Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or The Last Kingdom. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am but a simple writer working on my skills with characters and worlds that I love.

Note: The response to this work has been great so far and I couldn't be more happy. That being said, if any of my readers have not watched The Last Kingdom I highly recommend it. It is a great show based on even better books, and it can be found on Netflix.

Part Two - A Clash Of Armies

It was dark by the time they finally reached Eoferwic, and their's appeared to be the last ships to arrive if the dozens of others docked in the harbor were any judge. They made sure the craft was stable, stowed the oars, and spent a good few minutes opening bench compartments to get their gear and don it before filing onto the large dock and making their way to shore.

Kjartan and the majority of the men made their way to the outlying campfires within the walls but outside the main keep (they saw it as an opportunity to catch up with friends from other raids) and Harry, Ragnar, and Young Ragnar made their way through the keep doors to behold the spectacle inside. Men and women in chain mail and leather were banging around drunkenly, laughing, screaming, gambling, and fucking in all directions as far as the eye could see. Ah, the joys of a raid.

The wizard did note a corner of the room where a particular group of warriors were playing around with a chained priest. He didn't really agree with the bloody sport but he knew he was a guest here and had no right to intervene. Hell, for all he knew the priest had insulted their mothers.

Ragnar led them down the expanse of the large hall to a long table where a group of big men in leather armor were standing around a barrel of mead and talking about who knew what. That of course changed when they saw the newcomers and one of them, a black haired man in leather armor, left his fellows to come around the table and embrace the older viking.

"Earl Ragnar, you are welcome."

Ragnar laughed heartily and returned the embrace with ease. "Guthrum! It is good to see you. Though the lack of reception stings my pride a bit."

Guthrum smiled wide and replied, "What man alive has enough men to honor your arrival, you big lummox?"

"Not a one." Ragnar's smile did not fade as he embraced the next man waiting, a blonde with a heavy serpentine tattoo on his face. "Ubba, I have brought men and horses."

"Good," The massive man spoke in a voice that could have crushed rocks, "we will have need of them. You are well?"

"I am." Ragnar waved for Harry to approach and when he did, the older man wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him to face the blonde fully. "Jarl Ubba, this my brother by oath, and my skald, Harry Jameson. Though he often goes by Harry Potter as well."

Ubba stared at the younger man, a heavy twitch beginning to form on his brow. "Your… Skald? I too have a skald!" At his booming finish a fresh smile came to his face and he waved at a squat man covered in hanging bones that was currently stuffing his face full of chicken. "Snorri, the best seer in the land."

"Ugh. Seers." Harry groused. Upon seeing the strange looks of the older men he elaborated, "In my experience seers are nothing but trouble. They speak of the things they are shown but have no power to interpret them themselves or change the fates presented. They have ruined many lives by simply not shutting up."

"Snorri is not like that." Ubba insisted. "He reads the signs provided by the gods and interprets them for me. Through his readings I know when the fates decree favorable odds for battle and important events. Snorri is my advisor and friend."

"Right…" Harry wasn't convinced, but he sure as hell wasn't going to enter a man's home (recently acquired or not) and tell him who to consort with. "Well then," he reached to the mead barrel and filled a nearby horn to the brim before raising it high, "Skol!" (When in doubt drink!)

The others present heartily responded to his declaration, and several horns of the sweet honeyed mead later they were all sitting around a lit brazier discussing the events that had led Ragnar's crew to this point. Meanwhile the festivities around them had petered off to the dull tone of drunken warriors stumbling off to bed, more often than not with partners both male and female on their arms. (the openness regarding gay relationships in viking culture had been a surprise to Harry. The general attitude was to accept such relationships and people, but just not bring them up in conversation or polite company. Basically, people did what they wanted and kept to themselves).

Ragnar had just explained the part in his story where he returned the annoying lordling's head to his keep, and Ubba found the recollection funny enough to burst out into surprisingly high pitched laughter. "You actually returned the head to the boy's father? How did he react?"

