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Harry looked between Robb and Jon, who had started nodding, before he turned to Arya and asked, "Who's Nymeria?"
The question seemed to amuse Jon, Robb, and Arya, who exchanged knowing glances before laughing.
"Come with us, and you'll see," Jon said, grinning. "I'll take you to the entrance of the godswood. Robb, fetch Ghost for me, will you."
Robb nodded in agreement, and Arya tugged at his sleeve. "I'll go with you. I need to grab Nymeria too," she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Harry frowned, still puzzled but curious. "Who are you grabbing?" he asked.
Arya merely smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."
With that, Arya and Robb headed off, leaving Harry with Jon. As they walked, Jon led him through the winding corridors and out towards the godswood. The air grew cooler, the castle's chatter fading into the distance as they neared the entrance to the grove.
The godswood stood before them, its ancient trees tall and twisted, their gnarled branches casting long shadows over the path. As they approached the entrance, Harry felt a strange tingling sensation spread through his body. It was as if the air had grown thick and an almost electric energy hummed in the air. His heart began to race, and a strange sense of foreboding washed over him.
Suddenly, without warning, as he crossed over the arch leading into the godswood, Harry began to collapse.
His vision darkened, and as he fell to the ground, he glimpsed a strange figure in his mind—a giant crow with three eyes flying toward him through an endless white sky. The image was vivid and powerful, and he could feel the crow's gaze piercing through him.
Just as quickly as it had begun, the vision vanished, and Harry's eyes flew open. He was lying on the cold ground, the trees towering over him. Jon was kneeling beside him, his face etched with concern.
"Harry! Are you alright?" Jon asked, his voice urgent.
Harry groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah … I'm fine. I must've tripped over something," he muttered, trying to sound casual.
Jon frowned. "Tripped? It looked more like you passed out. Are you sure you're alright?"
Harry forced a smile, waving him off. "I'm sure. No need to worry."
Jon didn't look entirely convinced but shrugged. "If you say so."
As they waited for Robb and Arya, the godswood felt eerily still to Harry. Yet, in the calm, he began to notice something unsettling—faint whispers that seemed to come from nowhere, like voices carried on a breeze. He strained his ears, trying to make sense of the murmurs, but the words and their source remained elusive.
Harry glanced at Jon. "Do you hear that?" he asked quietly.
Jon gave him a puzzled look. "Hear what? It's almost always pretty silent here. That's one of the reasons I like coming here—no noise, no crowds. It's peaceful. And as a benefit it's one of the few places I can go where I am never concerned that I might run into Lady Stark."
Harry smiled at the joke before frowning, the whispers growing slightly louder. "Are you sure? It's like ... voices whispering."
Jon shook his head. "I don't hear anything, Harry. Maybe you're still shaken up from before." He paused, looking around the godswood, before he turned back to Harry, his expression softening. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Harry, shook his head and tried to ignore the soft whispering sound, and tried to quickly change the subject. "So, who's Nymeria? And didn't you mention Ghost earlier? Do you all have dogs or something?"
Jon laughed, shaking his head. "Not quite dogs. Something better."
Despite his best attempts at getting a hint, Jon gave nothing away before switching the conversation to his performance in the training yard. Mutually deciding that this was an appropriately neutral conversation, they spent the next few minutes talking about sword fighting. Jon offered Harry some advice about balance and footwork, explaining techniques that would help him in future training sessions. Harry listened carefully, grateful for the tips, and promised to take them to heart.
Before Harry could press for more details, the sounds of voices drifted toward them, growing closer as Robb and Arya approached. Harry looked up just in time to see them round the corner—both of them followed by small, dog-like animals.
"Hey, I guessed dogs …" He paused as his eyes widened in surprise. "Wait are those wo—"
"Direwolves," Jon finished with a grin. "You guessed dogs earlier, but no. These are no dogs. These are direwolves."
Harry blinked, his gaze shifting between the three animals. The closest direwolf, the one following directly behind Robb had a sleek gray coat, with bright yellow eyes. The one following behind Arya was leaner with reddish-brown fur with an almost wild gait. And the end of the procession was brought up by a final direwolf several paces behind the others, one that was completely white, save for its piercing red eyes. However, all three animals moved with a quiet grace.
