AN: The first two chapters been rewritten. You should read them first. In this chapter there are certain parts that I copied from the main book and modified them slightly for the story purpose. You can skip those part if you want. From the next chapter canon events will progressively decline. So no worry. I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry potter and Game of thrones. And no character belongs to me.

A 'Children of the Forest'

A cold, cheerless meal had been laid out in the morning room of the Guest House. Jaime sat at table with Cersei and the children, talking in low, hushed voices.

"Is Robert still abed?" Tyrion asked as he seated himself, uninvited, at the table.

His sister peered at him with the same expression of faint distaste she had worn since the day he was born.

"The king has not slept at all," she told him. "He is with Lord Eddard. He has taken their sorrow deeply to heart."

"He has a large heart, our Robert," Jaime said with a lazy smile. There was very little that Jaime took seriously. Tyrion knew that about his brother, and forgave it. During all the terrible long years of his childhood, only Jaime had ever shown him the smallest measure of affection or respect, and for that Tyrion was willing to forgive him most anything.

A servant approached.

"Bread and two of those little fish, and a mug of that good dark beer to wash them down. Oh, and some bacon. Burn it until it turns black." The man bowed and moved off.

Prince Harold spoke up. "Do you have news of Bran, Uncle?"

"I stopped by the sickroom last night," Tyrion announced. "There was no change. The maester thought that a hopeful sign."

"I don't want Brandon to die," Tommen said timorously. He was a sweet boy. Not like his brother Joffrey.

"Lord Eddard had a brother named Brandon as well," Jaime mused. "One of the hostages murdered by Targaryen. It seems to be an unlucky name."

"Oh, not that unlucky, surely," Tyrion said.

The servant brought his plate. He ripped off a chunk of black bread.

"What do you mean?" Cersei was studying him warily.

"Why, only that Tommen may get his wish. The maester thinks the boy may yet live." Tyrion gave her a crooked smile and took a sip of beer.

Myrcella and Tommen gave a happy gasp, and Harold smiled nervously, but it was not the children Tyrion was watching. The glance that passed between Jaime and Cersei lasted no more than a second, but he did not miss it. Then his sister dropped her gaze to the table.

"That is no mercy. These northern gods are cruel to let the child linger in such pain."

"What were the maester's words?" Jaime asked. The bacon crunched when he bit into it.

Tyrion chewed thoughtfully for a moment and said,

"He thinks that if the boy were going to die, he would have done so already. It has been four days with no change."

"Will Bran get better, Uncle?" Harold asked.

"His back is broken, little one, the fall shattered his legs as well. They keep him alive with honey and water, or he would starve to death. Perhaps, if he wakes, he will be able to eat real food, but he will never walk again."

"If he wakes," Cersei repeated. "Is that likely?"

"The gods alone know, the maester only hopes" Tyrion told her. He chewed some more bread.

"I would swear that wolf of his is keeping the boy alive. The creature is outside his window day and night, howling. Every time they chase it away, it returns. The maester said they closed the window once, to shut out the noise, and Bran seemed to weaken. When they opened it again, his heart beat stronger."

The queen shuddered.

"There is something unnatural about those animals, they are dangerous. I will not have any of them coming south with us." She said.

"You'll have a hard time stopping them, sister. They follow those girls everywhere." Jaime said.

Harold sat there listening to their conversations and thought about what happened. When he and Arya reached the castle and heard about Bran, Arya's first reaction was straight denial. But they ran to see Bran anyway. When they reached Bran's chamber they saw maester Lwuis was talking to Lord Stark. Some other people were also listening to him and he recognized all Stark children, Theon Grayjoy and surprisingly his father. They caught the last part of the speech and it was no good news.

"…..spines broken and both legs shattered. He hit in the head as well but not so severe. I did what I could and all we could do now is wait for him to wake up."

Hearing his Arya just froze in place, shaking her head, still in denial. That was the last time he saw any of the Stark children in the past four days.

