Magic will be different in the new World, meaning wanded Magic or spells of HP won't work well at all. With a few exceptions that fit into the new system. Potions, Runes, Alchemy will still work with some adjustments. The rules are different for Magic as a whole, as well as for House-elves. It being a new world and all.

It will be more restricted overall in its applications, but as things progress more people will have access to magic. Not to mention the state of the world making it an arms race to discover lost knowledge. With Essos having a headstart on it.


Valyria, 279 AC.

In a wide valley betwixt towering peaks of the broken Valyrian Peninsula, there lied a curious tableau. A titanic forearm of cyclopean scale rested in gentle repose as nature spread a viridian blanket of moss over its grey and black, stony flesh. Lush green plants grew in abundance, reclaiming it all with palm trees and other plants fitting for a jungle in this sweltering climate. On this plateau sat the ruined city of Valyria; a true feat of architecture that lied nestled within the core of the now shattered mountain. Once home to the so called greatest civilisation known to man, now nothing more than a ruin brought about by their hubris.

The formerly massive city was kept in an architectural style no other place in the world outside of Valyria possessed, with flying buttresses, pointed arches and full of decorations. There was no concern for structural possibility, but rather the feeling of the building. Some of them reached far into the sky, as if to try and grasp the heavens themselves and defy the gods. Though, today there were no stars or moon present in the permanently red-tinted firmament of Valyria; a remnant of the Doom.

The reason for it was up high in the sky; a bright red radiance was constantly bathing Valyria in its eerie glow, be it night or day. The disturbing phenomenon permeated throughout the sky glaring down onto the land; like some light of ominous power and might. It's terrible radiance fell to the earth like tears, only for it to be swallowed by the black stone, ash and darkness was what most of Valyria was made of today.

Harry came to himself with a groan, his body protesting violently, aching all over. He tried to open his mismatched eyes, but was promptly blinded by the ruddy glow glaring down on him before closing them again with a frown.

The last thing he remembered were the whispers of vows permeating through the Room of Death, hearing them as if they were still present. Their origin, the Veil of Death, had rippled as eerily as ever, having beckoned him to step through. An irresistible promise of peace and rest carried towards his ears by its ghostly murmurings before it changed through his actions.

So immersed in his memory was Harry that momentarily his surroundings vanished completely, falling away like autumn leaves. In this moment Harry was completely deaf to the happenings taking place around him.

'Dying again doesn't seem so bad after you've done it once.' Harry thought rather calmly. A fate he no longer saw as quite so grim. Despite the seemingly macabre line of thought, and what he knew happened, Harry clearly felt cold stone under him. It was uneven, with many rocks and roots pressing into his back. His clothes were also still present. Though, they had hoped to not die after utilizing the Deathly Hallows correctly.

'However, it seems we were right in our assessment!' his thoughts were accompanied by a sigh of relief. Still, some melancholy welled up inside him because of what happened before he stepped through the Veil. And the reason as for why this drastic measure was necessary in the first place.

The wizard was shaken out of his thoughts by a weight suddenly appearing on his chest. The object began squirming with remarkable vigour followed by calming down once it got comfortable. He then noticed a shadow falling over him.

That did bring him out of his reverie. More unwelcome memories began flooding his brain all at once as his eyes snapped open, staring directly into pure black orbs that were heavily hooded and framed by long eyelashes. The face these abyssal eyes belonged to was definitely feminine and youthful, about twenty years of age. A heart-shaped face, high cheekbones and full luscious lips were present. The beautiful face was framed by thick, shining hair of golden bronze that fell in ringlets down her delicate shoulders.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her melodic voice. Though, her mirror-like eyes conveyed humour as a still sleeping Delphini snuggled into him. Most might find those pools of darkness concerning, or the fact that she never blinked – a remnant of being a vampire – but by now Harry was used to it.

With his natural grace he stood up, thankfully his body didn't betray him just yet. Harry was instinctively cradling Delphini safely to his chest with his left arm, shielding her from any harm that might befall her. "I'm fine, Hermione." he grunted out, earning a disbelieving snort carrying and undertone of amusement and chastisement from his companion.

He lazily looked around, taking in the ruin they had arrived at in his search for an escape route. Right now they were on a crumbling plaza, uneven and with rubble big and small strewn about. All of it left not much opportune ways to flee fast should it be necessary.

