Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own any part of the Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter universes That includes but is not limited to the characters, locations, … Who knew.

To everyone planning on celebrating National Chicken and Waffles Day, I wish you an enjoyable holiday. I've personally been waiting the better part of the year for this day as its one of the best brunch meals there is! However, on a more serious note its also Youth Confidence Day! So I hope any and all youths out there have a great day and don't forget for a second that you matter! Be confident in who you are and who you choose to be!


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This story is dedicated to Tara T, for her support.


The week before the King's arrival in Winterfell passed both quickly and very slowly for Harry. Though the North had grown on him, the chill of the godswood continued to haunt his dreams and left him feeling uneasy every time he neared the godswood, a feeling he couldn't seem to shake.

The night after his first dream with the three-eyed crow, Harry had spent the first night dreaming of walking through a forest. At first, it had been just an ordinary one, with snow-dusted trees stretching out endlessly. But it grew darker and darker, colder and colder, and then from the shadows, a figure seemingly covered in ice with piercing ice-blue eyes watched him. It was not openly hostile, yet its gaze made Harry shiver with dread. He woke up sweating, heart pounding, as if he had narrowly escaped some danger he couldn't quite name.

Unsure what the dream was about or what brought it on, Harry tried to shake it off and ignore it as the day had gone on, even accepting Arya, Bran, and Jon's invitation to join them as they walked their direwolves in the godswood. But when they led him toward the entrance, a coldness washed over him, and for a moment, he thought he saw those same ice-blue eyes in the shadows, although this time he felt some malice directed towards him. He stopped abruptly, breath catching in his throat.

"Harry?" Jon had asked, looking back at him with concern.

"I … I just remembered something I need to do," Harry said quickly, backing away from the godswood. "I'll catch up with you later."

Arya and Bran exchanged puzzled glances, but didn't press him, allowing him to make his escape. After that day, Harry found excuses to avoid the godswood whenever any of the Starks invited him. Whether it was helping Maester Luwin with inventory or volunteering for extra training with Ser Rodrik, Harry made sure he was busy. Once more he had come close to entering the godswood, but as with the first time, that eerie feeling returned, accompanied by a vision of the ice-blue eyes staring at him.

The second time it happened, Harry had shut his eyes tight against the image, trying to will it away. And after that, he was determined to stay as far from the godswood as possible. Something about the way the eyes were staring at him and studying him, unnerved him, something he couldn't explain.

Instead, Harry focused on his sword fighting. Under Ser Rodrik's tutelage, he trained relentlessly with the other boys in Winterfell, especially with Jon and Robb. At first, Harry had been hopeless with a blade—his reflexes weren't attuned to the physicality of swordplay. The feel of steel in his hand was foreign and awkward, but he was determined to learn.

In those first few sessions, Theon Greyjoy had been especially smug, knocking Harry down with ease. Theon had gloated after every victory, and Harry had gritted his teeth in silence, promising himself that he'd get better. And he did. Within days, Harry's progress was noted by Ser Rodrik, who complimented him on his quick learning.

"You're making incredible progress, lad," Ser Rodrik had said one afternoon, watching Harry go through drills with Jon. "If you keep at it, you'll be worth talking about when it comes to the best fighters in the North. Not a conversation that will happen tomorrow or within a week, but your progress has been astounding."

Harry had been encouraged, though he still knew he had a long way to go. He'd won a few bouts against Theon, much to the boy's displeasure, but Robb and Jon were still a different story. While Harry could land a few solid hits, he wasn't close to beating either of them. Still, his improvement was undeniable, and his increased enjoyment with sword fighting brought him closer to Jon.

After their training sessions, Jon would sit with him, pointing out different strategies during Robb and Theon's fights. He spoke with an intensity and knowledge that surprised Harry, and while Jon's tone was always calm, there was a dedication and interest that Harry couldn't help but feel was contagious.

"That was a good feint," Jon said after one of Robb's victories. "But you should watch his footwork. Robb likes to push forward aggressively. If you time it right, you could step to the side and catch him off guard."

Harry nodded, always taking in the advice.

During these post-training conversations, the two of them often ended up talking several minutes after everyone left the training yard. Their discussions usually revolved around fighting techniques, but every once in a while, they let other things slip.

