight for a man in his position.

Nonetheless, Dobby resolved to help the clearly dotty but well-meaning Lord by relocating the food to the larder he had spotted in the centre of the town earlier today, where it could more easily be re-discovered, and distributed among the smallfolk. The lord would surely be happy that someone stumbled upon this clearly forgotten extra food and saved him the effort of transporting it into town.

Chapter Text

Last Time: 

... Climbing the creaky, wooden stairs, they found themselves on top of what seemed to be the tallest tower in the castle. Though it was dwarfed by the monolithic wall of ice behind them. A panoramic view of the surrounding landscape unfolded below, lit by the brightly glowing moon. The distant trees to the South were nothing more than silhouettes against the night sky. 

Harry pulled his Firebolt from his pack, and the three of them squeezed onto the broom, each re-casting warming spells with extra strength to deal with the inevitable frigid air of broom flight this far North. 

“I’m not sure I’d call it a daring escape” Harry said to the others after some distance was covered. “But it was a nice bit of fun regardless.” Harry paused, “It’s got nothing on stealing from Gringotts though” he finished. Sirius resolved to ask about this apparent Gringotts episode at some point. 

Chapter 8: Just Passing Through 

The lands had been mostly un-populated along their route so-far, with only the occasional small gathering of huts, in the distance. None of those tiny hamlets could hold more than a single family, and every single one of them appeared deserted. Harry suspected the distributed populace probably gathered together in villages during the winter, since the land would definitely not sustain crops through the bitter cold.  

After several days wandering in a not-altogether straight line, Harry was relieved to finally spot a largish settlement. Or at least more established, with village walls and clear signs of habitation. Though the town itself wasn’t altogether inviting. Looking drab and worn down. 

The buildings were old and weathered, and the people they encountered seemed wary and unfriendly. The two guards by the gate looked somewhat surprised as they approached, though even in their surprise, Harry noted that they had a rough and hardened look about them. They definitely didn’t give off a welcoming vibe. Their eyes narrowed with suspicion as they scrutinized the trio of newcomers. 

To Harry’s surprise, despite the suspicious looks, no attempt was made to stop them entering. He was honestly a bit disappointed at that, having wanted to try the Star Wars style compulsion wave he’d once seen on TV, but it was unneeded. The guards simply grunted and waved them through. 

"We should be cautious," Sirius whispered to Harry and Dobby as they made their way through the narrow streets. "This town doesn't seem to be the friendliest place for strangers." 

Sirius nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the faces of a few townspeople going about their days, some giving them curious glances and scarpering off to who knows where.  "Let's gather what information we can and leave as soon as possible. We don't want to cause any trouble in the first village we enter." He added, conveniently ignoring all the trouble he and Marge had caused the Thenn, and their recent escapade with the Night’s Watch. 

With that, the trio split up, each venturing into different parts of the town to gather information. The atmosphere was tense, and Harry was all-for Sirius’s suggestion that they not stay for long. There would likely be far more interesting towns and cities further south. 

Coming back together after a short exploration of the town, it was clear none of them were particularly impressed. 

“This is not what I was hoping we’d find,” Harry began with a frown “the townsfolk don’t seem very happy here. No-one wanted to talk with me about the town, so I resorted to brushing their minds with Legillimency to gather surface thoughts, and things are not good. Apparently the local Lord, some Bolton fellow, has been keeping himself and his corrupt guards fed through winter with the food the townsfolk stored. Anyone not in his inner circle has been rationed hard over latter part of the winter.” 

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Sirius replied with a grimace, “it has all the hallmarks of a corrupt society like we had in the wizarding world. The strong rule, and take what they want. The rest do what they’re told.” 

“I don’t like it,” Harry agreed readily, “The people here have it tough enough with the long winters. They shouldn’t have to suffer because of a corrupt local lord as well. But there’s not much we can do about it right now. Let’s just move on before we gain the attention of anyone better off avoided.”  

It just didn’t seem like a worthwhile place to spend their time, and Harry honestly had the rather unsettling feeling they were being watched. 

“I overheard one of the guards speaking about a more prosperous town farther down the trail” Sirius offered, "It definitely sounds like a better place to find answers and allies."

Harry and Sirius exchanged a glance, and after barely a moment's consideration, they agreed. "Let's get a move on then, the sooner we leave this town behind the better" Harry said. "Tonight we'll camp well outside the town in the shelter of the forest, and continue our journey tomorrow." 

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they set up camp in a secluded spot hidden amongst the trees. The trio kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, their wards ensuring the campsite would remain undetected by any patrolling guards. 

Preparing dinner, Harry and Sirius reflected on the disappointing, but very much expected corruption of the feudal lord in charge of the first town they’d encountered down here. They were sure they’d find those who cared for their people, but it seemed more and more likely that the average man would be living a hard life of poverty and subsistence even south of the wall.  

Harry honestly wasn’t sure how they thought themselves so much better than the Thenn down here. At least with the Thenns, those who weren’t fit to rule never made it onto the Elder council. 

Harry had to resist the pull of his Saving People Thing, and reminded himself that he’s on holiday, and it’s not always up to him to right wrongs. Nonetheless, he’ll be keeping an eye out for ways to help people. 

Sadly the approach of this Bolton Lord and his guards might not even be considered corruption, but just the accepted attitude of the nobles that left their smallfolk in dire straits. Harry sighed, a matter for another day, he’d try to enjoy the adventure for now. 

As Harry had insisted on preparing dinner, it gave Dobby some free time to explore the castle standing over the town. If what they’d heard in the town was correct, the imposing structure was apparently called ‘the dread fort’ or something like that. Dobby had to agree it fit the name. The building was draughty, and the stone was so dark it would barely show up any dirt. Certainly a dreadful place to live in Dobby’s opinion. 

On the plus side, Dobby was sure he could find some small pieces of work to do in such a large building. Dobby had already decided he didn’t much like the dark and damp castle after the first few rooms he had visited, and subtly cleaned.  

Dobby was just about to pop back to the campsite when he overheard a conversation between what must have been Lord Bolton and an older man in a grey outfit wearing a chain of metal around his neck.  

“There is no food to spare for the town” the Lord almost growled in a menacing whisper, causing the older man to step back slightly. “My larders are almost entirely bare as it is, and I’ll not starve myself for the smallfolk. They should be thankful to have a roof over their heads and that is enough.” 

Dobby's heart went out to the people in the town, who were clearly struggling to make ends meet, and he decided this was a much better use of his free time.

With a determined look in his eyes, Dobby set out to help. He knew that their food trunk was full of supplies, and they could certainly spare some for the hungry people of this town. Silently and discreetly, Dobby reached out with his magic to locate the lord’s larder and grain stores. He easily popped to the location he sensed, ready to fill it to the brim with some of their spare food, so the Lord would have enough to share.

To his surprise, he found the stores already practically filled with carefully stored foodstuffs. 

Dobby blinked in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Had Lord Bolton simply misplaced or forgotten about this vast castle larder? It seemed like such an odd oversight for a man in his position.  

Nonetheless, Dobby resolved to help the clearly dotty but well-meaning Lord by relocating the food to the larder he had spotted in the centre of the town earlier today, where it could more easily be re-discovered, and distributed among the smallfolk. The lord would surely be happy that someone stumbled upon this clearly forgotten extra food and saved him the effort of transporting it into town.

Using his magic, Dobby discreetly transported the food with several directed clicks of his fingers. Moving such a large volume by himself was a tad tiring, but he was quite happy to have found such a good use for his time.  By the end of the afternoon, Dobby was filled with joy at a successful job done, and happy to return to the campsite for his own dinner with Sirius and Harry. 

As they moved back through the town towards the western road in the morning, Harry and Sirius observed the mood seemed to have turned up since the day before. They heard enough to know the smallfolk were apparently overjoyed at their lord sharing enough food to last them through to the first harvest.  

They could see Lord Bolton standing on a platform to the side of the town square, with a look that seemed to flit oddly between surprise and rage. In the distance, they managed to catch a few snippets of his speech “… supplied by my own benevolence of course” they heard Lord Bolton say. Perhaps this Lord wasn’t as bad as they had initially thought. Still, they didn’t want to dally in the town when they already had their next destination. 

The morning sun rose, casting a warm golden light over the campsite as the Trio prepared to set off on the next leg of their journey. As they packed up their belongings and doused the remnants of their campfire, Harry and Sirius found themselves deep in conversation. After their somewhat lacklustre first foray into civilisation south of the wall, Harry had started to really consider the need for a sense of purpose to guide their wanderings. 

"I know we’re supposed to be on vacation Sirius, but we need a goal, some sort of reason to our exploration," Harry mused, his brow furrowed in thought "otherwise, we'll just be wandering aimlessly and getting lost. Or we’ll end up bogged down in towns like this one and never get anywhere at all." 

Sirius nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Nothing wrong with getting a bit lost of course, but you're right. We need something to keep us focused and give us direction. What if we treat this journey as a traditional coming-of-age world tour, like the ones wizards of old used to embark on?" 

Harry's eyes widened with interest. "That actually sounds like a great idea. We could visit all the major cities, learn from different cultures, and experience everything this world has to offer." 

A mischievous grin spread across Sirius's face. "And have a bit of fun while we're at it. I'm sure there'll be a few feudal lords who need to be put in their place if they're anything like the Black Lords of old." 

Harry laughed, the idea appealing to him. "That sounds like a plan. We'll explore, learn, and keep an eye out for a place to settle later on, like we promised the Thenns. But most importantly, let's enjoy ourselves and leave our old responsibilities behind for a while." 

Dobby, who had been listening to their conversation, gave them a long look, then continued packing. He was pretty sure that’s exactly what they’d already planned to do. He guessed Harry just needed to put it in words to release some of the tension from seeing the rough living of smallfolk, as they seemed to be called.  

To keep the mood high Dobby added "Dobby thinks this is a wonderful plan. It will be a grand adventure!" people always seemed to brighten when he added a little excitement to the conversation. He had been having a good time of it so far. After all, he’d managed to find at least some work to do at all of their stops. 

Resuming their journey, the trio trod the somewhat dilapidated dirt road towards the next town. Once they were far enough away from prying eyes, they mounted the Firebolt and took to the skies, enjoying the faster travel and the lesser wind chill as they headed vaguely south west.  

The increased speed felt freeing, despite the fact they would never be able to push the broom to its limit with three people onboard. With the wind whipping through his hair, Harry felt some of the disappointment from their venture into Bolton lands melt away. 

Below them, the landscape changed gradually from rocky and unwelcoming to more lush and inviting. The dirt track roads stretched out before them very occasionally branching off to small settlements of huts or to a safe river crossing.  

The track kept tracing onwards, meandering on its haphazard route between the hills and forests, connecting the scattered peoples of the barely populated countryside. Small farms and cottages occasionally dotted the landscape, but the distance between notable towns was truly astonishing. Harry marvelled at the vast size of the continent largely unmarred by civilisation.

The sun was just reaching its midday peak in the sky as when the Trio finally reached the outskirts of their destination.

Excited to hopefully find a friendlier sign of civilisation, Harry quickly guided the broom to a secluded spot a short walk from the town, and came in to land. 

“Finally, I thought we’d be flying all day at this rate.” Sirius groaned as he shook his legs, getting feeling back into them. “Let’s head on in and look around, shall we? I have the sudden urge to stretch my legs” 

“Hold on a minute, Sirius. We need a plan first. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched the entire time we were wandering around the Bolton town, Let’s at least put some effort into not standing out so much this time around.”  

Seeing no-one was going to object, Harry put forward the bare bones of a plan he concocted during the flight. 

“it’s unlikely we’ll be able to pass as locals until we get a much better grasp of the culture around here. So we should play it up, continue the act of being foreign merchants that we tried at Castle Black. Though this time maybe with some merchandise to go along with it.” 

“Well I’m game,” Sirius shrugged “hopefully we won't be thrown into a cell this time, but it’s as good an idea as any. We’ll need to pull out some merchandise to trade if we want to make a show of it. But that shouldn’t be an issue with all the excess we brought in our trunks.” 

With a wave of his wand, Sirius transfigured some fallen logs into a rudimentary cart, while Harry fetched some cloth to cover the top.  

An excited Dobby scurried about, pulling fresh food and steel tools from the trunks to serve as their trade goods, as they seemed to be in short supply in this area.  

Stepping back to take in the slightly wonky and dilapidated looking wagon stacked high with merchandise, Dobby couldn’t help but voice a concern. “Master Harry, sir, what about the horse” 

This brought Harry and Sirius to a stop as they looked at each other with nonplussed faces, both having missed this point. 

“Ah,” Harry demurred, “I could transfigure a horse out of a stone or something else lying around here, but since it’s a lot more complex than a wagon, it would only be temporary. I’m still not confident with the effect the wilder nature of magic in this world might have on a transfiguration like that. We wouldn't want to take the risk that it transforms back into a rock in front of some poor unsuspecting stable hand.” 

It was something he would test eventually, but for now they would have to make do. It wouldn’t do to give away the secret of their magic so early. Harry was already quite chuffed with himself for managing to keep their magic entirely under the radar until now. 

Sirius shrugged “We can just push the wagon in and say our horses were stolen by bandits.” 

Deciding that was as good an excuse as any, the trio pushed their wagon onto the dirt path and started making their way towards the town. A small featherweight charm from Harry made it easy work despite the roots and stones encroaching on the uneven track. 

As they approached the wooden palisade gate, a soldier gave them a once-over before nodding them through and signalling to a nearby lad who ran off, presumably carrying a message to the town leader.  

This was a good sign, it seemed they’d get a far friendlier greeting here, and Harry wondered how much of that came down to the openness of those in charge, or was it simply luck of the guard roster?  

The trio entered the town, pushing their cart amidst the curious gazes of the townspeople. Judging by their gazes, Harry got the impression that merchants might be a rare sight in these parts, at least in winter. A few children started to follow them with the usual sense of innocent curiosity, some pretending to help push the wagon, as a bit of a game. Harry threw the children a few freshly ripened apples, which were quickly snatched out of the air and immediately eaten. 

As Harry pushed the cart through the town, he took in the various sights around him. The town was constructed primarily of wood, giving it a somewhat haphazard and worn appearance, but there was a sturdiness to the buildings that spoke of careful craftsmanship. It was clear that the town had weathered many long winters and had been forced to make do with the limited resources at hand. The structures were not run-down, but maintained in a rather haphazard way, a testament to the resilience and ingenuity of the inhabitants in the face of a harsh land. 

The townspeople going about their daily tasks, had faces etched with lines of hardship and a quiet determination. Even then, they were gracing the trio with friendly and slightly inquisitive looks. Harry spotted a blacksmith's forge off the main road, the clang of hammer on metal ringing through the air, while smoke billowed from the chimney. Nearby stood a stable, the faint sounds of horses snorting and shuffling reaching his ears. 

Further on, Harry noticed a pottery workshop, the potter's wheel spinning smoothly as the artisan shaped a lump of clay into a sturdy looking pot. A small, welcoming inn or tavern of some-sort beckoned to travellers, with the sound of laughter, and the light from a flickering hearth fire visible through the door, promising a warm respite from the chilly air. 

Spotting no sign of a dedicated market, Harry pointed Sirius and Dobby towards what appeared to be the town square. Here Harry began setting up a small stall displaying their goods. While, Sirius and Dobby ventured off in search of lodgings they could use in their stay. 

The town square bustled with activity as people washed clothes in a water trough to the side, gathered jars of water from the central fountain, watered their horses, and exchanged news with neighbours.  

Children dashed about, their laughter a bright contrast to the austere surroundings. Despite what appeared to be a scarcity of resources and wealth, there was definitely a sense of community which was nice to see. A clear contrast to the more downtrodden people they had encountered back in the Boldon town. It was a promising sign. 

As Harry arranged some of the items on his makeshift stall, he noticed the sound of hooves approaching. Looking up, he  saw a small group of soldiers accompanying an elderly man, whom Harry assumed to be the town leader, or perhaps even a minor lord. His understanding of early medieval feudal systems led him to believe that this man held some degree of authority in the area. It was a relatively small town though, so maybe a landed knight or similar retainer. To Harry's relief, the elderly man appeared jovial and interested in his merchant cart, rather than hostile. 

Harry still subscribed to Mood’s ‘constant vigilance’ mantra, so he wasn’t averse to making use of legilimency when encountering unknown people. Harry suspected this skill would be invaluable in his first meeting with a member of this world's ruling class. While he couldn’t dive deep without a lot more effort, Harry had no difficulty reading the surface thoughts of the approaching group and was happy that they seemed eager to greet him.  

As the lord approached, he called out a cheerful greeting. "Ho there! Be welcome! You're the first merchant since winter began, and many moons earlier than we thought to see any arrive. I am Lord Corman, pray tell me your name and what brought you to our neck of the woods." 

“My Lord, thank you for the greeting.” Harry addressed the newcomer cordially. Deciding to dive deep into his merchant persona, hoping it helped them blend in, he continued “I am Hadrian Peverell, a humble merchant as you have deduced. My companions and I are just passing through on our way towards Winterfell, hoping to set up some new trade routes. I hope I’ve not overstepped any boundaries by setting up my stall in your town square.” 

The elderly lord smiled warmly. "Not at all, my young friend. The people will be most pleased with your arrival. I, too, am interested in what you have to offer. Most importantly, we are in need of any food you might have to trade. The winter has been harsh, and our larders are barely holding on. Even as the season comes to an end, we face difficult times before the first harvest." 

Harry sensed an opportunity to gather information, acquire samples of the local currency, and perhaps even make some friends and allies in for the first time south of the wall. This encounter seemed far more promising than the previous town they had visited. 

He gestured toward the various foods on display, noting that they had brought a selection of preserved meats, fresh fruits, and vegetables, as well as a surprisingly large pile of sacks containing various crucial grains. All the food was either fresh or of the highest quality, his elves prided themselves on producing only the best food after all. "My lord, we have a modest selection of foodstuffs that might help sustain your people until the harvest. We would be more than happy to trade with you and your townsfolk." 

Lord Corman's eyebrow raised at the ludicrous humility in that statement, given he’d rarely seen a merchant with so much grain, let alone fresh goods in winter. Nonetheless, his eyes twinkled with gratitude and interest as he perused the goods on offer. 

As they began to haggle over prices for the foods Harry was more than willing to be generous and cut his prices deeper than the lord expected. He could tell from a quick scan of surface thoughts, that Lord Corman was relieved at Harry’s generosity and that he was digging into the last of his own coffers just to purchase this much for his people. 

It was good to know that Harry had more preserved food stored away in his trunks, not enough to gift it freely everywhere he travelled, but enough to be generous where the needs of the people called for it. 

Lord Corman was astonished at the freshness of the foods, and had his men immediately pack it away to store in the larders, in the hope they could stretch it for a few moons or more. Harry surreptitiously cast long lasting preservation charms on the meats and vegetables to give them a bit more of a boost, hoping it would be enough. 

Sensing Lord Corman’s elation through passive legilimency, Harry decided to capitalize on their friendly rapport, inquiring about the possibility of viewing any more detailed maps the Lord might have. Using the excuse that as a trader, he sought better routes to Winterfell and surrounding towns to improve the efficiency of his journeys. 

For most men this would be fruitless, as they’d have to memorise the map, knowing that such documents were rare and far too valuable to trade. Harry, however had the gift of magic, and a simple duplication charm would allow him to leave with map in hand.  

Harry would also look to quietly copy any books he could find, knowing that such things were rare, even amongst nobles in the middle ages. Something he would do at every opportunity, with the hope that his collection of local tomes would eventually be large enough to start making more knowledge available to the masses. Or at-least that’s what he told himself. He quietly acknowledged to himself, in the privacy of his own mind, that he might have a bit of a hoarding problem when it comes to books, but that wouldn’t stop him. 

Harry was equally interested in any accounts of tax revenue and every-day journals covering the production and imports of this Lord’s lands, purely for the purpose of learning how a minor lord of this so called ‘Northern Kingdom’ runs their lands. He wouldn’t ask for the information of course, but he’d take the opportunity if it arose. This might later allow Harry to introduce better practices, he won’t know what modern knowledge might be useful until he understands what normal looks like today. 

Lord Corman, pleased by Harry's generosity, and thinking that Harry must have cleared out his full stock of fresh foods just for his own town, was more than happy to invite Harry to join him in the castle keep. The Lord explained to Harry that his keep had a resident scholar, apparently called ‘Maester’ Elwin. Lord Corman would instruct the Maester to show Harry their collection of maps in the records room. Corman also mentioned that he had messages for Lord Stark of Winterfell, offering to pay Harry to deliver them since his travels were taking him in that direction. 

Grateful for the opportunity to learn more about this world and its people, Harry accepted the offer. Leaving the cart and stall to Sirius who had wandered back by then, and reluctantly accepting a spare horse from the Lord. Not that Harry had an issue riding, he had leaned on the back of Hippogriphs and Thestrals after all, he just found the lack of wings a bit disconcerting. 

Looking at the group around him, Harry observed the soldiers had rather haphazard uniforms and armour. They appeared to lack access to quality castle-forged steel, but their thick boiled leathers and layers of furs seemed more than adequate for withstanding the harsh winter conditions. Yet more evidence that this town might be less prosperous than he’d expect of this era. Likely thanks to the deep winters. 

As Harry rode alongside Lord Corman passing back through the palisade gates toward the castle a little further along and atop a small hill, he couldn't help but marvel at the immersive medieval experience he found himself in. It was as if he had stepped into one of those fake medieval larping fairs he read about back in his old muggle world.  

A world of lords and peasants – or ‘smallfolk’, as they were apparently known around here  – complete with mounted knights and archers guarding the gates. Now that he had encountered friendlier people, Harry found the whole adventure to be rather enjoyable. 

Also reflecting on their decision to pose as traveling merchants, Harry realised that although it might not afford them the same esteem as nobles, it seemed to open doors nonetheless. As evidenced by his current escort to the Lord's Keep. The Trio’s chosen identities appeared to be well-suited to their needs and would likely serve them well in the future. Though Harry was contemplating claiming their Wizarding lordships over the Houses of Black and Peverell, and introducing themselves as foreign nobles travelling the world as merchants. It might open slightly more doors that way. Something to contemplate. 

Upon their arrival at the keep, which featured a moat, a tall wooden wall, and a stone keep in the centre, Lord Corman led Harry through the somewhat humble structure. It gave the sense of practicality over frivolity, with some faded banners adorning the wall with heraldic crests emblazoned over them, but a primary focus on firewood and other necessary goods stored around the edges of the courtyard.  

Handing the reigns to a stable boy harry followed Lord Corman inside. They made their way to a chamber in the main keep, the only stone structure here, where the elderly looking maester awaited them. He was clad in grey robes and wore a chain of multiple metals, looped together around his neck and clearly denoting something, likely his education and status. 

The Maester greeted Harry warmly, introducing himself as Maester Elwin, and at the instruction from Lord Corman, he proceeded to unfurl several maps and scrolls, detailing the geography and population centres of the region. Harry politely reviewed the maps, pointing out a few possible improvements to his route, and waiting for them to get bored of watching him study.  

Not long after Harry was left to continue his study of the map and, while the Maester was running some errand, Harry got to his task of copying the small library and records; pleased with how easy this was. All was stored in an expanded pouch he carried, to be later transferred to a new section of his tent library. 

Chapter 9 Teaser: 

... Town Healer Alyn was having the strangest day. She was a simple woman, happy in her small part of the world, and strange things rarely happened to her, so this made for quite the change. 

It started well with those merchants bringing some desperately needed fresh food to the square, much to the surprise of her fellow townsfolk.  

... Alyn brushed quickly over her rounds, noting that Dancy seemed to be doing much better today, only to do a double take. Alyn was quite sure Dancy only had one leg yesterday. She was too wary to ask, as it might look a bit strange to mistake the volume of appendages on a patient, and maybe it was someone else who’d been missing their leg. 

... The evening continued to grow stranger for Alyn as she retraced her steps along the surprisingly neat road to the healing house. It seemed as though every time she turned around, something had been repaired, cleaned, or improved in some way. She was starting to feel as though she was losing her grip on reality.   

... She also wondered if maybe all her fellow townsfolk were just too dumb to notice. Seriously, how did Eggon not notice his cat seemed to have regrown its tail? To be fair, when she told him that cat tails didn’t just grow back, he did point out he had reasonable evidence to the contrary. 

Chapter Text

Last Time:

..."I hope I’ve not overstepped any boundaries by setting up my stall in your town square.” Harry asked.

The elderly lord smiled warmly. "Not at all, my young friend. The people will be most pleased with your arrival. I, too, am interested in what you have to offer. Most importantly, we are in need of any food you might have to trade. The winter has been harsh, and our larders are barely holding on. Even as the season comes to an end, we face difficult times before the first harvest."

...As they began to haggle over prices for the foods Harry was more than willing to be generous and cut his prices deeper than the lord expected. He could tell from a quick scan of surface thoughts, that Lord Corman was relieved at Harry’s generosity and that he was digging into the last of his own coffers just to purchase this much for his people.

...Lord Corman was astonished at the freshness of the foods, and had his men immediately pack it away to store in the larders, in the hope they could stretch it for a few moons or more. Harry surreptitiously cast long lasting preservation charms on the meats and vegetables to give them a bit more of a boost, hoping it would be enough.

Chapter 9: Totally Normal

Shannon made her way to the town square at a clipped pace, keen to get there before the gossip spread through the rest of the town. Apparently, a merchant wagon had braved the snow drifts and mud tracks to trade in their small town.

Shannon absolutely refused to miss out on this rare chance to go shopping.

Gorm, her rather less-enthusiastic husband, trailed behind, probably hoping to get out of spending their coin. Fat chance. They were out of just about everything perishable, and had been reliant exclusively on the good lord for nearly a year now. To be fair, that’s exactly what good upstanding smallfolk like herself paid taxes for, but it would still be nice to get something other than rations.

Reaching the square, she noted they were not the first customers, but there wasn’t yet a line, so she’d take her wins where she got them.

The stall itself stood in front of a large wagon and was quite generously stacked with both food and other goods. This was pleasing, as she’d heard Lord Corman had already acquired much of the food.

She honestly didn’t recognise a few of these foods. The apple sized orange looking fruit was apparently called an ‘orange’, how very original. Beside the oranges were sacks filled with a hard white substance that was allegedly edible and long lasting. Thankfully, it wasn’t ‘lice’, as she’d first heard and been appalled by, but rather, something apparently called ‘rice’. She’d taken a whole sack of that just to try. It was an easy choice after learning that a whole sack cost less than a single stew at the tavern.

Honestly, she wasn’t entirely sure this merchant knew how money worked. This was further reinforced by his curious examination of the various coins she produced for him.

At this point, Gorm did his usual thing and started asking questions. Shannon knew he was a good man, but he was always a bit suspicious of foreigners. “Ah, so you’re from the far south then are you?” Gorm queried, while testing an apple for firmness.

“More east, or west, or something,” Sirius, the kind but somewhat hapless merchant, replied vaguely.

“That’s...” Gorm pondered how to handle that entirely unhelpful response. “That’s... uh...” spotting a clue in the form of the bark the man had told them was ‘cinnamon’, Gorm challenged the man.

“But Cinnamon only grows in tropical lands. My Nan once got some from a trader all the way from the Summer Islands.” Gorm knew he had the man on this point. He was a southerner for-sure.

“It’s winter cinnamon” Sirius replied, completely unbothered but what must surely be a blatant lie. Responding to the deadpan look Gorm gave him, he simply added “no really...  I’m serious” then chuckled for some reason.

“uh, huh” Gorm was highly sceptical, but decided to drop it. Instead poking the now suspicious bark.

Shannon rolled her eyes, Gorm was such a stubborn ass. Who cares if it was this mythical ‘cinnamon’ spice his Nan had once bought, or some completely inedible bark from a tree just outside the gates. She always thought Gorm got too much of his intelligence from his Nan’s side of the family. Or was it too little? Honestly, buying tree bark from merchants thinking it’s a valuable foreign spice.

He was missing the bigger picture here. The alleged ‘cinnamon’ was being sold as one lot, inside a beautifully carved wooden box with what looked like silver inlay. The box was vastly more valuable than the unidentifiable bark, and further confirmed the man was, in the nicest possible way, a terrible merchant. “We’ll take it” Shannon declared, shutting up her over-zealous husband, and likely preventing a rant.

Sirius smiled at that, taking the three HalfGroat coins graciously, and pushing the stunning box towards her. He even dug out a recipe book that apparently had some good suggestions for use of cinnamon. Shannon didn’t have the heart to tell the simple man that she couldn’t read. She’d just sell the book later.

This was an excellent day she decided, as she pulled her grumbling conspiracy theorist of a spouse away to let other townsfolk access the stall. Quite a line had formed behind them while they made their purchases. Looking back, she saw the kind but hapless man was now inundated with people and money. Though vastly less money than he should have been taking.

Having cleared out a suitable amount of merchandise, Sirius packed up the stall and rested in the chair he’d transfigured under the cover of a notice me not charm. That was fun, and definitely felt rewarding. These people had clearly not seen a merchant for what sounded like nearly two years by standard time on Earth. Winters here were ridiculously long.

Of course, with the sheer volume of goods stored in their trunks and pouches, they’d have no trouble being just as generous in other towns. Harry would probably ask him to bump up the prices a bit, but Sirius felt that could be done when Summer was finally in-place and the proper regional economies resumed. Until then he’d play the hapless merchant with far too much merchandise and not an ounce of money sense. Lots of smallfolk would doubtless be getting an unexpected relief as the trio passed through the various towns spread out from here to Winterfell.

Of course, those other towns would require travel, and Sirius was sick of squeezing onto Harry’s firebolt just to pick up speed. With that thought, Sirius let out a satisfied sigh, and hopped up from the chair, vanishing it in the process. There was time to spare, and Sirius suddenly had the inspiration to spend his afternoon cobbling together a new broom.

Sure it would be a bit rough, but he was pretty sure he’d be able to get it to fly. He’d just need to find the local carpenter to gather materials. Harry would likely be up in the Castle Keep dealing with the local overlord and his brainy people or something for quite a while. So there was no reason he couldn’t get this done with a little hustle, and a whole lot of magic.

Sirius left the now empty cart where it was and strode off confidently further into the town. Before remembering the carpenter was by the gates they’d entered through, and confidently turned around, striding off in the opposite direction.

“Uh, Gorm, what’s that trader fella up to?” Alik queried his friend as they stood atop the town wall taking in an afternoon ale and shooting the breeze. Alik was looking sceptically at the well-dressed but mud-covered man, who was running up and down outside the walls yelling “up, up” with a stick between his legs. Actually, looking closer, it looked more like a crudely built broom.

“Best not to ask Alik” Gorm concluded, after watching these antics for a bit. “I reckon the fellow’s not all-there in the head.”

Alik looked at Gorm with raised eyebrow, seeking some clarification on that point. Gorm continued, “look at the facts Alik. He and his partners trekked through the worst weather, over tracks that are more mud than anything now the snow’s melting. Apparently without even a horse to take some of the load. And after all that, he cleared out his entire wagon of goods in just one town, and sold it all for well below what we would have happily paid”

Alik contemplated that, taking a gulp of Ale. “Well you’re not far wrong. They’re not the brightest lot, and this one...” they watched as Sirius jumped out of the lower branches of a tree, still holding a long stick between his legs, “I don’t rightly know what’s wrong with him... but at least they’re a nice bunch. Definitely nicer than any of the usual southern traders we get around here, and I’ll definitely not complain about lower prices.”

