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"I saw what you did."
Harry turned, his heart skipping a beat. There, in the shadows of one of the doorways, were a pair of blue eyes staring at him intently.
"Just what are you?" the voice asked.
Harry stood still, his mind racing. The words that had been thrown at him seemed to echo in the empty area: "Just what are you?" He squinted, trying to place the familiar voice. But before he could respond, the figure in the shadows stepped forward, allowing the flickering torchlight to reveal their face.
"Eira?" Harry said, relief mixing with surprise.
She nodded, her face firm, though her eyes held a mix of emotions. She took another step closer, her expression set as she repeated the question: "Just what are you?" There was an concern to her voice, a tone that seemed so unlike the usual carefree Eira he had come to know.
"What do you mean?" Harry tried to deflect, but even he could tell that after being caught off guard his voice lacked conviction. He was tired, emotionally drained from everything that had happened in the immediate aftermath of Bran's fall.
Eira wasn't having any of it. "I saw what you did when Bran fell," she insisted, her voice hushed but insistent. "You lifted a little stick and yelled something. And then ... Bran ... he began slowing down as he fell." Her eyes were wide, staring at him, demanding an answer. "You did something, Harry. Don't you dare try to pretend I was imagining things, or that it didn't happen; otherwise I'll go to Lord Stark right now and he can ask."
Harry took a deep breath, a mix of emotions welling inside him. There was no use in lying to Eira now, not after she had seen what he did. His gaze shifted to the floor, and for a moment, he tried to find the right words, the right explanation that would satisfy her curiosity but not put himself in danger.
Eira took another step forward, her voice softening as she said, "I know you did something, because I remember what happened when you saved me from those men. At first, I thought I had just imagined it because I was so scared, but after seeing this ..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "You did something, Harry."
Harry stared at her, mouth slightly agape, as her words sunk in. She had remembered that moment too, even though he had hoped she either hadn't seen anything or that she might have brushed it off as panic, fear, or something else.
"What are you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Are you human or are you one of the Children of the Forest?" She looked him up and down, a frown forming. "I thought they were supposed to be smaller."
Harry couldn't help it—he let out a laugh, a sound that disappeared quickly down the empy pathway. "No, I'm not one of the Children of the Forest," he said, shaking his head. "And yes, I'm actually human."
Eira's expression softened, her eyes full of questions. She looked at him intently. "Then what was that?" she asked. "Magic?" She almost sounded dismissive, as if the word itself were something silly, but Harry flinched at her guess, and she froze.
"Really?" she breathed, her eyes growing wider. "Magic is real?" Her voice was full of disbelief. "I thought it was just a story that Old Nan told us, like grumpkins and snarks, or the Others. But ... it's real?"
Harry gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure about the other things Old Nan talks about," he admitted. "But magic? It's real. At least, my magic is."
Eira stared at him, awe on her face. "How did you learn it?" she asked, the questions spilling out all at once. "Can anyone learn it? Is it hard? Did your parents teach you? What can you do?" She paused, blinking, before her expression shifted, becoming more serious. "And ... what were you trying to do with Bran?"
Harry knew there was no use hiding things now. He nodded slowly, trying to find the words to explain. "That's ... a lot of questions," he said with a small smile. "Probably some questions for another time. But I'll answer some." He paused. "I started learning about it when I was younger. Just after I celebrated my eleventh name day, actually."
Eira nodded eagerly, her eyes still wide. She seemed to hang on his every word.
"As for what I was doing … I was trying to save Bran," Harry said softly, his expression growing serious again. "I was walking back from the training yard after practicing with Jon, and I saw him fall out of the window. I reacted without thinking—I used magic to slow him down. Someone once did that for me when I fell ... from ... well, somewhere high up," he said, carefully avoiding mentioning a broomstick. "But Bran was already too close to the ground. I just didn't have enough time to fully stop the fall. So …" he trailed off remembering the sight of Bran lying on the ground unconscious. "Well even though Bran still got hurt, I'm guessing it probably would have been a lot worse if I haven't been able to slow him down like I had."
Eira stared at him, her brow furrowing. "You're saying you saved Bran? With magic?" She shook her head, a touch of awe in her voice. "I thought magic wasn't real. I thought it was all stories."
Harry smiled. "Most people think that. And I need to keep it that way, Eira." He looked at her seriously, his green eyes intense. "You mustn't tell anyone, alright? It's not safe. Not for me, and not for you."
Eira looked at him, her gaze confused. "Why?" she asked. "If you know magic, you could be the strongest person in the entire kingdom. Why keep it secret?"
Harry chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "It's not that simple," he said, shaking his head. "Even though I trust the Starks and believe that they are honorable people who wouldn't do anything to me, they would certainly have questions and eventually word of it would reach someone who was … less honorable. Magic is ... different. People fear what they don't understand or what they can't control. If people knew about my magic, they might try to kill me. Or worse, try to find a way to be able to use it for themselves, even though it doesn't work like that as it's not something that can be just taken, but I can't imagine what they might be willing to try in order for a chance to take it." He paused, his voice softening. "I don't doubt there are people out there who would do awful things just for a chance to have magic."