"What exactly is a direwolf?" Harry asked, still in awe.
Robb smiled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Direwolves are much larger, or at least they will be, and more intelligent than regular wolves. They were thought to be extinct in the North for many years, but we found these pups not long ago. There were five of them at first, one for each Stark child."
Arya, already beaming with pride, knelt beside the direwolf that had been following her and wrapped her arms around its thick neck. "This is Nymeria," she said. "She's the best."
Robb laughed as he nodded. "We found them on our way back to Winterfell. Their mother was killed by a stag, and we found her body with the pups still alive. Jon was the one who convinced Father to spare them and let us keep them, and it was Jon who then found Ghost, the runt, all alone in the snow."
Harry watched as Ghost quietly walked up to Jon, his red eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. "They've bonded with us," Robb continued, "and are surprisingly easy to train, at least for us. It's almost like they can understand us on some level. They've even started to take on some of our traits."
He glanced at Ghost and chuckled. "Take Ghost, for example. He's the quietest and most distant of the pack. While the others seem to enjoy spending time together, Ghost is usually off on his own." Robb shot Jon a pointed look before adding, "Though, he should know by now that he's a part of the pack."
Jon rolled his eyes and looked away.
"And Sansa's direwolf, Lady, is by far the most well-behaved and calm of the lot," Robb went on, then gestured toward Arya, who was still kneeling beside her direwolf, hugging it tightly. "And Nymeria … well, she's the wildest. So no surprise there."
Jon laughed. "Which is shocking, considering how well-behaved Arya is."
Arya stood up quickly, and pushed her brother. "I'm plenty well-behaved!" she protested, though the grin on her face betrayed her.
The three of them laughed, while Harry stared at all three of the direwolves in turn.
"Come on," Arya said, standing up and tugging at Nymeria's fur. "Let's take them for a walk."
And with that they strolled into the godswood, the direwolves padding silently alongside them. Harry listened as Robb and Arya shared stories of their adventures with the direwolves, from chasing game through the woods to learning how to train the wolves to follow commands. As they walked deeper into the godswood, Harry's mind wandered, his thoughts drifting between the direwolves and the strange vision he'd experienced earlier.
Eventually, they reached the heart of the godswood, where a massive weirwood tree loomed over them. Its pale bark and red leaves stood out starkly against the greenery, and its carved face seemed to watch them with solemn eyes.
"This is the heart of the godswood," Robb said, his voice quiet with reverence. "The weirwood trees are sacred to the old gods. They've been here for thousands of years, and the Northerners believe the old gods watch through them. We come here to pray or just to reflect."
Looking back Harry almost fell back in surprise at seeing the face on the tree, which caused the others to laugh. Harry had been so focused on the direwolves that he hadn't even noticed the faces on the trees as they walked past them. He gazed up at the weirwood, feeling a strange pull towards it. The carved eyes seemed to stare back at him, and suddenly, the whispering he had heard earlier grew louder. The disembodied voices became clearer, though he still couldn't make out the words. It was as if the tree itself was speaking to him, trying to tell him something.
The voices became overwhelming, drowning out Robb's voice as he had begun explaining about the history of weirwood trees. Harry felt dizzy again, as if the ground beneath him was shifting. He shook his head, trying to clear the noise, and suddenly, everything went silent.
He blinked and looked around. Robb, Arya, and Jon were staring at him with concern.
"Harry, are you alright?" Robb asked, his voice filled with worry, as it cut through the noise.
Harry forced a smile, his heart still racing. "Yeah, sorry. I zoned out there for a moment."
Jon raised an eyebrow, but didn't press further. The others seemed to accept his explanation, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was happening to him. The voices, the visions—it was all connected to this place, to the godswood
At Robb's suggestion they all sat down at the base of the tree only for Ghost, Nymeria, and Grey Wind to immediately move over to Harry and lay down beside him. He looked up and was met by the raised eyebrows of the three of them.
"Nymeria's never this calm with anyone except me," Arya remarked, eyes wide.
Robb nodded, leaning against the tree. "Even Grey Wind seems to have taken to you. Other than Lady he is usually the calmest around people but it usually takes him a while to warm up to new people."