Mulling this over, Gorm couldn’t help but agree “You’re right at that, They’re the nicest merchants I think I’ve ever met. Maybe we can stay in their good books with a little gift. Encourage them to come back through here in future. The man’s clearly interested in brooms. Let’s have Warran whip together a nicer one, and gift it to them for their troubles.”

Alik watched the man fall face first into the mud, his broom snapping in the process. “Sure, why not. And maybe we’ll get Shannon to give him lessons in how to use a broom properly”, he chuckled, finishing off his Ale.

While Harry was schmoosing with the lord and Sirius was off somewhere, having simply mumbled that he was “seriously sick of having just one broom”, Dobby was quietly observing the people of this small wooden town. House elves, by nature, were skilled at remaining unobtrusive and unseen, and Dobby was no exception.

As he wandered through the winding streets in his younger merchant disguise, he couldn't help but notice the disarray that seemed to be everywhere. Dirt and debris littered the ground, and many of the buildings further back from the main street were in dire need of repair. The townspeople were clearly doing the best they could to maintain their homes, but resources were scarce.

Dobby's innate desire for cleanliness and order compelled him to take action.

Conscious of remaining as subtle as possible, Dobby began to discreetly clean and mend the town. Armed with a combination of his natural house elf magic and spells he had learned from Harry, he embarked on his new self-assigned mission of cleaning this medieval world.

Starting with the dirt paths, Dobby carefully vanished the debris and smoothed the ground, making sure the townspeople would have an easier time traversing their streets. He expertly avoided drawing attention to himself, always staying just out of sight of the curious gazes of passers-by. For any villagers he couldn’t avoid, it was easy enough to hit them with a mild confundus charm to ignore their surroundings for a short time while he cleaned.

Next, Dobby focused on the buildings, drawing on the knowledge of magical construction & building repairs he learned when he and Harry restored Grimauld place after the war. He clandestinely mended broken shutters, patched leaky roofs, fixed doors and reinforced sagging structures. He even took the time to clean and polish the few windows he found, spelling the cloudy glass clear as he went, allowing more light to stream into the dimly lit interiors.

Dobby was particularly pleased with the small healing house he stumbled upon behind the village square, which had so many things to fix he almost hyperventilated at the sight. He was literally vibrating with excitement at the task, and dove in, almost in a trance, as he set to mending what he could.

Dobby did admit to himself later that he might not have been quite as subtle as he originally intended. But he was very quiet, and had carefully hidden himself under disillusionment before he entered, so he was sure no one would notice. Even Harry probably wouldn’t miss the materials and potions Dobby had borrowed when he was mending some of the more stubborn issues.

Looking over his work for the day, Dobby felt a sense of satisfaction in knowing he had made a small difference in the lives of these people. Dobby was also satisfied that he’d had a chance to really exercise his magic for the first time in a long while. All house elves knew nothing good ever came from refusing the natural urge to clean and mend. If he could expect to find more opportunities like this on their adventure, then Dobby would be a happy elf indeed.

Happy with his work, Dobby decided to join Sirius where he knew he was holed up in the local tavern. Probably seeking information and local gossip. With Harry at the Lord's Keep and Sirius at the tavern, they would soon have a wealth of knowledge and more towns to visit. Towns that would probably be just as dirty as this one he thought with glee.

Town Healer Alyn was having the strangest day. She was a simple woman, happy in her small part of the world, and strange things rarely happened to her, so this made for quite the change.

It started well with those merchants bringing some desperately needed fresh food to the square, much to the surprise of her fellow townsfolk. They had all carefully rationed what remained of the town’s food up to this point, and knew they’d need to lean on Lord Corman to last the remaining few moons before the Harvest. Now however she could see them having satisfied stomachs for the foreseeable future. It left her in a great mood.

Alyn’s mood was slightly dampened as she failed to notice a few changes in the town healing hall and convalescent house. Specifically she failed to notice the door, when she walked straight into it, expecting only the temporary cloth hanging over the entrance to the small building, as the door had broken long ago.

Alyn rubbed her head, trying to comprehend who installed the door, and grumbling that a little warning would have been nice. In her now slightly miffed state, she brushed quickly over her rounds, noting that Dancy seemed to be doing much better today, only to do a double take. Alyn was quite sure Dancy only had one leg yesterday. She was too wary to ask, as it might look a bit strange to mistake the volume of appendages on a patient, and maybe it was someone else who’d been missing their leg.

Feeling that it’d be best to retire to the tavern for lunch, and to contemplate her apparent lack of grasp on appendage counting, she ran across her brother Hagen coming out of the Forge.

Hagen seemed to have a gleam in his eye as he carted some two dozen shining halberds and a few breastplates towards the castle keep. Calling for him, Hagen quickly explained that he must have been in some sort of a working daze this afternoon. He was sure he’d only started on the repair of one halberd. But upon exiting the strange fuzzy daze and realising it was time to clock off, he’d found all the Halberds repaired and sparkling like new, Along with the armour, and even some of the pieces in his scrap pile that he was pretty sure were rusted right through with big holes. It seemed he was finally getting the hang of this blacksmithing thing.

This, of course, drew a rather sceptical look from Alyn as she watched her brother bound off towards the keep. Knowing her brother was, at best, a very ‘enthusiastic’ blacksmith, and usually well into his cups by the afternoon.

Alyn wondered whether she’d been through a similar experience and had accidentally returned Dancy’s missing leg whilst in some sort of a haze. She looked at her hands wondering if they’d worked magic or some kind of blessing without her knowing.

Shaking off that silly thought Alyn resolved to have a serious conversation with her younger brothers about those new hallucinogenic mushrooms they’d found. With food as short as it was, you never knew what people put in the stews to pad them out, but she was sure she’s warned them to stay away from those mushrooms. Well this was definitely the last time she let either of her brothers cook.

As she entered the tavern for possibly a larger drink than originally intended, she passed the strangest man, wearing a large amulet and more hats than could possibly be necessary. She also thought it unnecessary to have socks darned to one’s jacket. Alyn decided maybe she needed to see a healer herself and turned back to the healing house in deep contemplation of her sanity.

The evening continued to grow stranger for Alyn as she retraced her steps along the surprisingly neat road to the healing house. It seemed as though every time she turned around, something had been repaired, cleaned, or improved in some way. She was starting to feel as though she was losing her grip on reality.

She also wondered if maybe all her fellow townsfolk were just too dumb to notice. Seriously, how did Eggon not notice his cat seemed to have regrown its tail? To be fair, when she told him that cat tails didn’t just grow back, he did point out he had reasonable evidence to the contrary.

Determined to get to the bottom of the situation, Alyn decided to make a list of all the odd things she'd noticed throughout the day. At first, she thought it would be a short list, but as she recalled each event, she couldn't help but feel as though the list was growing far too long to be a mere coincidence.

As she sat in the healing house, trying to scribble down her list, she noticed that even the quill she was using seemed to be in better condition. The ink flowed smoothly and the nib was perfectly sharpened. Had she done that herself and simply forgotten about it? She couldn't be sure.

Growing increasingly perplexed by their strange good fortune, Alyn decided to take a walk around town to clear her head. As she strolled through the streets, she noticed that the changes weren't limited to just the small area around the healing house and tavern. The entire town seemed to have undergone a subtle transformation. Buildings had been repaired, streets were cleaner, and even the animals seemed better off.

Was it possible that some sort of magic was at work here? Alyn had heard tales of Children of the Forest that could bring good fortune to worshipers of the Old Gods on a whim, but she'd never believed in such things before. Could it be that one of these creatures had taken a liking to their little town?

Alyn decided to spend more time by the Weirwood tree in coming days, just in-case she should be thanking it for this sudden bout of good fortune.

Having left Lord Corman’s little town behind and back on the road, or track, or mud trail if they were being generous, Sirius had the chance to share his utter failure at broom construction with Harry.

It did clear up the confusion Harry had over the unusual gift of a beautifully built, but completely unexplained broom that the townspeople had presented to Sirius upon their departure.

Harry had originally chalked it up to a local custom and wasn’t going to offend them by asking. Initially thinking that Dobby might appreciate the mundane cleaning implement.

Though now knowing the full story, it did occur to Harry that Sirius had clearly been spotted by the villagers in his attempts to make a flying broom. He’d have to remind Sirius they were trying to be subtle and not disclose their magic. At least the broom hadn’t actually worked.

Harry was fairly certain they’d managed not to give away any hints of magic in their travels south of the wall so far, and he was happy this broom escapade hadn’t blown their cover. The villagers probably just thought Sirius was a bit strange ... not that they were too far off the mark with that one.

Sirius spent their first evening back in the tent working on the broom he had been gifted. Somewhat confident that the better build would make the necessary difference.

He also had a few runic books and quidditch manuals scattered around as he carved. Harry even gifted him a few Hippogriff feathers to lay inside the handle. Requiring the somewhat delicate process of splitting the broom handle down the middle, then perfectly merging the wood back together with magic, leaving no seam in the process.

The feathers should give more stability in the air, but both the charms and the runic work would need to be right for it to fly in the first place.

Harry chuckled as he strode along beside Sirius, who was proudly, and somewhat stubbornly sitting atop his newly operating broom.

Of course, the thing only flew four feet off the ground, and had a maximum speed just faster than a light jog, but Sirius was inordinately proud.

That being said, Sirius was still a bit put out that he would still have to squeeze onto the firebolt if they wanted to achieve any sort of real speed, and to fly over the harder terrain. Nonetheless, when they weren’t on the firebolt, he refused to walk for the next few days, just to prove how successful he’d been in his endeavour.

Harry agreed to help improve the broom over time. Though he felt he’d need to find some focusing materials, and find a way to refine the raw magic of this world to get it to work at any sort of height or speed beyond its current limitations.

The trio continued their progress through a number of similar small towns over the next few weeks. Slowly making their way towards Winterfell. All the while, gaining a sense of satisfaction in the simple task of selling their spare foods to people who so desperately needed it.

A few towns had Lords overseeing them, though most seemed to be in the domain of smaller Masterly houses or Yeomen, Vassals to the lords, as was standard in most feudal systems Harry was familiar with. He thought some might be landed Knightly houses, but there seemed to be no knights in this region from what he’d heard in the taverns.

They had become quite adept at setting up their market cart to push into the villages, and hawking their goods in whatever passed as a main square. Not that they tried very hard to haggle. Harry was sure many of the villagers thought they were a bit dim actually, with how they often ‘accidentally’ managed to haggle the villagers down to lower prices.

In many of these towns they were greeted with relief and gratitude by the minor lord or yeoman that ruled over the township. Some might not even be called towns they were so worn down, but their gratitude was a balm for the soul, and the smiles they received were most welcome.

The only minor problem came in the fact that the local lords were clearly so pleased with the merchant trio, that they insisted on gifting them with horses when they left. It seemed their ruse of claiming to have lost their horses to various misadventures along the way caused far greater concern than they had initially expected.

To the down-to-earth Northerners, a man without a horse was almost an affront to their hospitality. The local lords all seemed dutifully horrified at their lack of “four-legged preambulatory locomotion”, as Harry took to calling it.

This had originally caused a brief bout of consternation for the trio when Lord Corman presented them with a set of three small horses as they left the first village, alongside the broom that the townsfolk had insisted on gifting to Sirius. The horses certainly weren’t best of breed, just humble working horses that had seen their best days already, but it was a nice gesture from the grateful lord.

Having travelled far enough from the village to stop out of sight of any prying eyes, the trio had set about scratching their collective heads, trying to figure out what to do with the horses. Their tent, while roomy, wasn’t set up to host animals, and they couldn’t very well carry the horses with them on the broom.

Though Sirius did confirm a broom could handle a pig suspended from several ropes. This, he said, was an experiment he and Harry’s dad undertook one summer that got them both grounded and very nearly in trouble with the Ministry for breaching the Statute of Secrecy. Apparently disillusioning themselves and the broom hadn’t carried through to the pig tied to the broom, and caused much confusion in the local village near Potter Manor.

It was Dobby who eventually proposed the simple solution of sending the horse back to the Thenn village via portkey, so the elves could care for them along with the other animals in the farm trunk.

Happy with the solution, Harry waved his hand over the saddle, turning it into a temporary portkey and sent it on its way. Chuckling slightly as he imagined the reactions of the poor Thenn villagers when a slightly traumatised horse arrived out of thin air in front of their village hall. Harry had grown to enjoy the rollercoaster-like effect of a portkey, but he wasn’t sure their three new horses would feel the same. Oh well, it was only a one-way journey and they would surely enjoy the farm trunk once they arrived.

Regardless of the somewhat inconvenient four-legged way of showing gratitude these Northerners had, Harry was happy they were able to help so many of the fine folk they encountered on their journey. Knowing as they did, that the winters and summer here lasted for many years. Selling a bit of fresh food and some steel tools was no hassle for them and there was plenty more where that came from. Harry made a note to return next winter, no matter how many years passed, to help these people last through the worst of the cold.

Or better yet, he should look into introducing proper glass making, and help them build glass houses for use in this weather. He noted these thoughts down in a small journal of ideas and learnings he’d started to keep on his travels.

Harry’s library of local maps and books was also growing steadily, one small collection at a time. He was surprised at how inconsistent their mapping was, with some maps marking down resources in another lord’s lands that the lord in question didn’t seem to have on their own maps. It felt like they were under-utilising their resources purely through lack of awareness.

Unbeknownst to the Trio, they also left behind varied levels of confusion at the miraculous repairs found throughout the townships. Thankfully, with communication so stilted in the region, no-one made the connection with the travelling merchants, and with a lack of further explanation, much interest was renewed in the Old Gods.

Finally, after a few more weeks of travel, the trio landed on the outskirts of Winterfell. The imposing castle perched on a hill, with Winter Town sprawling out below. Harry was pleased to note that the town was much larger than any other they’d encountered, and gave him confidence that the large population centres he’d seen on the map would be similar, or even proper medieval cities. This town stood entirely within the protection of large stone walls, which was also a first on their travels. A definite step up from wooden palisade walls more commonly used by the smaller towns.

With well practiced ease, they quickly arranged the usual transfigured cart, and filled it with trade goods in preparation for their arrival. Hoping the ruse would facilitate another warm welcome like the ones they had received in the towns on the route. Harry noted that the cart was a little less wonky every time they transfigured it. Clearly practice makes perfect.

They had no invite to the main castle, but Harry did have many documents to deliver to Lord Stark or, at least, his Maester. So they agreed to make their way to the castle proper first, and visit the town later, slightly regretting that they’d now have to push the laden cart up such large hill. A featherlight charm would take care of most of the load, but it was still a hassle they could do without.

As the three of them made their way up the hill, the massive gray castle loomed before them, a testament to the history and power of the Stark family who had ruled over the North for thousands of years. Harry was quite sure that castles were never this large in their old world, which just increased his excitement to explore this new land.

The sheer size of the castle suggested a strange level of advanced construction and engineering, despite the lack of any signs of real technology. Frankly their tech was a bit behind even for the medieval era, which left Harry a bit confused by the massive castle, but equally impressed with what they’d achieved with so little.

As they made their way closer to the walls, all three of them began to pick up on the distinct feel of wards over the town and castle. They’d felt weak wards covering farms in the surrounding area, but here the feel was almost like a weak static charge.

Harry in particular, was quite interested in finally meeting his distant kin, having only learnt about them after arriving in this world. As the Thenn had explained, the Starks were descendants of Ignotus Peverell.

The connection was fairly tenuous, but Harry never had much in the way of extended family outside of the Blacks, so he was excited nonetheless. He was certainly hopeful he’d like the Starks, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. After all, most of his relations had been rather lacklustre, Blacks and Dursleys alike. Either way, he’d already decided it would be best to keep his history and their connection under wraps until he could gauge the attitude of the Starks towards magic. Who knows what history they still recalled from the time of Ignotus, and what they might be able to infer from his connection to the man.

There was also much to achieve in their stay here. Harry hoped to raid what was likely to be the largest repository of books and records in the north, with a library stretching back millennia. Hopefully one that was slightly better maintained than the small one at Castle Black.

Sirius would be running their market stall, for the first time in an actual market, small though it was, here in the capital of the North.

Dobby in the meantime was tasked with finding the wardstone, or whatever it was that acted as the source of the magic they felt around the castle.  This was an important mission. Harry had read enough books copied from the small castle libraries on their travels, and was quite sure this world didn’t have any of the Ancient Runic languages he was familiar with. Harry had however, seen hints of First Men Runes and was keen to find a working wardstone leveraging such runes.

Much like the magic of this world the First Men magics he read mentions of in the books seemed raw. Far less refined than his own. Their runes therefore, would likely add far greater power to Harry’s own wards and runic chains, if he could find a way to combine them with his home world runic languages. The library would hopefully contain such knowledge as well. Harry admitted to himself that he was a knowledge hoarder, but that self-diagnosis wouldn’t stop him from both copying, and reading the likely large and ancient library of this castle.

Chapter 10 Teaser:

... Lord Edwyle Stark sat back in his chair, taking a moment to warm his hands by the fire that crackled in the hearth. Winter was always a trying time for the North, and as the Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty to ensure the well-being of his people. With a great sigh and a creaking of bones he lent forward to continue working through the endless paperwork that came with his position.

He eyed the small pile of missives speculatively. Thinking back to the strange collection of messages he had received over the last moon or so. The first was from the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and had left Edwyle scratching his head. How on earth did three nobles get lost so badly they didn’t even realise they were north of the wall? Not just any wall, but a great big seven hundred foot ice wall.

Not for the first time, Edwyle wished a raven could carry longer messages.

Chapter Text

Last Time:

... As they made their way closer to the walls, all three of them began to pick up on the distinct feel of wards over the town and castle. They’d felt weak wards covering farms in the surrounding area, but here the feel was almost like a weak static charge.

Harry in particular, was quite interested in finally meeting his distant kin, having only learnt about them after arriving in this world. As the Thenn had explained, the Starks were descendants of Ignotus Peverell.

The connection was fairly tenuous, but Harry never had much in the way of extended family outside of the Blacks, so he was excited nonetheless. He was certainly hopeful he’d like the Starks, but he wouldn’t hold his breath. After all, most of his relations had been rather lacklustre, Blacks and Dursleys alike. Either way, he’d already decided it would be best to keep his history and their connection under wraps until he could gauge the attitude of the Starks towards magic. Who knows what history they still recalled from the time of Ignotus, and what they might be able to infer from his connection to the man.

Chapter 10: Lord Stark

Lord Edwyle Stark sat back in his chair, taking a moment to warm his hands by the fire that crackled in the hearth. Winter was always a trying time for the North, and as the Lord of Winterfell, it was his duty to ensure the well-being of his people. With a great sigh and a creaking of bones he lent forward to continue working through the endless paperwork that came with his position.

He eyed the small pile of missives speculatively. Thinking back to the strange collection of messages he had received over the last moon or so. The first was from the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, and had left Edwyle scratching his head. How on earth did three nobles get lost so badly they didn’t even realise they were north of the wall? Not just any wall, but a great big seven hundred foot ice wall.

Not for the first time, Edwyle wished a raven could carry longer messages. The message from Lord Commander Qorgyle was cryptic and short, and he had yet to receive a follow up message. He had questions. Though it sounded like the Night’s Watch might be even more confused than himself. Either way, he was left to wonder the fate of the three lordlings and what further misadventures three such unfortunately foolish lords could get up to in his lands. “Probably Reacher nobles” Edwyle mumbled to himself, rehashing a thought he’d had many times already, “they aren’t known to be particularly smart”. Regardless, it wasn’t anything important enough to consider wasting a raven on a return journey to the Wall, so he was left to wonder.

The next surprising message had come from the Maester to Lord Bolton, who proclaimed happily that the lord had finally acquiesced to his suggestion to open his larders to the people under his care.

Lord Stark had to admit to himself that he never did think Lord Bolton had it in him to be so altruistic. Even more surprising that he apparently emptied his entire larder of his own goodwill. Lord Stark was sceptical of the message, but had heard nothing to contradict it.

Bolton always seemed to be wound tight after all; so maybe the last frost had finally gotten to the lord and wound him up tight enough to snap? It was as likely a reason as any Edwyle could think of. He decided it would be best to steer clear of Lord Bolton for the time being anyway, on the off chance that he had finally lost it; crazy lords tend to be unpredictable at the best of times.

He picked up the next missive in the pile, which came by raven from Lord Corman, one of the his smaller vassals to the East. Whatever Lord Corman had to say, it must be notable to have warranted a raven from such a small house. Particularly as he was expecting letters to arrive via messenger from all his lords near the end of Winter anyway.

Edwyle’s dark, usually stony expression rose in surprise as he read through the short missive. Apparently three young merchants had braved the last of the Winter snow to start the season’s trade early. They brought with them great loads of fruit, vegetables and meat. Quite an intelligent move for any merchant at this time of year, but according to the message they were very generous with their pricing and quantities, which was unlike any merchant from the South he’d met.

He couldn't help but feel a sense gratitude towards these mysterious merchants who had gone above and beyond to help his people in their time of need. Maybe they were from the north themselves, and had ventured south to alleviate the burdens of Winter on their own people. He could only theorise with such little information.

Nonetheless, this was great news, he had one more Lord and township capable of riding out the last of winter without taxing the backup food stores at Winterfell. This would allow Edwyle to be more generous in the portions dolled out to those lords still in need.

He glanced at the question appended to the end of the message, intended to be passed on to his Maester. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what would possess Lord Corman to ask whether the beginning of spring was likely to cause tails and legs to grow back like the leaves on trees and the grain in the field. Some things are best left to more learned men. Lord Edwyle was no healer after all.

As the days passed, Edwyle received more ravens from various towns, all in a fairly straight line between Lord Corman and Winterfell. In each case, surprisingly fresh food had been sold at generous prices, along with some much needed steel tools. Edwyle was slightly surprised at the speed of these merchants, and the sheer volume of food they were carrying in a three-man trade caravan, but felt he wasn’t getting the full picture from these short raven messages.

He did note that on almost every report they arrived pushing their cart, with a tale of woe about having either lost their horses, had them go lame, or even stolen. The rate at which his grateful vassals were apparently gifting the trio horses only to have them lost again was frankly astonishing. He was quite concerned about their competence to be honest.

“How does one lose so many horses?” he breathed to himself, it was frankly ridiculous.

Edwyle was sure he’d get a good laugh out of it when he shared the tales of horse-related woe with his son Rickard. Though that would have to wait, as Rickard had just set out on a tour of the worst hit houses now that the snow was starting to thaw.

As more days passed, the reports continued to trickle in, each one painting a more vivid picture of the benevolent travelling merchant trio. They were not only skilled merchants but also had a knack for helping the townsfolk with various problems. In one village, they had helped repair a crumbling wall, while in another, they had assisted with the construction of a much-needed well. These were not the typical actions of merchants, and Lord Stark found himself increasingly intrigued by the trio.

As the time of their arrival at Winterfell drew nearer, which was easy to gauge given their apparent straight line route, Lord Edwyle Stark couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The North had seen its fair share of outsiders, some with good intentions, others with more nefarious motives. He hoped that these merchants would prove to be genuine allies, if they seemed the right sort he’d look into convincing them to settle their business here in Winter Town. But he knew he must remain cautious and vigilant, for the safety of his people and his family.

Finally, the day arrived when the merchants were expected at Winterfell. Lord Stark stood at the castle gates, flanked by his loyal guards and advisors, waiting to greet the travellers.

He was astonished and frankly a little appalled to see them yet again pushing their wagon by hand. Had they lost their horses… again?! He glanced across at the stables and determined that he’d have a conversation with the stable master later, he couldn’t let them buy any of the better horses, it would be such a waste to see good breeding stock lost by possibly the most unreliable horse handlers he’s ever likely to meet.

As the small group approached, he couldn't help but notice their light clothing, certainly not suitable for the weather, though they seemed unbothered. Their clothing was also of very fine make, almost that of a nobles, though very plain by comparison. They were a curious trio: a tall, dark-haired man with an air of confidence and mischief about him, a much younger man with bright green eyes and an unusual scar on his forehead, and what must be a younger brother of the second man, as the last of the trio had the same dark birds-nest quality hair and vivid green eyes on a slightly more youthful face. The younger boy was however the strangest of the three, with a big feather sticking out of his hat, which sat, for no discernible reason, on top of another hat.

Lord Stark looked to his castellan, Ser Joss, who knew the drill. The knight stepped forward to act as herald and introduce the two parties. "Ho there travellers!” he called getting their attention. After recovering their breath from pushing such a large trade cart the trio approached, deferential to their greeting party, which seemed only right.

“Welcome to Winterfell," Ser Joss continued once the trio were closer. “Your names if you will?”

The older of the two green eyed young men responded, “Hadrian, and my companions Sirius and Doberic, at your service my lord” the man offered by way of response, gesturing at each in turn. Sirius and Dobby held in chuckles at the human name they’d come-up with for Dobby.

“Well met” Ser Joss added, “we offer you guest rights, be welcome in these walls, and leave any troubles outside.” he finished, while waving the servants with bread and salt forward. “and while you partake, may I introduce you to our esteemed Warden of the North, Lord Edwyle Stark.” he gestured, and then finished by looking at Lord Stark to guide the conversation from there “My Lord?”

With the appropriate introductions completed, and the trio partaking in bread and salt, Lord Stark nodded and stepped forward to take the lead in this conversation. He was quite curious to learn more about this trio after all.

"“Yes, yes, welcome gentlemen. I’m glad you’ve finally arrived. I’ve heard much from the Ravens telling of your journey through the North.” This seemed to surprise them. Did they not expect him to receive news of noteworthy travellers in his lands?

“I am grateful for the aid you’ve provided my people. With such generous amounts of well-priced and fresh food stuffs, my people will last the winter thaw well.” He nodded to his waiting party before continuing, “we’re all naturally eager to hear your stories and learn more about you. You’ve been quite an interesting cause for gossip in recent weeks.” He looked expectantly at the trio.

“Thank you, my lord,” Harry replied, with a slight nod of the head, “we’re just humble traders, making our way through the North, doing good where we can, as any other might.”

That didn’t quite ring true in Edwyle’s mind. Most traders would keep a much tighter reign on their horses for one, and most would not be so generous with their pricing and wares. They were also suspiciously well dressed for simple traders.

“Though I have been a bit remiss in my introductions. If I may introduce myself fully” Harry gestured to himself, “I am Lord Hadrian Black Peverell. Though I am the lord of a foreign house, of little consequence here in Westeros”, Harry introduced himself.

Edwyle’s eyes widened slightly at that statement. He knew the Peverell name of course, as any Stark should, but it had been a long time since anyone had claimed that name in the lands of the North. He would have to ask some careful questions on this topic later, he owed it to his House.

Not noticing he had piqued Lord Stark’s interest quite so much, Harry continued with the introductions. “My partner here is Lord Sirius Black, of a similarly foreign noble house, and last we have Doberic Black Peverell”. Sirius and Dobby each nodded in turn, and Edwyle noted that their names were all passably northern, along with their looks. In-fact, he wondered if the alleged Blacks were in any way related to his mother’s house, the Blackwoods.

Nodding at the introduction Edwyle signalled to his escort to start moving back inside the gates. “You’re definitely an intriguing lot. Though we should retire inside to properly speak. I also understand you’ve been given messages for me by several of my vassals.” he strode ahead, guiding them to the keep. “I’ve had Ser Joss arrange lodging for you in the town Inn already, but for now leave your cart with my men, and let us head inside to discuss your purpose in these lands.”

The trio exchanged glances, each aware that this introduction marked an interesting step-change in their journey; after all, they’d only been in small towns so-far, whereas this new acquaintance was by far the most powerful man in the North, practically a king in his own right. Certainly one of the most powerful men in all of the seven kingdoms, if their research so far was anything to go by.

A Lord Paramount was not to be trifled with, but as a friendly ally they could open many doors. The exchange seemed to be starting on the right foot, so Harry followed in Lord Stark’s footsteps, pleased with this first foray into Medieval politics.

As Harry followed Lord Edwyle Stark and his Maester through Winterfell, he was struck by the sheer scale and majesty of the castle. The ancient stronghold was both a testament to the resilience of the North and a symbol of the power of House Stark, leaving none in doubt over who ruled these lands. It was clearly meant as a statement and a centre of politics, but moreso it was an impenetrable bastion, a last line of defence. And it looked like it could hold against any siege. Especially with the mysterious wards Harry still sensed.

The bustling servants and soldiers went about their tasks as they passed, giving short bows to Lord Edwyle as would be expected.

The castle was a complex network of buildings, connected by enclosed walkways to enable access to all areas even in deep winter. The whole effect of these complexes came together to create a layered fortress, with multiple layers of inner walls before the inner courtyard and training yard.

The training yard buzzed with the sounds of clashing steel and grunts of exertion as soldiers honed their skills in preparation for any future battle.

As they made their way across the courtyard, Harry noticed a ruined tower, standing like a solemn reminder of the harsh realities of this land. Its crumbling stone walls were a testament to the relentless assault of the elements, and a reminder that these were a frugal and practical people.

Despite the huge size of the castle, the Starks were clearly spending only on things that mattered. Harry wouldn’t be surprised to hear they held back much of their tax revenue for lean winters. The reputation of the Starks for their stalwart guidance through even the worst winters was well represented in their tavern conversations throughout the many towns they visited.

Upon entering the grand white granite entrance hall, Harry was immediately struck by the large black and white banners that adorned the walls, their direwolf sigils a fierce symbol of the Starks' indomitable spirit. The statues of the ancient kings of the North seemed to watch over the hall with grim expressions, their powerful visages a constant reminder of the Starks' long and storied lineage.

To the right of the entrance hall Harry caught a glimpse of an immense feasting hall, its long tables and benches ready to accommodate the many inhabitants of the castle or noble guests he presumed. He could almost hear the raucous laughter and spirited conversation that would fill the space during a medieval feast.

In-fact he was secretly hoping to be invited to such a feast. None of the minor lords they’d visited so far had the food or coin for such an affair, and it felt like a core medieval tradition he just had to experience.

They continued through the corridors towards Edwyle’s Study, or ‘Solar’ as the Maester had called it.

Finally, they ascended a narrow staircase and entered, a large but warm and welcoming space that seemed to be at the very heart of Winterfell. The Solar was filled with the soft glow of a roaring fire, and its walls were lined with bookshelves containing countless scrolls and tomes. A large wooden desk dominated the centre of the room, covered in maps, letters, and other documents that spoke to the many responsibilities of a Lord Paramount.

As Harry took in the details of the Solar, was somewhat in awe of the weight of history that surrounded him. Here, in the heart of Winterfell, the Starks had ruled the North for thousands of years, ever since his ancestor, Ignotus Peverell had married his daughter, Iolanthe, to the first Stark, Brandon the Builder. The history of this family was the stuff of legend. And now, as a guest in this ancient and storied stronghold of his distant kin, Harry hoped to find a way to contribute to that legacy and help the Starks grow.