Eira frowned, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think people would do that ..."
Harry sighed. "Think about it. According to legend, isn't that what happened to the Children of the Forest? They were different. They had magic. And the First Men fought them because they were afraid, didn't they?"
Eira slowly nodded, the realization dawning in her eyes. "But that was a long time ago," she protested.
"Maybe so," Harry said, "but people still fear what's different. They fear what they can't understand. And they will fight it, just like they did back then."
Eira was silent for a moment, and then she nodded more firmly. "So what now?" she asked, her voice determined.
"Well, I'm going to try to keep doing what I was doing," Harry said, giving her a smile. "And I suppose it's up to you whether or not you keep my secret. I never had a little sister I could ask to keep a secret, but I suppose I'm asking you to keep my secret from everyone. Your parents, your brother, Maester Luwin, Lord Stark … any of the southerners. They shouldn't have any reason to ask, so won't need to lie to any of them, but I need you to keep it a secret."
Eira tilted her head, considering his words. "You saved my life," she said at last, her voice soft. "And I trust you. If you don't mean any harm to the Starks, I think I can keep your secret." She smiled at him then, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "You know, you're better than my brother," she said, teasing him.
Harry laughed, bending down and wrapping Eira in a hug. She stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised, but then she hugged him back. When he released her, her smile had grown even wider.
Together, they started walking back towards the main building. The tension between them seemed to lift, and Eira's questions resumed—about magic, about where Harry had learned it, about whether there were others like him. And though Harry found himself laughing at her endless curiosity, he kept glancing around, looking out for any of the servants and guards who moved through the castle halls.
Eventually, he looked down at her, giving her a knowing smile. "We'll need to find somewhere specific to talk where we won't be overheard," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "But until then, no questions about magic, especially not when we are out in the open, alright?"
Eira let out an exaggerated, drawn-out sigh, rolling her eyes. "Fine," she said, though the smile on her face showed that she understood. "I'll be patient."
"Thanks," Harry said, laughing softly at the expression on her face.
The rest of the way back, their conversation was light and easy. They spoke of everyday things—the Starks, the hunting party, and what Eira had heard of the South. The conversation flowed easily, and for a while, Harry allowed himself to forget about everything else—specifically Bran's fall and his secret.
But deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd need to deal with those things again.
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The castle's atmosphere changed drastically over the next few days. Before Bran's fall, the halls of Winterfell had been alive with laughter and excitement, with King Robert at the center of it all. The feast tables were heavy with food and drink, and Robert himself drank enough for three men, leading his entourage in endless revelry. But since Bran's accident, the mood had shifted. The halls were quieter, and people moved about with somber faces. Smiles were rare, and conversations were subdued, tinged with worry and sorrow. The only constant was the king's drinking, though now he claimed it was to drown his grief for his dear friend, Lord Stark.
On the evening of Bran's fall, Harry found himself in front of Bran's chamber. He had intended his visit to be brief, simply a chance to check on Bran and see if there was anything he could grab for Lady Stark and whoever else was there. But as he entered, he noticed that Ned Stark was absent, likely called away to tend to some urgent matter. And while Lady Stark was still in the room, she was not conscious. She had fallen asleep by Bran's bedside, her head resting on the bed beside her son's waist. She looked exhausted, the emotional weight of the day clearly having taken its toll on her.
For a moment, Harry considered leaving quietly. But then, he saw an opportunity and chose to take advantage of his good fortune. After making sure Catelyn was deep asleep, he carefully drew his wand, and moved to Bran's other side. With a quiet murmur, he muttered Episkey, the only effective healing spell he knew, one that was unfortunately just for minor injuries, over Bran's broken wrist, the gash on his forehead, and the bruises scattered across his body. The injuries began to heal, and Bran stirred slightly, a faint twitch in his hand. Harry's heart leapt in hope, but Bran's eyes remained closed.
Satisfied that he had done all he could for the moment, Harry slipped out of the room. Feeling slightly disappointed that he had only been able to heal his physical injuries and Bran had remained unconscious.
The next morning, excitement buzzed through the castle as word spread that Bran's injuries had miraculously healed overnight. Maester Luwin himself was astonished, checking and rechecking the boy's body for signs of the breaks and bruises that had vanished. But by midday, that initial excitement had dulled. Despite his miraculous physical recovery, Bran had yet to wake.
Harry spent much of the day in the library, not feeling particularly social. He was so lost in his thought that he hadn't notice someone enter the library until Eira appeared beside him, taking a seat quietly. She didn't say anything at first, just watched him as he pretended to read.
"Was it you?" she finally asked.
Harry nodded, understanding her question and seeing no point in hiding the truth from her.
Eira's eyes widened. "Is there anything you can't do? Why don't you just wake him up?"