Jon added, "Ghost too. He's not this comfortable around most folks." He looked at Harry with an expression of clear curiosity,.
Harry shrugged as he looked down at the young direwolves unsure what to make of it either. There was something uncanny about the way the direwolves were behaving, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a strange connection to them.
After a few more moments, Robb glanced at the sky. "We should probably head back soon. It's almost time to feed the direwolves, and they'll be expecting their meal."
Arya groaned, reaching over and patting Nymeria's head. "She always gets restless around this time."
"Totally unlike anyone else we know." Robb said to his brother before looking to Harry and smiling. "The cooks usually set aside something for them, so it's no trouble. You should join us next time we take them for a walk, Harry. It seems like they've already warmed up to you."
Harry nodded, grateful for the invitation. "I'd like that."
As they walked back through the godswood, Harry's gaze shifted to the faces carved into the weirwood trees. He didn't hear the whispering voices again, but the eerie sensation of being observed remained. Every face seemed to be watching him, their eyes following his movements.
By the time they reached the castle courtyard and parted ways, Harry's mind was buzzing with questions, not only about the direwolves and the weirwood trees but also about the strange visions and sensations he had experienced. He tried to push them to the back of his mind as he joined the Stark family for supper.
The meal was lively, with the Stark children talking and laughing while telling stories of their days and what they did or learned. Sansa spoke of her embroidery lessons and her excitement for the royal visit, while Bran eagerly recounted a tale he'd heard from Old Nan earlier that day. Even Jon, who Harry got the feeling was usually quiet around Lady Stark, seemed more talkative, discussing sword techniques with Robb.
After the he finished his meal, Harry excused himself and decided to explore the castle. The halls were quiet now, as most of the inhabitants were still enjoying their evening meal.
As he passed by the kitchens, he caught a whiff of something sweet—perhaps a pie being prepared for the next day. His stomach growled in response, though he was too full from supper to consider eating more.
As Harry wandered through the dim, winding corridors of Winterfell, he found himself in an older, less traveled wing of the castle. The stone walls here seemed darker, worn down by centuries of use. The air was cooler, filled with the faint scent of dust. He passed several closed doors, some of them heavy and wooden, and heard faint voices behind one or two of them.
Curiosity drew him deeper into this part of Winterfell. Eventually, he turned a corner and found himself standing directly in front of an open doorway, where the flickering light of a fire spilled out. Inside, an old woman sat by the hearth, her back bent with age but her hands steady as she worked on a piece of clothing she appeared to be mending. Her gray hair was braided loosely, and her skin looked weathered like the stones of Winterfell itself.
Harry hesitated for a moment before unconsciously taking a step closer. He had seen her briefly at dinner once, seated far away from the main family table. The old woman looked up at him with sharp, knowing eyes, pausing her work.
"You must be the lad who saved little Eira," she said, her voice thin but strong, as she motioned him to come closer. "I've seen many wanderers pass through Winterfell, but none quite like you."
Harry, caught off guard, nodded as he approached the door to her room. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Harry. Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."
"No worries at all, I wish I had more company than I do get. Old Nan, they call me," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "I've been here longer than anyone can remember. Seen many a strange thing come to pass in this old castle."
Hesitantly, Harry took the invitation, sitting on a small wooden stool by the fire. "I heard Bran mentioning you. He said that you know more tales than anyone else in Winterfell."
Old Nan chuckled, a dry sound that reminded him of rustling leaves. "Stories? Aye, I've got stories, boy. Tales of long nights and the old gods, of white walkers and giants."
Harry raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. "I had seen some books in the library about some of the old myths …"
She shook her head and smiled causing him to pause, "What are myths and legends but stories from a long time ago." She shook her head before leaning a little closer to the fireplace. "Do you know much about the North, lad?" Old Nan asked, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
Harry shook his head. "Not much, I'm afraid. I'm still learning."
Old Nan chuckled. "Ah, you've come to the right place, then. There's no one better to tell you about the North than me." She leaned back in her chair, her voice taking on a storyteller's cadence. "The North is a harsh place, but it's also the heart of the old ways. Here, we remember things the Southerners have forgotten. We remember the old gods, the ones who watch from the weirwoods."