Harry had mentioned his friends back at Hogwarts once, talking about Ron's strategy during wizard chess or Hermione's love of books. He didn't reveal too much, of course, but it was enough to make Jon curious, and then he had to explain what chess was and that one of his best friends was a girl who enjoyed reading and learning more than anyone he knew. Jon, in turn, had opened up a bit as well, sharing his frustrations about his place in the Stark household.

One afternoon, as they sat on the bench on the edge of the training yard watching Bran try to shoot arrows at a target, Jon mentioned something that caught Harry off guard.

"I'm thinking of joining the Night's Watch," Jon said quietly, his gaze fixed on the younger Stark.

Harry frowned, looking at Jon in confusion. He had heard of the Wall and the Night's Watch during his time in Winterfell, and he knew that in the North, it was seen as an honorable path. But he also knew that most of Westeros viewed it differently. For every noble or honorable man who joined the Night's Watch, there were three or four criminals sent there as punishment. As a result, murderers, thieves, and rapists made up much of its ranks.

"Why?" Harry asked, not hiding his confusion. "I mean, I've heard it's respected in the North, but … the rest of Westeros sees it differently, don't they? Isn't it full of … well, people who don't have a choice?"

Jon's expression tightened, but he didn't look away from the fire. "Aye. It is. But… I don't have a place here, Harry. Not really. I'm a bastard. A Snow and I'll never be a Stark. And there's no future for me here, certainly not with Lady Stark the way she is."

Harry wanted to press further, but he hesitated. He didn't know Jon well enough to push that hard, and he sensed that Jon wasn't ready to talk about it in more detail. So instead, Harry simply nodded, letting the conversation drift back to safer topics.

The days passed, each one filled with training, exploring the castle, and learning more about the Starks and their household.

Eira and her family often invited Harry to join them for meals, and Harry found their company comforting. Eira was always full of energy, eager to tell him about the latest news in Winterfell, while her parents offered a quiet, steady presence. Her brother, who had been teaching Harry about the history of the North, continued to share stories of the Starks, the Old Gods, and the ancient legends of Westeros.

In the afternoons, once their lessons with Maester Luwin were done, when they weren't doing additional sword fighting, Harry sometimes accompanied Robb and Jon on walks into the wolfswood. Unlike the godswood, the wolfswood didn't fill Harry with that same eerie sense of dread. It was vast, wild, and beautiful, filled with the sounds of rustling leaves and the distant howls of wolves.

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Three days before the king's arrival, Harry sat in Winterfell's library, surrounded by the comforting silence of books. He had spent the morning poring over a detailed history of Westeros, trying to learn as much as he could about the land, its people, and its past. Today, his book was about the First Men and their efforts to settle Westeros. As he read through a particularly dense passage on the Children of the Forest, Harry almost dropped the book in surprise.

The passage described the Children's use of magic—actual magic. It was the first time Harry had come across any mention of magic in all the books he'd read since arriving in Winterfell. He quickly scanned the page again, eyes darting over the lines as he read about their mysterious abilities: manipulating nature, speaking with animals, and even casting spells that helped them survive the hostile land. His heart raced as he processed the information.

'Magic? Here?' Harry thought, stunned. He had assumed that magic was either nonexistent or so rare in this world that no one spoke of it, at least not seriously. He had yet to encounter any signs of it beyond his own abilities.

For the next several minutes, Harry frantically flipped through the book, searching for more mentions of the Children's magic. However, aside from a few vague references to their rituals and powers, there was little else. Frustrated, Harry reached for another book on the shelf, hoping to find more about these Children of the Forest and their magic. He scanned pages on the First Men, their fights, and then even the Andals, but nothing more substantial came up.

It was then that Maester Luwin entered the library, his hands full of scrolls. Seeing Harry's slightly flustered expression, the Maester raised an eyebrow.

"Harry? You look as though you've seen a ghost," he said, setting down his scrolls on the table.

"Not a ghost," Harry replied, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "But I was reading about the First Men … and the Children of the Forest. It mentioned magic—real magic. I wasn't expecting to find that."

Maester Luwin paused, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Magic, you say? Well, you're certainly not the first boy to show interest in such things. Many are fascinated by the tales of old, but …" He trailed off, studying Harry for a moment before continuing. "What exactly did you read?"