Harry imagined he’d find some magics or modern world knowledge that could help them in the short term, and maybe he’d be able to continue that help and guidance in years to come, who knows where his travels would take him. He could certainly see himself coming back here occasionally to help and to visit family, even if they didn’t know of the connection.

Leaning back in his chair, Edwyle considered where to begin the conversation, when his thoughts stuttered to a halt as the strange young one with too many hats took the initiative. “You have talking ravens!?” Dobby asked with wide excited eyes. The elder two merchants turned to look at Dobby, then surprisingly turned back to Edwyle with a look of curiosity in their eyes.

Taken off guard by the direction of the conversation Edwyle took a moment to process the question. He supposed he had said something earlier along the lines of ravens bringing him tales of the merchants, but surely the use of ravens was common knowledge. What sort of cave had these merchant lords crawled out from that they had never heard of raven messages? Clearing his throat awkwardly he formed the only response his poor mind could come up with in them moment, “ah, not as such, no”.

Dobby’s face fell in a way that made Edwyle feel like he had just kicked a small puppy, despite how reasonable he was sure his response had been. “Well if you do see any talking ravens, please let me know.” Dobby said, with returning confidence, “I’ve been keeping an eye out but they seem elusive. If people didn’t keep mentioning them in the towns we visited I would think they didn’t exist at all.”

Lord Stark looked at Dobby and then at the serious faces of Harry and Sirius still staring at him, causing him to pause and think. He tried to rack his brain for any recollection of people mentioning actual talking ravens, but nothing came to mind. There were apparently birds in the summer isles that could mimic speech to an extent, but he’d never heard of talking ravens. Maybe these merchants were from the Isles, but they certainly looked more like northerners.

Edwyle decided it was best just to deflect at this stage so he could get on with the conversation he originally intended. “I shall ask Maester Gerrick to keep an eye out for you,” he said to Dobby, glancing over to the Maester in question who was staring at Dobby with an impressively blank face. After all, Edwyle thought to himself, he wasn’t actually an expert on Ravens, and he'd heard stranger things in the last few moons. Happy with the response, Dobby gave a confident nod and a smile in Lord Stark’s direction.

Deciding to get things back on track, Edwyle called over a waiting servant to pour drinks. "The finest Arbor Gold," he commented, and offered a toast to the Trio, "A rare treat in honour of the good you’ve done for my people, and a future friendship, might we say?"

Raising his glass, Harry noted the tin drinking vessels. It seemed that even in a wealthy lord's study, glass was scarce. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if he should introduce proper glassmaking to Westeros, it would certainly be a high demand trade item.

Harry observed the wine to be surprisingly average. He could make much better. In fact he, Ron, and Seamus had made better tasting alcohol in a jerry-rigged still they’d hidden behind the cupboard in their dorm room back in 5th year. He’d surely be able to do even better now he had a whole library at his fingertips, full of readily available information on how to make things like wine. Perhaps consulting the library for. A task for a later time perhaps. How would the people of Westeros respond to Firewhiskey he wondered? Jotting a quick note in his journal for later consideration.

Edwyle, curiously watching Harry jot down a note in a foreign looking language, decided it was time to get down to brass tacks.

“It is interesting” he said, “to find three merchants so comfortable in a Warden Lord’s Solar, even those claiming foreign lordships,” gazing at them to emphasise his unspoken question.

Harry and Sirius were unfazed, having had their own titles in the Wizarding world, and being from an era where such class divides were of little note.

“We thank you for the warm welcome, and meant no disrespect if we seem a bit casual about it all”, Harry demurred, “Sirius and I have our own titles in our homeland, and are well familiar with such environs as a Lords Solar.”

Feeling a need to clarify with some background, and pre-empt many of Lord Edwyle and Maester Gerrick’s questions, Harry decided to give a bit of a sanitised backstory.

“We travel to see the world, not necessarily through any effort to turn profit. Money is not so much of a concern for us.” Harry said, hinting at the hidden wealth of gold galleons hidden safely stored away in their trunks. “It’s merely through convenience, and an interest in helping the smallfolk we encounter, that we carry goods with us for trade.”

If this were true, Edwyle thought, it would connect quite a few dots. Especially with regard to their generosity and the surprisingly high quality goods they carried. He also concluded that if they were legitimately ‘hobbyist’ traders, and what a strange concept that was to consider, it would also explain their occasional incompetence with their horse and cart. He could well imagine how hard it might be to handle such travel if you were used to the usual retinue of sworn swords and servants of a proper travel caravan. These allegedly wealthy nobles from foreign shores were travelling light, for reasons unclear at this time.

“This”, Lord Edwyle paused, then continued, “Yes, this would clear up a few questions, on your presence and noted activities in the lands you’ve passed through” Lord Edwyle concluded with a nod.

The Maester broke in at this moment wanting to satisfy some of his own curiosity. “Forgive me my lords, but I have not seen any sigils I recognise on your gear, just how far away are your lands?”

Sirius and Harry looked at each other briefly trying to decide how best to answer, in the end, Harry decided to keep things vague. “The lands we hail from are certainly a long way from here. They are unlikely to be found on any maps you own.”

Lord Stark smiled inwardly at the befuddled expression on his Maester’s face, but decided it hardly mattered where they were from; especially since one of these men was lord of the house that helped found House Stark itself. If the Starks were ancient, the Peverells were even older as noble houses went. Though much of the history has been lost.

Regardless, they were here now, and they seemed like good men. That’s all that mattered to Edwyle.  “Tell me, now that we know a little more of each other, what are your plans going forward? You’ve been travelling the North, and been generous in your trades so far, but it’s unclear what you seek to achieve here. Since you seem to have taken up the role of merchants, are you perhaps looking to set up a business here in the North?” Lord Edwyle asked, exchanging a quick glance with Maester Gerrick who would organise any trader registrations for the town if it was needed.

“Not as such,” Harry responded, “We’ll sell our wares in the market while we’re here, but I’d hoped that during our stay you might be gracious enough to allow me access to your library? I have a deep interest in the histories and cultures of the lands we travel through, and I can’t think of any better source than the records of a Lord Paramount."

This got Edwyle’s attention. He preened slightly at the appreciation of the histories retained in his stronghold, knowing most of them would address the history of Starks of old.

Edwyle contemplated Harry’s request a moment, knowing what a boon it would be to grant Harry access the great library at Winterfell. He may not be as wiley as his southern counterparts, but Lord Stark knew how to seize an opportunity when he saw it. If they could gain some foreign knowledge or craft form these, likely educated, men who had apparently travelled from distant lands, it could be of great benefit to the North.

“It seems that you are both well travelled and well read,” he said, drawing out his response as he thought things over, “So few men travel for the purpose of learning, and those that do,” he carefully didn’t look at the Maester as he said this, “the knowledge is rarely ever shared”. He paused, taking a moment to form his next words carefully, knowing that most westerosi nobles would never agree to his next suggestion, notoriously holding valuable knowledge and specialist skills close to their chests for the benefit of their own houses. Hopefully these foreign nobles would be more agreeable.

“I can perhaps see my way to sharing the great repository that is our Winterfell library, in exchange for some of the more practical learnings and observations you might be able to bring to our attention.”

“We are a simple people, as you have seen, but I know that our land has great opportunity if it can be harnessed with the right practices.” Lord Edwyle was unsure if anything would come of this gamble at knowledge sharing, but so few travelled to learn, it was a privilege reserved for the truly wealthy. A man like this was worth their weight in gold, and this trio’s generosity in their travels so far showed a willingness to help.

Harry and Sirius were nodding along, both having a strange gleam in their eyes. Either he was being swindled, or they had much more to share than he’d expected and the excitement was shining through. Doberic, or Dobby as he’d head Harry refer to the young man, was nodding like his head was aggressively bobbling on his shoulders, which couldn’t be healthy, so he quickly continued, hoping the boy would restrain himself before sustaining an injury.

Just to ensure he got the best out of this exchange, he added a stipulation, “We will also insist that you exchange whatever foods you had intended to sell in Winter Town at half the already discounted price for my smallfolk. I recognise you’re already generous in your pricing, but there is real value in the knowledge our Library holds, and we wish to see compensation for access realised in worldly goods for our smallfolk as well as knowledge”

It seemed Lord Stark needn’t have worried too much, as Harry didn’t even blink at the stipulation or the offer. “You have yourself a deal” Harry replied, with a broad smile and a nod.

Sharing a rare smile, the usually stoic Lord Stark stood offering his arm, and grasping Harry’s in conclusion of the trade.

With a successful trade arranged, and a convenient excuse in place to offer some of his modern day knowledge to his Stark kin, Harry decided to make a polite exit. He wanted to deal with the family connection at some point, but that would probably be best done after a few days of working alongside the Maester and completing this arrangement to some extent.

“Well with that done, I think it’s time we take our leave. We’ve yet to set-up our stall in the market, and it’s clear you’re a busy man” he said glancing at the papers scattered over Lord Edwyle’s desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, and follow your Maester to the library to get a start. I’m sure Sirius and Dobby here would rather get a start on setting up our stall in the market.” He finished, sparing an amused glance at Sirius who had grimaced at the mention of vising the library.

This received and agreeable nod from Edwyle, “That’s a good idea, the sooner you start selling, the better. While you won’t find any starving mouths in Winterfell, the town has been on rations for months now. I’m sure the people will be more than happy to take their fill of any fresh food you have on offer. A stable boy will show you to the market, and you can set up wherever you like.”

“Oh, and before I leave, I do in-fact have messages and documents to deliver from some of your lords, as I’m sure you know” Harry recalled as he fetched the packets of documents, seals intact, out of his satchel. He handed these to the Maester as Lord Edwyle led them out towards the entry hall.

A good first meeting, Harry thought to himself. He liked a man who valued knowledge, and knew the value in what he had.

Chapter 11 Teaser:

...“It will be 10 dragons for the moon. 15 if you want this prime spot by the hot spring in the center of the square”

... Even with his rudimentary grasp of the currency, Sirius knew that was more than should be necessary to rent a stall.

... Padric’s grin turned predatory at the look from Sirius, and the glint in his eye got brighter. “It’s that or you push that cart of yours to the next town over” he said, holding his hand out for the coin.

Sirius made an act of sighing but put his hand in his pocket and drew out a reasonable amount of gold coins and handed them over. He wasn’t sure why the house elves had packed Leprechaun gold in the trunks for Harry, but he made a point of keeping some with him for occasions just like this. A marauder knew to always be prepared and Sirius had known it would only be a matter of time before they met someone like Padric on their travels. He’d have to make sure Harry was prepared as well; not everyone would be as nice as the lords and townsfolk they’d met in the last few weeks, and the heir to the marauders couldn’t be seen as an easy target.

Chapter Text

Last Time:

... “We travel to see the world, not necessarily through any effort to turn profit. Money is not so much of a concern for us.” Harry said, hinting at the hidden wealth of gold galleons hidden safely stored away in their trunks. “It’s merely through convenience, and an interest in helping the smallfolk we encounter, that we carry goods with us for trade.”

If this were true, Edwyle thought, it would connect quite a few dots. Especially with regard to their generosity and the surprisingly high quality goods they carried. He also concluded that if they were legitimately ‘hobbyist’ traders, and what a strange concept that was to consider, it would also explain their occasional incompetence with their horse and cart.”

…“the sooner you start selling, the better. While you won’t find any starving mouths in Winterfell, the town has been on rations for months now. I’m sure the people will be more than happy to take their fill of any fresh food you have on offer. A stable boy will show you to the market, and you can set up wherever you like.”

Chapter 11: Black Market Beats

Leaving Harry up in the Library with the Maester, Sirius and Dobby re-emerged from the castle gates pushing their cart, which Sirius had already lightened with some surreptitious feather-light charms. They were making their way down into Winter Town to set up a merchant stand in the local market. The town itself actually lay sprawled out to the south of the castle, nestled at the base of the hill upon which Winterfell was perched and surrounded by its own formidable stone wall.

As they exited the gates, they had a magnificent view of the town spread out below them. The town sat straddled the freshwater streams that wound around the base of the hill. The streams continuing on to join the White Knife river, which was just visible in the distance; providing a source of fresh drinking water for the towns people. With a keen eye, Sirius could also see the famous hot water springs bubbling up through the ground in a number of public squares which had clearly sprung up around the locations to benefit from their warm during the winters.

Sirius admired the way the town was built, with its sturdy stone structures and tightly packed streets. The advantage it offered in a siege was clear, as any invading army would have to divide its attention between the town and the castle to avoid a counterattack from either side. The town and castle would also not want for warmth or fresh water as any besieging army sat in the cold outside the walls.

Sirius considered that this Brandon fellow who built the town was clearly a dab hand at town planning. Although the thought crossed his mind that it could also have been the daughter of Peverell they had heard about, who was responsible for the robust natural benefits the town called its own. After all, it wouldn’t have been too hard for a well-trained witch to form the streams and hot springs that fed the town.

As he approached the town gates, he took in the scattered snow cover and the muddy streets that were an inevitable result of the season. People wearing thick furs bustled about, their breath visible in the cold air as they went about their daily tasks. There was a sense of camaraderie and shared struggle among the townspeople, who faced the harsh northern climate together.

Upon entering the town, Sirius was guided by a stable boy to a small market beside the central square. Tipping him a galleon as they parted seemed to garner an extreme response from the boy. Sirius was pretty sure he’d overpaid. He’d need to figure out the local currency and stop giving people coins from their old world. Thankfully he knew Dobby had some gold dragons and other coins tucked away in his pouch ready for use.

The market was already bustling with activity, though there were few merchants this early in the season, even here in the Northern Capital, trade was slow to start as winter ended. Still, it was a more vibrant scene than the other towns they had passed through, where the trio had been the only merchants present.

As Sirius prepared to set up his stall, he passed a curious eye over the offerings of the other merchants. Most of them clearly hailing from nearby towns themselves. There were vendors selling the usual northern goods of furs and leather, as well as those offering various types of preserved foods. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of roasting meat from a nearby food vendor.

An overweight man wearing an embellished outfit and too many gold rings on his stubby fingers approached the duo as they were setting up. The man had a haughty, overconfident air that Sirius was familiar with from his interactions with many purebloods growing up as a Black. Taking an immediate dislike to the man, Sirius braced himself for what he anticipated would be an inevitably tedious interaction. He put on his best pureblood face in preparation, the one that said, ‘I’m better than you and we both know it’

"Good day, sers! I am Padric, Master of Markets in Winter Town," the man announced with excessive pride, his puffed out chest reflecting his similarly overinflated sense of self-importance.

Padric eyed this new merchant, wondering if he was a little constipated, based on the way he was screwing his face up in such a strange manner. It didn’t matter in the end, he’d met plenty of strange traders over the years, he didn’t mind as long as they paid up.

 “In that case, it is agreeable to meet you Master Padric. I should inform you I will be setting up a stall in the square here for a moon” Sirius replied, unsure of how long he would be staying in the area.

“I like a man who gets down to business.” Padric replied with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes. “That will be 10 dragons for the moon. 15 if you want this prime spot by the hot spring in the center of the square”

Even with his rudimentary grasp of the currency, Sirius knew that was more than should be necessary to rent a stall. It was certainly a lot more than the few market squares that had charged for a spot in the towns they had stopped in on the way here. Lord Stark had also already given him permission to set up wherever he wanted, though he would concede that this Podric fellow had no way to know that yet. He suspected the man was skimming off the top, because Lord Stark didn’t seem like the type that would over charge merchants. Particularly this close to the end of winter.

Sirius wasn’t particularly concerned with the gold, considering the enormous piles Harry had brought with him from the Potter and Black family vaults. Even still, he made a point of slowly and visibly looking around at the almost empty market square before turning back to Padric with his eyebrow raised.

Padric’s grin turned predatory at the look from Sirius, and the glint in his eye got brighter. “It’s that or you push that cart of yours to the next town over” he said, holding his hand out for the coin.

Sirius made an act of sighing but put his hand in his pocket and drew out a reasonable amount of gold coins and handed it over. He wasn’t sure why the house elves had packed leprechaun gold in the trunks for Harry, but he made a point of keeping some with him for occasions just like this. A marauder knew to always be prepared and Sirius had known it would only be a matter of time before they met someone like Padric on their travels. He’d have to make sure Harry was prepared as well; not everyone would be as nice as the lords they’d met in the last few weeks, and the heir to the marauders couldn’t be seen as an easy target.

Sirius watched Padric walk away across the square with a spring in his step, carrying the handful of leprechaun gold he’d handed over. Sirius smiled thinking of the reaction Padric would have when he found the gold missing in an hour or two. Internally, Sirius resolved to hit Padric with a prank or two when the opportunity arose. The man could do with a bit of petty revenge. Though Sirius would bide his time for a few days, to ensure no one would connect any mishaps back to him.

With Dobby's help, Sirius finished setting up their stall. Something that had become more elaborate as they moved through the villages and became more adept at playing the part of merchants.

They were continuing to focus on selling steel tools and fresh food, as these seemed to fill a serious need of the people in this region. These also happened to be goods the storage trunks had in surplus supply. Sirius was pretty sure they’d snap-up his precious Firewhiskey if offered, but there was no way he would give up his limited supply.

Following Harry's agreement with Lord Stark, he steeply discounted the food, and even dropped the price on the tools further than usual. As a final step, he conjured a sign announcing the lower than normal prices and the ready supply of fresh foods. Though come to think of it, he didn’t know if any of the townsfolk could read.

It seemed the word spread anyway. As a long orderly line soon formed in front of the stall. One by one, the worn-down but hardy looking residents arrived, clad in their thick furs and eager to purchase the well-priced food for their families.

Dobby continued to surreptitiously re-stock as they sold the goods, ensuring they never ran out. It was easy enough for them to share some food, even under the guise of ‘selling’ it at ridiculously low prices. There was no need for them to turn anyone away, and Sirius was enjoying his role.

After closing the stall for the day, Sirius and Dobby split up to explore Winter Town. Sirius strolled through the central square, taking in the sights and sounds of the lively community. Children played in the snow, their laughter ringing through the air, while adults gathered around fires, most of them enjoying some satisfyingly fresh food they had purchased from Sirius.

Sirius observed the small grove of weirwood trees that stood serenely off to one side of the square. The town buildings built a respectable distance back from the grove, which retained its raw beauty. The sight of the ancient trees, their faces carved into the bark, brought a sense of calm and reverence to the bustling town. Their gnarled branches stretched out like arms, as if offering protection to those who sought solace beneath them.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Sirius wandered through the narrow streets of Winter Town, taking note of the various shops and inns that lined them. He could hear the clanging of a blacksmith's hammer in the distance and the murmur of conversation from within the warm, inviting taverns.

As he took in the sights, Sirius couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the adventure they’d begun, and the small but notable impact their presence was having on the people of the North.

Sirius stepped into the inn they had been set up in by Ser Joss at the instructions of Lord Stark., It was certainly one of the nicer looking taverns and inns he had seen in his brief exploration of the town. The warmth and inviting atmosphere washing over him as he crossed the threshold.

The establishment was bustling with activity, as the day's end brought many patrons in for a meal, some of whom seemed to have come especially to take advantage of the unusually fresh food from the kitchen. Sirius knew this food had been bought from his stall in bulk earlier that day, its freshness a result of the preservation charms the elves had employed when it was originally stored.

Surveying the scene, Sirius noticed the increasingly inebriated crowd gathered by the bar, their laughter and chatter filling the air. In one corner, a group of bards played lively, Irish-sounding folk songs, their fingers deftly plucking at the strings of their instruments. As they played, they happily accepted the occasional donated coin from appreciative patrons.

Feeling the need for a meal and a drink, Sirius approached the bar, addressing the woman he assumed to be the matron in charge. He first requested directions to the room Ser Joss had reserved for them. This would serve as their home base while they stayed in Winterfell and Winter Town. He’d have Dobby set-up the tent inside the room when the elf returned from his own explorations. Sirius was also sure to instruct the matron not to have staff enter the room, as no cleaning would be required.

Having sorted accommodation, he ordered a meal, and something to quench his thirst. An Ale in this case, as the alcohol selection in the North seemed to be exclusively Ale or Red wine.

Sirius wondered why no one seemed to have invented mead at this point. Wasn’t that supposed to be a staple of medieval society back in their old world? Something about it being easy to produce with a steady supply of honey. He’d let Harry know to add that to the list in the little notebook he always seemed to be carrying around these days. Mead would be relatively easy to introduce and he would enjoy having a wider selection of drinks,

As the woman handed him a tankard, Sirius surreptitiously cast a cleaning charm on it, well aware that hygiene was not a priority in these medieval surroundings. He also lit the candle on his table with a subtle flick of his wand, casting an everlasting flame charm to ensure it would not go out.

Settling in for the evening, Sirius reflected on how much better his life had become since Harry’s return, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Things had been good with the Thenns, albeit a bit too cold for his liking, but now he was on an adventure, living relatively well despite the medieval conditions. Though it was hard to lament any decline in living standards after experiencing Azkaban and Grimmauld Place, he thought with a grimace.

He eagerly devoured his vegetable broth and surprisingly fresh bread, pleased that no one seemed to notice or care about his less-than-refined table manners in this medieval tavern. After finishing his meal, Sirius rose from his seat thinking it might be fun to join the musicians for a set or two. Casting a quick notice-me-not charm around his table, he pulled an acoustic guitar from his expanded pouch and then cancelled the charm, heading over towards the bards.

Sirius had always been a lover of music. Having lessons in singing and various instruments from a young age was still one of the few things he would thanks his crazy family for., Though he really found his niche when Lily introduced him to the wonders of muggle rock bands.

Looking around at the smiling faces in the tavern eating the fresh food and revelling in the atmosphere, he knew of the perfect song for the occasion. It couldn’t hurt to bring some of his favourite songs to this new world after all.

With a grin, he stopped in front of the bards who had been eyeing the strange new instrument he carried, as he walked up to them. “Mind if I take a swing at it fellas?” Sirius asked the sceptical looking musicians. Giving Sirius a once-over, the leader of the group just shrugged and motioned for Sirius to go ahead. “Great, follow my lead when you get a hang of it” Sirius said while turning around to the rest of the tavern that had slowly gone quiet as they watched the interaction between the bards and the new merchant in town.

Looking out over the crowd, Sirius raised his voice so they could all hear him, casting a mild sonorous charm behind his back. “Alright you Northerners! This one comes from a group of musicians in the north of my homeland, a place where it rained most of the year and had winters almost as cold as your own. Feel free to sing along when you get the hang of it. It feels like a fitting tune for you lot.”. With a grin, Sirius started picking at his guitar, causing a simple but beautiful melody to fill the space; followed shortly by his well trained voice as he began to sing:

“Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)

Here comes the sun, and I say,

It’s all right

little darling,

it’s been a long cold lonely winter

little darling

it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo)

Here comes the sun, and I say,

It’s all right

Little darling

The smiles returning to the faces

Little darling

it feels like years since it’s been here”

At this point the band and a number of the patrons picked up on the chorus “Here comes the sun”. They called out as Sirius smiled and continued strumming. A few more verses and he knew he’d have them hooked on the Beatles, just like Lily had to done to him so many years ago.

He wouldn’t be surprised if it became an unofficial anthem for the North. After all, winter might be coming, but so was the sun.

Sirius continued to share some of his favourite tunes as the night wore on, and the crowd got larger. Sharing the joy of music and, of course, a few drinks with his new friends. The evening was shaping up to be a pleasant one, as laughter, song, and good company filled the tavern.

In the excitement of the night, Sirius completely forgot to cancel the everlasting flame charm on the candle. But as the warm glow flickered in the dimly lit room, it served as a fitting symbol of the light and warmth Sirius had brought to this small corner of Winterfell.

Having finished his first foray into the Starks’ ancient library records, Harry made his way down to the town, hoping Sirius had sorted out their rooms and set up their tent inside. He did note that Sirius had completely forgotten to send any message regarding the location of their rooms, and he didn’t see Ser Joss on the way out

Relief washed over Harry when he found Dobby patiently waiting for him at the town gate to lead him to their Inn.

The town had taken on a different atmosphere in the evening, with lanterns casting a warm glow on the cobblestone streets and the sounds of laughter and music floating in the air. Harry took a moment to appreciate the charm of the place, observing the people as they made their way home or gathered in groups to share stories and news from the day, choosing to ignore the occasional pile of snow as a reminder of the below freezing weather.

He noted that everyone he passed on his way through the town seemed to have a sort of contented air to them, except for that one fellow in the gaudy outfit with too many gold rings that seemed to be getting a good scolding from a tavern owner. Something about a lack of coin.

Harry smiled and followed the growing trickle of townspeople that seemed to be heading in the same direction as himself, towards the sounds of music and revelry. Harry’s question was answered before he even had a chance to ask, when Dobby happily informed him that Sirius had taken up the guitar and joined the Bards in their pub. That certainly explained the crowds. Sirius always had a nice voice.

Harry approached the inn to the sound of “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. He shook his head ruefully at that. At least it was somewhat simple and reminiscent of the folk songs they’d heard in taverns along the way. Amusedly, he wondered what the townsfolk would think of heavy metal or dubstep.

By the time they entered the inn, Sirius had started on another familiar song. Harry smiled as he heard the crowd around Sirius repeating the lyrics of ‘Hungry like the Wolf’ as he reached the chorus. This was clearly not the first time Sirius had sung it tonight, and the song seemed to be a crowd favourite. Not surprising, given the Direwolf banner that hung on the wall of the tavern above the fireplace.

The interior of the inn was cosy and inviting, with wooden beams overhead and a large hearth crackling with fire. The air was filled with the scent of spiced ale and roasted meat, and Harry felt his stomach rumble in response. A few patrons remained around the edges, huddled in corners or chatting with friends, their faces flushed from the warmth of the fire and the effects of strong drink.

Deciding to leave Sirius to his revelry, Harry made his way to the back of the tavern where there was a bit more space with just two maids back there busily clearing tables.

Another maid stood in the far corner, looking rather frantically at a flaming candle, occasionally blowing at it in an attempt to extinguish the flame. Harry wasn’t sure what that was about, but he was impressed by the lasting power of the candle, as it barely flickered at her attempts, almost like an everlasting flame. “Impressive candles,” he thought absently, as he took a seat near the fire to enjoy the music

After sharing a few more rousing tunes from their old world, Sirius said his goodnights to the bards, dropped some coins in their hat, and joined Harry and Dobby.

The trio ascending the creaky wooden stairs to their room. As they walked, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, their first day in a proper centre of Westerosi civilisation could not have gone better, and Harry practically shook with anticipation at all he would learn over the next few weeks as he delved into the library and archives of his distant stark kin.

Whoever said Hermione was the only nerd in the golden trio? he thought to himself ruefully. So maybe he had just a little bit of a book hoarding problem. Who was there to stop him anyway.

The next morning, Sirius descended the stairs of the Boar's Inn, still yawning and stretching as he made his way to the common area for breakfast. He absently observed a new small shrine of blue roses that seemed to be offered up to a slowly flickering candle but took no note of it. Clearly some sort of local tradition.

Sirius did however note the unwashed bowl on the table and, with a sigh, yet again cast a cleaning charm to sanitize it. As he settled into his seat, he contemplated introducing basic hygiene concepts for the health of the people in Winter Town.

He thought over the methods he knew to make soaps from animal fats. Something he picked up back at school, while looking for better ways to clean cauldrons without magic. A favourite form of detention for the teachers of the Marauders. He never thought he’d find another use for that particular knowledge, but now he was sure there were methods he could effectively teach these smallfolk with little effort.

The main process usually involved rendering the fat, which involved slowly heating it to separate the liquid fat from any impurities or solids. Once the fat was rendered, it could be combined with lye, a strong alkaline substance derived from wood ash, to create a chemical reaction that would produce soap. All easy to gather ingredients that the locals would have in abundance.

Sirius imagined that the townsfolk would be able to collect animal fat from their own livestock or from game they hunted in the surrounding forests.

Wood ash would also be readily available, as most households had hearths for warmth and cooking.

By teaching the smallfolk this method, they could create their own soap, which would greatly improve personal hygiene and overall health in the community. If they made enough of the product they could also start selling it further afield.

The town could clearly benefit from some more external trade, and Sirius could benefit from more people having access to soap. It was clearly a win win situation.

Sirius decided to take a note in his journal of ideas and observations that he had started keeping, much like Harry. Though he would admit his journal was notably shorter than Harry’s at the moment.

He jotted down the idea of introducing soap-making to the people of Winter Town and made a mental note to have Harry add this to his proposals for Lord Stark's improvement projects. It was a small, simple change, but it could have a significant impact on the lives of the people here.

As Sirius enjoyed his breakfast, he continued to brainstorm other ways to improve the lives of the people in this medieval land. He knew that the key was to introduce concepts that were practical, sustainable, and easily understood by the smallfolk. With the support of Lord Stark, he and Harry could kick start projects that would eventually make a real difference across the North, long after they’d move on in their journey.

Chapter 12 Teaser:

... ”For Sirius’s part, he was already a little bit drunk, having not previously been warned about their clandestine night-time mission. He wasn’t entirely sure what Harry had pulled him into, but strangely enough, it wasn’t his first rodeo with grave-robbing, so he just went with the flow. “I’m so glad you found me Harry, I haven’t done such weird stuff since back in my marauder days” he chuckled, while hovering a skull off some more scrolls.”

Chapter Text

Last Time:

...“I’d hoped that during our stay you might be gracious enough to allow me access to your library?”

Edwyle contemplated Harry’s request a moment, knowing what a boon it would be to grant Harry access the great library at Winterfell. He may not be as wily as his southern counterparts, but Lord Stark knew how to seize an opportunity when he saw it. If they could gain some foreign knowledge or craft form these, likely educated, men who had apparently travelled from distant lands, it could be of great benefit to the North.

“So few men travel for the purpose of learning, and those that do,” he carefully didn’t look at the Maester as he said this, “the knowledge is rarely ever shared. I can perhaps see my way to sharing the great repository that is our Winterfell library, in exchange for some of the more practical learnings and observations you might be able to bring to our attention.”

Harry didn’t even blink at the stipulation or the offer. “You have yourself a deal” Harry replied, with a broad smile and a nod.

Chapter 12: Winterfell and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry made his way back up to the castle early in the morning. A guard had gone off to fetch someone with authority to allow his entry, and he was subsequently greeted at the gate by Maester Garrick, shuffling toward him in his grey robe and heavy chain. The Maester was far too chipper for such an early start, Harry observed inwardly, while still waiting for his own kick of energy from the coffee Dobby gave him earlier.

Instead of going back to his investigation of the library, Harry found himself being peppered with questions by the inquisitive Maester. Garrick was keen to get a feel for the learnings and foreign designs or concepts Harry intended to share with the Starks, following their agreement the previous day.

Harry was all too happy to share the knowledge, which he attributed to being well travelled. He’d already jotted down in his journal a number of ideas that he thought might be fairly easy to implement, and should quickly start benefiting the people of Lord Stark's lands. Of course, he intended to draw heavily on his modern-day knowledge, and balancing it to the current level of technology, but the Maester didn't need to know that.