Ragnar sighed and reclined as his son took another long drink from his horn, "He did nothing. He kept his men and soldiers inside the wall to wait us out and bait an attack where he was strongest. Whoever rules there is both smart and capable of putting his emotions aside to focus on a workable strategy."

Guthrum spoke up then, "He is Uthred, one of the three kings of Northumbria."

"The only king worth anything." Ubba added. "The other two strut around in fine clothing and spout nonsense from their asses but he is a warrior through and through."

"So we fight them on a field of our choosing and draw him out first." Ragnar leaned forward to draw everyone's attention. "I have a plan for this, and it is a good one. Would you like to hear it?"

Instead of answering, Ubba moved over to his skald. "What do you think Snorri?"

"I saw a pair of raven's in flight early this afternoon. It was a sign, I know it. The gods favor battle."

"Good." Ubba returned to his seat at the fire. "Tell me of this plan."

The Next Day

The sun rose slow in the sky, hidden for the most part behind a bank of mist and cloud, bathing the morning ground in shadow. Ubba's army stood ready on the field, their banner raised, trees burning on either side, and harsh whispers and death songs sung under breath corrupting the stillness of the air.

Harry, crouched in a ditch to the side of the field with his branch of the army, couldn't help but appreciate the sight. Once more impressed with the Northmen's grasp of psychological warfare. On the other end of the field he could already see the front lines of the Saxon force quaking in their boots. A viking hoard made for a terrifying sight.

Glancing down the length of his hidden force, the former boy who lived couldn't help but smile. He'd raided with many of these warriors before and knew them all by name. What was more, they knew of his abilities so toning them down would not be an issue. Beside him, Young Ragnar crouched with steel bared in his hand and shield upon his arm. "They are coming, uncle." His voice was smooth and soft, no octaving timbres to carry on the wind.

"I know." Harry had seen the Saxon's front line begin to advance, a finely armored man with a bright helmet at the lead. "Though it's strange."

"What is uncle?"

"Only a third of the army marches while the rest stay. It is as your father predicted but based on past experience I thought they'd be dumber."

"As long as that Uhtred fuck is leading this third it will not matter regardless. If he falls then the the others will fold like so much wet bread."

"Hm." Harry agreed, but he was too focused on what was currently happening to reply in full. The armies were getting close now and with a barked command from Ubba his lines raised arms and ducked behind a massive shield wall. The Saxons stopped in place and raised their own rectangular shields in front of them before marching forth once more.

"Pondus descendit." The wizard intoned under his breath, smiling as the enemy force staggered in place before continuing, now with shoes and boots weighed down an extra few pounds. He repeated the spell a dozen more times, focusing on arms, armor, and clothing. No doubt the soldiers attributed their sudden harshness of movement to fear, but he knew better. Next he cast a slow aguamenti over the field, filling a previously dug set of lines in the earth that led to a patch of ground just where the Saxons were marching.

Their scouts would have checked the field the night before to ensure it was dry enough for battle, but now they would be fighting tired, scared, and without solid footing in the muck against a stable, rested, and solid wall of viking kickassery.

The result was just as he expected. The Saxons reached the shield wall, erupted in war cries and sallied forth, raining blows on the invaders and shoving as hard as they could. From his position it was clear to see that they were slipping in place and that their blows held no real power, but the two kings on the hill couldn't see that, nor could see how easily the northern shield wall was slowly giving ground to let the Saxons advance, only that it was happening.

There was one who noticed however. The man in the bright helmet. He was looking around frantically and crying out, trying to get his men's attention and that of his compatriots above. They couldn't have that could they? Harry cast a quick silencing charm on the only king worth his spit and nearly laughed as he grew red in the face with frustration, but he became serious enough once more when the idiots on the hill took the bait.

They screamed to their men something about "God" and "Heathens" before running down to join the others with swords bared, their men hot on their heels. The moment they joined the melee Harry sprung the trap. He raised his sword into the air and cast a lumos into the blade causing its light to shine across the field. At once his men ran out to cover the left flank and rear of the enemy force while Ragnar the Elder led the right. As one they fell into rank and locked shields low, front, and high, and as Ubba's force suddenly stopped retreating it became horrifyingly clear to the Saxons. They were trapped in a circular prison of wood, steel, and death.