Harry quickly explained the passage, describing how the Children of the Forest supposedly used magic in their efforts to survive and protect their lands.

To Harry's surprise, Maester Luwin didn't immediately dismiss the idea. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully. "The Children of the Forest are said to have possessed powers beyond our understanding, though the specific details have of course been lost to time. And for what it's worth, there is a chain link available to Maesters who wish to study such things—though few take up the pursuit nowadays."

Harry's interest piqued. "A chain link? For studying magic?"

"Yes … well more so for studying the historical facts related to magic," Luwin confirmed, pulling a small book from a nearby shelf and flipping it open to a page about the Maesters' training. "A Maester who desires it can forge a link of Valyrian steel as part of their chain, symbolizing the study of the arcane arts. But such knowledge is mostly speculative now. It is generally accepted at among Maesters at the Citadel that magic has left the world, especially after the death of the last dragons."

Harry's heart sank a little at this, but he wasn't ready to give up yet. "So … the Children of the Forest could use magic, but you believe it's all gone now?"

"Perhaps," Maester Luwin said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "It is said that the Children's powers faded as the First Men spread across Westeros or perhaps, they used it to hide themselves rather than for conflict but that was millennias ago. More recently, there were records of magic in Valyria before its Doom, but of course those specific records along with the individuals themselves, were largely lost in the destruction. Well with the exception of a few dragons the Targaryens had taken when according to legend Daenys had a prophetic dream about Valyria's impending destruction."

"What about dragons?" Harry asked, leaning forward, having noticed the way Maester Luwin had said the word. "Do people think they were magical?"

Luwin nodded. "That is a subject of much debate. Some believe that dragons themselves were creatures of magic, and that the Targaryens and Valyrians of old, had some innate command over sorcery, which allowed them to tame them which is why it was unheard of for a non-Targaryen to be able to tame a dragon. But, as I said, whatever the case was before, magic in any form is now believed to be little more than illusion and fraud. Trickery meant to fool the common folk."

Harry nodded, though his hand instinctively drifted down to his waist, where his wand was hidden beneath his robes. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 'Well, there's at least a little magic in the world,' he thought to himself, careful not to let the Maester see his reaction.

Maester Luwin packed up his scrolls and rose to leave, saying he had business with Lord Stark. Harry watched him go, his mind spinning with thoughts of magic, the Children of the Forest, and the lost powers of Valyria. As the door shut behind the Maester, Harry's hand brushed over his wand again. It was clear to him now that magic—real magic—had existed in this world once. But how much of it was truly gone?

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That evening, after supper, Harry decided to explore more of Winterfell. He'd overheard Arya and Eira talking about exploring the crypts earlier, and curiosity had taken root in his mind. He'd seen the entrance before but even though there were no rules against it hadn't ventured inside. Tonight, though, he decided to take a look.

He made his way to the crypts, the cold, stale air growing heavier with each step. The long, dark passage sloped slightly downward, the flickering light of his torch casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Statues of long-dead Stark rulers stood guard; their stone faces worn smooth by time.

Harry passed by the tombs of Lyanna, Brandon, and Eddard Stark's father, paying his respects briefly before moving deeper into the crypt. The air grew cooler the further down he went, and the walls became rougher, the statues less defined. He kept walking, his footsteps echoing faintly in the silence.

As he turned a corner, he saw that the passage split into two. The left path continued to slope gently downwards, leading deeper into the crypt. The right path, however, ended in a dead end with a small hole in the floor, from which steam was rising. Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise.

'Steam,' he thought. He took a step forward, intrigued, but before he could investigate further, a soft scuffing noise echoed behind him.

Surprised, he spun around, startled, and in his haste, dropped the torch he was carrying. He tried to spin back around and catch it but it bounced off his outstretched hand and rolled along the ground, bouncing toward the hole before falling in with a faint splash. The light disappeared instantly, plunging Harry into almost complete darkness.

"Ah, Merlin, of course that would happen to me," Harry muttered under his breath, shaking his head at his luck.

