Disclaimer: I don't own anything from both the Harry Potter Universe or from Game of Thrones. They all belong to J.K Rowling and George R.R. Martin respectively.

MUST KNOW

*words written in:

Italic - internal monologue

Bold - magical spells/ charms / curses


PROLOGUE

She was running. She was running towards the screams of her people…towards the place where the fighting was thick and where the smell of blood was the strongest… to the only place where it was crawling with the Others.

She run passed people who were fleeing towards the opposite direction, people who were frightened and were screaming at her to run back to where she came from, but Hermione didn't. Instead, she ran faster towards the massacre. She ignored the amount of fear, agony and desperation that seemed to congeal in the bitter, cold air around her.

She was still running when-

CRACK!

The loud sound of wood splintering echoed ominously throughout the icy field, and which prompted many to sprint faster than ever before. Then - then there was an almighty CRASH! as Hermione slowly watched in silent horror, when the gates to Hardhome finally collapsed.

The futile barrier between them and what was outside those gates were completely destroyed. Debris and icy rubble flew everywhere as what awaits beyond those gates appeared in droves.

All rotting carcasses and blood stained skeletons came pouring right in through the breach, driven by an animalistic hunger at the sight of their living prey. The advance guard of the undead army surge forward - running and butchering everyone who was still alive - and all were utterly merciless in their slaughter.

It was an absolute carnage.

Nevertheless, the sight of them didn't deter Hermione, rather she nocked an arrow into her bow and started shooting them down furiously. Arrow after arrow left her bowstring while she kept on moving towards the oncoming horde of undead. Her alchemy runes for strength, speed, agility and sight - which she had engraved on her skin since a lifetime ago – began glowing and sucking out the concentrated magic from the air around her, and ultimately enhancing her abilities.

Fortunately, the people were still too focused on fleeing that they didn't notice that her face momentarily glowed white, right before Hermione quickly cast a disillusionment charm to conceal the glowing marks.

Hermione targeted as many wights as she could.

Yet they still kept on coming.

"Damn those necromancers!" Hermione thought vehemently as she realized that using normal arrows were not going to help anyone at all, and inwardly curse as she watched the wights that she had shot down slowly rose up again.

"Damn it! This is getting tiring!"

Hermione felt torn between mounting desperation and aggravation as she let loose a dozen arrows that would surely do nothing to the running corpses, other than turned them into a moving pincushions.

The temptation to draw on that vast power around her was getting the better of Hermione, but she hesitated. There were still too many witnesses around, and the process would be too dangerous.

Thus, she needed to wait until all the people escape from that area before Hermione could release all that raw magic into the infantry of rotting carcasses. Yet the chance of everyone surviving the attack was getting grimmer by the minute as the Night's King foot soldiers continued their merciless advance.

Which left Hermione with no choice but to start soaking up that natural energy around her. But unlike the necromancer from the Land of Always Winter, Hermione's magic generated heat and fire, instead of the cold and ice. She drank her fill of the abundant Northern magic and began recharging her alchemy runes with it.

The cold air around her turned heated, but not enough to garner attention from the passing people within the vicinity. In a matter of seconds, her body began to hum with power as the wind whipped and whirled around her. Then, it turned into a vortex of heated air while she continued to suck on that power like a vacuum.

Of course, this time she could now feel a dozen eyes on her. People had eventually noticed the vortex of hot wind and steam that emanated from her.

"So much for being subtle." Hermione thought when people started to glance her way while they sprinted pass her. The look of curiosity and a hint of something like hope flickering in their eyes as Hermione met their gazes.

"Do not worry." Hermione said in that look as she finally activated her fully-charged runes.

The ice beneath her feet melted the instant she released her magic outwards, creating a puddle of water around her while some rose up and evaporated right through the air, due to the intense heat she generated.

She could still feel the gazes glued to her back even when the people were already too far behind her.

"I will protect you all." Hermione vowed internally.