"Forward all!" Harry bellowed.

"Make them bleed!" Ragnar the Elder followed.

"For Odin!" Ragnar the Younger joined.

"Ha!" The men roared in approval and marched forward to deliver.

Behind his shield a dark grin of bloodlust began to grow on Harry's face. Oh how he loved this! He rammed his sword through a break in the wall, howled when blood followed. He dodged a desperate thrust at his ankles and slammed his heel down of the offending limb, delighting in the crack and scream that resulted. This, this was what it was to be alive. The howl of Young Ragnar beside him let him know that the lad saw this moment in the exact same light.

It's almost funny when you think about it. How short a battle really is. In the middle of the fighting, when swords and seaxes are swinging and stabbing, when men fall before you left and right, it feels like you're in the middle of a stationary point in time. All things slow, all things going on forever. It's only when the fighting is done and you stand before your fallen foe that you realize only a few moments had passed. Strange that.

For thirty minutes they fought on, bringing death and suffering in their wake. The first army fell easily as weakened as they were, but the other two well rested and unencumbered by magical sabotage took longer. When all was said in done the Saxons were dead to the last man, minus the handful that surrendered, and the Viking invaders had lost but a hand full of warriors. It was a good day.

There was an almighty cheer of joy and laughter as the men took notice of a fleeing crowd of priests and support staff on the Saxon hill and then the looting began. Shield brothers and sisters went through every body on the ground to liberate them of usable weapons, armor, or goods and wealth. They were Christian after all and they had no use for their affects in death.

Ragnar the Elder took the bright helm of the first king, Ragnar the Younger a well made set of chain mail, and Harry a hefty sack of gold.

"What are you gonna do with all that gold, brother?" Ragnar barked as he wrapped a big arm over his shoulder. "You never buy anything."

Harry kept as straight a face as he could as he answered, "I thought I might purchase Thyra a horse… and a dress…. and perhaps a nice necklace."

Ragnar burst into a fit of laughter that nearly bent him in two, an unfortunate circumstance as he just ended up dragging his younger friend down with him. "By the gods she has you wrapped around her finger doesn't she?"

"I'm just being a caring uncle."

"Sure ya are."

"Yes I am." His tone quieted Ragnar's boisterous tone and caused him to look seriously at his friend. "Ragnar, I've never had a family I could actually love and care for before I met yours. If I… If I can do something to put a smile on any of your faces I want to. Especially Thyra's." He admitted that last knowing he was practically admitting his friend had been right.

"I understand, little brother."

Harry smiled and together the men watched as their shield brothers carried on the looting. "You know, a few years ago this would have been really weird for me."

"You don't say?"

Any further conversation was interrupted however as a rather shrill cry caught their attention. Ragnar turned just in time to sidestep a wild slice by a near waif of a child. Harry was about to intervene when the bigger man waved him off, chuckling at the audaciousness of this youth. Again and again he swung at the big target, but every time Ragnar either stepped aside or parried with his shield, until at last the youth fell to his knees in exhaustion.

Ragnar slammed his foot into the weakly held blade and watched it skid away in the mud before nodding and turning away.

The boy however seemed to not be done. With no blade left in his hands he bunched them into fists and started pummeling his target until Ragnar got bored of it and backhanded him across the face, leaving him to fall unconscious on the ground.

"He was like a little bee." Ragnar laughed to his brother and son. "Kept coming back for more."

"I don't think that was it exactly." Harry pointed at his belt where the looted helmet had once hung by its chin strap. Nothing was there.

"What!" The big man turned and sure enough the comatose child was holding it in one of his hands.

"It seems," the wizard began as he circled the child, "that he was after the helmet all along. You killed its owner right?" receiving the expected nod he continued, "This boy is well dressed and armed. To be sure the cuirass is meant for someone bigger than him but all of the items are of quality. I'd say he's a lordling at best guess, and the fact that he wanted that helmet so badly would imply he's of Uhtred's loins. He could be worth a ransom."