Harry nodded, thinking back to the faces carved into the trees. "Arya and her brothers had taken me to the godswood earlier and I saw the weirdwood trees. There's something … strange about them."
She looked at him with renewed interest before smiling. "Strange, aye," Old Nan agreed. "But they're also sacred. The old gods speak through them, though only a few still listen. The children of the forest, they used to tend the weirwoods, long before men came to these lands. But that was a different time—a time of magic."
Harry leaned in, fascinated. "Magic?"
Old Nan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, aye. Magic was as real as the snow in winter, once upon a time. There were creatures in the North you wouldn't believe. Giants, skinchangers, even the White Walkers."
Harry's skin prickled at the mention of White Walkers, unusure if it was because of the way she said it or something else. "What are White Walkers?"
Old Nan's face grew serious. "The White Walkers are the stuff of nightmares, lad. They come when the cold winds blow, bringing death with them. They've been gone for thousands of years, but some say they'll return when the longest night falls again."
A chill ran down Harry's spine. There was something deeply unsettling about the way Old Nan spoke of the White Walkers, as if they were not just legends, but a real threat that still lingered in the shadows.
"They sound ... terrifying," Harry said quietly, unsure of how to respond.
"They are," Old Nan replied, her voice a low whisper. "But don't you worry, lad. Winterfell has stood for thousands of years, and the Starks are strong. If the White Walkers ever return, as long as we work together we will be ready."
Harry nodded, but the eerie feeling remained.
Old Nan's stories continued, ranging from tales of the ancient First Men to the legendary battles fought by the Starks of old. She told him about the Wall, a massive structure of ice that protected the realms of men from the White Walker's and their supposed armies. The Night's Watch, a brotherhood sworn to defend the Wall, also came up in her stories, and Harry found himself wondering about the men who lived there, so far from civilization, keeping watch over a land of endless winter.
As the fire crackled and Old Nan's voice droned on, Harry found himself becoming more and more engrossed in the stories. They were filled with a sense of history and danger, of a world at least as perilous as his own.
Finally, Old Nan stopped and looked at him with a smile. "You've got a good heart, boy. I can tell. There are not many who would choose to spend their evening with me. The North will be good to you, if you're good to it."
Harry smiled back. "Think nothing of it."
Old Nan nodded, her expression softening. "Just remember, lad—no matter how far you wander, or where you wander to, the North remembers. And the old gods never forget."
With that, she settled back into her chair, her eyes closing as if she had said all she needed to say.
Harry stayed seated for a couple seconds before it was clear that she was done talking and slowly rose from his seat. After excusing himself from her room, leaving her to rest, he made his ways back through the corridors of Winterfell.
Harry's mind was a whirl as he made his way back to his chambers, the words of Old Nan echoing in his mind.
When he finally reached his room, he tried to quiet his thoughts, hoping that sleep would come easily after a long and eventful day. However, as soon as he lay down, his mind continued to churn with the mysteries of the North. The tales of ancient magic and the ominous warning of Old Nan weighed heavily on him. What if magic was real here as well? If that was true what if the other things she mentioned were real as well. Despite his fatigue, he found it difficult to drift off.
Eventually however, exhaustion finally overcame him, and he fell into a restless sleep. His usual dreamless sleep was replaced by vivid, unsettling visions. The first thing he saw was the giant, three-eyed crow that he had encountered before. It flew above him, its shadow casting an eerie darkness over the weirdwood forest he found himself standing in. The voices he had heard earlier now seemed more distinct, and he realized with a start that they were talking about him, their tones urgent and cryptic, but try as he might he couldn't focus on their words for long.
The crow landed in front of Harry, and the voices fell silent. Its beady eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his heart race. It opened its mouth, but instead of cawing, it spoke in a deep, resonant voice that seemed to reverberate through Harry's very bones.
"Who are you?" the crow asked. Its voice was almost human, filled with an unsettling calm.
Harry stared, unsure how to respond. Before he could overcome his shock and come up with an answer, the crow shook its head in a surprisingly human manner and took flight once more.
This time, Harry found himself unexpectantly drawn along in the crow's wake, soaring through the night sky. They flew south for what felt like an eternity, the landscape below shifting and changing with each passing moment. They flew over fields and mountains, castles and fords. The crow's wings beat continuously, propelling them across an endless stretch of land.