And with that, her eyes began to glow blinding white before she unloaded dozens upon dozens of arrows - imbued with a permanent sticking charm - upon the enemy, pinning them to the ground until they became an obstruction.

As she did this, Hermione continued to siphon a reasonable amount of magic, just enough to cast a number of sticking charms, and a number of spells to slow down the enemy line. It was also a good thing that her quiver was never empty. With the use of an extension charm on it, Hermione had a limitless supply of arrows to use in dire times like these.

And so, with a repetitive twang of her bowstring. Hermione's arrows peppered the enemy ranks with a consecutive, Thuck - Thuck - Thuck - Thuck sounds as the arrowheads struck the frozen ground, which sent ice chips spraying everywhere and dark, sticky blood splattering all across the snow; where it was now littered with impaled skulls, decaying limbs and torn torsos.

But still, Hermione did not stop.

She had already sent more than a hundred arrows towards her enemies. Her enhanced speed, eyesight and strength gave her the advantage as she released a dozen arrows in great succession and within a five seconds time frame. Her aim was accurate and deadly while her strength allowed her to impale two or three wights at the same time, where they remained stuck together after the arrowheads impacted into the ground and then clamping them all permanently on the spot.

Now, five dozen or so of those dead things, were struggling like a bunch of writhing pincushions as her charmed bow remained unbent and unbroken.

And bit by bit, the enemy line fragmented from her relentless barrage of arrows.

Hermione noted that their movements almost slowed down to a crawl, mainly due to the increasing mass of bodies that were impeding their flow.

Now, more of her people were gradually leading a charge towards the docks. That was when Hermione finally saw the Lord Commander - Jon Snow, as well as Tormund Giantsbane, Wun wun the giant, and a few men from the Night's Watch - heading towards her.

"Jean, what in hell are you still doing here?!" Tormund shouted as he drew nearer. "We must leave this place! The gates had already fallen! It would be any second now before the entire place is overrun by the undead army!"

He yelled as he arrived in front of her, and then unceremoniously took her by the arm and started dragging her along with the others, despite Hermione's protest.

At some point, Hermione had unconsciously deactivated her runes at the sight of their familiar faces. She was relieved that most of them were still alive, except someone was missing…

Jon Snow shot her a look of confusion as he inquired. "Why are you here, Jean?! Didn't you leave with the children earlier?"

"Yes, I did but—Wait! Where's Karsi?!" Hermione asked as she suddenly remembered her chieftain and surrogate older sister.

"Karsi is not with us. We got separated when the fighting started." Jon answered her as they continued running.

"What?! I can't leave here until I find her! I promised her daughters that I would bring her back!" She tried to wrench her arm away from Tormund's painful grip. "Let me go Tormund! I have to find Karsi!"

"God-damnit, woman! She's long gone. She was at the gates when it fell!" The red head yelled at her, and forcefully half-dragged, half-carried her after the others, who were already running ahead. "And you are going to die too if you stay behind! So stop being goddamn stubborn and move your ass into the docks!"

"Listen to him, Jean!" Jon cut in as he ran beside them. Hermione looked at him.

"She's gone! You must be the one to inform her daughters of this grave news! They are your responsibility now!"

"But—but.." She trailed off as a wave of shock washed over Hermione, when the news finally sunk into her mind. She wanted to cry and rage at the same time, but she could only feel numbness somehow; numb that she had failed to save someone close to her once again, and she would send many more to their deaths if she wouldn't start fighting seriously.

"Jean! We should move now!" Tormund shouted at her as Hermione remained frozen on the spot. Her eyes unseeing as she remembered Karsi, the woman who took her in after she left Craster's Keep.

She just couldn't believe that the person who was like an older sister to her was gone.

Hermione blankly watched as Wun Wun took down a dozen wights with a huge log to give them time to flee.

"Get a hold of yourself, woman! Else I'm gonna throw your sorry ass over the shivering sea!"