Ragnar nodded before turning to his son. "Harry is right. Bind his hands and bring him to the hall. Father can have the final decision on him."

Later That Night

The revelry was in full swing with vast amounts of meat and mead filling the hall as musicians played and warriors sang. Ubba stood at the head of a vast table telling the tale of victory to any who would listen, and Snorri as always sat at his side, sharing in the glory that his lord was quick to give unto all present.

At the other end Guthrum and several other warlords planned on as to their next battle, and even further still sat Ragnar and Harry. The first with a plate of roasted pork, and the second with a horn of mead in one hand and an amorous shield sister reclined on his lap. Damn but they went after it after a good fight. They'd already humped twice that night in the shadows of the hall and were now just enjoying the atmosphere. It wasn't love between them, but there was a good companionship. He'd shared the same with others on previous raids.

"What are you thinking, Ragnar?" Harry asked after taking another gulp of the honeyed wine.

Ragnar grinned wide at the sight of the maiden whispering her lips up his friend's throat once more. "I'm thinking you might be busy again soon."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Ragnar…"

"Oh alright. With that battle we've claimed this territory and we have the men to keep it. I know Guthrum wants to keep on, but I'm thinking I'm okay with staying here and setting up my lands. It's good soil, there's easy access to rivers and trade, and this close to the coast our family can be here all the faster."

"You speak sense, brother." Harry noted. "And I agree with everything you've said. This is a good place. But what of the boy?"

Ragnar eyed the balcony above where he could just see his father sitting with the waifish young man, a healthy bruise forming on his cheek. Then he looked back at his brother and the wandering hands of his current partner. "Well you could go ask my father now…." He smiled at the frustrated groan that escaped at those words, "or you could satisfy your woman outside and then do it."

In a flash Harry was standing up with his woman held bridal style and running out of the room. The earl grinned wide at the sight. He loved seeing how well his little brother was fitting into this life. For the longest time he wouldn't hump a girl without many moons of getting to know her, and then only if they had a room. Now he was responding to interest immediately as a viking should. He'd come a long way.

After 'thoroughly' finishing his business, Harry kissed his fellow warrior one more time, enjoyed the flirtatious wink he got in response, and proceeded to reenter the hall and make his way up the stairs to the landing where his adopted grandfather was sitting with their captive.

"Ravn, how are you faring?" he asked. Harry often worried about the older man since he had lost the use of his sight.

The blind man smiled and butted his shoulder against their captive. "I am good, Harry. Our young friend has been updating me about the events of the hall, and of you. My, my, three times in one night is impressive."

Though he couldn't see it Harry blushed a bit through his beard and quickly sat down. "That is not important." He looked at the child. "Have you learned much?"

"He is indeed the son of Lord Uhtred. In fact, that is his name as well. He will fetch a fine ransom if we sell him back."

"If? you think we should not?"

"I'm not sure. There is something about him that feels important to me. Even if it is only that he should be our slave for a time."

For a moment, Harry looked upon young Uhtred and couldn't help but see himself at that age. It shook him a bit. Turning back to Ravn he said, "If he is to be a slave, it will be the usual method, yes? Fair treatment and the chance to work off his cost?"

"Of course. As a lordling his cost is naturally higher, but it can be paid off."

The wizard topped off Ravn's horn and then turned to lock eyes with the child. "Did you hear that, Uhtred? While in our custody you will work as the other slaves do, but you will not be horribly mistreated. When your price is paid, one way or another, you will be freed."

The child was clearly terrified by everything happening around him, yet he was trying to be brave as he nodded that he understood.

"Good." Harry leaned forward so that they were on the same level. "I was once in the position you find yourself, but my circumstances were far worse. If things get too bad, let me know, and I'll see about fixing it. Working for us does not mean you must suffer."

The boy gazed up at him with wide eyes and the wizard offered him a kind smile before moving off. During the last raid Ragnar had beaten him in the mead barrel chugging contest and he wanted another shot at the title.