The two of them settled in the library in front of a large oak desk, with the Maester happily setting out some ink pots and parchment so they could get started. Harry wasn’t sure if the Maester’s chipper attitude was down to having found a kindred man of knowledge to share ideas with, or if the Maester was just suffering from that terrible affliction of being a morning person.

Deciding to dive right in, Harry began with what he thought would be a somewhat more complex project. Though one that had the potential to save a massive amount of labour for the North if implemented correctly. That being the design and planning of water mills and windmills.

Drawing a quick diagram, Harry pushed it over to Garrick. “This, my good friend, is going to be the next best thing since sliced bread”

Garrick gave him a confused look, probably not quite grasping the diagram “What do you mean sliced bread? Isn’t it easier just to tear hunks off as usual?”

“…” that brought Harry up short. Ok so maybe it wasn’t the diagram confusing Garrick.

“Nevermind the sliced bread.” Harry blustered, receiving a raised eyebrow from his companion “I guess we’ll get to that later. It’s just an expression where I come from. This mill though.” Harry gestured back to the page “This will revolutionise labour and production in the North. It certainly did where we come from”.

"Water wheels and windmills can provide mechanical power to perform tasks faster, and with greater output than existing manual methods. and some that are often beyond the capability of normal manpower." Harry now had Garrick’s attention as he perused the diagrams.

"For example, a water wheel can be used to power a mill for grinding grain, which would save an inordinate amount of effort in having individuals manually grinding it by hand.”

“Additionally, it could be used with a few clever additions to power an inhumanly large hammer for faster forging of steel or even pump the bellows for the blacksmith's forge."

Harry thought for a moment then hammered home the opportunity with one last suggestion, “it is also invaluable in speeding up the cutting of lumber. I’ll have to draw up a saw mill for you, it will be game-changing in magnifying the supply of wood for your various needs,”

Going with the flow of thought, Harry added. ”with more and cheaper lumber you might even consider river boat construction."

Maester Garrick's eyes widened with interest, "Intriguing, Intriguing” he paused to contemplate, and decided to explore one of the suggestions that confused him most. “How exactly does the wheel convert the flow of water into the movement of a forge hammer?"

Harry Harry hummed for a moment before flipping over one of the diagrams and starting to draw a simpler picture. "The water wheel is placed in a stream, where the flow of water causes it to rotate.” He explained, demonstrating for Garrick as he spoke.  “This rotation is then transferred to an axle like that on a cart, which can be connected to gears.”

Harry of course realised he’d now have to make an attempt at explaining the concept of rudimentary gears, pulling some more parchment towards him he both realised he’d be doing a lot of rough diagrams this morning, and also that he should determine what they know of paper production.  Continuing to draw and expound on these concepts, Harry settled in for a long but hopefully satisfying lecture.

Maester Garrick nodded, clearly impressed after having his eyes opened to the various designs and purposes of even the most basic early gear systems. He shuffled through various parchments Harry had scribbled on, trying to absorb the new concepts. Also noting he'd need to order more parchment at this rate.

“And what about these windmills you mentioned? How do they work?"

Harry acknowledged the question and continued his lecture. "They operate on a similar principle to water wheels, but instead of water, they harness the power of the wind. The wind turns large sails or blades in a circular motion, creating the necessary rotation for an axel and gear system, just like the water wheel"

The Maester's curiosity was piqued, "These windmills might be even more interesting to us here in the North. With the rivers freezing over in winter, I could see the water wheels being limited to summer activity, useful though they’d be. Harnessing the wind would allow function in far colder weather.” Harry nodded along, thankful that the Maester was getting it.

As the morning melted into evening Harry and Maester Garrick delved deeper into the potential designs of water-wheels and windmills, discussing how these innovations could revolutionize agriculture, industry, and the daily lives of the smallfolk in Lord Stark's lands. They started to draw up some initial plans for test builds with great excitement.

Over the next two days, Harry devoted much of his time to both reading through the Stark library and surreptitiously copying all the books, as well as working with Maester Garrick on detailed diagrams and plans for the construction of their first water-wheel and windmill. The pair Garrick was particularly helpful, once he got his head around the concepts. He was clearly born to be a Maester, and Harry was definitely impressed.

The water wheel would likely be more productive given the consistency of flowing water, and the position of major towns near flowing rivers. The landscape was dotted with quite a few smaller rivers beyond those larger ones like the White Knife. But they'd try to convince Lord Stark to build both, as the windmill had the advantage of not freezing over in winter.

Finally they were satisfied that these two project plans were comprehensive enough to be picked up by Lord Stark's carpenters and builders, once they'd pitched them to Lord Stark and received his approval of course.

Maester Garrick packed up the plans to discuss with Lord Stark another day, once he had a better grasp of exactly how many groundbreaking ideas Harry had to offer. They would have to prioritise after all. The treasury was usually fairly limited after Summer, and they couldn’t try every idea that came up. Calling a servant to bring them some tea, the duo happily settled in to start a new brainstorming session.

Harry was already prepared with his next proposal. He had been thinking of the Northern Kingdom's difficulty in growing enough food-stuff to feed its population. The climate was harsh, and the raw, uncultivated landscape didn’t help matters. Surely they would fall over themselves for any chance to fix or increase their crop output, and Harry had just what they needed.

With that thought, he dove into a lecture on the effectiveness of the four-field crop rotation method. A technique that would increase crop yields by up to 30%, based on what he indicated were his learnings from other lands, but were actually drawn from his modern-day knowledge and some of the muggle books in his tent library.

Harry explained, "The idea is to divide the farmland into four separate fields. Each year, you would rotate the crops grown in each field. For example, in the first field, you would grow grains like wheat or barley. In the second field, you would plant legumes, such as beans or peas, which help to replenish the soil's nitrogen content. In the third field, you would grow root crops like turnips or carrots, and in the fourth field, you would let the land lie fallow, allowing it to rest and recover."

Giving a moment for the Maester to scrawl down notes on these instructions, including a small note to follow up on what Nitrogen was, Harry continued, "This system will help maintain the fertility of the soil. While it can be tempting to continue to grow as much grain as possible on apparently fertile land, each different crop takes different kinds of nourishment from the soil, and the legumes or your closes equivalent, will add back what the grains take away.”

Harry, spent a little more time explaining the concept of nutrients and nitrogen in the soil. It turned out the concept of nutrients was known to a basic extent, but they weren’t aware of how crucial it was to replenish it, nor that it could be replenished by simply growing alternative food crops; they’d instead relied heavily on manure

Harry added that “as a nice bonus, it also tends to reduce the build-up of pests and diseases, as they tend to be crop-specific. By rotating the crops, you break the cycle of pest and disease build-up, leading to healthier crops and improved yields."

Even with all this explanation, Maester Garrick was somewhat sceptical that this would work. “It seems almost too good to be true” he said, furrowing his brow. "While I see the logic in your proposal, Lord Peverell, we must be cautious. Our people depend on the harvests, and any mistake could lead to disaster, starvation specifically."

Harry, however, was persuasive, and had the advantage of magic. For the good of all the people here in the North he cast a weak compulsion and concluded. "I understand your concerns, Maester Garrick, but I propose that we try this method at least on the surrounding Winterfell lands, where you and Lord Stark will be able to keep an eye on the process and more easily measure the results. Once you see the benefits with your own eyes, I'm confident that you'll be more willing to share this idea with the other Northern lords."

After some contemplation, Maester Garrick agreed that it made sense to give the four-field crop rotation method a try on a smaller scale, as Harry had suggested. They spent the remainder of the day and the following morning discussing the logistics and implementation of the new farming method. They went over the best way to communicate these changes to the farmers, as well as how to monitor progress and troubleshoot any issues that might arise.

Together, they considered the likely resistance to change from the local farmers, and subsequently laid-out a plan for several meetings and workshops to ensure a smooth transition to the new system.

Of course, they would first have to get Lord Stark on board with the ideas, though it shouldn’t be too much of an issue as he seemed to put a lot of trust in Maester Garrick. Harry also suggested they ask Lord Stark to personally introduce the concepts to the farmers, as he was well respected by his smallfolk, and would be readily followed. They had a plan now though, and Harry felt happy that his efforts would soon have a direct and scalable positive impact on the lives of the locals.

A Few days later, after much time in the library with Maester Garrick and planning with Lord Stark in his solar, Harry took time to get an update on Dobby’s wardstone search.

It seems Dobby had more than one discovery to share, and suggested they plan a clandestine trip into the crypts to show him in person. Harry was intrigued.

That evening, under the cover of darkness and disillusionment charms the trio made their way back into Winterfell proper, moving from shadow to shadow for added effect. Quickly venturing out of sight into the lowest levels of the vast Stark family crypts.

After clearing up yet another pile of rocks blocking their way, Harry found Dobby waiting expectantly by a blank stone wall. Dobby had been popping through any blockages, simply making a big enough gap to see through and popping to the other side.

As Dobby had finally stopped and taken to simply watching Harry with a knowing smile, he got the message that there might be something here. Sirius was casting around with his wand, but Harry instead paused for a moment, internalised his magic, took a deep breath, and pushed, reaching out with his magic to see sense for any clues. Immediately the wispy string of a waiting trigger charm on the wall seemed to snag his magic and test it. Harry recognised this as a family trigger wall, often used in the more sensitive parts of the more ancient family libraries and vaults.

The charm must have sensed his Peverell ancestry, and possibly his connection to the Hallows, which was a relief, because he’d not intended to trigger the charm. A failed attempt could be rather nasty depending on the built-in defence mechanisms.

Almost immediately a great rumbling began and the wall itself sunk into the floor, revealing a hidden chamber behind.

The chamber wasn’t grand by any means, almost like it was prepared with great haste. Harry moved into the dimply lit room and was immediately struck by the sight of a beautifully carved weirwood throne sitting in the centre. On closer inspection, Harry noted an ornate weirwood crown hung on the left arm.

The crown wasn’t ostentatious by any means, but held a stark beauty of its own. The silvery white wood of the crown was accented by gems formed of what looked like the fossilised red sap of the trees. A direwolf head carved out of something that looked like obsidian was inlaid into the center piece on the front of the crown. Harry wasn’t here for fancy hats though, and he had plenty of jewellery cluttering up his trunk already, so he left the crown where it was and continued to scan the chamber.

Behind the chair, Harry spied a small collection of wooden cases, they were covered in dust and dirt, but he could tell they were filled to bursting with gold coins. Taking a closer look, he noted the picture of a wolf stamped on the coins inside. Somewhat different to the Dragon and star coins he’d encountered so-far.

Overall, Harry thought the room had an odd feel to it. With the throne hidden away down here gathering dust and the crown unceremoniously hung on one of the arms. Along with the cases of gold the Starks almost certainly weren’t aware of. Harry got the feeling this was all hidden away in a hurry.

Maybe it was hidden away to keep these artifacts from the Dragon Lords when they swooped down to demand the North bend the knee. Or maybe earlier, during some other calamity, of which he was sure there were many over the last few thousand of years. Either way, the Starks had either forgotten about this room or had possibly born a generation without enough magic to trigger the door mechanism. Thankfully, Harry was sure the current Lord Stark had enough of a magical core to activate the trigger.

The gold was of little interest to Harry, but would make a welcome addition to the Winterfell treasury if he could find a way to surreptitiously point Lord Stark in the right direction. He was sure they’d be excited to find the crown and throne as well. From the bits and pieces of knowledge he had gleaned in the Winterfell library, both artefacts were of great importance to the history for the North.

For Harry though, the most important finds were the piles of dusty scrolls and tomes stacked neatly on equally dusty shelves at the back of the room. Seeing this as the opportunity it was, Harry roped both Sirius and Dobby into spending much of the night creating conjured copies of the ancient scrolls so he could study them in detail later. There was bound to be a wealth of knowledge here. He was so gleeful at the find, that he missed both Dobby and Sirius giving him side-eye looks and occasionally making loud exasperated sighs.

For Sirius’s part, he was already a little bit drunk, having not previously been warned about their clandestine night-time mission. He wasn’t entirely sure what Harry had pulled him into, but strangely enough, it wasn’t his first rodeo with grave-robbing, so he just went with the flow. “I’m so glad you found me Harry, I haven’t done such weird stuff since back in my marauder days” he chuckled, while hovering a skull off some more scrolls.

At a glance the scrolls mainly covered the old Northern kingdom’s history and customs, but to his pleasure, a rare few covered the Stark Family magics in the form of Warging and Greenseeing. Harry had read hints of these magics in other books he’d collected in their travels, but never found any detailed guidance or learning aids. He now had exactly that guidance in his hands.

Still more scrolls finally gave him detailed introductions to the First Men runes that he’d been so diligently seeking in the library above. Harry noted that he’d have to find some way to thank Dobby for finding this loot ... ahem, these books. Definitely not loot. Harry didn’t have a book stealing problem. Not at all. Regardless, this find was priceless.

After the trio had finished copying and storing all the books, Dobby led them further into the crypts, to his next find. Dobby stopped in from of another wall much deeper in the crypts. In-fact, they might have finally reached the end of the crypt tunnels, which wound around in circles, twisting ever deeper under the castle grounds.

The walls and looming statues that surrounded them in this section had clearly seen the passing of many thousands of years. This time it was clear the space in front of them was supposed to lead somewhere, being framed by an ornately carved archway, and flanked by the statues of Stark ancestors.

Harry almost did a double take when he noticed that the statue of a lady on the left had the symbol of the Hallows carved prominently in the base. This must have been his ancestor, the daughter of Ignotus that married Bran the Builder and started the Stark line. Now this was interesting. If they brought Lord Stark down here, he would be sure to point it out.

It was impossible to see if there was any family resemblance given time and damp had worn away the finer features of the statue. Not that it was necessary anyway, given how prominently the living Starks carried the famous dark hair of the Potters and Peverell’s.

Of course, whether they actually brought Lord Stark down here would depend heavily on what they found on the other side of this wall. Harry was excited to see what Dobby had uncovered here.

Reaching out with his magic again, Harry felt a similar family trigger mechanism on this wall. This time though, the magic felt more familiar. It was very likely it had been cast directly by a Peverell. For the charm to have maintained its potency all this time was a great indication that whatever lay beyond held a vast amount of magic.

The trigger clicked again at feeling Harry’s magic and the wall sunk into the floor with another great rumble. Harry quickly cast bubble head charms over the trio as the rumbling created a large plume of ancient dust from tunnel walls. As the dust settled, Harry released the bubbleheads and gasped as he got his first view of a vast wardstone inlaid with obsidian, sitting entwined in the thick roots of what must be an ancient Weirwood tree judging by the whitish colour.

This link to the tree might have been the greatest discovery of the night. After waving his wand over the stone and roots, muttering various diagnostic charms, Sirius noted that the tree seemed to be a conduit, condensing magic from the surrounding air and funnelling it into the roots.

Following Sirius’ various charms with diagnostics of his own, Harry noted that the wardstone in turn appeared to draw magics from the roots and cast a vast ward into the surroundings, releasing the gathered magic and creating a sort of symbiotic relationship.

Harry immediately theorised that these trees could serve a similar purpose to the smaller soil fertility and weather moderation wards he planned to create.

It struck Harry that if he could show Lord Edwyle the scrolls on magic and the wardstone, he may be able to use it as the segue he’d been looking for to introduce the idea of magic to the man. Surely he’d be receptive if he could see it as a rightful part of his family legacy.

As they diligently copied down the rune sequences used on the main wardstone, Harry came to a symbol he knew well. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows had been used here in a rune sequence of some kind. A powerful one judging by its placement near the center of the stone.

Stopping to take a closer look he observed that a small number of the runes in the sequence were Nordic in origin, clearly from his old world. Harry was excited as he knew this could be the key to integrating this new language into some truly powerful rune sequences. They looked fairly basic though, and he could tell much research would be needed before he could combine his wizarding ward schemes with First Men runes.

Harry let out his magic to feel the ward emanating from the sequence, intent on divining its purpose. He needn’t have tried too hard though, the intent of the ward felt clear to his magic the moment it touched. It kept the dead at bay. Nodding to himself, Harry found he wasn’t surprised to find his ancestor had placed such a ward at the center of Winterfell. It was just more evidence of the White Walkers sitting in the north.

With a copy of the main wardstone runes, and a slight gift of magics from each of the trio to boost the trickling wards, they apparated home, keeping the details of this wardroom in mind so they could return at a later date if needed.

Dobby was happy to have helped Harry uncover more hidden magics, it always filled Harry with such joy. Particularly when Harry found books to steal. It was an odd thing to collect, and if he was honest, Harry seemed almost unhealthily obsessed with hoarding books, but who was Dobby to judge.

Dobby would have to keep his eye out for any more hidden caches as they continued their travels. Though really, there wasn’t much of interest in those damp underground rooms to interest Dobby. Particularly since Harry had specifically told him not to clean the crypts.

According to Harry, “underground mazes and graveyards aren’t supposed to be in perfect condition”. Apparently, it “ruins the ambiance” or something like that. Dobby had just sighed and shrugged his shoulders at that point, it didn’t make sense to him, but he would just have to trust Harry on this one.

Not that it mattered all that much. Dobby had already found a rich treasure room for himself on the first day of his searching. A room filled to the brim with socks of all different shapes and sizes. Now that he’d finished helping Harry, he might as well make a quick visit.

Chapter 13 Teaser:

...“ Nella had always seen more than others, she was a dedicated follower of the old gods, and she felt they had gifted her with deeper sight. Some would call it magic, others would call her insane, but she wasn’t bothered either way, it never affected her duties.

Nella was however, quite sure she was going dotty, she was sure of it. Naught but five days ago she saw a Child of the Forrest toddle through the main hall following Lord Edwyle and two strangers into his Solar like it was any other Sevenday.”

Chapter Text

Last Time:

... “Dobby was happy to have helped Harry uncover more hidden magics, it always filled Harry with such joy. Particularly when Harry found books to steal. 

Though really, there wasn’t much of interest in those damp underground rooms to interest Dobby.

Not that it mattered all that much. Dobby had already found a rich treasure room for himself on the first day of his searching. A room filled to the brim with socks of all different shapes and sizes. Now that he’d finished helping Harry, he might as well make a quick visit.”

Chapter 13: Family Secrets

Nella had always seen more than others, she was a dedicated follower of the old gods, and she felt they had gifted her with deeper sight. Some would call it magic, others would call her insane, but she wasn’t bothered either way. It never affected her duties as a Lady’s maid for Lady Stark.

Nella was however, quite sure she was going dotty, she was certain of it. Naught but five days ago she saw a Child of the Forrest toddle through the main hall following Lord Edwyle and two strangers into his Solar like it was any other Sevenday. A child of the Forrest wearing far too many hats, and what looked like socks covering his coat.

Then just last night she’d watched the creature and the two strangers sneak through the main gate and into the crypts. Though sneaking was a generous definition of their activities, they’d walked through the gate in full sight of the guards, yet no one noticed the intruders, who seemed to shimmer in the torchlight spilling out from the guardhouse. The only concession to being clandestine seemed to be their slightly hunched figures and the middle one jumping clumsily from shadow to shadow like a child playing a poorly constructed game of hopscotch.

She watched the exit to the crypts all night, rocking on her chair and slowly darning her Lady’s old socks. She was darning these socks because an unusual volume of odd pairs seemed to be coming out of the washer-woman’s load each day. She did suspect the creature that toddled around with socks darned to his jackets, but she wasn’t sure how to raise the subject, still unsure if she was the only one seeing these hallucinations.

She finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning still rocking in her chair and wondering if maybe she should ask for a temporary leave-of-service to visit her sister in White Harbour. Nothing strange ever happened in White Harbour.

Dobby walked through the corridors of Winterfell carrying a small sack over his shoulder and whistling happily. He’d just made another visit to the basement sock repository he’d found the other day, and filled his bag with a sample selection, one of each type. Leaving a gold galleon as payment just as each time previously.

It was a guilty pleasure but what was the harm in expanding his collection. It was a little strange that no-one was there to take payment, but he was a good upstanding house elf and would never skimp on payment.

On his way out, he spotted an older Lady’s Maid dozing off in a rocking chair. He first noticed that the woman seemed to have an active squib magical core. The level of activity that could allow a squib to easily spot wizarding wards, and illusions of all kinds, even enough magic to brew advanced potions with the right ingredients. He’d have to take note of the more powerful squibs he found; he was sure Harry would want to know.

Just as he was about to pass by, he noticed another pair of socks strewn on the floor, these ones a stunning shade of green. Falling to temptation he carefully deposited one of them into his sack, and replaced it with another gold galleon before Merrily continuing on his way.

Just two days after their foray into the Crypts, Harry had found a suitable book in which he could slip a hint that would point Lord Edwyle in the right direction. That book being the journal of the last King of Winter. Likely the one who hid their treasures in the first place.

Harry tucked the journal in his shirt and made his way out of the library, leaving the Maester to his tasks. Harry was cautious of the Maester when it came to revealing magic. He’d been friendly and helpful so far, and more than willing to at least consider Harry’s various suggestions for improvement of their lands and production, but Harry did note the conspicuous lack of any records even hinting at magic in his Library domain. Harry was sure a library of this age should have at least a few records tucked away on one shelf or another. Maybe a prior Maester of Wintefell was to blame.

With that in mind, Harry made his way to Lord Edwyle’s Solar, asking a waiting servant to seek permission to see the lord at short notice.

In Lord Edwyle's solar, Harry sat down, ready to share his wondrous find with his Stark kin. After the usual greetings, Harry began, “This, is actually a bit of a sensitive matter” he said getting Edwyle’s attention, “I felt I should bring your attention to this journal I found tucked behind some other books, hidden deep in the back of your Library. I feel that if you knew of it, the book wouldn’t have been there to begin with”

“hmm..” Lord Edwyle mumbled, noncommittedly, not entirely sure what this would really be about, but figuring he’d let it play out. “The book?”

Harry held the journal out, for Lord Edwyle, who looked it over with curiosity and flicked though a few pages. “This..” Lord Edwyle began, but paused seemingly to double check, “This, is the journal of the last King of Winter, Torrhen Stark,” Lord Edwyle was incredulous, and they both sat in silence for a moment, as he continue flicking through the pages, and absorbed the importance of this find.

Harry broke the silence. “Of course, it has great value to the Stark line, and is a great find in and of itself, but to get the most value out of it, I’d like you to open it to the page I’ve bookmarked.”

"This," Harry said, pointing to the page, "is an account of how King Torrhen and his most trusted man, Lord Reed, hid the Stark treasury and royal artefacts in the crypts to keep their wealth away from the invading Targaryen’s."

Lord Edwyle's eyes widened, and he leaned in to examine the journal more closely. After a moment, he looked up at Harry and nodded in agreement. "This is an incredible find. I know of no mentions of Stark Lords recovering such a treasury, and we certainly know the Winter Throne and Crown to be lost to time, though they’re mentioned here in the journal” Lord Edwyle replied contemplatively.

Reviewing the passage again, he slowly stood, “we must be cautious in this” he said. “We cannot risk the wrong people learning of this if it truly exists.” Walking to the door with purpose, gripping the journal tightly he continued, “Since you already know though, and were forthright enough to bring this to my attention, I would appreciate your help in searching for this hidden room. More hands make light work after all. Return this evening, just after sunset. We’ll go down into the crypts to quietly investigate.”

“Speak of this to no-one!” He instructed as they parted ways. Harry was pleased with that result. This was exactly the scenario he needed to both ingratiate himself with his kin, the Starks and to hopefully introduce magic with little interreference from others.

Later that evening, Harry quietly met by the crypt entrance with Lord Edwyle, and Ser Cassel, the lord's most trusted sworn sword – to seek out the hidden chamber.

With flaming torches in hand, the trio ventured into the crypts. Harry made sure they stumbled around in their search, not wanting to reveal that he already knew the chamber's location. He subtly guided them towards the hidden wall, making sure they noticed that the smoke from their torches seemed to flow through cracks in the wall, hinting at a concealed space.

As they reviewed the wall in front of them Lord Edwyle searched for a lever or some handle, pressing against the wall and trying various methods to uncover an entrance. In the process, he fortuitously cut his hand on a sharp stone. His Stark blood spilled onto the wall, and a deep rumbling echoed through the crypt as the wall began to sink into the floor, revealing the hidden chamber behind.

As Lord Edwyle looked over the gathered hoard in front of him in astonishment, he couldn’t help but feel that luck was on their side, and quietly gave thanks to the Old Gods for their grace. Glancing to the centre he stood in awe of the throne, sitting in silent watch over the treasury, a throne that, if not for the Dragons, he would sit upon as King. He sighed at that fruitless thought and turned to the bountiful plies of gold coins.

It was no Lannister gold hoard, in-fact he was sure it was fairly modest compared to many of the great houses. It was likely just a portion of the kingdom’s treasury at the time they bent the knee. It would have been suspicious to the conquering Targaryen’s if Torrhen Stark had hidden the entire treasury.

The piles were, however, a mite larger than the gold piles he would usually have gathered together in preparation for the start of winter. This was quite the boon.

With winter having just passed, the Stark treasury was largely depleted. He thought, with a smile, that this gold could drive a far stronger start to the usual frenzy of summer building activities. He’d be able to afford more seed for planting, with plenty of gold left-over to set aside for much needed infrastructure projects.

He suspected many of the suggestions from Harry and Maester Garrick could be funded with this gold. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, he felt lighter than he had all winter. He thanked the Old Gods for this trio of wandering foreign nobles masquerading as merchants. That they decided to visit Winterfell was a blessing; one he could never have seen coming, but was very grateful for nonetheless.

As they delved into the hidden chamber, Harry directed Lord Edwyle and Ser Cassel’s attention towards the scrolls at the back. He picked up one of them, feigning interest while knowing that it contained instructions on Stark magics and a small map to the wardstone hidden deeper in the crypt.

While Harry pretended to examine the rest of the chamber's contents, Lord Edwyle studied the writings on the scroll. His eyebrows rose higher and higher as he read about the ancient magics mentioned within. Although sceptical, he couldn't help but feel curious. He hadn’t mentioned it, but it hadn’t passed his notice that the wall blocking their entrance to this chamber seemed to move as if by some magic, and it seemed to activate only when his blood came in contact. Never let it be said he was unobservant.

After considering his companions on this expedition, he chose to trust them, and showed Harry and Ser Cassel the map he’d found. They agreed that now was as good a time as any to investigate, and set off deeper into the maze of crypts, leaving the gold and artefacts to be moved later.

The air grew colder as they ventured deeper into the labyrinthine passages, the torchlight casting eerie shadows on the dusty walls adorned with cobwebs. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of the countless Stark ancestors buried within, their stone likenesses watching the trio with silent, solemn gazes.

Edwyle had never been this deep, even when he played in here as a child. He was momentarily nostalgic over that particular past-time. His mother had been most displeased with his activities, and the punishment certainly taught him to keep away. As a parent he understood that his mother had most likely just been concerned about the tunnels collapsing. In-fact, they were quite lucky that all the partial collapses they’d passed so far had enough space in them for a full-grown man to pass through.

Finally, they arrived at what was clearly the entrance to a second chamber. He didn’t need the map anymore, he could immediately tell it was an entrance. It was hidden more by its deeper location in the crypt maze than by any other method.

Edwyle was distracted from his perusal of the archway and wall that likely hid the second chamber by a gesture from Harry. “Look… here, at the base of this statue” Harry said as he pointed to the ancient statue of a lady standing guard to the left of the door. “This is the symbol of my house, the Peverell crest”.

Sure enough, Edwyle could make out the slightly worn symbol carved into the base of the statue, clearly matching the Peverell coat of arms. Stunned, Edwyle took a step back and took in the two statues bordering the archway.

“These have to be the first Starks” Edwyle said with a whispered reverence “Bran the Builder and his wife, Lady Iolanthe Peverell”.

“I never thought I’d see their likeness, it is incredible to see tangible evidence of our link to the age of heroes. Of course, if we were to find it anywhere it would be here in the base of the crypts.

Turning towards the lady’s statue on the Left, Stark figured it was as good a time as any to fill Harry in on what he knew of the Stark’s connection to the Peverells. “I have to say, I was surprised when you came to Winterfell claiming the name of Peverell. It’s not a well-known name outside the North, as it hasn’t been heard of in Westeros since the age of heroes. As far as we knew, Iolanthe was the last Peverell, and married Bran to start the Stark line.”

“I had heard of Iolanthe before, but didn’t see the appropriate time to bring it up” Harry said in response “I believe we are linked through her father, Ignotus, who was a common ancestor to both of us. From the legends I had heard North of the wall, Ignotus was a key contributor to the war against the Others in the Long Night, and helped Bran build his wall.”

“Certainly a powerful pair to start a powerful line” Harry concluded, turning to Edwyle.

Edwyle smiled brightly at the compliment to his family line, but raised an eyebrow at the mention of learning things North of the wall. It took but a moment for a few dots to connect in his mind, and he realised that Harry, Sirius and Doberic must, in-fact, have been the hapless merchants he’d been told about by the Night’s Watch. The ones that had ‘accidentally’ ended up on the wrong side of the biggest, most obvious landmark in all of know history.

He filed that observation away. He’d definitely need to get that story from Harry at a later date. Though knowing Harry, he now suspected that their adventures might have been a bit more deliberate than they’d indicated to the prickly Night’s Watch. Probably a bit of wanderlust; they were on a self-ordained exploration of the world after-all.

Breaking from his momentary distraction, Lord Edwyle gave Harry a friendly smile, “You may not hold the Stark name Harry, but as the founders of our ancient house, the Peverell name holds a special place in the hearts of the Starks. Know that you will always be welcome in Winterfell. Not least for all the good you’ve already done here” Edwyle offered his arm to Harry in a brotherly greeting.

“I won’t say no to that” Harry agreed grabbing Edwyle’s hand. “It seems both the Starks and Peverells have been whittled down to only a few members over the years, so I will not say no to more family, no matter how distant.” This had gone a lot better than Harry had thought. He should show his distant relatives long hidden treasure troves more often. Not like he was overloaded with family to spoil after all.

Ser Cassel observed all this quetly, but also had a small smile for his friend, Lord Edwyle, finding new family.

“That being said, we should get back to the matter at hand” Harry said, gesturing back to the wall, breaking the trio from the distraction posed by the statues. “Try cutting your hand and placing it on the wall like you did with the other chamber.”

“Yes, of course, let’s get to it. I was just so shocked to see the founders of my house. But now I’m curious to know what they’re guarding.” Following Harry’s instructions, with only slight hesitation, the wall was soon sinking into the floor with a rumble.

Harry’s two companions on this adventure let out twin gasps at the sight that met them on the other side.

As Harry had observed on his first visit, the wardstone was entwined with weirwood roots, feeding off its magic. Occasionally a dim blue light ran down a root like some sort of mysterious magical pulse. The sight was both awe-inspiring and eerie, a testament to the ancient power that once thrived in the North.

As Lord Edwyle approached the wardstone, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation – as if an invisible force was emanating from the stone, making the air around it hum with energy. He glanced at Harry and Ser Cassel, who seemed to feel it as well.