Remembering the sound of the noise on the floor that had led to him dropping his torch, Harry turned back, narrowing his eyes as he saw a faint glimmer of light further down the bend. Whoever it was that had followed him had already started running away, the light quickly growing dimmer with every passing second.

Without any other options and certainly not wanting to stumble around in the dark for the next few hours trying to get out, Harry reached for his wand. He whispered, "Lumos," and a soft glow filled the passage. But as soon as his wand lit up, he felt a strange pull on it, as though something was tugging at his wand.

Frowning, Harry turned noticing the pull lessening, before finding himself facing the hole again. He cautiously stepped forward into the corridor, immediately noticing that the chill disappeared and the heat in the corridor intensifying with each step he took. Eventually, he reached the edge of the hole and peered down.

As expected, based on that splash there was water inside the hole, filling the cavern below to just below the surface of the ground he was standing on, and it was bubbling furiously as if it were boiling. Harry leaned over the hole, careful to avoid touching the water, noting the chamber beneath. It seemed partially natural, like one of the many caverns that carried hot water from Winterfell's hot springs, that at some point had emptied enough that someone had gone into and expanded it. However, at some time the stone had weakened over time or perhaps the water had been redirected, which had allowed the hot water to seep back into the room below.

But as Harry turned away from the bubbling water, he ended up missing a couple things. The first was that as he walked away, the boiling water in the chamber below began to shimmer. The liquid glowed with a soft, pale light—the same color as the glow from Harry's Lumos spell. The water flickered, brightening for several seconds, as if responding to his magic. But as Harry moved farther from the hole, the light slowly faded, leaving the corridor dark once more. And the second even more notable thing was that down in the chamber below, nestled on a small, weathered dais, an object gleamed faintly in the light of his Lumos spell, reflecting it back toward the incoming light. The reflection flickered against the dark stone walls of the corridor above for a brief moment, but Harry was already walking away, unaware.

Unaware of what had just occurred, Harry made his way out of the crypts and back to the warmth of Winterfell, and by the time Harry had made his way back to the exit of the crypt, the pull on his wand had completely faded. He thought about it the entire walk back to his room, but he couldn't figure out what had caused the sensation. He'd never felt anything like it before, and nothing he had read—or even Hermione had read and then told him about—mentioned anything like this.

Was it just a strange interaction between his magic and this world? Or was there something deeper beneath Winterfell? Perhaps magic was not as gone as the maester believed it to be.

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The last few days before the king's arrival were a strange and yet calming time for Harry. With the Stark children occupied for most of their days in lessons on how to act when the royal party arrived, Harry found himself largely alone. He had no interest in the classes that they were forced to attend—and he could hardly imagine Arya was enjoying the classes more than he would. The thought of Arya being forced to attend those sessions made him chuckle.

In fact, other than the fact that he was still included in the daily sword fighting lessons with Robb, Jon, and Theon, the rest of the day stretched out with little to occupy his time. Eira and Branwyn, like almost everyone else in Winterfell, had been given extra tasks to prepare for the king's arrival, and even Maester Luwin seemed busier than usual. Indeed, the only other person that Harry was with free time was Theon, but as he wasn't particularly close to Theon, and the boy's brash arrogance put him off, Harry avoided him. So with nothing to do and not wanting to get underfoot, he decided to explore the wolfswood during his free time.

After having joined Robb and Jon here for a couple walks with their direwolves, he found that there was something about the forest that appealed to him, reminding him of the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts. The dense trees, the soft rustling of the leaves in the wind, and the distant sounds of animals moving through the underbrush made him feel strangely at home. Of course, no Acromantulas or centaurs lurked here—but each time he stepped into a new clearing, he half-expected to find Aragog and his family waiting for him. Whenever he heard the trampling of feet in the bushes, he was always slightly disappointed when only a small herd of deer to darted past rather than the centaurs.

The afternoon before the king was expected to arrive, Harry returned to Winterfell from another long morning of wandering through the forest. He was greeted by Robb almost immediately after stepping through the castle gates.

"There you are," Robb said, his expression somewhere between relief and frustration. "Where have you been?"

Harry blinked, confused. "I was just out walking through the wolfswood, trying to stay out of everyone's way. Why?"

Robb sighed, shaking his head. "Arya. During one of our breaks, she mentioned she was bored and said she was going to find you. She's jealous you don't have to sit through the classes."