Several Months Later

In the wilderness of Northumbria sat a mighty hall and farm that stretched out for acres. Neighboring homesteads and acreages followed in the distance around it. This was the land upon which Earl Ragnar and his warriors had settled with their families. It had been touch and go for a while, the marching army had taken the majority of the stored food with them, but with the provisions from their ships, the men and women that stayed had managed to not only stay fed, but build up their new homes in time for their families to arrive.

To say it had been emotional to see all of those ships cutting through the river would be an understatement. Men and women weeped openly to have their families in their arms once more, children screeched and hollered with joy as they gave their parents long winded stories of their seaward adventures, and most telling of all, upon landing on dry ground Thyra had rushed across the rocky shoals at breakneck pace and slammed into her favorite uncle with a big old hug, proclaiming for all to hear about how much she had missed him. The little girl had spent the rest of the day riding on his shoulders as they all worked to carry all the supplies inland. The slaves had proven quite helpful in that regard. The entire time her mother had just stared on with fond exasperation. She'd tried for years to get the family skald to stop spoiling her little girl but she just knew it was a lost cause.

Now, several months down the line, things had gotten to a fine state of normalcy. The crops were planted, the animals sheared, milked, butchered when necessary, and trade was coming at a reasonable pace. Ragnar was back to his regular position as an earl and Harry… Harry could enjoy peace.

That was something that he hadn't missed about leaving his old world. All the noise, all the distractions. It seemed there that no matter where he looked there was a flashing sign, ringing phone, or even a moving newspaper lying around. Here in this place he could wander, sit and think, or go off into the forest for days at a time with no thoughts but his own and just be. It was a level of calm he'd never thought to find, or knew he needed.

It was also in those early days that he had finally introduced Ragnar to his mother. It was the evening and the others had all gone to bed when he had dragged his big brother out of the house and into the woods. The man had grumbled the entire way about stupid mysterious skalds keeping men out of bed in the middle of the night, but he had stopped when Harry judged them far enough away from any prying eyes and turned to face him with his hand out. The stone was held securely to his palm with a sticking charm.

"What is this, Harry?"

"There is someone who has been waiting to meet you for a long time now."

"You mean…"

"Yes. Take my hand."

Ragnar actually looked nervous now that he knew what this was about. Harry had entrusted his secret communion with the dead to him years ago, and he had kept the knowledge close, but even after all his jokes he had never expected to actually meet a spirit himself. Nevertheless he sallied forth and gripped his friend's hand in his own. A moment later he was looking into the startling emerald eyes of a red haired woman as she hovered over Harry's shoulder.

"Oh!" She exclaimed as she noticed his gaze. "He can see me."

"Yes, he can."

"Yay!" The woman floated around her son and hovered up until she was on a level with the big earl. "My Harry wasn't kidding. You are big."

Mouth suddenly dry, Ragnar responded, "And your hair is truly as fire as he claimed. I've wanted to know for a while now how his is not."

Lily pouted in an exaggerated fashion, "The Potter family hair is apparently impossible to avoid in boys. I blame his father. But that is not why I am here." She hovered closer and cupped the large man's face. He shuddered for a moment at the strange feeling but did not look away. "You have provided my son with a family, the one thing I never could. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

"There is no need for thanks."

"So you say, but can I ask that you remain beside him? I never want my boy to be alone again."

"Mom, come on." Harry groaned in embarrassment as his mother shushed him.

"Oh hush you, the adults are talking."

Ragnar smiled warmly at the easy byplay between mother and son and replied, "I'll stay a part of his life as long as he lets me. There is no one I would trust with my children more than him, so how could I turn him away?"

"Just so. Now would you like to hear some of his baby stories?"

"Mom!"

Time continued on in that way for a while.

Today though, he was enjoying the company of his family before the main hall's hearth fire drinking ale. It was an endless source of fun for the wizard that beer, ale, and mead were the most common drink of the time. It made sense, it was safer to drink those than risk the water in most places. Ravn, Ragnar, and Young Ragnar were with him. They'd tried to get Sigrid to join them but the woman was as tough as ever, insisting that the whole farm would go to pieces without her managing it every second of the day.

