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 Homemade Bread Day, I wish you an enjoyable holiday and can't believe that just four years ago it seemed as if almost everyone was making sourdough starters. And to everyone else I can only think of three to four acceptable reasons to not do so. In lieu of National Homemade Bread Day, I hope you consider enjoying National Baklava Day, but no matter the case I hope you are still having a wonderful weekend.


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Harry looked around, trying to take in all the unfamiliar sights, as the sound of his footsteps echoed through the cobblestone alley, the faint murmur of a bustling city surrounding him. Towering buildings with steep roofs framed the narrow alleyway, their walls washed in faded shades of cream and brown. Colorful banners fluttered from windows, and the smells of roasting meat, baked bread, and something acrid like burning incense filled the air. The city was like nothing he had ever seen, although to be fair his only points of reference in this world since arriving were Castle Cerwyn and Winterfell.

Beyond the architectural differences, this place felt alive in a way the other two had not. The streets winding and crowded, giving off a sense of organized chaos. The style reminded him somewhat of pictures he'd seen of Renaissance-era mainland Europe, back in his own world. It felt old, yet strangely familiar. After looking around the area Harry found himself walking through the streets trying to find out where he was, drifting past vendors shouting in a language he couldn't understand and children chasing one another while laughter and crying.

Yet as he walked through the city, he got the feeling that something was off. Despite the energy, there was an underlying tension.

Suddenly, the sharp clatter of hooves broke through his musings. One that was quickly growing louder and louder. Harry turned just in time to see a group of braided hair, bare-chested, sword wielding riders charging down the street toward him. His eyes widened in alarm as the horses bore down on him, their powerful bodies thundering against the cobblestones.

Years of Quidditch instinct took over and with a muffled curse, Harry jumped to the side at the last minute, narrowly missing being trampled. He fell hard against the rough ground, his hands scraping on the cobblestones. The force of his landing made him lose him breath, but the sensation of pain in his hands was strangely dulled, almost as though it were happening to someone else.

Harry pushed himself up, catching his breath as he watched the riders gallop along their path, completely unbothered by him or any of the others who were having to jump out of the way to avoid being trampled. They rode as if they had a purpose, heading toward the center of the city where it appeared the buildings were growing closer and more fancy, towards a hill that rose up against the sky. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had to follow them. Something was pushing him forward, telling him that he had to see this through.

Having nothing better to do he moved quickly, dodging through the narrow alleys, but running in the direction they seemed to have been heading, towards the hill that rose from the surrounding buildings. The horsemen rode fast, their dark cloaks billowing out behind them, and he even as struggled to keep up he quickly lost sight of them. But despite this his feet carried him on, driven by that insistent feeling that this was important, that he needed to find where they were headed.

The city slowly began to thin out around him, the properties becoming larger and larger, and Harry found himself climbing the hill, the land opening up as he moved further from the crowded streets. As he crested the hill, he found himself staring at a large house—a mansion of sorts, its stone walls pale under the bright sky. The riders had already arrived and were already in the courtyard but had yet to dismount from their horses, their attention fixed on something happening in front of the mansion.

A crowd had gathered, surrounding a central figure. Harry made his way closer, slipping through the throng of people until he could see. A man stood there, fat and dressed in richly adorned robes, covered in jewelry that gleamed in the sunlight. He looked smug, a confident but guarded smile on his lips as he turned and gestured to a pair of people being led out in front of him.

Harry's eyes were first drawn to the man—a young man with a sharp, almost gaunt face. His hair was pale, almost silver, and his eyes held … a look that made Harry's stomach churn. There was something unsettling about him, a kind of malice that seemed barely contained beneath his otherwise regal demeanor. Harry couldn't help but think that something was profoundly wrong with him, as if the man were a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Harry quickly averted his gaze, unwilling to linger on the feeling of wrongness that seemed to surround the man like a shadow.

Instead, his eyes shifted to the girl beside him, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. She looked young, maybe a year or two younger than himself, and she had an ethereal beauty that seemed almost otherworldly. Her hair was long and silvery, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. Her skin was pale, as if she had never seen the sun, but it gave her an aura of fragility that only added to her beauty.

But it was her eyes that captivated Harry the most. They were a deep, violet color, unlike anything he had ever seen before. They seemed to hold an entire world within them—both a softness and a quiet strength. When she looked up, there was a glimmer of something in those eyes, a mixture of hope and innocence to her gaze, but also a spark of something deeper. It was as a look of both vulnerability and strength.

Her expression was guarded, but there was a subtle tension in her posture, as though she was trying to brace herself for something that might come at any moment. She seemed to stand in the shadow of the young man beside her, who carried himself with arrogance, but Harry could sense that there was much more to her than met the eye. Her presence felt significant, as if she were destined for something far beyond this town.