Nature had reclaimed it all long since its destruction. Toppled towers leaned their crooked frames against crumbling walls of fused stone, melted partially or completely. Soot covered nearly every corner of the place, indicating a fire having done this. The charred and molten remains of homes rose like the rib bones of a decayed leviathan, long ago stripped of anything of worth or use. Roots and moss had long since overtaken once bustling streets, and vermin skittered by with a fragment of rotting fruit clutched greedily in its jaw. The wind going through these hollow structures wheezed like the last breaths of a dying man, carrying the stench of rotten eggs. Long had this city stood abandoned and forgotten, and yet Harry clearly heard the strange sounds emanating from nearby; shockingly familiar whispers.

He whirled around to confirm the source of the whispers, only to be greeted by a perfect replica of the Veil of Death. It was one thing to theorize about the Veil being a bridge of sorts and leading to a different location other than Limbo, but quite another to confirm it with his own eyes.

Two massive piers of fused stone framed an opening several yards wide. It was a tall stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that it seemed amazing that it was still standing, especially as it was not supported by any connecting wall. A few thin, dead vines still clung to it, one reaching all the way to where the rise of the arch began. The bevelled stones, fused together with no mortar, reached their perfection of design at the great keystone. On the face of this keystone were the worn swirls of a chiselled saying, now lost to time. The ghostly curtain of rippling souls flickered before dissolving into rapidly fading mist.

A blink later and the arch crumbled on its own, leaving only rubble and dust of legend on the ground. Any hope of return or threat of pursuit dashed with its destruction before it could even manifest, leaving Harry with mixed feelings.

"It seems we can't go back." Hermione commented mildly, with no particular emotion in her voice other than some curious observation. "And don't lie to me again by telling you're fine!" she scolded, worry leaking into her tone.

Harry sighed in defeat, knowing he normally couldn't hide anything from his best friend and love. Much less so with the existence of their Blood Oath. "It's just another broken heart, Hermione." the wizard told her as he looked at her. "I should be used to it by now." the bitter words tumbled from his lips without his consent. A hand on his shoulder gave him some comfort, one of his own soon joined the clawed appendage. "All because I wanted to make yours beat once more and refused to let them kill Delphini."

"Well, we both knew the fickle nature of Wizarding Britain." Hermione told him softly, intertwining her hand with his. A little bit of mirth was in her bottomless eyes now. "Their 'saviour' cavorting with a vampire didn't help."

Harry chuckled, squeezing her hand in gratitude at the distraction, smiling crookedly at her. "Don't forget me being dark and practising Necromancy and making deals with demons!" he said in a scandalized tone of voice, one hand going to his mouth in mock-horror.

Hermione's lips twitched at that, revealing teeth sharper than normal people. Her face held a strong mix of emotion in them, ranging from love to gratitude. "How could I forget?" she asked softly and rhetorically, nearly chocking on her emotions as she beheld Delphini. "Not to mention protecting the cursed child of Voldemort."

"Who knew I'd be guilty of nearly all of them?" came the equally soft reply from the man, gazing at a dozing Delphini. She had fair skin free of any blemish and pale hair that shone like white gold, while her closed eyelids hid eyes of purest crimson. He then rested his forehead on Hermione's and gazing into her pools of pure obsidian. Delphini held snugly between them. "Though, I'd do it all over again for you."

She put a hand on his cheek. "I hope you don't include dying in that list!" an arched brow made it clear what his answer should be.

"You died for me long before that, lost your witch's magic and were nearly thrown out of Hogwarts due to your state of being!" some harshness crept into his voice before fading. He had lost what little clout he had with his support of her. Not that he cared about fair-weather friends and fickle fame when he had a true friend right there. "My sacrifice pales in comparison to yours!" Harry told her full of conviction, followed by swearing. "Not that such an inconvenience as death will keep me from you for long!" referencing the fact that he had come back to her once before.

This time the reborn witch choked up, even able to produce tears in that once more living body of hers. "You prat!" was all she could say before she made to kiss him.

"Yes, but I'm your prat though." he grinned before kissing her, feeling her once more warm skin against his own. "Do you think they're confused as to what happened as we stepped through?" the thought of the idiots staring at the crumbling Veil did give him some amount of amusement.

"They're always confused!" came the scathingly true and equally amused reply.

Only after separating did Harry notice what lay on the ground beside the rubble, not even truly registering it until now.