After breakfast Harold was wondering around the castle and came upon the place where Bran was found. He looked up to see the tower. It was the highest tower of the castle and about the same height of the Astronomy tower of Hogwarts. It's a wonder he is still alive.

The tower looked abandoned for years and there were many places where parts of the wall were missing big chunk of stones. He did not have anything better to do, so he decided to do some investigating.

He approached the gate and found stairs spiraling up to the very top of the tower. He started climbing the stairs and exploring any chambers and corridors he found. All the chambers were covered by thick dust and many had broken furniture. So about half an hour later he was very surprised to come upon a relatively clean chamber. It was a medium sized room and about the size of his own chamber. It had only one window and when he looked down through it he was very surprised to see the exact spot where Bran was found. He thought it was very odd for the chamber to be directly upwards from the incident and it was the only clean chamber in the tower. Then he quickly came to the middle of the chamber to inspect it more carefully.

When he saw the spot of the incident through the window he was quite shocked. But it was nothing compared to what he found next. A single long blond hair in one of cracks on the floor. The hair didn't surprised him, what surprised him was who it belonged to. It was his mother's.

"What are you doing here?" A voice demanded.

Daenerys Targaryen was never happy in her life. She had never seen the land her brother told her so much about. He said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her.

Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King's landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother's womb.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after the flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper's brother set sail with his new-built fleet. Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever. They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper's hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

Viserys was an arrogant man and very cruel to her. He would often beat her mercilessly and called that the wrath of the dragon. Though she had never seen a real dragon and often wondered about them.

So when Viserys gave her a wonderful silk gown she immediately became very suspicious, but said nothing because she didn't want to 'wake the dragon'.

"A gift from the Magister Illyrio," Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight.

"The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess."

"Why does he give us so much? What does he want from us?" she asked. For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the Magister's house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.

"Illyrio is no fool, he knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne." Viserys said.

Dany said nothing. Though she didn't believe it.

"Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort of mount." He studied her critically.

"You still slouch. Straighten yourself let them see that you have a woman's shape now." He said.

"You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"

"No," Dany said meekly.

"Good." Her brother smiled. He touched her hair, almost with affection.

"When they write the history of my reign, sweet sister, they will say that it began tonight." And then he was gone.

This is it. She thought. Now her brother was selling her to some savage horse lord. She thought back her whole life again. Her life is going to change. For better or worse, she thought.

Harold was extremely worried. He didn't know how it happened. When he heard the voice behind him he jumped in fright. And from the looks of it he hid something else. Magic. So he just sat there head in his hands and cursing his bad luck. For the first time in his life he really did magic and it couldn't be in any worse time. There it was, Rob stark lying unconscious thanks to him for blasting him across the room.

On the other hand his mother's hair was found in this room. He thought furiously. Any reason her mother would come here. May be she came here after Bran's fall. Or it may be a coincidence, that she came exploring into the room before and upon finding it clean passed some time here. Or maybe someone planted her hair though he couldn't think of a valid reason. Or maybe it was someone else's hair, though that was also unlikely. He would recognize it anywhere. Or he could compare directly and thought of doing just that. He just shuddered to think the most likely possibility that, she was doing something here and killed the witness. He refused to think about that until he had solid proof.

Now the problem in hand. What to do with Rob? His first instinct was to get rid of the body somehow, but decided against it. He can't just kill someone because he saw him doing magic. At last he decided to leave him here and hope for the best. It looks like Rob was hit in the head, so he may not remember. Or if he did remember then he can always deny to be there at all. Who will believe a five year old can best someone three times his age.

Rob came down from the tower late in the afternoon and declared that he was attacked by someone. When asked what he was doing there in the first place, he answered that he wanted to investigate the tower. And he didn't think it was an accident. And due to the fact that he was attacked on the crime scene everyone believe him and thought the culprit must had been removing evidence. The castle was on an uproar but Harold thought himself very lucky that he got there first and Rob forgot about him.