In spite of the threat, Hermione wasn't afraid of Tormund. She knew that he was just concern for her welfare.

However, she was no longer paying attention to him as her eyes were riveted to the bloodbath in front of her. Hermione could still see a significant number of people running and fighting behind, and instantly dying as the wights swept through the blockage that she had created.

It seemed that what Hermione had done earlier was not enough to impede the deathless army. It was a paltry attempt to save her people.

It was utterly pathetic…Hermione was a pathetic excuse of a witch…

This wouldn't have happened if Hermione hadn't been hesitant in using that potent magic around her. She knew she could have destroyed the army of wights when she had the chance months – or even years ago - but it was too late now…too late..

"Jean!" Tormund slapped her. Hard.

But the slap didn't even register to Hermione as her healing rune flared to life, removing the pain and healing it almost instantly.

Nonetheless, the slap was enough for Hermione to reach a decision.

It was time to stop hiding from her true self, and time to start using what she was born to do.

And with that, Hermione didn't hesitate when she threw a punch at Tormund, who immediately released her at the force of her blow. The alchemy rune for strength on her face glowed blue momentarily after Hermione used it for the punch, and she didn't feel mildly guilty when she heard the Lieutenant curse at her.

However, by the time the red head turned towards her again, Hermione had already apparated away and appeared just a short distance from the horde of undead army.

Then, without a qualm, Hermione began drawing on that power that lay heavy in the air. No longer caring about the consequence of her action.

It was time to embrace her past, her present… and her future.

Hermione was a witch. No matter where she was.

In this world, she had no use for wands. She had no use for any magical conduits other than herself. And if she needed that much power, she could just take it from her surroundings and bend it to her will.

But she was going to do it once she had drunk her fill.

Hermione breathe in as much raw magic for what it's worth, making her body strained at the vast amount of it filling her up. Yet Hermione didn't stop drawing it in, even when she felt like she was about to burst at the seams.

This must also be the reason those necromancers were powerful this far north. So powerful, in fact, that they became immortal and were much harder to kill.

And Hermione was going to take every drop of that power into her.

Despite the fact that this power had the potential to destroy The Wall and decimate an entire army, Hermione had avoided using that kind of power for fear of being used as a living weapon. As a result, she had limited herself into using runes and little charms for the past seventeen years of her life - just enough to survive the harsh life beyond the wall.

Now, however… it was a different matter altogether.

No matter what world Hermione had come from, this was her world now, this was her home and her people - and her people needed her the most right this moment.

There was no point in hiding what she was capable of - of her power - and how dangerous she could be. There was no point to it, when men, women and children were being massacred left and right, and their hope slowly dwindling bit by bit…

No…

It was time for her - Hermione Jean Granger - to save what was left of her people and of her home...

She would put a stop to the massacre at Hardhome.

And with the entire North backing her up, Hermione raised her bow and arrow as she watched the surging mass of rotting corpses and skeletons drawing nearer, and nearer, with each passing second.

''Breathe in." Hermione thought as she pulled the weirwood arrow tautly against her bowstring with the fletching brushing beside her cheekbone. The caress of feathers against her cheek was comforting to Hermione as her eyes began to glow white once again. She zeroed on her specified target and immediately calculated the right trajectory for a perfect shot.

A second after, the arrow between her fingers began to vibrate and hum. The weirwood grew heated as she transferred some of her magic into it. There was also a flurry of hot wind that bellowed around her like a raging cyclone; all scorching and ice-melting that made Hermione's clothes sizzle and steam.

And then, the buzzing inside her turned into a low hum as Hermione's magical core was finally filled to the brim with power.

She was ready.

"Breathe out." Hermione thought as she exhaled.

All the runes on her face flaring brightly as her bowstring snapped, and the vibrating arrow was released at last.

Hermione muttered a quick spell as it left her fingers, where it flew with an incredible speed into the air, and shortly began to burn brightly as it twirled and sucked more, and more magic mid-air.