There was his Invisibility Cloak with the Resurrection Stone and Elder Wand on top, all three neatly impaled by the Sword of Gryffindor. The silky heirloom appeared to be losing it's invisible property rapidly, but kept the star-like lustre of silver. Before he could try to pick it up a stream of ghostly strands that glowed softly rose up, billowing like dust in the wind. Though, the spectral stream was seemingly absorbed into the silvery blade, circling around it before merging together. Only a mundane but exquisitely made cloak of shining silver remained afterwards. Directly after that the Resurrection Stone and Elder Wand, which were cleaved cleanly in two, vanished completely into the sword's blade like rain into the earth.

The Sword of Gryffindor briefly flashed with argent radiance before the blade became as black as soot, the stain travelling up to the hilt like an infection. The inscription from Godric Gryffindor was no longer there, after whatever process it went through. No marks marred the perfect satin darkness of the double-edged blade, except iridescent ripples that danced through the darkness; a thin glow of glimmering nacre seemingly contained within each distinct ripple. Wallowing in the depths of that black swamp Harry saw the putrid sparkle of dying stars appear, the wisps of diseased nebulae and the twinkling of rotting galaxies; all of which moved and writhed like cosmic snakes gnawing at the roots of infinity. The silver hilt was still richly embellished but it now depicted a phoenix; its eyes rubies, intricately made argent wings formed the cross-guard, while the talons that made up the pommel held a ruby the size and shape of a quail egg in them.

The sword of perfected silver, having drunk in the darkness around it, now emitted a faint sound that was not unlike the suggestive and haunting whisper of ghosts. Cutting the breeze as if to demonstrate the Hallows dark splendour to the world.

"What the...?" was all he managed to bring out. "I knew I felt it slipping from my grasp as we tumbled through the Veil." Harry told Hermione upon seeing the blade. He should've known that something like that would happen.

Both remembered how the they had used the three objects before stepping through the Veil of Death. As per legend only the Master of Death could step through the Veil of Death after using the Deathly Hallows in a specific sequence. However, legend didn't tell them where they'd pop up. Only that it'd be a different world. Even ghosts could forget things after multiple centuries, after all.

Hermione inspected the sword curiously, her inquisitive nature overtaking her. "Interesting." she murmured, looking it over without touching. Silver wasn't overly friendly to vampires, after all. Even if she no longer qualified as one, old habits were hard to break. "We know it absorbs what makes it stronger, but I didn't think objects are included in that."

"I don't think the Hallows were mere objects, Hermione." Harry replied to her mumblings with a smile. "Like all wands the Death Stick had some sentience, and who knows about the other two."

She huffed, never having believed strongly in the legend of the Deathly Hallows before. Still, she could grudgingly admit to being wrong. "Indeed." she looked down at the silvery cloak, caressing the hood a little. "It's a shame about the cloak though." she had to use it often during the day to shield herself from the sun. Otherwise it would've been too expensive for her to be out and about during the day. Even with Harry's insistence otherwise.

Something native startled both somewhat fierce a moment later. It was a mix between a human scream and feline roar, booming off the mountain's walls as gigantic bat-like wings appeared with a nine-hundred pound lion body above the edge of a nearby tower. Its grotesque human face was surrounded by a mane of matted, gore-encrusted hair, and the creature's tail resembled that of scorpion.

Attracted by the roar of the Manticore more monsters spawned from the surrounding landscape in hope of easy prey.

The next beast was as big as a horse, with dragon-like spikes the size of a small daggers running the length of its spine. It also had a serpentine tail extending from a goat's hindquarters. Somewhere in the middle, a lion and a lizard competed to be its forequarters, granting it deadly claws. Three heads bloomed from its overburdened shoulders: a lion, a horned goat, and something like a red snake.

Not just from the air did the enemies come. A huge and hideous worm-like creature mixed with a snake burrowed its way up through the ground, the earth crumbling down its thick and oozy body in a collapsing mess. It was easily the size of a fully grown basilisk, but had shorty stubby legs and no discernable eyes. Only a bulbous body and a mouth filled with countless sharp teeth. Its open maw revealed a furnace glowing deep within, waiting to be unleashed.

Luckily the gigantic orange wyrm ignored Harry and instead went for the Chimera. Evidently not noticing or ignoring the smaller targets, and simultaneously blocking the Manticore's view on them.