Harry, seized the opportunity to suggest that this was a live example of some of the magics he’d just read about in the scroll. He theorised further, suggesting that "This sensation is reminiscent of other obscure magics I've encountered during my travels. I probably have more experience with such magics than most, and would be happy to help you investigate and learn more. I can start with understanding the purpose of this wardstone and the power it holds; in secret of course." He took a breath, having made an effort to get the whole pitch out before either of his companions could get out any sort of sceptical response.

Harry needn’t have worried, Lord Edwyle might previously have been sceptical, but he’d grown up on the old tales, and had more reason now than ever before to believe there was something to those myths. He supposed the recent reminder of their somewhat tenuous family connection might help with a bit of that trust as well.

Ser Cassel, ever loyal, followed his lord and friend’s lead, showing far more curiosity than scepticism. Harry felt a sense of relief and satisfaction that he had successfully introduced the concept of real magic still existing to Lord Stark and his trusted man. That they seemed to be handling the news well was the best outcome he could ask for.

If he could build on this acceptance of magic, Harry might eventually be able to open up a few more possibilities for the Starks, and the impact it could have on the North were immense. If need be, he’d associate any unexplained happenings by blaming it on the magics of this wardstone. It was helpful that, to Lord Edwyle, the wardstone was a mysterious ancient tool of unknown purpose; he had no way of knowing its ultimate purpose of keeping the dead at bay.

Later that night, having agreed that the artefacts of this Treasury would remain hidden, while Ser Cassel would slowly siphon the gold into the main Stark Treasury over the next few moons, they made their way back to the surface.

As they moved through the crypts one last time, Harry made one more gambit at getting magic integrated into his uplift plans. “Lord Edwyle, before we part, I think I can offer a bit more help with our plans, though this will have to stay between us to maintain the secrecy of these magics.” Lord Edwyle nodded for Harry to continue, focusing on the path ahead in the dim torchlight.

“I know of people on foreign lands who used to plant smaller runic wardstones, much like the one we saw tonight, to enrich the fertility of the lands they serve. I would theorise that we could do much the same to a far greater effect with the help of the weirwood trees, as we’ve just seen today.. I suspect they have some sort of a connection and possible boosting affect to the ward stone. I will need to investigate the weirwoods in more detail, but I’m confident that with a little trial and error I can translate these runes and prepare a few small ward stones to plant on your farmlands. We might even be able to moderate the weather slightly”.

As Harry shared his thoughts Lord Edwyle slowly drew to a halt, pausing to listen more intently to a plan that, if offered before tonight, would have seen Harry thrown out as a lunatic. Now however, he trusted this could work. He was also shrewd enough to suspect that Harry was leading him along a path of discovery that he already had some insight into. He could respect that Harry was gently nudging him towards something that he never would have believed beforehand. Interestingly, he wasn’t even remotely concerned or distrustful of Harry’s motives, both his gut and his observations told him that Harry was an honest man.

Lord Edwyle agreed almost immediately, and declared that Harry would be paid for this research, even if it didn’t pan-out.

Harry of course tried to refuse the money, but Lord Edwyle wouldn’t hear of it, if they succeeded, this could be game changing for his crop yields, and maybe someday he could quietly deploy such measures throughout the North, reducing their dependence on the South. His eyes twinkled at that thought.

Between these fertility wardstones, and the notes he’d already seen from Maester Garrik on the benefits of Harry’s crop rotation method, they might actually be approaching a solution to the North’s greatest hurdle, that being feeding the population.

Feeling the evening to be both a great adventure, and an even greater success, they each parted ways to their beds, ruminating on the opportunities that would arise from these finds.

Harry was over the moon with his successes in secretly introducing the Starks to magic and the boons he could offer. Of course, he’d be leveraging his own home world’s runes primarily, but Lord Stark didn’t need to know that, and these people deserved the boons he could grant them, especially with such little effort.

Chapter 14 Teaser:

…” The whole thing seemed to focus on a knot of people surrounding the central weirwood tree, upon which they had tied what looked from a distance to be a Child of the Forest wearing Master Padric’s horrid hat and gold rings. They’d covered the creature from head to toe in the tree’s red sap, and some were chanting an old-tongue lyric to ward away evil spirits.

Nella was speechless, what on earth was going on?” 

Winterfell Wardstone: Hidden away in the depths of the Winterfell crypts sits an ancient wardstone. Untouched since it was first laid down by Bran the Builder and his Peverell wife in the Age of Heroes.

Chapter Text

 Last Time: 

 … As Lord Edwyle looked over the gathered hoard in front of him in astonishment, he couldn’t help but feel that luck was on their side, and quietly gave thanks to the Old Gods for their grace.

… It was no Lannister gold hoard, in-fact he was sure it was fairly modest compared to many of the great houses. It was likely just a portion of the kingdom’s treasury at the time they bent the knee. It would have been suspicious to the conquering Targaryen’s if Torrhen Stark had hidden the entire treasury.

The piles were, however, a mite larger than the gold piles he would usually have gathered together in preparation for the start of winter. This was quite the boon.

With winter having just passed, the Stark treasury was largely depleted. He thought, with a smile, that this gold could drive a far stronger start to the usual frenzy of summer building activities. He’d be able to afford more seed for planting, with plenty of gold left-over to set aside for much needed infrastructure projects.

He suspected many of the suggestions from Harry and Maester Garrick could be funded with this gold. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, he felt lighter than he had all winter.

Chapter 14: Back to the Grind Stone 

Despite wanting to spend more time on the First Men scrolls they had recovered from the crypts, Harry had made a commitment to Lord Stark to offer valuable knowledge that could help his kingdom. 

Each night, after a day with the Maester, Harry would delve further into his own tent library, focusing on the history section to gather ideas on low-tech improvements he could introduce to this medieval world. It was all quite mentally exhausting, but it would be well worth it for the quality-of-life improvement he knew could be achieved for the smallfolk of these lands. 

Ultimately, he’d only be sharing a small number of the ideas he’d collated, with the most impactful being the mills and crop-rotation. Most of the other concepts were focused around taking advantage of those innovations. Though Sirius occasionally chipped in with his own thoughts, like cheap animal fat soaps he’d noticed were worryingly absent in this world. 

He felt, this evening, that he was thankfully reaching the finish line in terms of how many new ideas the smallfolk could reasonably be expected to stomach in such a short time, even under orders from their Lord to implement them. Change could be a dangerous thing after-all, and Harry had no intention of creating unrest.

Having shared Sirius's soap-making idea with Maester Garrick, he turned his attention to one final concept, that of introducing Roman road-building methods to Westeros. He knew that true productivity and prosperity would come from open trade facilitated by faster, easier trade routes. 

After all, the romans controlled a vast empire with their improvements to trade and travel through their roads. After the Romans fell, the Venetians, Dutch, Portuguese, and then the English built their own global empires each taking over from the other as they developed better seagoing vessels, roads, and eventually rails to dominate the trade routes.

Forget wars, trade ultimately built these empires. Harry had no interest in an industrial revolution, so rail was off the cards, but roads, rivers, canals and sea routes all offered room for improvement. He’d yet to see any canals in the North, but noted that the river system was vast. He scratched down a note to look into that later.

Harry had already begun considering the benefit of starting his own trading company for these reasons. For the Northerners he would start with roads.

As he researched, Harry confirmed his vague recollection that Roman roads were remarkably long-lasting and hard-wearing, even in extreme climates. After all, the Roman road network extended all the way from the frosty moors of Scotland down do the sandy dunes of the Sahara Desert. Harry could easily see the same building techniques working in the North or even in the drier lands he’d read about in Dorne. Roman roads were designed with a keen eye for efficiency and durability, which contributed to their success in connecting their vast Empire.

Though they would require some level of engineering oversight, and he wasn’t sure such knowledge existed in the North. Thinking of the towering walls around Winterfell, Harry figured they must have some kind of specialist skills in building with stone in the North. Though, despite the absurd size of the castle, it was ultimately just a pile of loose stone carved and stacked together with some wooden support beams. Similar to the medieval castles that dotted Europe.

Northern construction seemed to lack the nuanced complexity seen in the soaring domes of Roman palaces, or the strength and utility of roman cement constructs. Harry recalled that even with all the examples of roman domes still standing in Europe, it took 700 years after the fall of Rome for medieval engineers to regain the skills for making them. At least building roads wouldn’t be too much of a step outside the comfort zone for Northern builders. 

Nonetheless, he would leave instructions to give them a good starting point, and allow the Maester to train some smallfolk in the additional skills they needed. He dropped any of the more complex skills and focused on methods of surveying and planning in his instructions. 

It didn’t escape Harry that the few tracks that were more than mud were still exceedingly winding and rambling. No real engineering seemed to be involved in their roads to-date. He’d heard that the King’s Road might have been a proper engineered construction, which was reflected in its fairly direct route on the maps, but those he spoke to in the taverns seemed to think it was still a mess of mud for the most part, just straighter and wider.

Unlike the winding tracks they’d encountered here in Westeros so-far, Roman roads were known for their straight and direct routes, designed to ensure the shortest and most efficient travel between destinations. This naturally helped travellers save both time and effort, making trade and communication across vast distances more feasible.

Leaving the notes on surveying and route planning to the side, Harry looked into the construction methods. As he recalled, the Romans employed a multi-layered structure that contributed to their longevity, which was a must in a world with no real concept of road maintenance. The base layer consisted of large stones, followed by a layer of smaller stones or gravel. Above that was a layer of compacted sand or fine gravel, and finally, the top layer was composed of large, tightly fitted paving stones.

Thankfully, all of these materials could be found throughout the North, which meant any construction crews Lord Stark sent out wouldn’t have to lug rocks and other heavy materials with them, they could forage in-situ.

Proper drainage was also crucial to the roads' durability and formed a whole page of Harry’s notes. The lack of drainage further explained why many of the tracks they’d found were almost impossible to follow after the winter snow. Many were just mud-pits pretending to be a road.

To accommodate drainage, these new roads would have to be built with a slight tilt, or camber, allowing water to run off the surface and into ditches on either side. This would ensure the roads remained usable even in wet conditions, preventing them from becoming waterlogged.

Finally, Harry added a proposal for Stark sponsored waystations and inns along major routes, to offer rest stops, food, and shelter to weary travellers. Despite travelling most of the North, the trio hadn’t spotted any inns or guard posts along the roads between towns in the North, and the distances between towns were often too vast to cover in a day, even flying. Travelers seemed to accept that camping by the roadside was a necessity.

Harry had initially sent Sirius out to ask the locals about the lack of inns along the routes, thinking they may have just missed them somehow. It was a quite exasperated Sirius that had subsequently informed him “there’s apparently only one such inn on the whole continent, and it’s apparently so well known that it’s simply referred to as ‘THE crossroads inn’.”

“Really?” Harry asked in resignation, “THE crossroads inn? do they only have the one inn, or the one crossroads? Actually, I’ve decided I don’t even want to know.” Harry just shook his head and jotted down some more notes for the Maester, mumbling under his breath about ‘primitive economies’ and ‘medieval sensibilities’.

The waystations would bring in a much needed boost to trade, while also allowing for better policing of the land. They would support the surrounding smallfolk, and movement of information and goods.

With all of the benefits, roman roads seemed like a no-brainer, but Harry could see this would be the hardest project to pitch. The cost of such a project would be immediately prohibitive. Nonetheless, he’d push hard to get Lord Stark onboard, if only due to the guaranteed lift in trade and economic prosperity it would deliver for the region. Maybe he’d encourage them to start on a road to their biggest port first. 

With that final note, Harry struck a line under his last page, signed it, and rolled the parchments up, letting out a sigh of relief.  

Harry felt no qualms in giving such tech advantages to the Northern kingdom above the other kingdoms in Westeros. While he hadn’t yet ventured to the South, he had already started to feel a kinship with the people of the North. From the stories of the Thenn and those he and Sirius had heard so far in the North, he also concluded that the North was the closest in culture to the Thenns, and most likely to accept those of magical heritage. 

Harry wasn’t yet ready to consider settling down anywhere, but strong allies in the North would always be a boon to Harry and the Thenn, wherever they ended up.

With a sense of satisfaction, Harry called Dobby to send the parchments up to Maester Garrick’s desk in the Castle, knowing the good Maester was more of a morning person, and would read through them all before he made his way up the next morning.

The tent library had become a cosy and growing sanctuary for Harry and Sirius. Surrounded by shelves filled with books on various subjects, they had transformed the space into a haven of knowledge and comfort. Soft rugs covered the floor, while plush armchairs and a small table occupied the centre of the room. A magical, ever-burning hearth provided warmth and a soft, flickering light that cast a gentle glow over the pages of the books and scrolls they studied.

Sirius looked up from the dry material on Roman road construction that Harry had roped him into helping with, his thoughts starting to drift.  Racking his brain for something, anything that might be more interesting to occupy his time, Sirius’ mind turned to that fellow Padric. The smarmy Master-of-the-Market that had just been asking to be pranked. 

Knowing how short of food they were in Northern winters, the pudgy nature of this fellow, who was clearly skimming from the top, just rubbed him the wrong way. The man simply reeked of all sorts of minor corruptions. Actions that likely left others to suffer just that bit more during winter. He smirked at the thought, Sirius was a self-proclaimed pro at petty revenge, and here was a deserving target. 

Shooting one last glare at the book that had been slowly torturing him with boredom over the last two hours, “10 exceedingly mundane facts about road construction you never thought you’d need to know”, he picked it up and threw it back into the waiting pile. With a stretch and a wide yawn, he hopped up and made his way to the magic section in search of inspiration. 

After a few false starts, Sirius found exactly what he needed in a book on illusions. This spell would cause the target to look like a house elf, to all parties bar themselves. In-fact it had a bit of a similar effect to the amulet they’d made for Dobby, but it would be temporary.

The original spell was created by a pureblood as a form of deep insult, but Sirius felt it would be suitable here in making people think the Master was one of the mythical Children of the Forest. Which of course he would vehemently deny, creating exactly the type of confusion and chaos Sirius preferred.

“Hmm” Sirius mumbled to himself, scratching his chin in thought “surely Harry wouldn’t be too worried about the blatant use of magic in the prank if it could be mistaken for one of the North’s existing legends. It’s not like anyone would link it back to us anyway.”

Thinking he could make this a bit of a longer-term deterrent, Sirius also pulled down a book on Magical Contracts. If he could get the Master to sign a contract, he could use it as an anchor for the spell effect, causing it to re-occur whenever a term of the contract was broken.

He’d just need to set the terms to say something along the lines of ‘the signee will refrain from overcharging merchants’ and every time the term is breached, he’ll know it, and that self-knowledge will trigger the contract, until such time as the contract is destroyed or no longer gathers enough ambient magic to operate.

The marauders had done something similar to Ethel Prewett in Ravenclaw when they’d learned she had a habit of stealing supplies from first years. With the help of the contract, the spell would re-trigger every time she knowingly stole again. It was a simple case of adding the terms in between some boring an innocuous legal jargon on a contract they prepared for anyone ordering Honeydukes from the Marauders. This wasn’t even hard to arrange, because all the students knew the Marauders ran a small sweets and goods acquisition service for a price, which they ran in-between Hogsmeade weekends when students had no easy access to town.

The following day, Sirius woke with a renewed sense of purpose. He had spent most of the night researching magical contracts and refining his plan for the prank.

Though he had lost himself much deeper in the research than he had initially intended when it occurred to him that they could probably use these contracts to their advantage throughout Westeros. It would be much easier to rely on automatically enforced contracts than to just blindly place their trust in the wide range of people they would inevitably engage with in their travels.

Even just maintaining secrecy about a topic could be enforced through agreement in the contract, preventing loose tongues. Sirius put that research to the side for future reference, he was sure it would come in handy.

After getting Harry onboard with this bit of mischief over breakfast, Sirius set about getting his scheme in motion.

Harry simply gave him the gimlet eye and moved off to the Castle to meet with the Maester for something or other. He was such a Nerd sometimes, but Sirius loved him like a son nonetheless.

Sirius made his way into the marketplace, where he knew he would find the rotund, smarmy Master of the Market. The man was always there, keeping a sharp eye on his numerous ventures and ensuring his pockets were well-lined. Though Sirius did note he looked a bit more dishevelled than the last time they spoke. Sirius considered it might be the result of the Master ‘misplacing’ the 10 leprechaun gold coins Sirius had paid him previously, wishing he’d been there to see the result in person.

As Sirius approached the Master, he put on his convincing facade of a simple, bumbling merchant, seeking advice from a more experienced professional. Sirius not-so-quietly mumbled to himself about having discovered a source of gold in his travels further north, while stretching his head and mumbling further that he needed to figure out what to do with this information. All this hapless mumbling was done well within hearing distance of the Master, knowing full well that the man's greed would see him insist on being brought in on this find.

Having been quickly accosted by the Master, and taken to a quiet tavern, Sirius spun a tale of vast profits from this hypothetical gold mine. Sirius allowed the Master to nudge and push his way into a joint partnership. This gave him the perfect excuse to bring out the parchment contract, explaining that it would ensure their partnership remained exclusive and that any shared knowledge would be protected.

The contract was simple, and the clause he needed wasn’t even all that hidden, it simply stated that the signee would not knowingly commit any criminal act until the partnership expired, in two moons or until the gold is found, whichever period is shorter. Sirius didn’t want this prank to go on too long.

Sirius had of course written the penalty clause in invisible ink, linking it to the charm that would illusion Padric as a house elf for a good few hours after every breach. Such a trick would be impossible in the wizarding world, where no self respecting wizard  would ever sign a serious contract not written on goblin parchment, which would burn away invisible ink, and would glow red at any sign of trickery in the terms. How the goblins detected such things was beyond any Wizard’s understanding, just as the Goblins liked it.

Eager to secure the supposed profits, and thinking that he could ignore the contract either way, Master Padric hastily signed the contract. Sirius was honestly impressed that he could even read, but he supposed that’s how he got the job in the first place.

Sirius concealed his glee at a prank well executed, shook the man’s hand, and wandered off, thinking he’d spend the rest of the day working on his DIY broom. It now reached 5 feet off the ground, which he was rather chuffed with.

Over the next few days, whispers began to spread that Master Padric was actually a mischievous Child of the Forest in disguise. It honestly wasn’t a glowing endorsement of Children of the Forest, because Master Padric was a bit of a dick, but it did seem to fit in with the tales their old folk told of magic being a double-edged sword. Not all magic beings would necessarily be friendly.

Some of the elders did have a few suggestions on how to purge Master Padric of evil, and hopefully return him to the shape of a man. Whether they were serious suggestions, or just sarcastic comments by previously burnt clientele of the good Master, no one was sure, but most of the locals were willing to try their suggestions either way.

Nella hadn’t heard any of the whispers in the town about Master Padric, she had been far too busy over the last few days, squirreled away in the castle desperately darning new pairs of socks for her lady. She never did find the old ones, but she would be a monkey’s uncle before she let her lady go out with an odd pair of socks.

She was therefore very much surprised when she walked down to the town to fetch more yarn, only to find most of the townsfolk congregating in the godswood, with some sort of small festival underway.

The whole thing seemed to focus on a knot of people surrounding the central weirwood tree, upon which they had tied what looked from a distance to be a Child of the Forest wearing Master Padric’s horrid hat and gold rings. They’d covered the creature from head to toe in the tree’s red sap, and some were chanting an old-tongue lyric to ward away evil spirits.

Nella was speechless, what on earth was going on. There was no festival scheduled until the harvest. Following some frantic whispered questions to her kin and friends who all seemed to be in on this weird event, she was informed that they weren’t honestly sure what to do about Master Padric. But they all agreed this was probably a good start.

Nella looked to the child wearing Padric’s clothes, then back to her friends, and simply gave them a deadpan look. She knew that somehow her friends were involved in this suggestion, they’d all wanted to tie the man to a tree at some point, or worse, it just seems they’d suddenly found a reason.

That the Master was actually a Child of the Forest was a whole other rabbit hole she wasn’t sure she wanted to go down. Though there was a lack of agreement on this. Some thought the Master had been kidnapped, and that this event was to get the being to confess and return the Master, though most didn’t seem too keen on him being returned, they were just having fun with the process.

Others thought Master Padric was shapeshifted by a woods-witch as punishment for his corruption, and that this was an event to cleanse his corruption. Either way, they were all having lots of fun, so they generally agreed that everything was fine, and all agreed that tying him to a weirwood could only be an improvement to his snappy and slimy character; there were surprisingly few dissenters to this plan, and that’s how this whole impromptu little festival started.

Nella now knew exactly what was going on, and yet somehow felt like she knew less than when she’d started, and certainly wished she hadn’t asked. Though she could understand the festive atmosphere. Many townsfolk were still in high spirits due to the cheap fresh foods brought by those merchants, so she understood how even the first mention of a small cleansing ceremony quickly cascaded into the town festival Nella found before her.

Little local stalls had set up between small fire pits and children were dancing to some new songs about the Coming Sun and the Hungry Wolf. The place was definitely going insane, but Nella smiled anyway, it was nice to see so much happiness. Well, Master Padric didn’t seem too happy, but that didn’t bother her. She just hoped Lord Stark didn’t hear of this insanity.

Handing over some coppers to a food vendor, she happily nibbled on something foreign called a potato jacket. She also saw a small shrine of flowers set-up by the second largest weirwood, along with a single flickering candle on a pedestal; next to all this stood a hawker that looked a lot like the maid from the Tavern in town, offering a dragon for any who could extinguish the divine flame of the old gods. Nella shook her head and decided she could do without buying yarn today, instead she’d head back up the hill to the relative sanity of the Castle. 

Chapter 15 Teaser: 

…”Harry stepped into the ring in the middle of the training yard, his muscles warming up as he ran through a few of his sword forms and footing exercises. He had donned the boiled leather armour they had put together for him, and held the sword of Gryffindor, feeling the familiar weight in his hand.

Sirius, on the other hand, walked into the yard swinging the training sword they had loaned him with little form but a lot of confidence. He seemed to be more focused on putting on a show than preparing for the upcoming matches.”

Chapter Text

Note: Here's an early chapter as a Christmas gift to all my readers. Thanks for all your support this year. I've so enjoyed writing this story for you, and I look forward to seeing what chaos our wandering trio cause next year. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all :-)

Last Time: … Lord Edwyle gave Harry a friendly smile, “You may not hold the Stark name Harry, but as the founders of our ancient house, the Peverell name holds a special place in the hearts of the Starks. Know that you will always be welcome in Winterfell. Not least for all the good you’ve already done here”

Chapter 15: Into the Training Yard 

On one of the warmer days, with the sun finally shining in a mostly cloudless sky, Harry and Sirius, feeling the need to take a break from their various projects, decided that a little exercise would be good to get their blood pumping. And what better activity in the medieval world than a bit of sword swinging in the training yard? The idea of it actually had Harry a little giddy.

Harry had trained hard under the tutelage of master Goblin warriors, and was keen to test his own skills against those of the medieval swordsmen of Westeros. Harry was sure he would make a good showing in the training yard, and that wasn’t even counting the powerful strength and agility charms he’d learnt from the Black library family magics. He doubted he’d need to apply any of those charms in the yard today, but he should find some time to practice those as well, he might be getting a bit rusty.

Harry smirked to himself, of course, he hadn’t informed Sirius of his skills with the blade yet, the last time Sirius knew him, he was a hapless 15 year old.

Sirius had some duelling training from his childhood under tutors hired by the Black Family and, in his usual way, Sirius was very confident in his abilities. He was frankly strutting as they made their way down to the training yard, hearing the clank of blunted steel on steel from a few already going through their afternoon training routines.

As they approached the training yard, Harry couldn't help but smile at Sirius's enthusiasm. He admired his godfather's confidence and eagerness to learn, even after all these years. It was a testament to their resilience and adaptability in this strange new world.

Upon reaching the yard, Harry spotted Ser Cassel, the Master at Arms, overseeing the training of several guardsmen.

“Ho there, Ser Cassel” Harry greeted from halfway across the yard, “mind if we join?” he queried, getting the attention of most in the yard.

Harry trotted over to the older man, smiling ear to ear at the rather taken aback look on Ser Cassels face. Harry concluded that Ser Cassel had written him off as a curiosity but non-threat. The type of lordling that’s overly educated by Maesters, and undereducated by the fighters of the household.

“I hope you don’t mind” Harry started again, getting the knights attention back to reality, “it’s been too long, and we’re both keen to brush the rust off our sword forms, you never know what we’ll encounter on the road,” looking around at the guardsmen in the yard, Harry continued, “And I’d love to test myself against some of the North’s finest” knowing that such a compliment would be well received, even if it might be a bit of an overstatement. Harry saw a few chests puff up at that comment.

Ser Cassel shook himself a bit and finally responded, "You're merchants, aren't you?" he inquired gruffly. "And minor foreign nobles, if what I’ve heard is correct." He was obviously asking this loudly for the benefit of the guardsmen, as Ser Cassel knew them full well, having accompanied them on the still secret discovery of the Winterfell treasure and wardstone.

Harry understood that Ser Cassel probably wanted the guardsmen to know their standing, and not write them off as passing, uppity merchants.

“Aye, that’s us” Sirius replied, already looking over the blunted swords in on the racks. “Can we borrow these? Our own swords are obviously too sharp for a training bout” he added.

Ser Cassel nodded. “Ah, yea, that and some protective gear, we wouldn’t want you injured, a friend of Lord Stark is always welcome in the training yard, but are you sure you’re up for it?”

He’d added the friend comment to further establish their position for the benefit of the guards.

Sirius replied confidently, his chest puffing out a bit. "We're quite skilled in the art of swordplay, I assure you."

Determined to be less flowery in his response, Harry took on a more solemn tone for effect, “I’ll not comment on my own ability” he said, “I’ll let you find out in the ring. Actions speak louder than words.” A few of the guards seemed to like this comment, grunting in response or in challenge to what were obviously fighting words.

Ser Cassel raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, if you're as capable as you claim, I'll be happy to go a round with you myself. I'm curious to see what foreign nobles can do." That got a few whistles and cheers. Everyone seemed keen to see something new, especially since they were the first real visitors since winter ended. Things got a bit stale when the guardsmen only had each other to train with over the winter, and even fewer bandits to fight in the field. Harry simply grinned, this would be fun.

While they waited for Ser Cassel to arrange the protective gear, mainly some greaves and a chest plate, Harry took the opportunity to observe the guardsmen around them. The men moved with fairly good precision and skill, clearly well-trained and disciplined, though he got the impression their stamina could use a little work.

Harry suspected the concept of endurance exercise was not really established, nor was weight lifting or muscle mass. They did however have a clear and strong focus on accuracy and sword form, so he couldn’t really fault them. He found himself silently admiring their techniques, hoping to glean some new insights that he could apply to his own fighting style which was clearly quite different.

Harry noticed Ser Cassel send a page boy scurrying off, no doubt to inform interested parties about the spectacle unfolding in the yard. He glanced at Sirius, who seemed entirely unconcerned.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Lord Edwyle and Maester Garrick made their way to the training yard, eager to see the merchants-turned-swordsmen in action. Harry felt a twinge of apprehension as he caught the Lord Edwyle’s scrutinizing gaze, but it faded quickly, he had no reason to be concerned, his skill was nothing to scoff at, even if he’d been rather lax in training during his time in Westeros.

Harry unsheathed his blade and took a few swings, deciding to begin warming up with his own blade while he waited for Ser Cassel to sort out their training equipment. He got a bit of attention when he drew the sword of Gryffindor from his hip. He had taken to carrying it with him everywhere, but it was quite flashy sword, so he had a mild notice-me-not cast on the scabbard.

The blade itself received many appreciative and covetous looks from others in the yard now that it was clearly on display. Harry could understand why of course, it was a beautiful blade, possibly one of the greatest achievements of goblin forging in his old world. The blade was currently in the form of a longsword, the longsword being Harry’s preferred blade, though the sword itself could change according to the user’s will.

The handle and cross guard glinted in the light of the sun, shining gold for all to see, and on the pommel sat a ruby large enough that that it could easily sit in pride of place on a king’s crown. The blade itself shone sliver, but was much stronger than the colour of the metal would suggest, having been forged from near-impregnable goblin silver. Harry was sure the blade was stronger than anything this world could throw at it, and sharp enough to carve a rock in two like it was butter. No armour would stand up to this blade.

The goblins had been impressed with the addition of basilisk venom to the blade and the tale Harry told of his battle against the Basilisk. In recognition of this great feat, the goblins had carved his name on one side of the blade, to join the engraved name of ‘Gryffindor’ on the other. Harry himself was quite proud to have been considered worth of being named beside Gryffindor and was happy to notice that whatever magic the goblins had carved into the sword had caused the engraving to change to ‘Peverell’ when he entered this world and took up the name of his ancestors. 

The goblins had also provided Harry with a simple enchantment they layered on similar blades which could remove the effect of the venom temporarily at the will of the user.  

Of course, Harry wouldn’t use this sword in his training bout. Even though it had enchantments to temporarily blunt the blade, it would raise a whole lot of unnecessary questions amongst those around him. All these men knew that your blade was your pride, and none would ever deliberately blunt their sword, that’s what training swords were for.  

Without the help of magic, the blunting of a sword was a permanent damaging of the weapon, you’d never get it back to its original state. Nor would anyone here believe he carried a pre-blunted sword as his main weapon, that would just make him look like an oaf. So after a few more swings, to get into a pace for practicing his sword forms, he removed the scabbard and made to hand his sword to a page for safe-keeping. 

A call of “Harry” pulled him out of his hunt for a page to hold his sword. Looking over to the source of the call, Harry saw Lord Edwyle walking towards him with Maester Garrick in tow. The Lord stopped in front of Harry and stared at the sword for a moment.  

“That is a beautiful sword”, he said, “I have never seen it’s like, and I have seen many famous swords.” 

“What is it made of” asked Maester Gerrick 

“Silver” 

“You must be jesting” Maester Gerrick replied in shock “silver is too soft to form a good sword, and certainly not one of this quality. Though I concede that the colour does seem correct for the metal.” 

“It is perhaps the greatest sword, forged by the most celebrated smiths of the land I come from” Harry stated with pride “I can’t claim to know the secrets of its make, because those secrets were held most jealously, but there is no doubt that the blade is a form of silver hardened beyond its normal attributes. Much as the gold in the hilt is hardened for use in the sword” 

“Gold!” the Maester exclaimed staring in shock at the hilt of the sword which he had assumed was some form of polished bronze. “Such a sword would be priceless. Even the king does not have such a blade! What would it cost to commission such a sword?” 

"It could not be commissioned. There is no-one in this world that knows the secrets to re-forge it.” 

Maester Garrick’s eyes took on that hungry look he often had when discussing new knowledge and ideas with Harry “Ah, secrets lost to the ages then, much like the secrets of Valyrian steel. How exciting.” 

Harry had of course heard of Valyrian steel and seen the great sword hanging in Lord Stark’s solar. He had observed the ripple of grey and black that spilled across the blade. It looked a lot like Damascus Steel from his old world. Damascus Steel was a wizarding creation, and had befuddled many a muggle given it originated from some of the many failed attempts by wizards to copy goblin forging techniques. 

Though in his brief time near Lord Stark’s sword, he had felt fire magic wrapped tightly around the blade, which was certainly new. Something to look into. 