But before he could move closer, in an attempt to try and make out what was being said, the riders turned, apparently having accomplished whatever it was that they had wanted, and swung their horses around towards the exit of the courtyard. Without warning, they charged toward the gathered crowd. Harry barely had time to react as the horses thundered in his direction once again. He threw himself to the side, rolling down the hill to avoid being trampled.

Coming to a stop, lying on his back, looking up at the sky Harry shook his head in anger as this was the second time that had happened now. Harry began to pick himself up, his heart pounding in his chest, feeling the urge to try and confront the horsemen, however that was vastly drowned out by his curiosity at finding out who the girl was and why she seemed so important.

However, as he got to his feet the world shifted around him. One moment, he was looking at the mansion, and the next, he was standing in a sprawling camp. Tents stretched as far as he could see, fires burning bright in the growing darkness. Men and women moved around him, their clothes rough and worn, their laughter loud and raucous.

Harry turned, trying to make sense of what was happening. His eyes widened as he caught sight of her again—the same young woman with silver hair. She stumbled out of a tent, her expression dazed, followed closely by a man who seemed at least twice her age. He was tall and imposing, his hair braided and adorned with small metal rings, a huge smile on his face as he looked at her before exclaiming to the crowd that surrounded the tent. The people around them cheered, their voices echoing through the camp, and Harry felt a chill run down his spine.

He realized that this was a dream—or perhaps a vision. And while he was no stranger to strange occurrences, this one felt different. It felt important, in a way that not even his visions of Voldemort had been, as if he was witnessing something that mattered deeply, and this was a warning.

The scene began to shift again, slowly at first. Harry blinked, the world changing before his eyes until he found himself standing in front of the same large tent, although judging by the hills in the distance, this was a new location. However, that was not the only significant difference, flames roared around him, the heat intense as the tent burned. He watched in shock as the fire consumed everything, the crackling of wood and fabric filling his ears. But there was something else—a movement within the flames, something he could not make out.

The fire burned down to embers, and from the ashes, she emerged. The young woman from before, her hair wild and free, her body only covered in soot, yet untouched by the flames. Three creatures clung to her—winged, reptilian, their eyes glowing with a fierce intelligence. Dragons, Harry realized with a start, the realization striking him with a sense of awe. He had seen illustrations of dragons in the books at Winterfell's library, but he had never imagined seeing them like this, alive and breathing. She stood there, naked and defiant, and Harry felt that same sense of purity he had before, as if she were untouched by the darkness around her.

Then the image shifted again becoming a stream of images, but something was different now, and Harry could begin to see a change in her. She led a small group across a vast grassland, her expression hardening, her eyes growing colder, even as the sight of the dragons brought a smile to her face. He saw her in a grand house, chained and struggling, before breaking free, her face filled with rage. He watched her in a large city, filled with pyramids, the people bowing before her, calling out to her as if she were a goddess. She sailed on a ship, her gaze distant, the men around her dressed in armor that reminded him of the styles he had seen in Winterfell. He saw her riding one of the dragons above a frozen lake, the creature's fire turning the ice to steam, and then finally a sight of her raining fire down on a large city, the buildings crumbling under the onslaught of dragonfire.

Harry watched, a growing sense of unease settling in his chest. The girl who had once seemed so pure, so untouched by darkness, was changing throughout the visions. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself. There was a darkness growing within her, a madness that seemed to consume her light. By the time he saw her raining fire down on the large city, he could barely recognize the girl he had seen at the start of the vision.

The images finally settled, and they suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Harry found himself standing in a darkened hall at least the same size as the Great Hall in Hogwarts, the air thick with smoke. She was there, walking toward him, her eyes locked on his, a twisted smile on her lips.

"We have won," she said, her voice echoing in the silence. "Everything is ours."

For the first time since the dream had started, Harry felt a chill of fear run through him. It was as if she could see him—as if she were truly there, and he was no longer just an observer. The twisted smile on her lips sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt his heart begin to race.

As she reached out to him to grab his hand, his body jolted and suddenly, it was as if his entire body had been plunged into ice water. The world around him went dark, and Harry gasped, sitting up abruptly. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his body drenched in sweat. He looked around, disoriented, his heart pounding in his ears.

He was back in Winterfell, in the same room he remembered going to bed in. The fire had burned low in the hearth, however there was still no morning light filtering through the small window. Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease that clung to him.

It had been a dream, he told himself. A strange dream, to be sure, unlike anything he had ever experienced—so vivid, so real. But as he sat there, staring at the dying embers of the fire, he couldn't shake the feeling that it had been more than that. It felt like a warning—a vision of something that was to come, something dark and terrible. And the girl...the girl with the silver hair. She was beautiful, radiant, but it wasn't just her appearance; it was as if she held some great importance, something he couldn't quite put into words. He remembered the way her face had changed, from pure and innocent to something dark, twisted—a transformation that had left him feeling a sense of deep unease.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. He didn't understand why the dream had affected him so much. He'd had strange dreams before—plenty of them, especially since coming to this world. But none of them had felt quite like this. It had felt as if he were seeing something that wasn't just a product of his own mind.