On instinct his holly wand sprang into Harry's hand, making him thankful he didn't dispose of it after coming into possession of the Elder Wand. In his hurry Harry did not notice that the usual sudden warmth rising up his arm associated with the wand was missing entirely.

A moment later the wizard tried to apparate to a point further away, hoping to gain some distance with multiple jumps as he promptly turned on his heel with Delphini and Hermione in his arms. Nothing happened. Not the sensation of being pressed through a rubber tube, nor a twisting feeling in his gut that usually was caused by an Anti-Apparition ward being in place. "Fuck!" he cursed out loud.

The battle between the gigantic wyrm and the Chimera gave Harry enough time to gather the cloak from the ground, storing the heirloom into his mokeskin-pouch with a flick of his holly wand. He swiftly passed Delphini to Hermione, shoving both behind him and against the wall so he could fight the enemies unencumbered. While Hermione wasn't defenceless, she wasn't as proficient with a wand as him due to less experience. At least she could quite possibly outrun them with her superior strength and endurance, as well as him distracting the monsters. The changed sword he took in his left hand to fight the rapidly approaching Manticore. He knew running away from the creature was futile in his own case without access to magical escape. Not to mention that they were literally backed into a corner right now.

Said Manticore hadn't wasted any time in the interim, its yellow eyes shining with malicious intelligence as it pounced from its high position. It took flight, its bulky form blocking out the light partially, and as its tail whipped forward, spikes were slung from its tip, aiming to end their life.

Harry simply conjured a shimmering shield, reflecting the spikes back with a contemptuous flick of his wand, but they missed the evading monster by inches. Without wasting time his wand was thrust forward like a spear, causing a purple piercing-hex to fly straight through the beast's left wing membrane. Harry shot the spell again and again, targeting different points one after another, tearing through the leather and flesh. Each spell grew in intensity as hate rose in the wizard's chest. Growing from holes the size of fingers to fist-sized ones until the beast was forced to land prematurely lest it crash.

In the back of his mind the wizard noted that the magic here felt different. Not necessarily twisted but changed, more difficult to mould and bend to his will.

Thankfully he had limited the Manticore's mobility with his attacks.

Knowing that the creature's resistance to magic was great and that one sting from a Manticore was enough to kill, Harry tried to keep it at a distance. To that end he employed the terrain, transfiguring the ground into deadly spikes and launching a few at the beast. Some grazed the Manticore, but it proved too fast and nimble still. Easily avoiding the hazards Harry had created on the ground, prowling around them and looking for an opening. An obscene grin displayed on its mocking human face, licking its lips provocatively.

'My magic feels slower, for some reason. I need something faster, more powerful!' He growled in his mind, concentrating fully on his opponent and formulating a plan. In the end he decided to risk feigning weakness and invite the attack in. As he did so his holly wand hummed to life in preparation, sitting there as if shaped only for his grip. Yet the holly wand sang mournfully in his hand; nothing but discordant notes of despair escaping it. Despite that it shone a brilliant red, brighter than Fiendfyre, brighter than blood, brighter than the ruddy sky. Without Harry noticing cracks appeared in the wood that slowly grew deeper.

Pain suddenly wracked his frame from sheer exhaustion, his body demanding recompense for the travel through the Outer Dark. His feigning of weakness no longer an act. Struggling through the familiar haze of pain, a retaliatory rage engulfed him. He flicked the wand to the side abruptly, making a condemning demonic fire tear out of it that was baleful and glittering. It swept before him in a half circle, creating a protective wall of flames against the now pouncing Manticore. A second later it erupted outwards as a column of blasphemous flames, roaring swiftly towards his foe like a baying hell hound.

Despite struggling to stand, a dark fury sang in his veins as he heard the shrieks of the burning beast among the stench of sulphur. Then the Fiendfyre thinned and vanished, revealing an incinerated husks of charred and blackened flesh, a cracked chitinous tail, molten bone and liquefied eyes dripping from its now malformed skull.

With that done Harry looked at the fight between the massive wyrm and the Chimera. The result was evident by the former chewing its prey leisurely, the lower goat-like body hanging out before being swallowed as well. All the while its throat glowed and smoke escaped its maw as the prey was cooked alive inside.