Maybe he should try to try reforge Valyrian steel himself. Harry was sure there were some books in his library on how to make Damascus steel, which was probably at least halfway there. Either way, he was fairly confident Valyrian steel couldn’t hold a candle to a proper goblin forged blade. 

"Where did you come across such a sword then?” Lord Edwyle continued. 

“This sword was forged for an ancestor of mine who was a great warrior millennia ago” Harry turned the sword over showing the names ‘Gryffindor’ and ‘Peverell’ carved into the blade. 

“We have a similar ancient sword in our family.” Lord Edwyle commented in response, pleasantly impressed by Harry’s ancient familial sword. “Ice is made of Valyrian steel and had been passed down the main line of Starks since the founding of the house under Brandon the Builder. Surely to hold such a blade as this must show great status among your people, much as a Valyrian steel blade does in Westeros.”  

Harry took a moment to consider this. It hadn’t occurred to him yet that the blade he wore at his hip could denote something more to the people of Westeros than the fact he was armed. Looking at the opulent blade in his hand, he felt a bit dumb for a moment. Of course it would mean something to people. To these men, their sword was their life in a very real sense. And even if only the hilt was visible, it was gold with a giant ruby on the end of it after all.  

Casting his mind back to his travels so far, Harry considered that this might partially explain some of the more welcoming attitudes he received from the lords he had met even when posing as a simple merchant. They must have seen the sword and immediately thought he was a lord of some status.  

Well that was certainly useful in its own way. Harry was now glad he had decided to carry the sword on his hip at all times. Still, he felt he should clarify for Lord Stark. 

“The sword is not just passed down from one son to another. It must be earned by those who perform great deeds” Harry continued. “It is a great honour to hold the sword carrying the names and deeds of my ancestors. Though it is true either way, that I am the last of my name.” 

Lord Edwyle was left thinking on the implications of Harry’s last statement. He hadn’t fully realised that Harry and Doberic were the absolute last of the Peverells, he certainly seemed bereft of family, other than his brother, but to be the last was tragic; especially for a man who was quickly becoming a friend. If this is the last of the Peverells, then he should ensure they were kept close to the family. He owed it to the house of Stark and their Peverell matriarch, mother of the first Starks. 

Meanwhile, the crowd in the training yard had grown quiet as they digested the conversation and admired Harry’s sword. Entertainment was hard to come by in this era, so stories of swords with vaunted histories tended to capture attention, even if it was just so they could later recount the story and claim to have seen the sword to friends in the Tavern, obviously embellishing where appropriate. 

Many were now wondering what great deed would be required to earn a sword such as this, and who would decide such a great deed had occurred. Naturally, none of them guessed that a talking hat was the one to grant him the sword. They also wondered what skills they would see in the spars to follow if Lord Peverell was as great a warrior as the sword would imply. Certainly everyone was now anticipating a great show in the yard and no-one was in a hurry to leave. They would not be disappointed.  

As Ser Cassel returned with their protective gear, Harry was genuinely impressed with the quality of craftsmanship and durability of the simple leather training armour. The Starks may be frugal, but they clearly didn’t skimp on quality in matters of war. It was a far cry from the enchanted robes and protective charms they were used to, but there was a certain charm to the simplicity of it all.

As a page tightened the straps on Harry’s gauntlets, he looked over at Sirius, who having his own armour fitted. They shared a knowing smile, both eager to test their skills against the Master at Arms and prove their worth in this unfamiliar world. Harry certainly intended to leave a lasting impression.

Harry stepped onto the ring in the middle of the training yard, his muscles warming up as he ran through a few of his sword forms and footing exercises. He had finished donning the boiled leather armour they had put together for him and had picked out a blunted training sword similar in size and shape to the sword of Gryffindor. The training sword felt heavier in his hand, but nothing he couldn’t compensate for.

Sirius, on the other hand, walked into the yard swinging his training sword with little form but a lot of confidence. He seemed to be more focused on putting on a show than preparing for the upcoming matches.

The first fight was between Harry and one of the guards. The guard was strong and had a solid stance, but Harry's speed and agility was a natural and easy counter to a strong opponent. He dodged and weaved around the guard's attacks, his movements fluid and graceful, occasionally deflecting a blow here or there. In the blink of an eye, Harry struck, his sword finding the necessary gap and swiftly smacking the guard on the arm, causing him to drop his sword. A classic disarming move. The onlookers cheered and clapped, still somewhat surprised by the ease with which Harry won the bout, despite his prior grand story about his sword.

Next, Harry faced Ser Cassel. Harry suspected this would be a more evenly matched challenge. The older man was clearly experienced and frankly, spent his entire life training with the sword. Harry was strong and had incredible reflexes honed during his days as a seeker, but he had only picked up the sword later in life. Since he wasn’t applying any magic enhancements during this training bout, it would likely be a hard fight.

Following a casual bow, they moved in and clashed, their swords ringing through the air as they exchanged a flurry of attacks and parries. Harry was right, Ser Cassel had good reflexes and well honed sword forms, but in the end, Harry had youth, and much greater endurance to his advantage. He also had the benefit of foreign sword forms, for which Ser Cassel had no easy response. Whereas the forms Harry noted from Ser Cassel matched well with old English and French medieval forms; which he’d trained against quite extensively with the goblins.

Harry's lithe form darted back and forth, narrowly avoiding Cassel's powerful swings. At one point, Harry rolled to the side, evading a particularly vicious swipe that would have taken him out had it connected. This was definitely not a delicate duel, this was real sword fighting, rough and hard, Harry was loving it. He grinned and sprang back up, immediately launching a counterattack; his sword slashing through the air in a series of rapid, controlled movements to force Ser Cassel into a defensive stance and to regain his own position after being knocked down.

Cassel, for his part, was not easily deterred. He met Harry's attacks with equal ferocity, his years of experience evident in his precise, calculated strikes. The sound of steel meeting steel echoed throughout the yard as the two combatants pushed each other to their limits. Despite the chilly air, Harry was sweating. This was exactly the exercise he’d been seeking. He grinned again and heaved the sword around to push forward, after two quick deflections had put him on the back foot.

Despite Cassel's impressive skill, Harry's speed and agility eventually won the day. He feinted to the left, drawing Cassel's attention, then darted to the right and delivered a swift, decisive blow to his opponent's side, causing Ser Cassel to stumble. Harry took the advantage and quickly dealt a follow-up blow to the shoulder blade, causing Ser Cassel to drop his sword. The crowd murmured in appreciation, impressed by his skill.

Everyone seemed quite pleased, with the bout, even Ser Cassel, who was panting and rubbing his side, but smiling from ear to ear. It had been a while since two such skilled parties had put on a display like that in the Winterfell yard. Lord Edwyle was well past the age for such things, though a twinkle in his eye suggested he wouldn’t have minded testing his mettle against Harry; imagining the showings of his youth wistfully.

The next two rounds followed a similar pattern, with Harry consistently outmanoeuvring Ser Cassel, much to the delight of the spectators.

Then it was Sirius's turn to step into the yard. His first match was against another guard, and only through accidentally tripping did he avoid the first swing of his opponent. With a stroke of luck, after three deflections and a stumble, Sirius blindly swung back around and caught the guard's wrist, forcing him to drop his sword.

Sirius was quite happy with the win, even though it was hard to attribute it to skill. However, as the following rounds played out, Sirius quickly learned that his duelling skills were quite rusty, and not well suited to the rougher swordplay of a medieval training yard. He struggled to maintain his footing and react to his opponents' attacks, losing as many rounds as he won. He wasn’t terrible, just mostly average, and with that realisation his confident blustering bravado began to fade, replaced by a more serious and determined demeanour.

As the training session wound down, Sirius decided that he should spend time sharpening his old skills with the blade.

Harry also quietly offered to teach Sirius the charms he himself had found in the Black library for increasing strength and agility. This would certainly help him improve quickly and put him in a position to best most swordsmen. Though it was clear to Sirius that in order to keep up with Harry and hold his own against the best in this new world, he would need to put in the effort. He knew that the enhancement spells would lift his skill in a real fight for survival, but nothing beats actual practice. Those spells were just enhancements, not skills in and of themselves.

Of course, Sirius consoled himself that, if it really came down to a matter of survival, he could just start throwing spells around and end things quickly. Sword fighting was clearly an important skill in this world both to hide their magic, and as powerful status symbol. But if the chips were down, then all bets were off, he would be throwing out bombardas like confetti at a parade.

Harry, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment after the training session. He had proven himself to be a formidable fighter, even in this foreign setting. However, he knew that there was always room for improvement and growth, and he vowed to continue practicing and refining his abilities whenever he got the chance.

He decided that, despite the lack of danger so far, he would continue to carry his sword at his hip, much like the other nobles he had met in Westeros. The thought of engaging in real skirmishes as they journeyed through the medieval kingdoms caused him to smile.

He was sure they would meet some truly skilled swordsmen in their travels, and he was keen to test his mettle against the best when the chance arose. Either way, it wouldn’t do to get rusty in a world that seemed to value sword skills so highly.

They'd definitely be coming back to the training yard on a more frequent basis while they were here. And maybe Harry would look into adding a training space to the tent. He might even be able to build some sort of autonomous training manikin to battle against. 

Though, for now, they both agreed that what they most needed was rest.  They felt the exhaustion and soreness that came with a day of intense physical activity.

Working with a page boy to strip the armour, Harry thanked Ser Cassel, and gave a nod of acknowledgement to Lord Edwyle who was now across the other side of the yard speaking to some senior guardsmen. With that the armour off, and their sore muscles starting to make themselves known, the two stumbled back down to the town for rest. Maybe he’d get Dobby to run him a nice bath with one of those soothing bath bombs, Harry thought in contentment.

Chapter 16 Teaser:

...“He can’t possibly have lost another horse,” Lord Edwyle mumbled, attempting to reassure himself, only to have his denial dashed by Harry’s first words.

Harry called to them as he approached with a wave and a smile, “Lord Edwyle” he called, “I can’t say this has ever happened to me before”, he lowers the decibel as they approach closer rubbing his head in an embarrassed manner, “but I seem to have misplaced my horse”.

Harry’s not sure he’s ever received such a sceptical and disappointed look in his life.

Chapter Text

Last Time:  ... “It is a great honour to hold the sword carrying the names and deeds of my ancestors. Though it is true either way, that I am the last of my name.” 

Lord Edwyle was left thinking on the implications of Harry’s last statement. He hadn’t fully realised that Harry and Doberic were the absolute last of the Peverells, he certainly seemed bereft of family, other than his brother, but to be the last was tragic; especially for a man who was quickly becoming a friend.

Chapter 16: A Horse of Course

Lord Edwyle gazed out his window, contemplating quietly as he awaited his guests. His servants would say he was brooding. But that was a natural Stark trait, so no one thought much of it.

In his left hand he held the journal of Torrhen Stark, the Kneeler. He’d been reading journal religiously for the last several days, and it still left him speechless. He felt like the wool had been pulled back from his eyes and he wasn’t entirely happy with what he could now see. “How had the North fallen so far in just 300 years?”

The journal of the last King of Winter was an eyeopener; it covered all manner of everyday life for the brave man who gave up his kingdom for his people. But more importantly, it shared observations on the state of the Northern economy at that time, and it was thriving. Mine sites were mentioned that Lord Edwyle knew did not exist today. Trade routes over the land seem to have faded from the current maps, and a number of major vassal houses that made the North strong back in the day have since fallen to ruin.

Those vassal houses had died out for any number of reasons, and that in itself wasn’t suspicious, but the lack of action to build new houses and man the many forts of the North was indeed suspicious. It spoke of a long campaign to see the North fester and fail. To keep even the Warden of the North ignorant of so much to do with his homeland, must have taken a concerted effort over a very long time.

The worst part was that Lord Edwyle could easily see it being a plot by the Maesters, or the Faith, or the Targaryen's, or all three. To all these parties, the Starks were a quiet but clear threat to their power. It was the only explanation that made sense.

If the journal was to be believed, the North was a true powerhouse before the conquest, possibly the most powerful of the kingdoms in Westeros at the time. It had more gold in its mountains than the Westerlands. It had a naval and trade fleet on both coasts that ruled their respective seas with impunity. Strange that the vassal houses which ran these fleets were among the first to fall. It had strong trade ties with most houses in the sunset sea, and ties with the larger cities in Essos. Then the Targaryens had come through and taken the Northern fleet to form the base of their newly formed ‘royal fleet’ as part of the agreement with Torrhen not to burn through the North as they had in the Reach and Riverlands.

Edwyle was furious at that revelation. He had always believed the tales that the North had no strength at sea ever since ‘Brandon the Burner’ had burnt the fleet in a fit of grief over a thousand years ago. Since the story was so well known, it had seemingly become fact. A story that on reflection made no sense at all, but had the effect of making the Starks look stupid and weakening the North.

If he believed the journal, and he did, then the North’s seafaring vassal houses had hidden most of their fleets from their batty overlord at the time, and simply set about rebuilding what they lost with the full support of the next, slightly more sane, Stark. More importantly, the journal mentioned this rebuilding was done in the many shipyards that dotted the protected coves of Sea Dragon Point and the Bay of Seals. Two areas of the North that now lay abandoned and devoid of strong houses to oversee them.

“Of course that’s what happened” Edwyle mumbled to himself, letting out an exasperated sigh. “If I tried to burn the Manderly’s fleet, all I would get is a black eye and some very miffed neighbours. It would hardly stop them trading or stop them from replacing the boats, probably at my expense”.

 “Stupid really, for anyone to believe this mythical story. How would Brandon have even got his hands on the entire fleet to burn if they were constantly out plying their trade on the seas?” and boy was there a lot of trade going around.

The journal didn’t go into detail on the numbers, but it was clear the North thrived on its trade. It seems their closest allies at the time were the seafaring kingdom of Braavos. It made sense to Edwyle, that they would be close to the down-to-earth people of Braavos. The only other peoples that really understood what it meant to live in the cold of the North, despite being on another continent.

“Well not the only people” Edwyle muttered, turning his thoughts to one of the other more startling revelations. The journal had gone into great detail on King Torrhen’s plans to re-open trade with the Thenn.

A trade relationship that had apparently been dormant for over a century by that time, ever since the burning of Hardhome, which was the main trade port north of the wall. It was a shock to Lord Edwyle that this Thenn relationship was built on a dormant Stark alliance from the age of Heroes that King Torrhen apparently still respected despite its dormancy.

Before Aegon started his war, Torrhen had been working with his advisors on the logistics of getting a trade corridor back up and running. Lord Edwyle was still struggling to process this particular revelation, having grown up with the apparently mistaken belief that the Starks had nothing but enemies beyond the Wall. Lord Edwyle’s own father was slain in battle by a false king from beyond the wall. But he had no reason to believe the Thenns were involved with that travesty of justice.

“Not that it matters” Edwyle sighed, “I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with the Thenn’s even if I wanted to”. A quick scan of the library had turned up no useful information on their apparent northern neighbours. Another strike in Edwyle’s book for the state of things being the result of enemy action. Knowledge on your neighbours doesn’t just disappear by itself. The Maesters had a lot to answer for it seems.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Maester Garrick. The man was a third son from a small house sworn to the Umbers, and was a Northman through and through. The work he’d put in with Harry recently was just proof of how enthusiastic he was about improving the North. So it was clear whatever plot existed, it wasn’t so obvious or direct, at least in this generation.

Some of the older moves were now clear as day to Edwyle though. The most glaring being the stripping of the land in the ‘New Gift’ from the houses of the North. That strip of land was larger than the riverlands, and according to the journal, it was much more fertile. It had been referred to as the ‘bread basket of the North’ back in Torrhen’s day and had singlehandedly supported the entire food needs of the, then much larger, Northern population. Even providing enough excess grain for trade to make the Reach green with jealousy. “Even more green” Edwyle snickered, glad no-one was there to hear his terrible joke.

So why now, was that strip of land laying empty while the North starved through every winter. That would be the not so subtle actions of the Targaryens and the Faith of the Seven. The well known story was that the wife of King Jaehaerys had been “impressed with the valor, bravery, and loyalty of the Night's Watch”. So had convinced the King to grant the New Gift to the Watch as a sign of supreme generosity and appreciation.

“A nice enough story to keep the small folk happy, but I smell a rat” Edwyle thought with chagrin. After all, ‘Jaehaerys the Conciliator’ was mainly known for his efforts to appease the Faith and bring them back into the fold after the uprising of the Faith Militant during the reign of his predecessors. Now Edwyle wondered how much of that ‘appeasing’ came at the expense of the North.

It was no secret that the Faith had been trying to weaken the North and destroy their faith in the Old Gods since the Andal invasion had been turned back at Moat Cailin. He knew very well that when the Faith preached about the ‘savages’ in the North, they didn’t just mean the wildlings beyond the wall.

For thousands of years, the North had been the one holdout against the Faith in Westeros, and a powerful one at that. Then not 50 years after Aegon’s conquest, the food basket of the North was given away and Moat Cailin was largely demolished to provide materials for Jaehaerys supposed ‘king’s road’. “More like a dirt track” Edwyle griped “I’m sure not a single stone from the castle was actually used in that road”.

It was all so clear to Edwyle now, but what was he even to do about it? What could he do to bring back the strength of the North?

All he had ever done was try to keep the North together and their mouths fed, it was all he could afford to do. Now though, now he had chests full of gold sitting in the crypts ready to use, and some long needed inspiration from his ancestors to rebuild the North as it should be.

“perhaps the arrival of Harry and all his ideas and inventions at this junction was destined to be. They came in at just the right time, like the first rays of sunlight in spring, spreading their good fortune to Winterfell and the North.”

Edwyle snorted at himself. He was so dramatic. His son always gave him a hard time over it, but Edwyle secretly thought he would have made a great bard or mummer if fate had dealt him a different hand.

Even so, it wasn’t so hard to see the seismic shifts that Harry had brought to Winterfell. Not least of which was the finding of the Journal itself, by none-other than the last descendant of the original Stark matriarch, Lady Iolanthe Peverell.

Edwyle wasn’t daft, and the coincidences were piling up surrounding this mysterious new friend and distant kin; but all those coincidences were coming up in his favour, leaving Lord Stark to wonder if Harry was sent by the old gods themselves. He certainly had far more knowledge of magics than he seemed to think anyone had noticed.

He sighed at the thought, and made a move to tuck the journal back into the safety of the hidden vault in the floor of his solar, below a moveable Direwolf statue. The last item of note was of course the most dangerous, and the most crucial to keep secret. That being the Stark Family magics that were spoken of in the journal.

Magics that he had been taught to believe were only old wives tales and myths. Some of the suggestions Harry made of using soil fertility wards and weather moderation wards tied to weirwood trees were spoken of in the journal as though that was normal practice for the Starks.

True, Edwyle was easily accepting of magic, and had only been shocked for a moment by Peverell’s mastery of the topic. After all, the North had many stories about the magics of the First Men and the Old Gods had no problem with the idea of such power being wielded by men. But if someone had told him a sennight ago that he would soon begin to rediscover the Stark magics and the Winterfell wardstone, he would have had them sent to the Maester to be checked up.

Even with the journal in his hand and the little he had so far read from the scrolls in the crypts, Edwyle didn’t have a good grasp on the topic of magic. It was truly a godsend to have Harry there to decipher and improve the wardstone under Winterfell.

Not for the first time, he wondered whether Lord Harry was actually working on some long lost Peverell instruction to rescue the Starks should they ever fall, and fallen they had.

Of course, Harry could be here just by happenstance, but it seemed curious nonetheless. For all he knew, the Peverell's might have spirited this journal away on the behest of King Torrhen, who clearly remembered old alliances that the Starks of today had long forgotten.

Maybe these Peverell's carried this journal with them as an heirloom until such time as its knowledge could be used again. They could easily have used the discovery of the secret rooms in the crypts as a method of handing over the journal without raising too much suspicion. He glanced at the now hidden safe, and pondered. It seemed his family had a true friend in the Peverell family, regardless of the truth of these matters.

He steeled himself, and turned back to his desk, making the same conclusion he had made every day since reading that journal. The Starks would fall no further. Harry was already working on proposals, ones that he could now afford to experiment with given the generous treasury in the crypts, and he’d do his own research on those wardstones using the scrolls on family magics also held in that crypt treasury.

Dispersing such magics across the land would be a long term project, and with Harry being a bit of a traveller, he’d not ask him to lay all those stones across the north, or even just across the Stark lands in the North. No, it would have to be the Starks who picked up that task, as they did in the past. But he would be ever thankful to his distant kin for bringing back a piece of their history, and a piece of their family power.

At that last thought, he heard the knock at the door that would likely be Harry and Maester Garrick, bringing their finalised project proposals and blueprints. He called them in, smiling warmly at Harry as he carried several unwieldy maps and parchments into the room. “And so begins the rise of the Starks” he thought to himself, snorting again “so dramatic”.

After another day to finish up the blueprints, along with a rough map of the first proposed road to White Harbour, Harry and Maester Garrick finally felt ready to present their proposals to Lord Edwyle Stark. They’d kept him loosely appraised of the discussions to-date, but he’d been preoccupied with lordly duties, as is to be expected of a Northern Lord at the end of winter, so was still awaiting a proper briefing. They gathered their carefully drawn diagrams, cost estimates, and explanations for each project and made their way to Lord Edwyle’s solar.

Harry was pleased with how invested Lord Edwyle seemed in the projects and plans he and Maester Garrick were putting forward. Edwyle’s interest in the mills and water wheels was to be expected, as they had already broached some of these ideas in passing conversation, along with some of the farming techniques. But Harry was honestly astonished at how well he took to the idea of new roads.

Harry had assumed the roads project would be the hardest sell, with most discounting the necessity of quality roads after hearing the cost. But Lord Edwyle’s ears seemed to pick up at the mention of increased trade. It seemed he was keen to see a lift to the economy, and this was a clear route to start achieving it.

Harry had actually been prepared to use a mild compulsion charm to encourage Lord Edwyle and Maester Garrick to fund this first road to Winterfell, but it seemed that would be entirely unnecessary.

Personally, Harry was more excited by water wheel and windmill designs, which would inevitably revolutionize the forging of steel, and the speed of lumber preparation. Both of which were crucial not just to military purposes, but to enhanced farming. Though it was understandable that Edwyle and Garrick didn’t have the right insight to see the bigger picture yet.

Cheaper, faster steel production could lead to actual steel farming equipment after all. A steel plough, which he hadn’t included in this round of proposals, would be a gamechanger, but he wanted them to take this one step at a time. Roads and simple mills were the tentative step.

________________________________________

With the knowledge that his treasury was now in a better position to fund these projects, thanks to Harry’s astonishing find in the crypts of Winterfell, Lord Edwyle knew he could afford to set the plans in motion. Never had the Starks been able to hit the ground running after a long winter, usually having to scrimp and save the first harvest tax revenue to replenish the coffers.

That being said, the Starks were known for their cautiousness for a reason, and Edwyle wanted to approach these new projects with the same level of prudence.

It was agreed amongst the three of them that these projects would need to start small with one watermill, and one windmill, as the mills would require some experimentation, and the craftsmen would be learning on-the-job as they build each.

The farming methods would also cause quite a bit of consternation and suspicion amongst the smallfolk, who had no reason to believe this new way was better. All those of the North knew that taking risks on your crops could spell death if the harvest were to fail as a result. It had happened in the past.

Lord Edwyle sensibly declared that they would start only on the lands immediately around Winterfell, and he would personally guarantee the income and harvest ration expected from a normal harvest for those smallfolk farmers, which he would be able to dole out from the usual harvest tithes from his vassals.

Lord Edwyle also proposed working with House Manderly to fund the new road to White Harbor. Even with their treasury, it would be hard to justify funding the entire route, and the Manderlys would equally benefit from the construction. As the North's largest trade port, it made sense to connect White Harbor to both the south and the north with better roads. By involving the Manderlys, Lord Stark hoped to create a sense of shared investment in the project and demonstrate the benefits of collaboration between the Northern houses.

Together, they began to outline the next steps needed to bring these projects to fruition.

Two days later, after a bit of back and forth around the logistics involved in these projects, they were ready to get things started.

Harry, Lord Edwyle and a small retinue of guards rode the surrounding farmlands, surveying the possible locations suitable for the first watermill and windmill constructions. It only took a short time to land on an exposed plot atop a hill that they both agreed would be perfect for the first windmill when they eventually got that project off the ground. Though the right spot for a water mill was trickier to find, with the needs for fast moving water and solid banks that could support a large structure.

They had also sent out messengers earlier in the day to arrange for a gathering of the smallfolk farmers and farmhands to speak with their Lord, and to receive instruction from Harry on the process of the new four-field crop rotation.

The farmers were all in awe of being addressed directly by their Lord, and seemed more than willing to follow his every word without question, puffing up with pride when he told them of the great good this would do for the North.

This unquestioning loyalty was a little disturbing to Harry’s sensibilities, but it was the way of this world. He was just glad he knew these instructions would see greater crop returns, he shuddered to think of what would happen if an unwitting Lord mucked up instructions issued by an incompetent Maester. Starvation probably.

On the plus side, the farmers knew their plots like the back of their hand, and it only took a moment for them to point out the best spot for a water mill. Not that they yet knew what a ‘water mill’ was. They were just happy to help their lord.

With the instructions given, and a spot by a fast-moving river marked out for the watermill, Harry found himself short of anything further to take his attention. Lord Stark was finalising his meeting with the gathered farmers and addressed some minor grievances while he was there. These minutiae of local administration held no interest for Harry, so to while away the time, he trotted his horse down the hill to drink from a nearby stream and rest by the waterside.

Harry patiently passed the time skipping stones across the water as his horse drank. Just as he was preparing to re-mount and head back to the others, he spotted a small cluster of standing stones surrounding a Weirwood hidden deep among the trees. Harry quickly strode off in their direction, seeking to investigate in the hopes of finding more First Men runes.

________________________________________

Jace son of Mace, was wandering the quiet forest this evening, having no more chores and, knowing his father was off meeting their great lord, he had nought to do but wander and play. He was surprised therefore, to come across an unattended horse trotting through the stream.

Jace was well versed in horse handling, dealing with them on a regular basis on the farm, so it was no chore, even with his smaller child’s size, to grasp the reigns and bring the horse to heel. Seeing the Stark livery emblazoned on the saddle it was no mystery where the horse belonged. Looking around, he confirmed there wasn’t another soul to be found in the area.

Jace figured this beauty must have run off from the castle at some point. Jace was sure he’d get a few small coins in hand from their generous lord for recovering his horse.

So he mounted up and began the several league trot up toward the castle, enjoying the chance to ride a thoroughbred war horse instead of their small farm pony for once. This was turning out to be a great day.

After a fairly trying conversation on some land rights amongst a few squabbling farmers, Lord Stark moved off with his retinue in the direction of the stream he’d seen Harry head towards, somewhere over the next hill.

Cresting the small hill, Lord Edwyle was not expecting to see Harry already walking towards him on foot. He had been reticent to lend Harry a horse, despite his seeming competence in all other matters of life.

Lord Edwyle could not shake the memory of the constant trickle of raven messages telling him of the mysterious but friendly merchants making their way down through the North, and consistently, every single time, managing to misplace their horse before reaching the next town.

“Where is his horse?…” he pointlessly asks his men with some exasperation. Groaning and palming his face he asks one more time, with more quiet desperation, “Where is his horse? Does anyone see his horse?”.

“He’ll have tied it by that copse of trees” a guard suggested, sure of himself, since he’d not learnt of Harrys propensity with negligent horse misplacement.

“He can’t possibly have lost another horse,” Lord Edwyle mumbled, attempting to reassure himself, only to have his denial dashed by Harry’s first words.

Harry called to them as he approached with a wave and a smile, “Lord Edwyle” he called, “I can’t say this has ever happened to me before”, he lowers the decibel as they approach closer rubbing his head in an embarrassed manner, “but I seem to have misplaced my horse”.

Harry’s not sure he’s ever received such a sceptical and disappointed look in his life. Almost despondent in its deadpan delivery.

“I think”, Lord Edwyle finally says, releasing a breath, “that I’ll send for a carriage, to fetch you.” Nodding as though he’s solved a persistent problem, Lord Edwyle sends a guard back to the castle to fetch a carriage, and a stable boy to watch the horses. He quietly asks the guard to ensure the horses are tied firmly to the carriage and that the stable boy watches them at all times.

Chapter 17 Teaser: ..."a sudden shiver ran down his spine, and the hairs on his neck rose like someone was watching him. This was more than a gut feeling, it was a clear warning from his magic, a subtle sense that served him well during the wizarding war, and he knew better than to ignore it."

Note: Thanks as always for your readership. I enjoy all your lovely comments. If you're a fan of the story, note that there are more freely available chapters published on other sites as I'm not always up to speed on AO3. Just google the title.

Chapter Text

Last Time: ...  To keep even the Warden of the North ignorant of so much to do with his homeland, must have taken a concerted effort over a very long time.

The worst part was that Lord Edwyle could easily see it being a plot by the Maesters, or the Faith, or the Targaryen's, or all three. To all these parties, the Starks were a quiet but clear threat to their power. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Chapter 17: Watching the Watchers, Sensitive Matters

Harry stifled a yawn as he trudged through the halls of the castle, feeling a tad tired having spent the evening copying more books from the library. He was cheered though, by the warm tart he was chomping down on, having just pilfered it from under gaze of the kitchen maids, for an evening snack.

That cheeriness seemed to snap when a sudden shiver ran down his spine, and the hairs on his neck rose like someone was watching him. This was more than a gut feeling, it was a clear warning from his magic, a subtle sense that served him well during the wizarding war, and he knew better than to ignore it.

With practiced ease, Harry hid his reaction and continued on as if nothing were amiss, just casually strolling through the castle corridors while keeping an eye-out for any clue as to what triggered his gut reaction.

As he rounded a corner which would take him momentarily out of sight of anyone trying to follow him, Harry stepped into the shadows and cast a strong disillusionment charm. Now functionally invisible, Harry waited for the mysterious follower to appear.

Casting a quick stunner on the person that rounded the corner a few moments later, Harry was surprised to note they appeared to be an innocuous kitchen hand. Having learnt a healthy level of paranoia from Mad-eye Moody in the war, Harry decided to check his facts regardless of how innocent the person looked. They might be here on legitimate business, but he couldn't think of a reason for a kitchen hand to follow him towards the library away from the kitchen, and he had learned to trust his gut feelings.

Harry reached out with his magic for a passive Legilimency scan, and what he found left him deeply troubled. This kitchen hand was broadcasting quite loudly that he was acting as a spy, and had been asked to follow Harry for some extra coin. Without hesitation, Harry conjured ropes to bind the spy and apparated them both back to his tent for further interrogation.

Upon arrival in the tent, Harry securely tied the spy to a chair. He then launched a full-blown Legilimency attack without bothering to wake the spy up, diving into the spy's mind. It felt like wading through a murky river, as he sifted through the kitchen hand's memories, trying his hardest to ignore the irrelevant information. After all, he really didn't need to know that Josie the scullery maid was laying with Walden from the market. Or that Walden was also laying with Josie's sister. It seems this kitchen hand was the town gossip, as well as a spy, though he supposed the skills were relatively interchangeable.