Two weeks passed, and in this time Harold tried to collect any evidence he can. He never told anyone about the hair and kept it safe in a small bottle he 'borrowed' from the maester's chamber which was now secure inside his robe's pocket. He didn't want people jump into conclusion and still hoped that, his main suspicion was wrong.

His first mission was to collect a hair from her mother which proved to be too easy. All he had to do was go to his mother's chamber and search on the pillow. But that caused another problem. If it was so easy then anyone can implant it. But why would they do that? He wondered. So the next course of action was check that where she was during the attack. And that was the problem. He have to ask people questions and as he was only five nobody will take him seriously. So he applied some subtlety here.

So he asked around questions. About who found Bran? Did you visited him and when? Did you see anyone else visit him? Being a prince had its upsides and even most people seemed annoyed by his questions but had to humor him anyway. And after all those questioning he guessed the queen seemed no reliable alibi. But it also proved nothing. So the only thing remained to get to the bottom of this. Confront the queen.

Jon Snow always tried to avoid Lady Stark. She was extremely cold towards him for being a bastard child. He never knew his mother, not even her name. And he always craved for mother's love. It wasn't his fault that he was a bastard. He often thought about it bitterly and could not help but envy the other Stark children. Even though Lord Stark allowed him to call father, he knew that he never had a place here. So he decided to join the night's watch with his uncle Benjin Stark.

Lady Stark was there beside Bran's bed. She had been there, day and night. Not for a moment had she left Bran's side. She had her meals brought to her there, and chamber pots as well and a small hard bed to sleep on, though she had scarcely slept at all. She fed him herself, the honey and water and herb mixture that sustained life. Not once did she leave the room. So he didn't had the chance to see Bran for once.

But now there was no more time. He stood in the door for a moment, afraid to speak, afraid to come closer. Lady Stark looked over. For a moment she did not seem to recognize him. Finally she blinked.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless.

"I came to see Bran to say good-bye," Jon said.

Her face did not change. Her long auburn hair was dull and tangled. She looked as though she had aged twenty years.

"You've said it. Now go away."

Part of him wanted only to flee, but he knew that if he did he might never see Bran again. He took a nervous step into the room.

"Please," he said.

Something cold moved in her eyes.

"I told you to leave we don't want you here." She said.

Once that would have sent him running. Once that might even have made him cry. Now it only made him angry. He would be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch soon, and face worse dangers than Catelyn Tully Stark.

"He's my brother," he said.

"Shall I call the guards?"

"Call them. You can't stop me from seeing him." Jon said, defiant.

He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them, and looked down on Bran where he lay. She was holding one of his hands. It looked like a claw. This was not the Bran he remembered. The flesh had all gone from him. His skin stretched tight over bones like sticks. Under the blanket, his legs bent in ways that made Jon sick

"Bran, I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid."

He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks. Jon no longer cared.

"Don't die, Bran. Please. We're all waiting for you to wake up. Me and Robb and the girls, everyone..."

Lady Stark was watching. She had not raised a cry. Jon took that for acceptance. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The wolf that Bran had not had time to name.

"I have to go now, Uncle Benjin is waiting. I'm to go north to the Wall. We have to leave today, before the snows come."

"I wanted him to stay here with me," Lady Stark said softly.

Jon watched her, wary. She was not even looking at him. She was talking to him, but for a part of her, it was as though he were not even in the room.

"I prayed for it, he was my special boy. I went to the sept and prayed seven times to the seven faces of god that Ned would change his mind and leave him here with me. Sometimes prayers are answered."

Jon did not know what to say.

"It wasn't your fault," he managed after an awkward silence.

Her eyes found him. They were full of poison.

"I need none of your absolution, bastard."

Jon lowered his eyes. She was cradling one of Bran's hands. He took the other, squeezed it. Fingers like the bones of birds.

"Good-bye," he said.