It was like a line of white light streaking higher, and higher up into the horizon. It blazed like a comet, turning heads as it whoosh through the air.

The light was so bright that the undead army paused to stare at the bizarre sight; all their glowing blue eyes following the arrow's rapid progress.

The arrow flew true and unhindered towards its designated target…and where it finally found its mark.

BOOOOM !

The ground shook underneath Hermione's feet as the cliff side up ahead – where she had seen the White Walkers observing the massacre – exploded into bits of icy boulders.

In a flash, there were screams and shouts as the people heard the powerful explosion, which sent a shock wave all across the valley. Then, it was subsequently followed by an earth-shattering roar, when large chunks of glaciers tumbled down over the army in front of her - who were already moving to escape.

However, nearly most of them weren't able to flee on time as a huge ice sheet– the size of a building – tipped over and slid off from the cliff that soon squashed the horde of wights. The skewered undead soldiers - from Hermione's sticking charm – met their inevitable fate straight away. The icy mass instantly flattening them, where limbs, brain matter, entrails and dark juices pooled across the tundra - along with the unlucky wights that failed to escape. While the lucky ones scrambled to safety - already changing their first directive - from killing to escaping.

Fortunately, there were no casualties from her own people since they were too far away from Hermione's planned attack. Although some were hit by stray icy projectiles that pelted down on them after the glacier smashed into the ground, where it generated a miniature earthquake that rocked the permafrost valley for a few seconds – a few seconds that nearly swept people off their feet.

As the quake gradually faded, there was a heavy pause across the frozen land - a brief pause as everything settled down.

The hail of ice and other bits of rubble had stopped raining, while the disperse cloud of air that had engulfed the area finally cleared, and the sight that met everyone's eyes was beyond astonishing.

More than a thousand set of eyes were drawn to the huge chunk of ice lying on top upon hundreds of strewn corpses and body parts that were still moving – the sight of more than a hundred undead soldiers crushed like squirming insects underneath a gigantic glacier that jutted out like a sore thumb in the middle of the frozen landscape.

Hermione stared at her work, and felt dissatisfied.

"It seemed that there are more of those walking corpses than I expect." Hermione surmised as she watch the wights that were still standing; her small frame roiled in acute displeasure and anger.

"Then, my work here is not done yet."

And with that, Hermione moved once again.

She conjured a dagger, which she promptly used to cut her palm opened. With the blood that welled up from the slice, she let the crimson drops land on the ground, and where she quickly knelt down and drew a blood ward in front of her – a complex ward that would extend from one end to another, which would allow the living to cross and incinerate those who were already dead.

Albeit it would require a huge amount of magic for the blood ward to function, and even more so to lengthen its allotted time.

Hermione activated the wards and carefully regarded the translucent barrier that slowly shimmered in the air in front of her - a barrier that ran towards the icy cliff hill to her left and stretched towards the shores to her right.

It was a blood ward with such magnitude that drained half of Hermione's store of magic. And as a consequence, she had to suck in another litter of magical residue from the air just to refill her half-empty reserves. She could already feel her magical core stretched thin, which was mainly caused from the constant strain of controlling that much potent power within her.

Hermione knew that she wouldn't last long before she would break…

Hermione scrutinized the enemy soldiers as they began moving again. She observed as their movements were more measured and careful - a clear indication that the Night's King was not taking any risk to lose his remaining army to an enemy with strange powers; an enemy which sent nearly half the bulk of his undead soldiers out of commission...

To the Night's King, Hermione was a mysterious contender in the Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall…

A new player in the game..

And the odds were now even, when she had Death by her side.

Because she was, after all...

The Mistress of Death.

...

..

.

TO BE CONTINUED


With one wish for every Hallows,

Where Death had sent her to follow,

Either a friend or a foe,

To a place of ice and snow,

To a land of the free... or not at all,

To the Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall.


"There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."

- A Clash of Kings, Chapter 10, Davos I. by G.R.R Martin


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