Not liking his current predicament Harry didn't attack the beast outright, holding his breath in the hope that it would ignore them and go away. The head of the great worm, like the bud of a profane blossom, rose from its slimy, pock-encrusted coil of a seamed and sectioned body. Poised like a cobra, the mouth opened wide. From the centre, the tooth-ringed mouth, appeared a set of tongues. All of them long, pink, and tapered. They moved as if testing the air for something sensed not seen.

Unfortunately the abomination seemed to notice them just fine with it, letting lose some ghastly shriek before evidently preparing an attack. Its throat glowing like an inferno waiting to be unleashed as its whole body was set aflame without warning.

Harry didn't waste time either, already having prepared his own attack in anticipation of such a thing happening. As evidence of it one could smell the sharp, acrid scent of ozone, and every hair on the wizard's neck stood on end. Harry felt the energy in his teeth, in his eyes, and the roaring in his ears. However, the problem began as a flavour on the tongue, like a bloody morsel of roast boar. Soon the twisted and more primal arcane energy of this place was a conflagration of wrath in his body, twisting his blood until only burning oil beat through his veins. It was hot and heavy, flowing through his heart, and filtering into his limbs like boiling poison. He was forced to crush and twist this unfamiliar magic to suit his needs, bending it to his iron will until it fit the shape he required.

'Let's try verbalising the spells.' Harry thought, knowing it would give an usually unneeded kick to any spell.

"Fulgur!" Harry's voice boomed like distant thunder, speaking aloud the word to wield the storm as the massive wyrm made to lunge. He finished a last twirl and jutted out his wand, the small hairs along the arm holding it stood straight one after another. Then, with the fury of the tempest, he unleashed it all. Every single bit of the considerable power at his command and then some were put into this one attack.

From his wand's tip, coruscating bolts of blue-white lightning arced for an instant before blasting out in a mostly straight line, lashing everything in its path with raw electric power. The jagged bolt of lightening bursting forth filled the air with crackling energy, and clouds of dust and debris as it carved a path towards it's intended victim. The spell easily impaled his opponent's body, flying into the mouth before it could react and electrocuting the grotesque beast. Spasms wrecked its body violently before it fell in a paralysed heap before his feet headfirst.

It worked much better than the previous two uses of magic. However, before he could even stop the lightning escaping, his wand's cracks glowed erratically; the volatile energies flowing through it making his hand shake. A moment later the cracked wood splintered and exploded, parts of it embedding themselves deep into his palm. Not wasting any time to curse, Harry ignored the pain, gripped the sword with both hands and pierced through the wyrm's hide. He stabbed directly into the disgusting head a few times, letting the venom do its sinister work. Even going so far as to pull the blade and drag it along its length to gut it, letting steaming blood and hot gore spill out.

So hot was the red liquid that it caught fire as it made contact with the ground behind him.

"What the hell was that thing?" Harry panted as he eyed the creature distrustfully, flicking the steaming blood from the blade.

Hermione readjusted her grip on the sleeping Delphini as she inspected the creature curiously. "I definitely haven't seen its kind before. Such unique morphology..."

Another roar-like sound from nearby interrupted their short reprieve, sounding much more bovine than a usual Chimera.

With no option left Harry resorted to the art he was most proficient and powerful in: Necromancy. For that he had never needed a wand, nor somatic or verbal components to cast them proficiently.

Harry swiftly began a necromantic spell, weaving the familiar magic with an ease that contrasted sharply with his earlier spells. There was a smoothness to it now that he hadn't felt ever before as the magical energy swelled within him. A sensation like spreading wildfire burned through his body as the spell imbued him with false life, invigorating him for its duration.

Hidden in the darkness of a nearby alley of collapsed buildings was the arrival of dim, red lights – four pairs of glowing eyes fixed on them. The creatures emitted mighty roars and their eyes burned brighter, illuminating their faces as they came out of the darkness: each possessing a massive bull's head stacked on broad, humanoid shoulders, nostrils and mouth dripping with strings of frothing saliva. A stench like brimstone and the heat of a forge-fire flooded the space between them.

To think of these creatures as part man and part bull was an insult to both. Their massive bodies better resembled an ogre both in size and stature, with bulging but misshapen muscles and coarse hair all over their bodies. And while their heads bore great bovine horns, the iron-ringed snouts from which chains hung outstripped any animal in their fearsome ugliness.

Moments later the Minotaurs heaved into a charge, horns first.