"That wife of yours is something else, Ragnar." Harry mused as he reached over to the pitcher to refill his cup. "She reminds me a lot of a girl I knew back home."

"Really? Someone special?" his friend inquired.

He nodded "Had I stayed I probably would have married her. You're a lucky man."

"That I am." The older warrior smiled up at the bustling form of his wife. She was just incapable of slowing down and he loved that about her. "Though you could be that lucky too, little brother." He said, and upon seeing the younger man's confused look he added, "Young Ragnar told me about you and Falla's widow."

The wizard arched an eyebrow at the younger warrior who was pointedly looking everywhere but at him. "Traitor. See if I ever tell you anything again." He smirked at the flinch his words caused and then said more seriously, "Josefine and I are not in love. We are simply a couple of lonely people that take care of each others physical needs. Is there attraction and fondness? Yes. But neither of us can see spending our lives together."

"Hm. You're being too picky." Ravn spoke up. "Life is short. Find yourself a decent girl, get her big with child, and relax while you're still young enough to do so. You don't want to be chasing children around when you get to be my age."

"I'll get to it when it happens, Ravn. You can't rush love, and I intend to have it. Someday."

"Right." Young Ragnar got to his feet and brushed the dust from his pants with his hands. "This is getting too emotional for me so I'm going to go collect the rents."

"Alright." Ragnar waved him off but added, "You can skip the Olaffson's. They just got here and are using their current money to buy seed and animals. They've lent us their slaves as field-hands to cover the rent this term."

"Understood, father." The younger man buckled on his sword belt and made his way out of the room as Thyra entered.

Calling up to her mother she asked, "Can Uhtred come to play?"

"Only once his chores are done." The matriarch replied down.

"And Brida!" (another child taken during the battle that brought them Uhtred).

"When she's done too."

"Yay!" The excitable redhead rushed off, probably to help her 'friends' finish quicker, meanwhile Ragnar started grumbling into his ale.

"I don't like her going off to play with the slaves." he said.

Harry raised a single brow over his own mug. "Be very careful now, brother."

"I don't mean anything bad, Harry, but there is an order and a proper place to things. When those two earn their freedom I'll have no issues, but for now… she should be playing with her equals."

"Except there aren't any nearby she can meet with. All the children are either working or too far." Ravn noted. "It seems harmless enough to me, and their play is not affecting their work and chores so what is the problem?"

"Hrm." The big man made an inarticulate sound and just went back to his drink. The three were still there when Uhtred and Brida returned, carrying a sobbing Thyra between them, the front of her dress ripped to bits.

In a flash both Ragnar and Harry were on their feet and at their sides. The first furiously questioning the slaves and the second conjuring a blanket to hide his adopted niece's nakedness. A quick call to Sigrid later and she was being bustled off to a back room where she could be looked after.

Once he was sure she was out of earshot, an enraged wizard turned back to the others. Furious, uncontrolled, magic flowing off of him in near visible waves causing his braid to float in the air behind him and his eyes to glow with an eery light. He only spoke one word, "Who."

Ragnar pushed Uhtred forward and the nervous boy muttered out, "Kjartan's son, Sven. We were playing in the woods and he came out of nowhere with his friends. He had a sword… he ripped open Thyra's clothes and-and looked at her. I knocked him down and took her away before he could do anything."

"Good job, Uhtred. You have my thanks." Harry nodded to the child and looked back at his brother in all but name. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

It took almost an hour to get the horses ready, retrieve Young Ragnar, gather witnesses, and trek over to Kjartan's acreage homestead, but even so the man didn't run. Instead, realizing the futility of such an action, the former helmsman was waiting outside the door for them, ready to beg.

"Lord, Lord!" He rushed forward as the men dismounted.

"Where is he!" Ragnar bellowed, cutting him off.

"Inside, but Lord he has learned his lesson. The injuries he sustained-"

"He bore steel at my property and gazed upon my daughter's nakedness! I will have justice, now make a square of branches so we can fight it out ourselves or bring him out!"

Utterly terrified at the rage brought against him and afraid to show his back, Kjartan walked backward to the door before awkwardly pushing it open and dragging his teenaged son out of the small house by his shirt.