Harry frowned. "She went looking for me?"

Robb nodded. "Can you keep an eye out for her? I'm worried she might've run off to try and find you, although none of the guards saw her leave the castle walls."

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, watching as Robb turned and hurried off to look for his sister in another area of the castle.

Left alone, Harry sighed and walked into an empty room, pulling out his wand. He murmured, "Point Me, Arya Stark," and felt the wand spin in his hand, pointing steadily toward the outer wall of the castle.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Of course," he muttered to himself, realizing that Arya might have seen him leaving earlier and tried to catch up. Groaning, he jogged out of the castle and into the forest, stopping every few minutes to recast the Point Me spell and adjust his direction.

After nearly an hour of searching, Harry slowed his pace. The sound of a voice reached his ears through the trees ahead. He moved cautiously, stepping as quietly as he could toward the source of the voice. As he approached the clearing, he could hear a man talking in a low, grumbling tone.

Harry stepped into the clearing, and his heart skipped a beat. A man stood hunched over a small pile on the ground, muttering to himself. Harry's eyes narrowed as he realized the man was dressed in ragged black clothing—a deserter from the Night's Watch.

Moving closer, Harry could hear the man more clearly. "Your stupid uncle … always standing in my way of doing anything I wanted to do. Well, now I'll show him. Imagine the ransom I'll get for you. They'll have to forgive me for running … unless your family wants you back piece by piece."

It took Harry a second to close the distance between the two of them, all the while the man continued rambling, his voice low and bitter.

"Didn't think I'd remember you, did you? Though you could just stand there with your family while they brought me and my brothers through Winterfell, didn't you?" he muttered, pacing in front of the lump on the ground. "You and your family, looking all proud talking to Yoren, no care in the world while they dragged us to the Wall. Just another body for them to throw into the cold."

Realize the man wasn't talking to himself—the pile in front of his was actually a person, who was lying face-down on the ground, hands tied behind their back. Harry's stomach twisted as the man continued to ramble.

"Hey!" Harry called out, stepping forward.

The man spun around, surprise flashing across his gaunt face. In his hand was a knife, however he recovered from his shock quickly and as Harry's hand instinctively moving toward his wand the man reached down quickly and pulled the person up by their hair. Revealing Arya who looked more furious than scared. The blade pressed dangerously close to her neck.

"Drop your sword!" the man barked, his eyes wild. "Or I'll send the girl's head back to her father!"

"Harry, don't listen to him!" Arya shouted, struggling against the man's grip. "He'll just kill you too!"

The man laughed, tightening his grip on Arya. "Oh, hello, Harry," he sneered. "A friend of the little Stark, are you? Well, can't have you interfering. Drop your sword, or I'll do it now."

Harry hesitated, glancing between Arya and the man. "Alright, alright," he said slowly, using his off-hand to unclip his sword and toss it to the side. "It's down. Now what?"

The deserter grinned, his teeth yellow and broken. "That was a mistake. You're going to die now, boy. Can't have you running back to Winterfell. Not after this. And can hardly trust you'd be willing to take some of the money, seeing as you know the girl." At this, Arya started to struggle again, attempting to get free. The man tightened his grip on her hair before he laughed and struck her across the head. Arya seemed to waiver for a second before she collapsed to the ground.

Harry took the distraction as his chance. In one swift motion, he drew his wand and fired a bone-breaking curse at the man. The spell shot out toward him, but the man, despite his frail and starving appearance, dodged at the last second.

"What the hell was that?" the man growled, his face twisting in anger. He rushed toward Harry, knife raised, but Harry was ready.

This time, the bone-breaker hit its mark, colliding with the man's arm. A scream tore from his throat as his arm went limp at his side, the knife dropping from his grasp. His eyes filled with rage as he staggered forward, his other hand reaching for the blade he had dropped.

Harry didn't wait. He fired a severing charm, aiming for the hand that reached for the knife. But at the last moment, the man shifted, and the spell struck his chest instead. Blood spurted from the wound, and the man's eyes widened in shock. He collapsed to the ground, dead within moments.

For a long second, Harry just stared at the lifeless body, trying to catch his breath. His mind raced, replaying what had just happened, but he quickly snapped out of it. He turned and ran over to Arya, kneeling by her side.