He was at the door when she called out to him.

"Jon," she said.

He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He turned to find her looking at his face, as if she were seeing it for the first time.

"Yes?" he said.

"It should have been you," she told him.

Then she turned back to Bran and began to weep, her whole body shaking with the sobs. Jon had never seen her cry before. And he left her to that.

He had one more person to say goodbye.

Arya was in her room, packing a polished ironwood chest that was bigger than she was. Nymeria was helping by picking up clothes for her. But when she smelled Ghost, she sat down on her haunches and yelped at them. Arya glanced behind her, saw Jon, and jumped to her feet. She threw her skinny arms tight around his neck.

"I was afraid you were gone, they wouldn't let me out to say good-bye." she said, her breath catching in her throat.

"What did you do now?" Jon was amused.

Arya disentangled herself from him and made a face.

"Nothing. I was all packed and everything. Septa Mordane says I have to do it all over. My things weren't properly folded, she says."

"Is that what you did, little sister?"

"Well, they're going to get all messed up anyway. Who cares how they're folded?"

"Septa Mordane," Jon told her.

"I don't think she'd like Nymeria helping, either." The wolf regarded him silently with her dark golden eyes.

"It's just as well. I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully."

"A present?" Her face lit up.

"You could call it that. Close the door."

Wary but excited, Arya checked the hall.

"Nymeria, here. Guard." She left the wolf out there to warn of intruders and closed the door.

By then Jon had pulled off the rags he'd wrapped it in. He held it out to her. Arya's eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his.

"A sword," she said in a small, hushed breath.

The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel.

"This is no toy, be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with." He told her.

"Girls don't shave," Arya said.

"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?"

She giggled at him.

"It's so skinny."

"So are you. I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough."

"I can be fast," Arya said.

"You'll have to work at it every day."

He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back.

"How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"

"I think so," Arya said.

"First lesson, stick them with the pointy end." Jon said.

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot.

"I know which end to use," Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face.

"Septa Mordane will take it away from me."

"Not if she doesn't know you have it," Jon said.

"Who will I practice with?"

"You'll find someone," Jon promised her.

Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.

"Don't tell Sansa!"

Jon messed up her hair.

"I will miss you, little sister."

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry.

"I wish you were coming with us."

"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?"

He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad.

"I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer."

Arya ran to him for a last hug.

"Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing.

She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. When he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance.

"I almost forgot, all the best swords have names." He told her.

"Like Ice," she said. She looked at the blade in her hand.

"Does this have a name? Oh, tell me."

"Can't you guess? Your very favorite thing." Jon teased.

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together.

"Needle!"

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.

Cersei was extremely worried. Why didn't the boy die? She wanted to scream in frustration. If he tells anybody, then there was no one that can save her and Jaime from the king's wrath. And there was the other Stark boy, he was another problem. Spreading dangerous rumors. Why did he had to think it wasn't and accident? And the mystery man, how she distastes mystery. At first she thought it was Jaime who attack him. So the next day when she was alone with him she started ranting about his stupidity. And when she learnt, that person was someone else, she was once again wary. All she wanted to know was that, who was it? And why was he doing this?

Cersei and Jaime was discussing about these then a knock on the door sounded. When Jaime answered the door, she saw it was her youngest, Harold.

"Hello darling. Do you need anything?" she asked.

So many things were going on and she never did have enough time to spend with her children anymore. And she should've spent some time with at least Harold, being youngest and all. She felt some guilt there but squashed it as soon as it came. In troubled time like this she should be strong enough to handle anything.

She noticed that he wasn't saying anything. Looking extremely nervous about something that was completely out of place for a five year old. He was just standing there looking at his feet and playing with his hands absently.

"Harold, something happened?"

He just nodded, still not saying anything. She then got up and walked up to him and put her hands on to her knees so she was at his eye level.

"Why don't you tell me?" she asked gently.

He nodded again and this time looked in her eyes.