Harry sighed, his breath shuddering. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, not after that. He glanced over again at the window, shaking his head at the darkness through the window. He had been hoping for more rest—he could certainly feel the tiredness in his body—but he knew it was pointless to try. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cold stone floor making him wince as his bare feet touched it. He quickly pulled on his boots and cloak, trying to shake off the lingering chill.

The dream, or vision, or whatever it had been, had left him feeling restless, uneasy, and he knew he needed something to distract himself. He considered his options, then decided that maybe he could find something useful in the library. He didn't know if he would find any answers there, but it seemed like a good place as any to start. The girl in his dream had walked out of a fire with dragons on her shoulders—surely there would be something in the library about dragons that could give him some clue as to what he'd seen.

Quietly, so as not to wake anyone else in the castle, Harry made his way down the darkened corridors to the library. The silence of Winterfell at this hour was unsettling, as for the first time since the King's party had arrived the castle was not filled with noise.

When he finally reached the library, he found that it was deserted, as he had expected. He found a reading lantern hanging by the entrance and lit it, the small flame flickering to life. He took a deep breath and stepped inside, the familiar scent of old parchment and leather-bound tomes greeting him. The dim light cast a warm glow on the shelves, and Harry let the sight of the books calm him.

As he walked along the shelves, his eyes scanned the spines for anything related to dragons. He found a section that seemed promising—books about the history of Westeros, old legends and tales. Deciding he might as well get started, he pulled one from the shelf and sat down at a nearby table, setting the lantern beside him. The flickering light illuminated the pages, as he began to read.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, lost in the words of the book. He read about the Targaryens, the dragon lords who had once ruled over Westeros, and the great dragons they had ridden. He read about their conquest, their rise to power, and their eventual fall. He read about the last dragon, a weak, sickly creature that had died years ago, leaving the world devoid of dragons ever since. The more he read, the more engrossed he became, and for a while, he managed to forget the chill that lingered from the dream.

But no matter how many pages he turned; he found no mention of a girl walking out of a fire with dragons on her shoulders. He found nothing that explained the transformation he had witnessed, the way her purity had seemed to have been corrupted over time. It frustrated him, the sense that there was something just out of his reach, something he was missing.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, the book slipping from his grasp and falling to the table with a thud. He spun around, his heart pounding, only to find Maester Luwin standing behind him, a bemused smile on his face.

"And here I thought I had an early morning," Maester Luwin said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I was getting up to use the privy and thought I saw the flickering of a lantern under the door, so I came to investigate. I certainly didn't expect to see you here this early."

Harry blinked, disoriented for a moment, then glanced over at the window. He could see the first rays of dawn creeping through the glass, the sky still a dark blue. He looked back at Maester Luwin, feeling a little sheepish.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep, so I thought I'd come here to tire myself out. I guess I got carried away and lost track of time."

Luwin chuckled, shaking his head. "I've been there. You wouldn't believe how many nights I spent in the libraries at the Citadel, reading late into the night, only to realize I was awake to greet the sun's first rays."

He paused, studying Harry for a moment before raising an eyebrow and adding, "Have you ever considered the path of a maester?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking his head. "As much as I enjoy reading these works, I don't think that's the life for me."

Luwin nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "It's not a calling suited for everyone, but it is a noble one, in its own way."

Harry nodded and found himself imagining Hermione wearing Maester Luwin's robes, a chain of links hanging around her neck—at least twice the length of Luwin's, given her voracious appetite for learning. The thought brought an honest smile to his face, one he couldn't shake.

Luwin raised an eyebrow, catching the smile. "So, if not a midnight desire to become a maester, what was it that brought you to the library this morning?" he asked, his voice curious.

Harry hesitated, trying to put his thoughts into words. He thought of the dream, of the girl and the dragons, of the shifting sense of darkness that had enveloped her. "I was having a dream," he began, then trailed off. He tried to recall the details, but it was as though the memories were slipping through his fingers like sand. All he could clearly remember was her face—and her eyes, shifting from hopeful to something darker.

Harry shook his head, meeting Luwin's gaze again. "Actually, I can't remember much of it now. But it left me with a sense of dread."

Maester Luwin nodded, his expression thoughtful. He took a seat across from Harry, his robes rustling softly. "Well, unless you are a crannogman, dreams are usually just the mind pulling random pieces of information or thoughts together that your waking mind hadn't."

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's so special about the crannogmen?"