Harry's first thought was that 'injuries' was right. There was a giant bruise on the side of Sven's head where no doubt Uhtred had hit him, but the right side of his face was practically a melted lump of burn scarred skin in the shape of a handprint. An interesting development that had the wizard thinking.

Kjartan brought attention back to him as he said, "Tell them what you have to say, Sven."

The teenager, face bunched with pain from his burn, stared at the ground and said, "I am sorry, Lord, for what I did."

Ragnar stepped into his personal space, looking down on the boy as if he were a worm beneath his boot. "You laid hands on my daughter? Stripped her down and gazed at her nakedness?"

"She was half naked, Lord." The boy spoke up, earning a scared look from his father at the words chosen.

"He is of that age, Lord." Kjartan tried to defend him, but the earl raised his hand to silence him.

He turned back to the horses where Uhtred was sat behind Young Ragnar. "Is that true boy, he stripped her half naked?" When he nodded the truth of the words the earl looked back at the criminal before him. "Then I shall only take one of his eyes." Faster than anyone could react he drew his seax and and slammed its pommel into Sven's right eye, smiling triumphantly as the teenager fell to the earth screaming and clutching at his ruined socket.

As he returned to his horse he proclaimed, "Kjartan you are banished from my lands, begone by nightfall."

Not satisfied with only an eye, Harry heeled his horse forward and raised a hand before him (he'd found a strange aptitude for wandless magic as long as the elder wand was on his person), "Ragnar, may I claim the right of an uncle?"

The big man nodded shortly and the wizard turned his hand to face the still whimpering child. He wrenched his wrist over and a sickening snap sounded in the air, accompanied by a fresh set of screams. Sven's right arm lay twisted and ruined, cradled delicately against his body while Kjartan stared on in horror. He'd thought the skald was all talk, a joke of the earl's family.

"That arm will never heal completely, or hold weight. You will never fight in a raid or stand beside your brothers in the shield wall. Remember this pain and the crime you did that caused it for all of your days." So saying, he reigned his horse in a circle and cantered after the others to return to the hall.

"You saw his face." Harry spoke under his breath to the earl.

"I did." Ragnar nodded. "Uhtred didn't do that. Do you have an idea what happened?"

"I think I do. Do you still trust me? With all things?"

"Of course!"

"Good. Cause you'll need to talk to your wife."

His friend gave him a confused look, but didn't say anything more until they made it back to his home. They left the horses in the care of the men and entered to find Ravn and Sigrid calming Thyra by the fire with a cup of what smelled like watered spice wine.

Sigrid stood and addressed her husband. "Is it done?"

"And more." Ragnar patted Uhtred, who was standing beside him, on the shoulder and said, "The boy did us proud and kept his composure, Harry and I handled the punishment of Sven, and Kjartan has been banished from our lands."

"Good."

"There was one thing that was strange though." Harry said before walking over to the fire and kneeling before Thyra. The poor girl still had puffed red eyes from crying. "Sven had a handprint burned into his face. Do you know how it got there, Thyra?"

The child's eyes teared up again as she burst out, "I-I didn't mean to!"

"Sh." The wizard bustled the child into his arms and sat on the floor to cradle her as her parents looked on in shock. "Sh. I know. I understand, trust me. But please, I need to know what happened."

It took Thyra several moments to calm down before she could give her reply. "S-Sven was holding a sword, he tore my dress, and he was… looking at me. I-I didn't like how he was looking at me."

"As well you shouldn't." Sigrid said as she knelt beside them to run a hand through her daughter's hair.

"Uhtred hit him with a stick to knock him down, but he was getting up again and reaching for me. I-I grabbed his face to push him away and he started screaming. He was burning and his friends were coming so we ran."

Young Ragnar looked at Uhtred, "You didn't mention any of this."

"I made him swear not to." Thyra answered for him.

"Harry, do you know what this is?" Sigrid asked.

The wizard smiled happily. "That I do. Ragnar, Sigrid, congratulations. Your daughter is a witch, a female Skald. And today she just performed her first act of accidental magic."