"Can I speak to you alone?" He looked towards Jaime apolitically.

"Oh, don't worry boy I'll be going anyway." Jaime told him in mild tone, and walked out of the chamber.

Harold was very nervous about the confrontation. He mentally planned for many scenarios according to what he would find out. He loved his mother very dearly and couldn't think what he'd do if she…. He shuddered, just thinking about it. He once considered to let the matter drop but knew that won't happen. He was a very curious boy and he was in trouble lots of times for it in his dream life. He even considered to postpone the confrontation.

So he spent the next week looking for Stark children to see how they were doing. He found Arya first and was saddened to see the absence of normal mischief and life on her eyes. She told him about how Bran was doing and her Brother Jon's departure. She also showed him her new sword Needle after he promised not to tell anyone. He went to see Bran only once and saw Lady Catelyn Stark there with him. The condition there was very awkward and Lady Stark wasn't very pleased to see him there, so he quickly left.

When only a week left and then they will start for King's Landing and he couldn't wait any longer. So there he was, in front of his mother alone in her chamber.

When Cersei pulled him gently to sit on the bed with her, he followed. There was a moment of silence and the queen spoke again.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I was the one who attacked Rob." He blurted out.

Whatever he had to say that wasn't what Cersei expected.

"What?" She managed to say.

"I said, I was the one who attacked Rob." He repeated a bit forcefully.

"Why?" She was still off guard and asked automatically.

"Do you have anything to do with Bran's fall?" He asked directly.

"No, of course not." She replied immediately. Still not registering a word he said.

Harold relaxed slightly. Still staring intently in her eyes and trying to detect if she was lying. But that was short lived because as his words were sinking in something strange happened. Suddenly he was in a vision.

Uncle Jaime was laying naked upon him and he saw Bran. Looking at them through the window.

"Jaime stop. Stop." He said. But it wasn't his voice.

When he stopped he added pointing his finger, "Look."

Uncle Jaime saw Bran and immediately got up, then grabbed him by the collar. Bran couldn't get away quickly enough.

"You are the Stark child aren't you?" He asked.

"Yes. My name is Bran."

"And you like climbing don't you?" he asked dragging him slightly towards the room and away from the window.

"Jaime, he saw us." He said in the feminine voice.

"Yes, I know." He replied.

"But, he saw us." He said again.

Jaime was thinking something.

"The things I do for love." He said at last and pushed Bran out of the window.

Suddenly he was looking at his mother again. He jumped back away from her. He was disgusted by what he saw and his mind still trying to find any logic to deny that.

Cersei knew something was wrong. She sat with his son taking and he suddenly asked the last thing she thought he would ask. She answered automatically and still processing what he was saying. And then for some reason she was in her memories watching Bran fall. She didn't even register that Harold wasn't in her bed anymore. And somehow the temperature of the room dropped, sending chills down her spine. When she looked at Harold again she saw that he was backing away from her, shaking his head in denial. When she looked in his eyes she saw the undisguised horror in them. And then she knew somehow he found out the truth. Maybe she had spoken something that gave it away but that doesn't matter. Then she saw fear in his eyes and before she could do anything he spun around and sprinted out of the door.

Harold was still backing away, shaking his head, he saw his mother looked at him in the eye. He saw confusion at first, then, understanding and then something else that sent chills down his spine. He panicked and sprinted away from the room.

He was running as fast as he could. Tears streaming down his eyes and obscuring his vision but he didn't stop. His only thought was that he had to run away. The vision was of course true, he knew it. It was legilimency he used so many times in the war in his dream life. Memories can be altered or fabricated but he knew a true memory when he saw one. He couldn't help but laughed a little about his use of magic. He was very excited at the possibilities of doing magic for real, but now he couldn't find any of his enthusiasm left.

He was still running and almost at the exit of the castle then he ran onto someone and sent both trembling down to the ground. He landed very painfully on his elbow and heard a groan from a familiar voice. It was Arya.