Eventually, he locked onto the thread about the spy's work. It was concerning but not surprising to learn that his focus was on Lord Stark and his immediate family. The kitchen hand took coin from a hidden spymaster in town to report any goings-on in Lord Stark's domain.

Diving deeper, Harry found that the kitchen hand knew of at least one other spy in the castle and suspected his spymaster had others scattered throughout the North. He didn't know the name of this spymaster, but conveniently had a dead-drop in town that he knew was scheduled to be checked by the spymaster tonight. The man had already dropped a note there, speaking of the mysterious foreign merchant lords that appeared to be new allies of Lord Stark. That was definitely information Harry didn't want to get out.

It might not be a surprise, but the confirmation that Lord Stark's home was infested with spies actually left Harry with a sense of righteous anger. Lord Stark was not only his friend, he was also clearly working in the interests of his people, and any spies could only be working in contrast to this goal.

He really wasn't all that surprised that people were willing to pay good coin for information on the Warden of the North, but it didn't sit right with Harry, and he definitely wouldn't be leaving this alone.

For now, Harry apparated the kitchen hand to one of the old barracks-style sleeping rooms that the elves had previously occupied in his camping tent. Vanishing some of the beds, Harry transfigured a temporary row of metal-barred cells to contain any spies he captured.

The hunt was on!

The light of the moon cast eerie shadows over the snow-covered streets of Wintertown as Harry, Sirius, and Dobby embarked on their clandestine mission.

Harry had informed them of the spy situation after Sirius had asked why they had a man trussed up in a cage. "Not that he was judging, just curious".

Naturally, Sirius and Dobby had insisted on accompanying Harry to root out the rest of the spy network.

The trio stealthily made their way through the quiet streets towards the site of the dead-drop, their strong disillusionment charms rendering them almost invisible. Earlier scouting had shown the location to be a rented townhouse on the edge of the market.

Harry suspected this was where the spymaster actually resided, which didn't seem like the most sophisticated operation to Harry, but then he wasn't sure what to expect from what amounted to medieval spies.

Slipping inside the house quietly, they began a thorough search for documents and evidence.

Dobby was fairly quick to point out the lifesign he sensed upstairs, elves being particularly attuned to that sort of thing.

Moving as quietly as shadows, they crept up the stairs and were met with an unexpected sight. The spymaster, a middle-aged woman with a sharp, calculating gaze, stood by the bedroom door, a dagger in hand. She lunged at Dobby, but the elf was quick to react. With a snap of his fingers, he stunned the spymaster, while Harry and Sirius, drawing on their wartime experience, cast protego shields to protect their friend.

Harry liked it when people made things easy for him. To be fair, an experienced spymaster laying in wait with a dagger could be a danger to anyone else, but to a magical it was just a convenience to find them here, instead of having to give chase.

Harry sat back on a conjured armchair in front of his cages. He was waiting on Sirius to measure out the veritaserum, and in the meantime, reading through the documents they'd snagged in their hunt.

There weren't many documents, given how expensive parchment is and the notes were conveniently short and to-the-point, probably so they could be hidden easily in transit.

Harry looked up to see Sirius pouring a veritaserum spiked glass of water down the prisoner's throat. The potion allowed for a much easier interrogation than a legilimency probe, with less chance of missing vital information.

A thorough veritaserum interrogation did still require some skill. If someone had a well organised mind and a strong enough willpower, they could hide information by only answering the exact question, with no prevarication. An interrogator would have to craft each question to extract as much information as possible. Thankfully, Harry liked to think he was pretty skilled in this sort of interrogation after his experience in the Wizarding War.

"Who do you work for?" Harry demanded, once he saw the woman's eyes glaze over, showing the potion had taken effect.

"I have two masters," she admitted in a stilted response, her voice eerily calm under the influence of the truth potion. "I was originally sent north by the Tully's, and later, I was discovered and hired by the Targaryen's Master of Whispers."

Harry and Sirius exchanged a glance, their expressions grim. The Targaryen's were a powerful family, and their involvement complicated matters significantly. Harry sighed, this went deeper than he'd thought, best to just get as much information as possible and figure out next steps.

"What instructions were you give in setting up this network?" Harry asked

"I am to gather information on the goings-on in Winterfell and report back to my masters," she replied. "I'm also tasked with identifying any weaknesses or vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Any opportunity to weaken the North should be taken if it doesn't risk revealing my network or the influence of outsiders in the North."

It seemed this was also an espionage operation. Harry sighed. At least he knew they hadn't discovered the water wheels and other plans yet. The note he'd intercepted from the kitchen hand seemed to be the only one that hinted at his interactions.

Though he expected there might be one or two other southern houses with spy networks here, so he couldn't truly know how effectively they'd hidden the plans to uplift the North. He'd make an effort to cast a targeted notice-me-not on all the relevant documents he and Maester Garrick had prepared, but the best action would be to weed out all the spies.

"Have you been given any specific targets?" Harry inquired.

"Not at the moment, but my masters expect me to be prepared to act against anyone who might threaten their interests."

"How do you send your reports?" Sirius cut in.

"I use a network of ravens to send my reports to my masters," she explained. "I have a hidden rookery in a secluded location where I can send and receive messages without arousing suspicion." That was good to know. He'd ask Dobby to dismantle that rookery later.

"What are your plans for the future?" Harry asked, his voice steely.

"I will continue to serve my masters until they no longer require my services or I am caught," she answered without hesitation.

Harry continued with his questioning, getting a bit deeper into the information she'd been asked to gather, and other activities, until Sirius jumped in with a crucial question.

"Tell us all the spies and sources in your network. We want everything you know on them, including. Names, positions, and especially their intended purpose in your network"

The spymaster seemed to struggle for a moment, clearly not wanting to share the full breadth of her network. Her eyes glazed over again as she began to list names in a flat emotionless voice.

"Who among these spies are the most dangerous? Who poses a risk if they find you've been taken?" Harry added, after taking down all the names and details of the network both here in Winterfell and across the North. He suspected there were more that this spymaster wasn't privy to, but this was a major boon in taking down the network of two major southern powers nonetheless.

"There is a sworn sword of the heir Lord Rickard Stark who is both a spy and a trained assassin, a knight in Lord Edwyle's protection detail, and I've recently managed to insert a trained poisoner into the newer batch of ladies' maids serving his wife, Lady Marina Stark." Even through the haze, Harry could tell this woman was smug at how successfully she'd inserted such deadly assets into the household. Though Harry conceded she had a somewhat morbid right to be smug. With one order this woman could practically behead the Kingdom of the North.

Sirius seemed to be of the same mind with his next question.

"What are their orders if they discover you've gone missing? Are they to take any action?" Sirius asked.

She almost smiled, and in her still monotone voice replied "I have not specifically instructed on what action to take, but I decoded some secret instructions passed through me to the three spies in the household from the Master of Whispers. He's a dangerous man. All three were instructed to make every effort to dispose of their targets if they suspect they've been discovered."

She seemed to struggle further, but there was no breaking the hold of veritaserum, Sirius had been very careful to measure out the right dose.

"They're to make it look like an attack by the Ironborn, the Martell's, or the wildlings, depending on how they set-up the assassination. Even just calling out a family motto while committing the act could throw enough suspicion to hide the Targaryen's hand in this"

"Would any of them know you're missing yet?" Dobby asked, having been silent for most of the interrogation, simply contemplating.

Sirius and Harry looked at each other in alarm, having not thought to ask that, and now worried

they could have personally triggered an assassin to take action.

The woman seemed to smirk ever so slightly, showing that the veritaserum was staring to lose it's effect. "Oh they know, they'll all know. Your kitchen hand friend over there wasn't the only drop planned tonight, and I have fail-safes in place that will even reach the ear of Lord Rickard's sworn sword" she said this as she gestured to the unconscious kitchen hand still trussed up in the other cell.

"... ... ... Shit!" was all Harry could say before Sirius stunned the woman, and made to grab his sword.

Not really needing anything more than a look between them, the trio apparated to a copse of trees just outside the gates of Winterfell.

"...Shit shit shit!" Harry breathed to himself, as they stumbled onto the road and jogged to the gates, desperately hoping they weren't too late. They couldn't just enter the castle without raising suspicion on themselves, but going through the gate was just another step between them and the assassins. "shit"

As they approached the gates, Harry called up to the night watchmen, who were understandably wary of letting anyone in at such a late hour.

"We're sorry, but we cannot allow you entry at this time," one of the guards said, his face stern. "And we cannot wake Lord Edwyle unless there's an urgent matter."

Sirius, losing patience, narrowed his eyes at the soldiers. "This is a matter of utmost importance and concerns the safety of Lord Edwyle and his family."

The guards remained unmoved, shaking their heads. "Our orders are clear. We cannot disturb our lord for any reason unless it's a matter of life and death."

"This is exactly that!" Harry added, knowing they weren't going to get anywhere with these guards.

Unable to tolerate the delay he made to wave a compulsion over them, but was beaten to the punch by Sirius who was apparently already in the process of surreptitious casting compulsion on the guards, ensuring their cooperation.

The change in their demeanour was immediate, and one of the guards rushed off to wake the Master at Arms, who then went to rouse Lord Edwyle.

After much commotion, the Trio were shown into the great hall, where Lord Edwyle, cloaked in his great black fur coat over his pyjamas, observed them with some consternation.

It was clear Lord Edwyle had been burning the midnight oil in his solar, reviewing their plans. Though his wife, Lady Marina, who the trio weren't as closely connected with, stood by his side and had all the signs of having been woken for this disruption. Their master at arms, Ser Cassel, stood behind them and to the side, looking wary but curious.

"We may have begun the bonds of friendship Lord Peverell, but this is beyond the pale," Lord Edwyle began, his voice deep and powerful. "What reasons have you to wake the household at this hour?" He insisted with all the grim gravitas of a Lord Paramount, reminding them of his power.

Harry cringed, knowing he would be just as unhappy at being disturbed so late into the night like this, but he was sure Lord Stark would forgive them once he heard what they had to say.

Harry stepped forward to explain "we apologise for the late hour my lord, but this could not wait, it's a matter of life and death. Of your life for that matter! For the safety of your family this absolutely could not wait"

This clearly caught Lord Edwyle's attention and he leant forward speaking with more urgency now "If that is the case then speak quickly Lord Peverell. For I would see any threats to my family's safety taken care of at once"

Taking a breath and glancing at Sirius, Harry launched into his tale, starting with his discovery of the kitchen hand following him in the castle, and leading on to their clandestine adventure this night.

Lord Edwyle's face progressively darkened with anger at each revelation. The mentions of spy-craft were shocking, but espionage was even more appalling. More than anything though, the threat of assassination against his family had Lord Edwyle burning with fury.

Lady Marina also seemed more awake now. Her eyes widening in shock. The atmosphere amongst the small retinue in the great hall grew tense as they realized the gravity of the situation.

When Harry reached the end of his tale and disclosed the names and positions of the known spies and assassins close to the family, Lord Edwyle leapt up in a rage. While Lady Marina sat in shock with her eyes wide and her face pale.

"To think that these snakes are so close to be within striking distance" Lord Edwyle growled, pacing with his hand on the pommel of his sword, looking to draw it at any moment.

"Anyone with control over the spymaster could have wiped out the Stark family with the stroke of their hand. This state of affairs cannot continue! I will not allow a threat to go unanswered. And I will take no chances with the lives of my family! These spies and their like will face the sword" Lord stark grit out with his hand gripping hard on the handle of his sword as he paced.

Pausing to look around at the small retinue with him in the hall, Lord Edwyle took a brief moment to contemplate his next action, thinking out loud.

"The spies in the castle should be easy to capture with the element of surprise. The difficulty will be getting to Rickard's sworn sword before word reaches them. We have no way of knowing what method this harlot used to setup the failsafe she mentioned to notify them of her capture".

Lord Stark looked piercingly at Harry, not angry at the man per-se, but at the news he brought, "If your interrogation proves true, this assassin will seek to kill my son", he roared again in rage and hurled a cup against the wall, getting some satisfaction in it smashing.

Lady Stark seemed to have gathered herself at this point and added in panicked but intelligent voice, "Rickard and his retinue left just over a sennight ago on a tour of the houses and lands worst hit by the recent winter. If they are still in the Rills then a mounted party could catch up to them with a day's hard ride." She looked at Ser Cassel as she said this, practically begging him to get things moving.

Stopping and seeming to think for a moment, Lord Stark turned to his master at Arms with a steely resolve and growled, "Ring the castle bells! We need a riding party armed and mounted without a moment to lose."

"And you!" He gestured to the small retinue of night guards, present in the hall for the disturbance. "We have known spies in our halls, hunt them down and take them into custody."

Ser Cassel just nodded stoically and ran quickly out of the room towards the gatehouse, yelling for the guards to follow him. A moment later they heard the deep gong of the bells ring out over the castle, followed by shouts and the sound of many moving feet.

Sirius observed the chaos around him, thinking that despite the seriousness of the situation, it was all rather exiting. He really needed to stick closer to Harry if this is what happened around him all the time. He had thought there was no way Harry could find trouble sitting in a library all day, but this certainly proved him wrong on that count.

Hearing the click of a door off to at the back of the hall behind the Starks, Sirius looked up to see the new handmaiden shuffle in, trying not to gather any notice. She was clearly here to find out what was going on, and probably gain some juicy information for her spymaster. Well not on his watch!

Sirius darted past the Starks, startling both the Starks and the handmaiden hidden in the shadows behind them. Seeing the handmaiden start to draw a knife from her sleeve, he reached out and grabbed her forearm with an iron grip, pushing the knife back into its sheaf. "Don't even think about it" Sirius growled, "the game's up, we know who you work for!"

The girl's eyes widened in shock for just a moment, then her mask fell and a look of disgust covered her face. "Unhand me you northern heathen!" she spat out "you have no idea who you're dealing with. I have friends in high places!"

"You would do well to hold your tongue" came the sharp voice of Lady Stark from over Sirius' shoulder "you have no friends in the North. Not anymore."

"Like I need the help of savages like yourselves" The handmaiden said struggling in futility as Sirius handed her over to one of the remaining guards "the light of the seven will keep me safe."

"I doubt it" finished Lady Stark, turning slightly to address the guard "take her to the deepest darkest cell you can find. We will deal with her later". This was one of her personal staff after all, she'd be particularly vindictive in interrogating this monster.

They watched as the guard led the former handmaiden, now prisoner, towards the door, passing through the small crowd that had started to gather in the hall in response to the bells still ringing through the night. Only for a blur of motion to catch everyone off guard as a man from the slowly gathering crowd drew his sword and lunged towards the prisoner and her guard. The move came so fast that most only saw a blur out of the corner of their eyes, followed almost immediately by an almighty clang when the attacker's sword met an immovable force.

Lord Stark had reached for his sword as soon as he saw the motion, with reflexes honed through previous wars and sharpened in the training yard over many years. Though he knew there was no way he would be fast enough to save the guard. Only to be caught by surprise when he saw the assailant's sword had come to a violent rest against Lord Harry's distinctive silver blade. Lord Stark was stunned, wondering how he had reacted so fast, and sure in his mind that Harry was on the other side of the room a moment ago. Though with everything happening so fast, he could have been wrong.

Harry swiftly disarmed the assailant who was now visible as the knight in Lord Stark's retinue that had been outed as a spy. "Thank you, Lord Harry," Lord stark intoned "it seems you and Lord Sirius have made a habit of saving my family and my men tonight. It will not be forgotten."

Turning to the guard he said "another traitor for the cells." he gestured at the knight, "Keep guard over them until you are relieved, we cannot allow them to escape and send word to their compatriot with my son".

Watching as the knight was led out of the room towards the cells, Lord Edwyle mused that he should never have bothered letting a knight into his retinue in the first place. Knighthood was a southern custom. Only those that followed the Seven could take the oath of knighthood. An oath this knight clearly didn't keep to. It was no great loss, either way, since Lord Harry had just made the knight's sword skills seem like those of a child.

Lord Edwyle's musings were interrupted by Ser Cassel jogging back into the hall followed by an additional retinue of now very alert guardsmen.

"The mounted men are ready my Lord" he declared, with the clipped calm under pressure of a veteran who'd seen war.

"Excellent" Lord Edwyle said as he strode towards the courtyard, with the growing crowd following him in anticipation "you shall lead the troop Ser Cassel, as I am clearly needed here to get things back in order."

Chapter 18 Teaser:

… "Dobby was having the time of his life.

He had been waiting in the courtyard of Winterfell for Harry and Sirius when the bells began to ring. The sound was deafening, but Dobby ignored it as his attention was quickly caught by the reaction of the people around him. The castle had been roused and people were running everywhere in what he thought was a beautiful sort of chaos.

People everywhere were suddenly working, fetching things, carrying things, building things, dressing up. He wasn't entirely sure what the bell meant, but the effect was pure heaven for Dobby.

Dobby thought to himself that maybe he should ring some bells himself in the future, if that's what it took to get more people as excited by work as he usually was."

Note: Thanks as always for your readership. I enjoy all your lovely comments. If you're a fan of the story, note that there are more freely available chapters published on other sites as I'm not always up to speed on AO3. Just google the title.

Chapter Text

Last Time: ...  "Lord Stark looked piercingly at Harry, not angry at the man per-se, but at the news he brought, "If your interrogation proves true, this assassin will seek to kill my son"

Lord Stark turned to his master at Arms with a steely resolve and growled, "Ring the castle bells! We need a riding party armed and mounted without a moment to lose."

"And you!" He gestured to the small retinue of night guards, present in the hall for the disturbance. "we have known spies in our halls, hunt them down and take them into custody."

Ser Cassel just nodded stoically and ran quickly out of the room towards the gatehouse, yelling for the guards to follow him. A moment later they heard the deep gong of the bells ring out over the castle, followed by shouts and the sound of many moving feet. "

Chapter 18: A Call to Arms

Striding with purpose into the courtyard, Lord Edwyle noted the heightened level of activity, but his focus was on the collection of mounted men by the gates, some of whom were receiving a few last minute supplies from various running servants. A few were obviously still dishevelled from having been raised from their beds, but they'd made good time in donning armour and mounting up nonetheless. Time was more crucial than presentation tonight.

Ser Cassel mounted his own steed, and the men turned to their lord, awaiting instructions. Most were still unaware of exactly what emergency was brewing, but the ringing bells had them on a knife-edge of heightened readiness and adrenaline.

Lord Stark raised his hand for momentary calm, and bellowed to be heard by all in the vicinity. "Men of Winterfell, hear me now! A traitor and assassin rides with your Heir. His life is in peril!" a few gasps were heard at this declaration, Lord Stark continued with grave authority, "I charge you to bring me Lord Rickard's sworn sword" this generated more gasps "who we now know to be a traitor to the North and it's people!" this got a roar of outrage from the mounted men, who knew this man well enough to feel betrayed. Dropping his voice, Lord Stark continued with an icy tone "Ride hard and ride fast! You are men of the North. You shall be the sword that reminds all men winter is coming. It comes to all those who would harm the Stark pack. Now go! And may the old gods guide your way!"

A roar-like cheer rose from the gathered riders on Lord Stark's final words as they kicked at their horses and pulled on the reigns, jostling to be first out the gate, which was still in the process of rising.

Harry observed with some amusement that Lord Stark had a great sense of the dramatic. Though that did give him an idea.

He had come across an obscure talisman in the Black archives a sennight ago and had been carrying it around looking for an opportunity to test it out. The talisman was said to bring bad luck to your enemies. It wasn't enough to cause them to keel over and die... though he was sure the Black who invented it had been aiming for that outcome. But if your enemy tended to be clumsy or forgetful, they would suddenly be much more dramatically clumsy, or overly forgetful to the point of injury.

It was subtle, and Harry hadn't had any enemies of his own to test it on, but here was the perfect chance to help the Starks and satisfy his curiosity at the same time. So, with the focus fully on Lord Stark, Harry took the chance to surreptitiously pull the talisman out of his expanded pocket and banish it into Ser Cassel's saddle bag. He'd have to find out how the confrontation went later, to see if it worked.

With a bellow from Ser Cassel, they watched the men gallop out of the now raised portcullis, leaning forward for greater speed. They were taking great risk in the dark night, with only the lit torches held by some of the more diligent riders to light their way. But their blood was boiling, and it was clear nothing would halt their keen progress.

Sighing, Lord Stark called over a messenger and told him to have the bells stop ringing, since he could now hear them not just here but also down the hill in Wintertown.

Allowing the messenger to hurry away towards the gatehouse and Wintertown, Lord Stark took a moment to look around at the now much emptier courtyard. Lord Stark cringed as he realised his household was in utter disarray.

"Well this is a right mess", he grumbled lightly to Harry, "you try to wake the guard and suddenly the whole town thinks we're being invaded." he looked around for a moment, "but I suppose the disarray does show we've been letting standards slide a bit over the winter"

Armed men were rushing about, grabbing pikes and bows before taking their post on the walls while still fitting their mail, or knocking their bows. Those more prepared were already squinting into the dark trying to find out what was going on and spot any invading army. It was clear that only those in the courtyard had heard the actual purpose of this call to arms, and most were still working on the assumption that an invasion was afoot.

Castle servants were carrying armour and crates across the yard to supply the walls. They'd also worked hard to set up an enormous fire in the middle of the courtyard to cast light for the castle residents. Really it was an absurdly large fire, he'd have to talk to someone about that.

He even thought he saw a man carrying a horse in the distance, amongst all the other men and servants rushing about, but the light still wasn't great, and it had already been a long night, so it was likely his imagination.

Passing a hand over his face, Lord Stark considered that perhaps ringing the castle bells had been a bit of a hasty move. Though, in his defence, the northern houses were never big players in the so-called 'game of thrones' and he didn't have much experience dealing with spies. He was caught off guard by the sheer scale of the infiltration Harry and Sirius had uncovered, and feared the risk to his family. A fear that was proven not unfounded when not one but two of the spies had drawn weapons in his own hall.

He'd already sent a few men off to capture the less dangerous spies in and around Winterfell. Names he recognised were on the list of those outed by Harry's interrogation.

"Well there's nothing for it now but to just go with it", Lord Stark sighed, though his blood was still boiling, so we wasn't too put out that everyone else was joining him in a late night shock to the system.

"Since the troops are out and manning their stations, we may as well treat it as a drill and inspect the defences." he concluded to no-one in particular. Though both Harry and Lady Marina nodded in agreement.

Lord Stark felt the need to clarify a bit for Harry, to ensure his new friends didn't think invasion was a serious risk in this area. "It's about time we had a proper drill anyway. We're well on the way into spring, and It might be a rare occurrence that the full might of Winterfell is needed on the walls, but it's not unheard of for wildling or Ironborn raiding parties to make it this far inland. Always best to be prepared."

"Follow me Lord Harry", Lord Stark said to the side where Harry had taken up position when the troops had left "I'll inspect the defences, and you can give me a more detailed retelling of the events earlier tonight as we go."

Dobby was having the time of his life.

He had been waiting in the courtyard of Winterfell for Harry and Sirius when the bells began to ring. The sound was deafening, but Dobby ignored it as his attention was quickly caught by the reaction of the people around him. The castle had been roused and people were running everywhere in what he thought was a beautiful sort of chaos.

People everywhere were suddenly working, fetching things, carrying things, building things, dressing up. He wasn't entirely sure what the bell meant, but the effect was pure heaven for Dobby. So much work, and so many people clearly sharing in Dobby's excitement for work, if the speed they were going about things in the middle of the night was anything to go by. The excitement was contagious, and Dobby couldn't wait to get involved.

Dobby thought to himself that maybe he should ring some bells himself in the future, if that's what it took to get more people as excited by work as he usually was.

As Dobby observed people preparing the castle, he saw them carrying crates of weapons to the wall, setting up enormous fires to provide light, and carrying saddles and bags from the stables to troops on horses preparing to ride out. Dobby was eager to help in any way he could and thought he should start with the crates, as he thought they could be doing a better job and Dobby wasn't above helping his fellow worker.

As Dobby approached the crates, a man called out to him "hey you, grab a handle on this crate would you? We're taking them to the walls." Nodding, Dobby looked into the crates as he got closer, noting they were generally full of steel armour, helmets and shields. Without hesitation, Dobby lifted two of the crates, one on each shoulder and started towards the wall. He wasn't sure why the others were only taking one crate between two people, it seemed highly inefficient. They'd get far less done at that rate. Though the thought occurred to him that they may just want to extend the time they had to work so they could take more pleasure in it. Dobby had done that on occasion when he particularly enjoyed a task.

Dobby left behind groups of shocked servants and soldiers as he crossed the yard towards the walls. All of them looking at the crates and then the somewhat scrawny man almost hidden from view underneath them as they moved through the yard. They quickly put it out of their mind though, as the shout of "get back to work" was bellowed by the sergeant of the gate, overseeing preparations. Though now a number were wondering if they had to watch out for more than one of the merchants in the training yard.

Getting swept up in the excitement of the activity around him, Dobby decided he would help out with setting up the fires next. A steady stream of servants were piling more and more wood onto the fire in the middle of the yard, making it larger and larger to cast more light around the castle. Dobby thought he could definitely help here. If big was what they were aiming for, he could deliver. After all, Dobby had come to respect Lord Stark and he was a friend of Harry's, so only the best would do.

Popping out to the forest behind Winterfell, Dobby found a large tree that had clearly fallen early in the winter and dried out in the recent warmth. It was about half as wide as Dobby was tall and certainly taller than the average tree in the forest. It would make a perfect addition to the fire.

Grabbing the tree trunk and popping back to a dark spot just outside the gatehouse, Dobby began dragging the tree into the yard through the gates. Said gates had been about to close, as the gate guards began releasing the portcullis. Thankfully with a short lived levitation charm, Dobby slowed the descent to give himself enough time to get through with his load.

He ignored the strangled cries of surprise from the gate guards as he dragged the tree through. They were probably just jealous they didn't think of going to the forest for wood before he did. This was a problem Dobby was familiar with after his time working with the house elves of Hogwarts. After all, with so many industrious workers around, it put stock to the words 'the early elf catches the snidget'.

Dobby looked at the fire after propping the tree trunk up and encouraging it to light with a little magic. Dobby had to snap the trunk in half with a bit of his magic as well, in order to get it into the fire pit, propping the two pieces up like a massive teepee. Now though, Dobby was happily admiring the fire thinking it was now worthy of Harry's friend Mr Stark. He looked around and happily saw that most of his new friends in the yard were also taking a moment to stare at the fire and chat, which was a good sign.

"Snapped it in half like a twig" one said, "with his bare hands!"

"Saw it with me own eyes" another said, "I think he was one of those new merchants. No wonder the older one is so good in the training yard"

"Would think he had giants blood if he wasn't so small"

Dobby was a bit disappointed that everyone seemed to have stopped working, even though they were admiring his fire. He was even more disappointed he couldn't see any of the giants he thought he heard some of them talking about. Though, in looking around, he found one group of people working frantically over by the stables getting a group of riders ready, and thought that looked like a good place to find more fun.

Striding up to the stables, dobby saw servants running out carrying saddles, bags, feed, and all sorts of other things. Feeling that fetching and carrying seemed pretty straight forward, Dobby entered the stables. However, as he stepped into one stall after the other, he was disappointed to find they had already been stripped bare.

Horrified at the thought that one of these clearly industrious workers might think Dobby was slacking off if he is seen leaving the stables with nothing in his hands, Dobby decided there was nothing for it. He looked at the regal war horse in the stall who was staring straight back at Dobby with interest. It was one of only two horses left in the stables at this point. There was only one thing left to carry, and Dobby would not be seen as a slacker.

Stepping out of the stables with the horse held above his head, Dobby was shocked to see that the yard had already emptied of all the horsemen and the servants that were helping them. Seeing one last messenger on a horse heading quickly towards the gatehouse where the bells were tolling, Dobby figured that was his best bet for finding the other horses. So quickly strode off towards the gatehouse carrying his load with a smile.

Bouncing up the stairs to the battlements behind the messenger, Dobby looked around and quickly noted there were no other horses in sight. Dobby was shocked, he may have lost the large group of horsemen, but he had found an entire group of soldiers that didn't have a single horse between them. This seemed a bit unfair to dobby, since those other soldiers had one a piece. Dobby figured that if he couldn't find the horsemen, he should leave is new horse friend here with the archers, so they didn't feel left out.

Placing the horse down gently, and looking at a job well done, Dobby bounced off to find the next place he could help. This was Dobby's best day ever!

The day couldn't possibly get any worse for Nella.

She had spent the last few days darning old socks to recover from the loss of the entire bag full of socks she had 'misplaced' in the courtyard in Winterfell. Nella was more convinced than ever that the strange child of the forest she'd seen running around with socks darned to its jacket was the culprit. Though trying to convince the other servants in the laundry had them thinking she was seeing things. Even showing them the coin she had found in place of the socks hadn't convinced any of the others.

Still, Nella had diligently replaced all the socks by the rather dull task of mending old socks. Nella wasn't going to spend the coin to replace the socks as she was already planning to use it for a trip to see her cousin in White Harbour. Maybe her bad luck could turn into a good thing, and a bit of a change of scenery should be good for her somewhat questionable state of mind.

Nella had just gotten back to her place after finishing the last of the socks, when the bells started ringing throughout Wintertown. Since Nella was still dressed, she shot out the door, and back towards the castle. It had been a long day already, but she wouldn't be one to stand by when her friends in the washing room were hard at work protecting Winterfell from … whatever it was they were protecting it from.

As Nella crested the hill and caught a view of the gate into Winterfell she stopped dead. In front of her was one of the strangest sights she'd ever seen, and Nella had seen some things in her time. The top end of a tree was slowly making its way through the portcullis of the castle, seemingly of its own volition.

Hurrying up through the gate just behind the tree, Nella was able to see that it was in fact not moving by itself but was being dragged by a creature small enough it had not been visible behind the bulk of the tree itself. Nella froze. There it was, wearing too many hats, resplendent in a sock covered jacket, and now dragging a tree. The child of the forest was back!

Looking around, Nella noted that no-one else seemed bothered by the presence of the child of the forest … or his tree for that matter. Nella stood there for a moment wondering whether she might be better off just going back to bed and forgetting the whole day. Nella just wanted a normal, simple life after all, she was just a simple handmaiden, she doesn't need strange mythical creatures in her life.

She was brought out of her musings by an abnormally loud groan of wood being stressed. Looking up, she was just in time to see the child of the forest snap the tree trunk in half with its bare hands and throw it on the fire.

Sharing a loud gasp with the people around her, Nella was glad to see at least this time she wasn't the only one surprised.

"Snapped it in half like a twig" she heard someone say among the crowd "with his bare hands!"

"would think he had giants blood if he wasn't so small" came a comment from one of the kitchen hands she knew in passing.

Nella passed her eyes between the kitchen hand and the small creature now standing proudly in front of the enormous bonfire it had created. How someone could possibly think 'giant' when looking at what was clearly a child of the forest, she didn't know. Giving the kitchen hand one last concerned look, Nella decided she'd better go find somewhere else to be. Her mother had always said stupidity wasn't catching, but she thought it best to be safe and not spend too much time around the fellow either way. Seeing the child of the forest had disappeared into the crowd, Nella decided it was best to put it out of her mind and find somewhere she could help.