"Arya? Arya, are you alright?" he asked, gently shaking her shoulder.

Before she responded, the sound of hooves reached Harry's ears. He looked up to see two horsemen enter the clearing. One of them called out, "Leave Lady Stark alone!"

However, before the riders reached him, the lead rider paused, squinting towards them. "Harry?"

Harry nodded, recognizing the voice. "Jory."

Jory and the other rider, another guard, quickly dismounted. Jory's eyes flicked to the dead man on the ground before turning to Harry. "What happened?"

Harry explained quickly, telling Jory how he had found Arya and the deserter. "He was threatening to kill her," Harry said. "I didn't have much of a choice."

Jory nodded; his expression grim. The other rider helped Arya onto Jory's horse as she began to stir. Arya avoided Harry's gaze, seemingly embarrassed by the situation.

Jory looked apologetic as he mounted his horse, behind Arya. "We need to get Arya back to Winterfell and have Maester Luwin look at her. Sorry we don't have a spare horse for you, but … you can make it back on foot?"

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, the walk will do me good. Besides, I doubt I'll run into anything worse than what I had just come across."

Jory gave him a tight smile before galloping off with Arya and the other rider. Harry watched them head towards the far end of the clearing where the path was, his breath finally steadying.

As he walked over to retrieve his sword, he felt a strange prickling on the back of his neck, like he was being watched. He glanced around the clearing but saw nothing. With a sigh, Harry strapped his sword back on and began the long walk back to Winterfell.

Unbeknownst to him, hidden deep in the shadows of the forest, a pair of cold, watchful eyes followed his every move.

Kind Regards,

FavoriteAuthor


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Story Note 1 – Well, I wonder what was in the chamber? I suppose Harry will at some point find his way back down there, although he might need help getting … whatever it is.

Story Note 2 – A random individual down in the crypt just happening to be paying their respects to Starks long gone or perhaps had Harry developed a tail at some point?

Story Note 3 – As for the blue eyes, that is of course a reference to the Others, I felt it fair that since Bloodraven was aware of Harry, it only seemed fair that the Others should be as well. Although for now both of them are unsure what to make of the new piece on the game board.

Story Note 4 – Looks like onto of saving Eira, Harry has now saved Arya. If Lord Stark thought he deserved something before I can't imagine what he'll do for him now. Any guesses? And wonder who or what had their eyes on Harry while he was in the clearing.


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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BioHazard82, beth626, Redwing1co, outcome 5, cameron1812, sm7772008, - Thanks for the reviews and I am glad you are enjoying the story so far!

et-reader97 - Certainly not entirely magical but the warging between the Starks and the direwolves is at least magical adjacent. Perfect! I've certainly tried several different takes on dreams in the different stories to try and find a format that comes across really good. I am glad you liked this one! As for old Nan ... I guess we will see what's in store but I'd imagine she might pop back. I really love Arya! So I'm glad that came across well. I'd certainly imagine that she would be someone he would be able to open up to. Really happy you are enjoying the story!

Monarck - There will definitely be alot of world building that will be coming but thats how I had set up the world. Magic had been a lot more prevalent but alot of it ended up getting lost with the doom. And backwards attitude towards magic keeps people who know about it hiding. Harry is just a little older than Jon and Robb, was still a student. More on that coming up.

Aridne Venegas - There will certainly be big changes coming up! I'd imagine at least one of those will certainly happen. Probably one and a half. As for the vision being slightly vague I wanted it to not give anything big away too early but as we get closer more and more will start to make sense and I'd imagine people will start making connections before chapters are released but far out its a little difficult.

Fenrir070 - Well I liked the review so I think we are even. I'd imagine he'll take it serious but hopefully he is smart enough to understand what it means when it matters (or has someone smart enough with him that he'll listen to). Well I guess we will see what kind of companions are in his future!

prinzjay1998 - Not trying to nerf him this will be a Harry with magic. Just want to make him have the abilities he would have had at the time.

Nova Sana - Really happy you are liking it! And had mentioned in a previous comment that have been working on how I want dreams to send their message. And am really happy how this turned out. I imagine as we closer to certain events the dream will start making more and more sense!