Arya got up and pulled him up. His vision was still obscure due to crying and heard her asking anxiously,

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." He manage. He rubbed his eyes tiredly to clear his vision.

"Why are you crying then?" She asked.

He opened his mouth to speak something then stopped. He heard footsteps running down the halls. He looked at that direction and saw Jaime Lannister was running towards them.

He panicked again and did the only thing he could do, ran in the opposite direction. But Jaime was quickly closing the distance and he rounded a corner only to find a dead end. He looked back to see Jaime was still coming and closed his eyes in fright. He was expecting to get caught and got caught he did. But not by Jaime Lannister.

He suddenly felt very cold and opened his eyes. He was not in the castle anymore. He was now standing in the small forest near the castle and surrounded by about fifteen people. He remembered something familiar happened in his dream life when he apparated to the school roof.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" One of them said. "It looks like we got one of the children of the forest for ourselves. Mens would be so happy."

Harold took a quick look at his surroundings. He was far away from the castle and in the forest and nobody can see what's happening. So no hope for help coming. Wait, how about apparition? He immediately closed his eyes again and tried to remember the three Ds. But his attempt was unsuccessful. May be he need to be more adapt to magic to successfully apparate.

Then he observed the group. There were fifteen of them. He looked into their clothing. They all were wearing some animal fur and looked like they live in the forest. They must be the wildlings he heard so much about. But never heard them seen south of the wall. What are the wildlings are doing south of the wall? And how did they cross the wall? He thought.

Some of them were really young, about fourteen or fifteen. Some looked older but no one was more than forty. The leader seemed to the eldest. They all had different types of weapons, axes, knives of different sizes, two had swords and two with bows. They were all looking at him expectantly and despite no weapon was pointed towards him, he noticed that they were all in high alert, reedy to draw at moment's notice.

He knew all about the children of the forest of course and realized they thought him one. He couldn't fault them though, anyone would jump into that conclusion after seeing a child suddenly appear from the thin air in the forest.

"Well, you are coming with us." The leader decided, he seemed somewhat nervous under his scrutiny.

"No. I'm absolutely happy where I am." Replied Harry confidently though he felt none of it.

He was terribly outnumbered here. And they looked like they were experience enough to thoroughly flanking him, no one was in line of fire from other.

"But we found you. And you have to come with us. You must help us fight with the others."

He didn't understand what did he meant by the others and with such fear. He assumed he meant some other terrible savage tribe.

"But why would I do your fighting?" He decided to play along.

As long as can pretend he was one of the children, they won't dare hurt him. But he was terribly wrong. As soon as he said that part all weapons were on him in less than a second. They all seemed very angry, though why he could not tell.

"You will abandon our people and save yourself?" The leader bellowed angrily.

Others seemed equally angry. They seemed to have forgotten that they, themselves abandoned their own people to save their sorry asses. He opened his mouth to point that out and a girl pointing an arrow towards him spoke. She looked like fourteen or something.

"You are right Egrey, let's take him." The leader said.

Then they all started to advance upon him together and he tried to make a run for it. But that was clearly a mistake. He didn't even move two paces an arrow flew towards him and struck on his right thigh.

Excruciating pain flowed from the wound and he immediately slammed to the ground. As everyone was closing in to make a grab on him, he panicked and screwed his eyes shut and wished they would stay away from him. And BANG. He opened his eyes to see everyone on the ground and sporting different sort of injury. Four were not moving and another two looked almost unconscious. He quickly started to get up and tried to ignore the pain in the leg. But all of the wildlings also got up, except the four unconscious ones and once again surrounded him. This time the girl who hit him approached quicker than he expected and hit his head hard with the end of the bow and he lost his consciousness.

AN: I wrote this from different POVs. If you like Harry's POV more, then let me know. Please R&R.

AN2: Next chapter will be up as soon as I finish it. Shouldn't take more than a week.