Eventually, they reached a massive medieval city, sprawling and intricate, its towers and spires reaching high into the sky. It was far larger than Winterfell, a labyrinth of stone and grandeur. The crow landed before him and spoke again, its voice grave.
"If the Starks travel south, they will be in danger."
The crow took flight once more, its dark form cutting through the night as it headed further south. It made brief stops in a lush, garden-like castle surrounded by greenery and then in a stark, sun-baked city in the middle of a desert. The crow's voice returned, questioning once more.
"Are you strong enough to turn enemies into allies?"
Harry's heart pounded as he followed the crow's flight across a vast, shimmering ocean. He wasn't sure how far they flew before eventually coming to a stop in the middle of a large city. The crow pointed towards one of the largest buildings as it looked to Harry. "While others might be concerned, perhaps your only source of help can be found overseas. However, time is as much your enemy as those who would oppose you. If you wait too long, your greatest ally could become an enemy," it said.
The crow's journey continued, soaring over the ocean once more, until it arrived at what could only be the Wall. The towering structure loomed before them, its icy surface gleaming under the pale moonlight. The crow landed on top of the Wall, turning to face Harry with an expectant gaze.
"Once again, when the time comes, which side shall you choose?" the crow asked, its voice resonating with an ominous finality. "In the final battle, if the Enemy could grant your single greatest wish, would you stay strong or betray everything you have done."
Before Harry could respond, the crow launched itself towards him, its dark wings beating fiercely. He felt a rush of wind and a sudden, overwhelming sensation of dread. The crow's form grew larger and more menacing as it approached, and just as it was about to reach him, Harry jolted awake.
His heart was pounding, and he sat up in bed, gasping for breath. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. He could still feel the lingering sense of unease from the dream, the questions and the dark, foreboding presence of the crow. And as he got out of bed and made his way to the window, he picked up the sound of five distinct howls before they were reluctantly joined by a sixth.
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Story Note 1 – Hopefully the meeting with the direwolves went well, while Harry will obviously not steal any of them, he shall certainly be spending more time with them.
Story Note 2 – Looks like a little three eyed someone is aware of Harry's presence, wonder what effect that will have on the story.
Story Note 3 – Let me know what you thought of the dream sequence, obviously some of it will be difficult to interpret (hopefully so at least), however there are certainly hints that should be decipherable. Let me know if you have any guesses or predictions about what may happen.
A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.
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sm7772008, Anonymous, Guest, Ariadne Venegas, outcome 5, Wrixel, - Thanks so much for the reviews and I am happy to see you are enjoying the story so far.
kukuhimanpr - That's a good call. I have no doubt that if she had done something like this to Harry. Voldemort would surely be upset, but I certainly believe she had trouble with impulse control and sanity. So don't think its too much of a stretch to think she might have lost control and killed him. That being said if she had done it I'm pretty sure Voldemort would have certainly punished her for stealing that from him.
Anonymous - Yup a fifth year. As of now I don't think I'm going to include anything about the soul as I can't see a way it would be needed to add something to the story. But haven't mentioned it just in case I either need it or don't want it.
Fenrir070 - Really happy you are enjoying the stories. That is certainly a good point but while Harry is certainly new to it I am thinking that he certainly has the physical strength for Wood's intense training routines.
Artur Hawkwing1 - I would imagine he might do that for sure!
Joe Lawyer - Those are certainly fair points, thanks for the feedback. It is more so to show that Harry is unsure how to fit into a new environment and after spending some time there he got a general feeling of the buying power of the money but information is power and he needed the info. As for what other authors do I wanted to do something new. Why rewrite the idea where Harry is a 40yo grizzled veteran who can just stomp every challenge if its been done before. As for apparition if you want to get technical about it. Harry hadn't learned it at the point when he goes back. But being able to apparate is a pretty world breaking ability. I do admit I have a little difficulty writing plot lines where Harry goes full on killing machine as the only times he seemed to actually want to throw out deadly curses was with Bellatrix after she killed Sirius and Voldemort, however as he spends more time here he will certainly become harder. And as for Eira - that is a good catch and what she saw will come into play coming up.