A cold sensation twinged in every joint of Harry's body and a strong scent of decay fell over the area. He could smell the sweetness of overripe fruit as he pointed to the first target, speaking the words of the spell to enhance its effect. "Rzydu'un!" A ray of black energy surged from his fingers, howling like a ghost it needled its way into his target's muscles, bones, and mind. The monster directly in front went rigid, dropping his blades as it toppled to the ground in a heap. Moments later, the corpse began to twitch and groan.

The other three ignored their fallen brethren and went on without stopping. One was banished backwards by Hermione, visibly caving its chest inward as if struck by a canon. Her hand holding the wand trembled as she channelled the magic of this unfamiliar world through it, evidently also struggling to mould it.

"Vlaakith!" Harry once more incanted in a tongue only known as Acheronian; ancient language of necromancers. Immediately black tendrils of power shoot out from the wizard's hands, slaying one of his remaining enemies agonisingly and rapidly while the second sidestepped. Each thread of midnight cut through the beast's skin like a hot knife through butter, making the abomination howl in agony before it was reduced to a pile of sludge as it decomposed rapidly.

The last was stopped in its tracks by the reanimated Minotaur now gripping one of its former ally's cloven hooves, causing it to fall. That was followed by the undead ramming its mace straight into the chest of its downed opponent with unholy might. The victim gurgled incoherently as its ribs were crushed. In return the undead's head was removed with a lucky swing of the axe from the flailing and dying beast.

Both collapsed shortly afterwards. The decapitated one collapsing onto the other.

"We probably should leave!" Harry panted out, the false life beginning to leave him by bleeding away into the ether. Already his vision went black as unconsciousness claimed him.

Hermione simply nodded, making to catch him while searching for a safe space to rest. Luckily, she didn't have to look for long.


Valyria, 279 AC.

A figure draped in a heavy black robe stood with hands clasped, their skeleton-thin fingers interlaced. Both the face and head were entirely wrapped in wispy layers of exquisite but threadbare silk. They turned their head back and forth in front of a shining object, as if surveying something inside it with heavy anticipation and glee.

Suddenly a feminine voice of arsenic honey purred in delight. "What's this? Guests from beyond the Veil?" she tittered excitedly, her joy barely contained. "Have you come to bear witness? Now is not the time, but do not despair; I have such delights to show you."

For someone with so much power to wield, her bedchamber did little to show it. A simple frame held a low bed off the floor, the blankets were just grey wool. At its foot sat an iron-bound chest. In a corner stood a small writing desk, as a scribe in a monastery might use. In front of the spidery woman was a candle fashioned from obsidian, giving off an unpleasantly bright light that did strange things to colours. The only object given over to vanity was a small mirror that hung on the wall, though it was concealed by a sheet.

"Oh, my golden lion!" she called out. Evidently she had to wait for too long to get a response, because on a dime her cheerful demeanour instantly changed to cold fury. "Slave, come to me. NOW!" the command wasn't bellowed, but it echoed throughout with power nonetheless.

Sharp yowls of indescribable pain echoed outside the room, sounding like a sound between beast and man. Scraping and shuffling could be made out before the door was thrown open none too gently, letting it impact against the wall loudly. The claws on every one of its four huge paws seemed as if they were about to fall off. Its golden fur was torn and bleeding, with overdeveloped muscles so big they burst through the feline silhouette and revealed the beast to be a grotesque and terrifying imitation of a lion. Bones peeked through here and there, some stuck out while others laid bare in a bloody ruin. Sinews coated with gore bent and stretched as the creature moved, its undead body a horrifying amalgamation of beast and man.

On its side sat a longsword of rippled steel. The metal was such a dark grey colour that it almost appeared black. Blended into it was a crimson as deep as the grey. Both colours ran through the blade, lapping over one another without ever truly touching. Both the cross-guard and pommel were made of by now tarnished gold, the latter intricately crafted to resemble a lion's head.

"Be a dear, take some of my miscreations and invite our guests of honour to my humble abode." she told the aberration.

The creature clearly wanted to growl, judging by the fierce twitch of its maw, but didn't. Instead it simply nodded slowly and made to do as asked.

"Oh, and Tommen?" the witch called out after the undead lion. "I'd be very disappointed should you fail. You're so very dear to me and I'd hate to see you hurt."

With that motivator she left him to his preparation.