Nella walked further into the bustling Winterfell courtyard, her eyes darting back and forth as the chaos of men preparing for battle unfolded before her. She had seen her fair share of commotion in her time, but this was something else entirely. Soldiers were hastily donning their armour, shouting orders, and grabbing pikes in anticipation of the imminent threat. In the midst of this pandemonium, Nella found herself frozen in place, her bewildered gaze fixed on a scene so absurd it defied all reason.

The small child of the forest hadn't disappeared as she had hoped. It was back, and it was moving across the courtyard at a determined pace. What truly boggled her mind, however, was the fact that this strange creature was effortlessly hoisting a full-grown horse above its head – and not just any horse, but one of the finest in Winterfell's stables. To add to the surreal spectacle, the horse was being held upside down, its legs curled inwards and its head twisted to look forward, as though it were trying to make sense of its bizarre predicament.

Nella blinked several times, trying to convince herself that what she was witnessing was merely an illusion, a trick of the light, or perhaps even a product of her own frazzled imagination. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not dismiss the reality of the absurd scene playing out before her.

As she watched the odd creature, jog through the frenzied crowd, Nella couldn't help but notice the horse's expression. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that the horse looked as baffled as she felt. Nella had never seen that look in the eyes of a horse before, and thought it was unlikely she ever would again.

All around her, the soldiers of Winterfell continued their frantic preparations, oblivious to the strange duo in their midst. They were too preoccupied with their own tasks to notice the seemingly impossible feat taking place just a few feet away.

Nella's curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself drawn to follow the peculiar pair. She moved cautiously, weaving her way through the throngs of soldiers and servants, her eyes never leaving the creature and its equine companion.

The Horse Whisperer and the upside-down horse finally came to a stop atop the wall near the gatehouse. Nella, now thoroughly invested in the strange scene, hid behind a stack of barrels, peering out to see what would happen next.

To her amazement, the creature gently lowered the horse to the ground, taking care to ensure that it landed safely on its feet, before bounding off into the darkness. The horse, seemingly unharmed and no worse for wear, shook its head, as if trying to clear away the confusion of its recent ordeal. It looked around, bewildered but apparently unharmed, and then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, it trotted off along the wall.

With the horse now safe and the immediate spectacle over, Nella took a moment to gather her thoughts. Nella was a simple lady's maid. Her mother was a lady's maid, and her mother before that. All she wanted was a nice normal life, and it seemed to her that Winterfell was the wrong place to be for normal at the moment. Not, that anyone else had mentioned the strange things she'd seen. It was like Nella was the only one that could see these things happening, it was enough to drive a nice normal lady's maid mad. "If I'm not mad already" Nella thought.

Maybe it was time for that vacation. "Yes," Nella said to herself, "I'll head to my cousins in White Harbor tomorrow." After all, nothing strange ever happens in White Harbor. With a plan in mind, Nella went back to her duties, thinking of the trip ahead.

Lord Stark strode purposefully through the chaos of the Winterfell courtyard, scanning the scene, keeping an eye out for those responding well to the all-hands call to action, and any inefficiencies that could spell death in a real invasion.

Harry followed closely behind, keeping pace with the formidable Lord of Winterfell while dodging errant guards and servants scurrying around. None would step in the path of Lord Stark, but too few knew Harry well enough to stay out of his way.

Lord Stark informed Harry that they would first ride a lap of the castle to inspect the preparations on the walls, then they'd trot down to Wintertown to inspect their own response to the bells.

Despite Harry's dubious track record with losing horses, Lord Stark had reluctantly decided to let him borrow one from the stable. Reasoning that he would be riding alongside Harry the entire time, and would be able to keep a keen eye on both Harry and the horse, so nothing could possibly go wrong.

The pair made their way to the stables, where Lord Stark knew his two personal warhorses would be waiting, the only two remaining horses in the stables after the riding party had left. One of these horses was the very same that Harry had misplaced just a few days previously. Thankfully the horse had been returned by an industrious young farming lad the same day Harry had lost it.

Upon arriving at the stables, Lord Stark pointed Harry further into the sables to the pen where he knew the second of his two prized warhorses was housed. "You'll find a mount in there" he nodded to Harry, "saddle up and meet me out front." Seeing Harry off, he ducked into the closest stall to fetch his own mount, a servant already helping him with the bridle and saddle.

As Lord Stark returned, now mounted on his impressive steed, he looked expectantly toward the stall he had sent Harry to, waiting for him to emerge. As Lord Stark continued to wait, he became increasingly more concerned. Had he left Harry alone with the horse for too long? Surely not! He'd only just entered and Lord Stark was sure he'd have noticed if anything had happened as there was only one exit to the stables.

Deciding to investigate, Lord Stark slowly approached the stall he had pointed Harry towards, his trepidation mounting as he got closer and Harry still hadn't emerged.

Lord Stark rounded the corner and stopped in despair, somehow having expected the sight before him. He stared at Harry, who was himself wearing a somewhat confused look while standing in the middle of the stall. A stall entirely bereft of any kind of horse!

"No" Lord Stark breathed out in shock, "no, it couldn't be. Not again." There had definitely been a horse in this stall this morning, and no-one would dare ride out on the Lord's horse. "W..where is your horse Harry?" Lord Stark choked out in confused desperation.

Harry looked up at Lord Stark with large innocent eyes and a baffled look that seemed to dash any sense of hope Lord Stark had left. "Ah, I'm not entirely sure Lord Stark, have you seen it?"

Harry was sure he heard Lord Stark whimper in a very unlordly manner, as he looked down at Harry with a mixture of bafflement and disappointment. Harry was very confused as to why he was directed to an empty stall, but maybe it was some kind of Westeros cultural thing. Either way, he still wasn't sure what he had done to make Lord Stark give him such a disappointed look.

Lord Stark fought to prevent himself from facepalming. He should have known better than to let Harry near his horses, he thought to himself, especially considering his previous experiences.

With a resigned sigh, Lord Stark turned away from Harry and said, "you'll have to follow me on foot then. We'll move slower, and keep an eye out for a spare horse as we go." Glancing back at Harry with displeased eyes, he added "and if we do find one, please, try not to lose it."

As Harry hurried along beside him, Lord Stark couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. In the midst of the chaos and tension surrounding the castle, the absurdity of losing a horse within the very walls of Winterfell was almost too much to bear.

The frantic preparations in Winterfell continued as Lord Stark made his way to the battlements to inspect his archers. About halfway through his inspection, he had finally found another horse for Harry. Though Lord Stark could not shake the nagging feeling that he should really never let Harry near another horse again. He ascended the steps to the battlements, his mind focused on the preparations around him, taking note of any potential deficiencies in the defences he would raise with his Master at Arms when he got back.

As he reached the top of the wall, he paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his archers standing at attention, bows at the ready. However, his eyes were quickly drawn to a sight that had him stop dead, his jaw hanging open in absolute bafflement. There, among the ranks of the archers, stood his missing warhorse, staring proudly out toward the horizon as if it too were a soldier keeping watch over the castle.

For a moment, Lord Stark could only stare in disbelief at the bizarre scene before him. The horse seemed entirely at ease, standing as tall and regal as its human counterparts, its eyes focused intently on the distant horizon. It was as if the animal were daring any would-be attackers to breach the walls of Winterfell.

Blinking in bewilderment, Lord Stark shook his head and muttered under his breath, "This is definitely the last time Harry is allowed near a horse."

He cleared his throat and addressed his archers, doing his best to ignore the presence of the inexplicably placed warhorse. As he spoke, he snuck a glance occasionally at the animal, its presence atop the battlements a surreal reminder of the strange occurrences that had plagued Winterfell and the North in recent moons.

As Lord Stark concluded his inspection and turned to leave, he wondered how one merchant lord could cause so much trouble. Lord Stark saw Harry give a parting glance to the horse as they headed back down from the battlements, with an unreadable look on his face.

"Strange place to keep a horse" He heard Harry mumble, causing Lord Stark to miss a step and almost stumble down the stairs "must be a Westerosi thing". Just barely holding in the groan of disbelief he wanted to utter, Lord Stark decided it was best just to ignore it all and finish the inspection.

In the morning he would be posting guards around the stables with specific orders around certain merchant lords. Yes, that sounded like the best thing to do.

Chapter 19 Teaser:

..."Sirius groaned, lying flat on his face in a melting drift of spring snow... again. His broom was partly embedded in a nearby tree, which had split the tree in an almighty crack. Sirius himself had bailed in enough time to meet the relatively softer earth, hopefully with no more than a few bruises to show for it.

He was, however, so much happier than his mud-covered visage would suggest."

Note: Thanks as always for your readership. I enjoy all your lovely comments. If you're a fan of the story, note that there are more freely available chapters published on other sites as I'm not always up to speed on AO3. Just google the title.

Chapter Text

Last Time:  ..."Uh, Gorm, what's that trader fella up to?" Alik queried his friend as they stood atop the town wall taking in an afternoon ale and shooting the breeze. Alik was looking sceptically at the well-dressed but mud-covered man, who was running up and down outside the walls yelling "up, up" with a stick between his legs. Actually, looking closer, it looked more like a crudely built broom.

"Best not to ask Alik" Gorm concluded, after watching these antics for a bit. "I reckon the fellow's not all-there in the head."

Chapter 19: Hobbyist

Sirius stretched out a yawn, and wrapped his hands around the warm coffee mug. Despite these Northerner's insisting that it was a balmy spring day, Sirius was not convinced. The mornings were still too chilly for his liking.

The curtains were drawn open on their upper floor room at the Inn, letting in the early rays of the sun. He liked to watch the morning hustle and bustle of the town square, as people got ready for the day. Sirius, on the other hand, had very little to do. He'd closed up their market stall a week ago, feeling they'd supplied enough food to see the town through to the first harvest. People would get suspicious if they keep seeming to have more fresh produce and uncountable volumes of tools to sell despite their single cart load.

He and Harry had already cast a selective ward over the market to reduce suspicion and encourage those in the vicinity to not notice the discrepancy. It was known from the long history of Wizarding experience that stretching the disbelief of residents too far, even under these wards, would eventually cause the magic to fail as the residents' minds rebelled against the impossible.

With the market stall closed up, Sirius had taken on the task of getting a series of minor ward stones hidden or buried around the town, the castle, and the surrounding farmlands. These would serve several purposes. One of the most important being the focusing of the Marauder's Map.

Of course, the magics of the map had captured the lands they observed and passed through as they ventured through the North. But that was only in a more general sense, showing the roads and shape of the geography. When it came to cities, or castles for that matter, a much more focused set of wards would allow the map to fully penetrate the buildings, and to track all movements in the area, down to the room a person was standing in.

Harry had mentioned a longer-term plan to leverage the existing weirwood wardstone network they now suspected to exist, to capture the whole of the North, without the two of them having to first observe those areas in their flights or ramblings. But that would require more research from Harry, and he was busy finishing his projects with Lord Edwyle and Maester Gerrick.

Following the kerfuffle of uncovering the spy network, Sirius had actually dug-up an additional ward from the Black Family Grimoire, which he tied to the map in this specific area. It was a friend or foe ward. Its purpose was to brush the minds of those entering the ward for the first time, and test them for loyalty to the Wizarding family occupying those lands.

In this case he'd tied it to the Stark line, using a bit of Harry's Peverell blood, and some hair from Lord Stark, which Dobby had happily acquired. The Peverell blood would represent the 'wizarding family' while the hair was a standard practice to tie a ward on behalf of a squib line of the family. Thus, wizarding blood alongside the specific genetics of the Starks would comfortably tie the ward to the right people.

This would then show up on the Marauders map, with those marked as foes highlighted in red. Sirius was satisfied with the result, and somewhat chuffed with his own ingenuity, having never thought to do this before, and never having heard of something similar in the Wizarding world. , The ward would just ping in the mind of the head of the house. Which is why most chose not to have the ward, because they were known to be iffy at best.

The issue being that even a political ally would ping as a foe if their ultimate goals were more for their own benefit than yours. Even your servants would ping as a foe if you'd pissed them off that day. It was known to be a maddening experience. He'd imagine only the likes of Mad-eye Moody would have such wards active. It might also explain some of the paranoia among Blacks of old.

For the likes of Lord Stark, even a close vassal family might ping as a foe if that family were interested in encouraging a political decision to enrich themselves.

Sirius chuckled at the thought that his never-ending intention to prank members of his family in his youth would have pinged every time he visited his grandparents. He had no doubt a curmudgeonly head of house like Arcturus Black would have had such a ward active.

Thankfully, linking the ward to the map meant that it wouldn't then ping in Lord Stark's mind, as the Head of the squib line tied into the ward. Sending Edwyle mad before his time, was not his intention.

Nonetheless, the Map was now fully functioning in the areas around Wintertown and Winterfell. Something nicely demonstrated by Sirius managing to pick up one more spy in the Castle itself.

Sirius had informed Ser Cassel of the spy and excused the new information by claiming that he'd reviewed the list of traitors from the original interrogation, and spotted a name they'd overlooked. It was likely this spy was part of an entirely separate ring, since they had been rather thorough with their original veritaserum interrogation, but Sirus' excuse should be taken easily enough.

All the remaining red dots were in the town, and were too disconnected from the ruling family to warrant the effort of investigating, they could just be some of the few foreign merchants now trickling into town, who owed their loyalty to other rulers, or to their coin purse for that matter.

Harry and Sirius would check the map on occasion, but this was not a tool they intended to share. They'd be setting this up in all the towns they pass from now on. Though in all future cases they'd set the foe ward to themselves, unless there was another family they wanted to look out for.

Sirius was pretty sure it would just be the Starks for now, since the Starks were apparently the last of the direct male Peverell line here in Westeros, thus retaining some link to the family magics in the same way the Harry was the last of the direct male Peverell line in their world. A connection that brought them closer together, even if it was just their magic acting through them unconsciously to preserve the family line.

Obviously there were relations through so many other lines it would be uncountable, but family magics tended to only pass down the direct male line ever since the family edicts were set in place by Merlin himself.

Thankfully, Sirius didn't think he had any long-lost distant relations running around Westeros, though he'd be checking out the Blackwood family he'd heard of from Lord Stark, whose mother was a Blackwood.

After all, the Black line was just as ancient as the Peverells, and had some fairly powerful sorcerers in their time. Who knows, maybe some errant Black went dimension hopping in the distant past.

He didn't know of any such stories, but then again, no-one knew that Ignotus had ended up here either. They'd instead heard some tripe about him 'meeting death as an old friend'.

Not that Sirius would necessarily want to meet any long-lost relatives on this side of the veil. He barely wanted to meet any back on earth. Almost every single one of them had been afflicted with the hereditary black madness to some extent, and an entirely unseemly thirst for power in all its forms. Not the best lot to have around for a reunion, and he was glad to be shot of them.

Keeping that in mind though, he would keep an eye out for power hungry families, with hereditary madness and a habit of inbreeding. That would be a clear sign of a Black connection. He certainly hoped he'd not stumble across any such families in their travels here in Westeros.

Though now that he'd thought of it, he'd have to keep an eye out for anyone matching those descriptions, if only so he could run in the other direction.

Musings on long lost family aside, the map of the area was now finished and it still left Sirius bereft of a task. He knew they'd be dusting off their travelling cloaks in the near future, with Harry nearly finished on his end in the initial efforts to set the Starks and their people up for greater success.

Nevermind, something would come along.

Sirius groaned, lying flat on his face in a melting drift of spring snow.

He should have tested his broom first. He didn't realise that some of the magics hadn't settled into his DIY broom, and had dissipated in the time it had been stored away. This would be more work than he thought.

The morning coffee had taken a while to kick in, but once his mind was actually operating again, he'd realised he had a crucial project he could be getting on with. That being the building of a proper, fully functioning broom so he could travel at speed alongside Harry, instead of cramming onto the one broom.

He was quickly coming to the conclusion that he'd have to follow Harry's studious lead and actually find instructions on the subject of broom building, but in his stubborn nature he had been convinced that he could do it on his own. He'd now have to drag his mud covered ass back to the tent to wash-up and go over that book, that Harry had found for him, which he'd completely neglected to read.

"Bwahahaha!" ... "It worked! It worked!" ..."bwahahahaha"... "I'm king of the world!"... "Oh... oh shit!"... "aahhhhhh"

CRACK

Tom looked to Jared with a questioning look.

"Well don't ask me!" Jared exclaimed in consternation, looking up from his cards, "I have no clue where those yells are coming from. We're to guard the gate, and I see nothing at the gate, so either play your next hand, or swap out" he groused.

Tom was used to the complete disinterest that came with gate duty. Patrols were much more interesting, and those stuck on gate duty usually knew they were being punished. So it also came with a certain apathy to the surrounding world.

For both of them, this week's punishment was for a failure to regularly sharpen and polish their swords, which would usually go unnoticed, but was picked up by Lord Stark himself during that midnight emergency drill. Boy was that a shock to the system after about two years of winter peace and quiet.

He was, however, impressed with the forethought of Lord Stark to run such a drill, and to not even warn the commanders of the guard, to make sure they themselves were sharp. A smart man, their Lord Stark.

Tom was pretty sure the yells were coming from that merchant lord fellow who'd exited the gate an hour ago with a broad grin and a broom across his shoulders. But the man had disappeared into the distant forest and couldn't be seen from here, so he wasn't sure.

That cracking sound he'd heard couldn't be healthy for whoever was involved, but he was just as displeased to be on gate duty, so he decided to let sleeping dogs lie, and got back to deciding how many coppers to put down on his current hand.

Sirius groaned, lying flat on his face in a melting drift of spring snow... again. His broom was partly embedded in a nearby tree, which had split the tree in an almighty crack. Sirius himself had bailed in enough time to meet the relatively softer earth, hopefully with no more than a few bruises to show for it.

He was, however, so much happier than his mud covered visage would suggest.

"YES!" Sirius exclaimed, rolling over and pumping his fist in the air. He'd finally figured out his broom, and while this one would need some repair, he was over the moon that it worked so well. It had taken him a few days of hard work, including a few days holed up in the study with Harry. Begrudgingly reading through the detailed descriptions in the book. Harry had stuck a post-it-note over the title, which now read 'How to Make Brooms for Dummies'. Harry had handed him the book with a shit-eating grin, clearly amused with his joke at Sirius's expense. Despite Harry's smugness, the effort had finally paid off.

The broom's current state of being embedded in a tree was simply a misunderstanding. He'd started to fly it like a quidditch broom, which it most certainly was not, and had been completely unable to turn at the speed he expected after his poorly executed attempt at a Wronski feint.

Quidditch brooms were a step above the rest. They were built to turn on a dime at full speed, very much contrary to the laws of physics. His newly built DIY broom, on the other hand, was more of a casual long distance rider. It had more comfort charms, and managed a reasonable speed, but definitely didn't have the handling of a sports model.

Thankfully he'd managed to work out his difficulty with the broom build after reading the book. It hadn't held all the answers, since professional broom makers held their secrets in a manner similar to wandmakers, but it was enough.

It turns out he was making two crucial errors in his previous attempts.

Firstly, he'd not tied the charms to the broom core, and simply spelled them on. The core also needed some form of coagulant to seep into the wood and link the core with the wood itself. This was also thought to be one of the secrets of wandmakers, or so the book suggested, and was naturally a tightly held secret. Sirius didn't know where Harry found this book, but he was glad for it, he never would have guessed at this step.

The primary magical core for his broom was the hippogriff feather Harry had given him, but he needed a magical material that would seep into the wood to link the wood and the core together.

He'd briefly considered trawling through the potion ingredients they had in stock, searching for something that would work well with the somewhat more wild magic in this world. But just as he was getting up to start his search, his eyes landed on the small collection of weirwood branches Harry had dragged in to study at one of their stops along the way to Winterfell. At the sight of the beautiful white, and according to Harry, magical wood, his mind came to an obvious conclusion.

In no time, he'd managed to gather and work with sap from the weirwood, splitting a dried-out raw weirwood branch he'd chosen for his new broom, and spreading a thick layer of fresh sap along the very centre all the way from top to tail. The sap would remain under preserving charms which just required ambient energy to sustain themselves, as did most of the charms on the broom. A quick reparo rejoined the two pieces, leaving the branch whole again, without even a seam to show where it had been split in two.

A bit of skilled transfiguration, from a man who was good enough to learn the Animagus transformation as a teenager, soon saw the branch re-form into a sportier, smooth broom handle.

He went for a look similar in style to Harry's firebolt, but obviously in the ash white shade of the weirwood. Transfiguration of this sort was permanent because a skilled practitioner could ensure that the materials themselves were unchanged, with nothing added or removed, it simply reshaped what was already there.

Once the core was in-place, it was a case of casting the charms with the intent of anchoring them to the magical core.

The second issue he addressed was one of runes. He'd forgotten a few of the control runes on his original broom, which was the reason he'd failed to rise higher than five feet on his earlier attempts.

More importantly, he'd neglected the anti-friction rune cluster, which was a basic requirement on all brooms. This was why he couldn't pick up any speed. In the absence of these runes, the flight used more magic just to keep moving forward. More magic than the broom could sustain from the user and the ambient magic in the surrounds.

With less friction to deal with, the innate magic of the broom would be able to channel more power into speed. As simple as that.

Though, describing it as simple would be an understatement. Sirius acknowledged that his years of practice in spell creations and rune work with the Marauders had been good training for self-sufficiently working with unfamiliar magics. Most Wizards would have utterly failed to handle every part necessary in building a broom from scratch.

"Huh, I guess I'm not as much of a waste of space as my mother used to claim" Sirius mumbled to himself as he levered himself off the ground, more than a little pleased with his success. He summoned the broom from the tree, and repaired the damage with a reparo and some minor re-transfiguration.

He figured he was done for the day. He'd been flying under disillusionment the whole time to avoid being seen in the air, but the sun was setting, so it was probably time to head back and check on Harry and Dobby.

His book thief of a godson, and their chaos magnet of a House elf required some oversight after-all. It just boggled the mind that somehow he was the grown-up in this situation, he thought amusedly. "HAH" he guffawed, that's probably his best joke yet. He grinned from ear to ear, hiking the broom onto his shoulder; life was good to him these days.

He decided not to clean the mud off as he headed back to the gate. Let them see a lordling covered in mud, it would probably lift the spirits of those guardsmen, the poor fellas looked too agonizingly bored last time he saw them.

Dobby was at a loose end. He had nothing in particular to do, and that was not a comfortable feeling for a house elf.

Harry had told him not to go out cleaning and fixing things around town too often as people could start to get suspicious, especially since they'd been here so long, if he was fixing something everyday, the town would have been inexplicably sparkling. Though Harry didn't tell Dobby how well he was allowed to clean things, so Dobby would just have to clean twice as hard when he could. Dobby was good with instructions like that. That did leave Dobby wondering what to do with his time now though.

Sirius had closed down the market stall days ago now, so didn't need any more help from Dobby to run things on that end. Right now, Sirius was working on his broom building hobby. Dobby would help, but would have no idea where to begin.

Meanwhile. Harry was busy in the library, supposedly helping Maester Garrick on the implementation of their development plans. Though Dobby suspected that was just a poorly veiled excuse for indulging in his hobby of 'stealing' books. Dobby was just happy that Harry was happy, even if he did think it was a very strange hobby for a wizard. He'd let Harry have his fun and find something else to take his time.

That left Dobby in this relatively new situation of having nothing to do. Though the thought had occurred to Dobby that maybe he should pick up a hobby of his own, like Sirius and Harry.

He'd raised the idea with both of them at dinner last night, and they had seemed supportive. Or at least they had both seemed supportive after Harry took the time to exclaim that "stealing books was not his hobby".

Dobby and Sirius had shared a sceptical look at that, but just let Harry grumble about books and saving knowledge, and "poor medieval archiving techniques with damp creeping through the walls", or something like that. He thought he caught the words "largest library the world has ever seen!" interspersed in the grumblings. They'd learnt from experience that it was best just to let Harry get it out of his system when he started his book rants.

In the end, neither of his companions had any particular thoughts on what Dobby should do as a hobby. They had only said he should try to think of something he'd done before that he'd enjoyed doing.

So here Dobby was, wandering the streets of Wintertown, looking for somewhere he could buy some paints and something to pass as a canvas.

Dobby had always enjoyed touching up the many portraits that lined the walls at Malfoy manor. There wasn't much he enjoyed in that place, but the Malfoys had allowed Dobby to learn magical painting techniques from another elf, and it turns out he was quite good at it. Of course, the Malfoys weren't being altruistic in any way, they just didn't want to spend the money on a professional painter when they could have a free one on hand.

Dobby smiled softly as he recalled the extra charms his trainer had shown him to use on paintings of particularly nasty masters. It slowly turned the animated portrait insane, enough that they would shout insults at anyone passing by. He'd convinced one to blow raspberry's at the Minister's wife whenever she visited. Narcissa was mortified. Dobby chuckled to himself, causing a few passers-by to look at him strangely.

Needless to say, good old Lucy's own portrait had developed quite a mouth on it over time. Harry and Sirius had laughed themselves hoarse when he'd relayed that particular piece of subtle retribution.

Dobby liked painting though. It helped that he had noticed Winterfell, and many of the other castles or keeps they'd passed through were quite drab compared to the wizarding manors of their old world, which were usually packed full of paintings.

The few paintings they did have in the castles here looked weirdly flat and distorted, like the person they painted had been flattened out first. Dobby figured they just had bad painters. Though Harry had said something about linear perspective and depth only being used in paintings from the renaissance onwards. Whatever that meant.

Dobby wasn't sure how you could 'forget' that people weren't flat when you were painting them, but Dobby supposed humans were just weird sometimes. Either way, Dobby knew he could do better.

He'd be happy to help add some colour to the castle, and he felt it would make a nice gift to their new Stark friends as thanks for hosting them over the past couple of moons.

Dobby would start with portraits of the Starks and his travelling companions, to get back in the swing of things. But he had always wanted to try his hand at something bigger. A grand statement piece for the great hall or one of the walls in the larger rooms. He'd never had a chance at the Malfoy manor, but no-one was stopping him now.

When he had told Harry of this plan, he had taken on a thoughtful look and told Dobby he had just the right picture for him to use. Pulling over a book he had 'copied' from the Starks, Harry flipped to a double page spread in the middle.

"Here, I think this would look great on the walls of Winterfell" Harry had said with a satisfied nod "and it might give them all something to think about."

Leaning over the book, Dobby smiled at the grand scene laid out on the pages. It was an epic depiction of the Northern army in pitched battle against the Night King and his horde of undead, with the army spilling down from their position on a hill in the background housing a weirwood tree larger than any Dobby had yet seen. Giants and Children of the Forrest were mixed in to the armies on both sides.

Right in the center of the piece were two armoured swordsmen in a furious duel with the Night King himself, one wielding a dark sword with rippling metal, and one a sword of blazing silver. Flames licked, seemingly harmlessly, at the feet of the two men, pushing back at the circle of frost that seemed to be creeping out from the feet of the Night King. A battle of both man and nature. Probably also of magic, Dobby thought.

A close inspection of the armour showed sigils of the Stark Direwolf and the Peverell hallows emblazoned on each of their chests respectively. This singular fight was highlighted in a beam of light breaking through the heavy clouds. The Night King was clearly on the back foot against these two opponents.

"Wow," Dobby squeaked, stunned by the piece. He could already imagine what it would look like as a grand painting.

"Dobby be thanking the Great Harry P..." Dobby paused for a moment and cleared his throat, having momentarily slipped back into old habits in his excitement. He'd made great strides in normalising his speech pattern, and he knew Harry was quite proud of him for it. He tried not to slip if he could avoid it. This was also crucial in his guise as Harry's brother Doberic, which allowed him greater freedom to explore this world in public.

"This is perfect Harry!" he corrected himself, seeing the pleased gleam in Harry's eyes, "This'll be by far the grandest masterpiece we've seen anywhere in the North.."

Harry was grinning at this point. "Think you can pull it off Dobby?" He asked, somewhat curious and surprised at his friends apparent hidden talent.

"Oh easily" Dobby assured. Knowing that he was actually quite skilled, and revelling in being allowed to acknowledge it.

Taking another moment to consider the picture in more detail, Dobby noted "The detail is so realistic. I thought you said the painters of this era probably couldn't produce anything realistic with paints. All the paintings we've seen so far have been weirdly flat. How have you found a picture like this, especially one in a book from this world?"

Harry just smiled and reached out to flip the book back to its title page. "I found this in the crypts with the other documents that were hidden away. It was heavily deteriorated, to the point it was almost unreadable, but a reparo backed up by quite a lot of power managed to sort that problem."

He pointed to the name engraved into the leather bound cover "Lo and behold, it turns out it was a book written by Iolanthe Peverell herself, covering the 'Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn' from the perspectives of her father and husband."

Turning back to the striking image in the center of the book he answered Dobby "my best guess is that Iolanthe used a charm to extract the actual memory of this battle and the duel, somehow managing to impress it onto the page. The image is so perfectly detailed and there are no brush strokes to be seen. It could only be magic."

Sirius, who had been happily listening to the two while reclining by the fire, chipped in with his own thoughts. "Painting that picture large enough to cover the back wall of the great hall would certainly leave a striking impression"

Sirius gave a crooked smile and a knowing look to Harry "I'm also sure it will go a long way to embedding the Peverell name into the psyche of the North, and it won't do any harm to bolster the legends of magic in these parts."

"I'll even pull out the Black book on how to link wizarding portraits so they can give you updates and keep tabs on the castle if you want. I'm pretty sure the Blacks made the 'muggle' painting in the prime minister's office back in Britain, so they will have the right charms."

Harry rubbed his head a bit sheepishly "yes, well, I was thinking something along those lines. I've been a bit concerned that the people seem to have largely forgotten magic, and most seem to think the Long Night was merely a myth."

"At least if Dobby is as good at painting as he claims, it won't be hard to convince the Starks to hang it up. And at the size we're planning, there will be no other place to put it but in the hall to be seen by all visitors. They certainly won't have seen a painting like this before." He concluded, looking pleased with the intended outcome.

Dobby gave Harry a narrowed look, of course he was good at painting, the Malfoys wouldn't have hung just anything on their walls for their 'friends' to judge. Nevermind, the proof would be in the pudding. It might take a few days to get back into practice, but Dobby would show them what a real master painter could do.

Harry turned to Dobby, "I'll ask Lord Stark if he minds having their portraits done tomorrow" he finished. Dobby nodded at that, pleased with this new concept of having a hobby, and that it would actually fulfill a useful purpose.

Note: If you're a fan of the story, there are more freely available chapters published on other sites as I'm not always up to speed on AO3. Just google the title.

Chapter 20 Teaser:

..."We'll head east to White Harbour first," Harry said "and from there, we'll likely take a boat south to explore some of the other kingdoms of Westeros".

Yes, thought Lord Stark, a boat would probably be the best way to get around for these men who seemed anathema to horses. Though a moment later he almost choked on his own wine when it occurred to him that they had presumably arrived in Westeros on a boat, and done it so poorly they ended up north of the wall. Maybe some people just weren't meant to travel."