Luwin smiled, shrugging slightly. "There are rumors in the North that they are able to see the future in their dreams. It's something that is strictly viewed as nonsense within the Citadel, but alas … we are far from the Citadel and certainly in the North now." He gave Harry a conspiratorial smile, his eyes twinkling as he shrugged.

Harry returned the smile, though his thoughts were still on the dream. "I'm not sure I'm a fortune-teller, but if dreams are taking fragments of memories and things from my waking mind, how could I dream of a girl I've never met?" He paused, trying to put his thoughts into words. "It felt like an actual memory, it was so real, but I swear I've never seen her before."

Luwin shrugged his shoulders, his expression thoughtful. "I suppose that's only a question you can answer, Harry. Perhaps she's a combination of people you knew, or possibly just the traits you find most attractive. The mind is a confusing part of nature. Many maesters have dedicated their entire lives to trying to understand it, and yet for every question that is answered, dozens more arise."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. It still felt too real to be just a figment of his imagination. He stretched, feeling the stiffness in his back from sitting for so long. "Thanks, Maester Luwin," he said, giving the old man a tired smile. "I think, since the sun is finally rising, I'll go grab some food and officially start my day."

Luwin returned the smile, standing as well. "A wise choice. Take care, Harry. And remember, not all dreams are meant to be understood. Sometimes, they are simply what they are."

Harry nodded, though the sense of unease still lingered. He left the library, his thoughts still on the girl in his dream and the feeling of danger that had surrounded her. He made his way to the great hall, the cold morning air waking him up further as he walked. He tried to remember more of the dream, but the details continued to elude him, leaving only fragmented images and a lingering sense of concern.

By the time he reached the great hall, he had made up his mind. Whatever the dream had meant, he couldn't just sit here and wait for something to happen. He was unable to shake the feeling that he needed to be somewhere where he could make a difference. And as much as he liked Winterfell, he felt that his path lay elsewhere—perhaps he would be able to ask Ned Stark to allow him to join them on the trip to King's Landing. Certainly, the center of Westeros would be a better place to be.

He entered the hall, the warmth of the fire and the scent of food immediately greeting him. He sat down at one of the tables, lost in thought as he ate. He barely registered Jon Snow sitting down beside him, asking how he was that morning.

"Bad sleep," Harry said, shaking his head. He paused for a moment, then continued before Jon could respond. "Do you know where your father is today?"

Jon looked at him, then laughed. "You must have really had a bad sleep. Lord Stark and most of the important men of Winterfell left with the king for a hunt. They headed out just before dawn and will be gone most of the day." He took a bite of his bread, then added, "Although if it's important, I'm sure you could find him before the evening meal."

Harry sighed, feeling the frustration return. He had hoped to speak with Lord Stark as soon as possible, but now he would have to wait. Still, he nodded at Jon, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Jon. I suppose I can wait, if I have to."

Jon gave him a curious look, but didn't press further. Harry turned his attention back to his breakfast, trying to suppress the restlessness growing inside him. He had a feeling that whatever lay ahead, it would change everything. And he needed to be ready.

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Story Note 1 – And Harry has seen Daenerys! In a way, I suppose. And while the specifics of the dream faded, he was left with the motivation to leave Winterfell and as Harry reasoned out. Where better to be than the center of the Kingdom.

Story Note 2 – The actual reason (cause) for the dream will come out however this is not a case of Harry becoming a greenseer or suddenly realizing he was a seer. With magic, Harry is already more able than most of the people in this world even without trying. No need to add ability after ability.


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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Imagination 3101, Redwingco, Artur Hawkwing1, rmw5763, Wrixel, BioHazard82 - Thanks so much for the feedback and really hope you are enjoying the story so far!

Ep - Merci beaucoup!

Andromedanaea - Haha that's a fair point, but even the best Seeker might be caught off guard or maybe he was used to smaller objects and misjudged. If I was to bet I'd imagine Eira might be making a reappearance soon. Ya I will go back and rewrite the eyeglasses so that coming over simply fixed his eyesight. Always thought it was weird that in a world where pretty much everything was possible, no one thought to fix Harry's eyesight.

rajeshkont - Certainly I do try to do a good job on building the environment which at the start can have a slightly slower pace, however as soon as action starts it will be go time!

t4yl0rp1 - Eira shall make a reappearance! Definitely don't think Harry is a coward, but cautious of the unknown isn't necessarily the same. Plus there were other things to do and see. But he'll certainly have to get over that feeling at some point. As for magic that is mostly to give him a chance to learn the new surroundings and not stick out and turn all of Westeros out to get him and burn him at the stake but magic will certainly play a large part in this story!

Fenrir070 - Thanks, I thought that it would be a realistic conversation! Oh definitely I bounce back between those two as well but at least Joffrey was a product of his environment, not much of an excuse but Baelish was certainly something else. Really glad the characters are coming along well as I try my hardest to do justice.

Ariadne Venegas -