Harry sighed, setting the book down. "It's not that simple, Eira. I barely know healing magic at all—what I did was just a minor spell, it's the only real one that I know. It's good for small cuts and bruises, maybe a broken bone if it's not too bad. But more serious injuries … those are beyond me. That's why I couldn't heal myself after those men attacked us on the road."
Eira listened intently, her face a mixture of awe and frustration. She was quiet for a moment, processing what he'd said, before jumping back into asking more questions about his magic—where he had learned it, what kinds of spells he knew, if it was different from the magic in the old stories of Westeros she had heard from Old Nan.
Harry answered as best he could, keeping his responses vague. He steered the conversation away from anything too revealing, especially about his past and where he had come from. As they talked, they became so engrossed in their conversation that neither noticed the door to the library opening. It wasn't until they heard the heavy thud of the door closing that they flinched and froze.
Harry's heart raced as he quickly gestured for Eira to stop talking. They both looked toward the source of the sound, and a figure appeared from around one of the bookshelves—Tyrion Lannister, smiling with amusement.
"Ah, Harry," Tyrion greeted with a grin, "the only person who spends more time in the library than I do."
"Hello, Ser Tyrion," he responded, with a smile, inclining his head.
Tyrion chuckled at what had ended up becoming a running joke between the two of them. However his eyes darted to Eira, and Harry quickly introduced her. "This is Eira, the daughter of one of Lord Stark's guards and Lady Stark's chambermaids."
Tyrion bowed slightly, offering Eira a polite smile. "A pleasure, my lady."
Eira blushed slightly, clearly feeling out of place. She quickly excused herself, mumbling something about tasks she needed to tend to. She bowed awkwardly and hurried out of the library, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
Tyrion watched her go, his mouth curling into a smirk. "I have found that I seem to have that effect on women," he mused, "though they usually flee after I've said something. I suppose my mere presence was enough this time."
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "She's just shy."
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Harry with a raised eyebrow. "And what exactly were you two discussing so intently before I so rudely interrupted?"
Harry hesitated. He had no idea how long Tyrion had been in the room or how much he had overheard. He glanced down at the book in front of him, an old tome about the mysteries of Old Valyria, and inspiration struck.
"We were talking about magic," Harry said, a mysterious smile tugging at his lips.
Tyrion's eyes sparkled with interest. "Magic, you say? Now that is a fascinating topic."
Harry nodded, gesturing to the book. "I've been reading a lot about Old Valyria and dragons. It's all new to me—didn't have access to books like this before I came to Winterfell. Once Eira heard about what I was reading, she got curious, so she asked me what exactly magic was."
Tyrion chuckled. "Well certainly not the easiest question to start with … if only there were a simple answer to what it truly is. However, if you ever uncover its secrets in one of these dusty old books, do let me know. I'd be most intrigued."
They shared a laugh, the tension easing from Harry's shoulders. The conversation shifted to lighter topics and they spoke for a while before Tyrion stood, brushing off his cloak.
"I was on my way to pay my respects to young Bran," Tyrion said, his tone growing somber. "Not that it will do much good, I fear. His fate is in the hands of the maester and the gods now."
Harry nodded. "That is very considerate of you, I have no doubt that the Starks will appreciate the gesture."
Tyrion paused, his sharp gaze flicking back to Harry. "It was strange this morning, wasn't it? Finding all of Bran's physical injuries seemingly healed overnight. Almost as if … by magic…"
Harry's heart skipped a beat, but before he could even think to respond, Tyrion smiled, a glint in his eye, and shrugged as he turned toward the door.
"One of the great mysteries of the world, I suppose." With that, he left the room.
Harry exhaled a bit more forcefully than he intended, realizing he had been holding his breath. Tyrion's words lingered in his mind long after he had gone, and Harry couldn't help but wonder just how much the clever Lannister had overheard. As he stared towards the end of the aisle he shook his head and wondered if despite Ser Jaime's supposed prowess with a sword if it was not Tyrion that was the most dangerous member of the Lannisters.
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Despite King Robert deciding to postpone the return to King's Landing to try and give Bran some time to heal, eventually the time came when preparations began. The day before the departure was scheduled for the castle was a blur of preparations. Winterfell was bustling with activity—men and women moved about the courtyard, hauling supplies, preparing wagons, and tending to horses. Harry was surprised that Benjen Stark had chosen to leave on the same day, seeing no point in staying longer than necessary as there was no help he could provide.
As such the preparations were for two parties. One lead by Benjen Stark which was preparing for the journey north to the Wall, a group that included Jon Snow and, to Harry's surprise, Tyrion Lannister. The news of Tyrion's decision to travel to the Wall had intrigued Harry. The Imp seemed to relish the adventure and, perhaps, the idea of seeing the Night's Watch firsthand.
Meanwhile, King Robert Baratheon's party prepared to head south to King's Landing. Eddard Stark was to accompany them, along with his daughters Sansa and Arya, and a collection of guards and other individuals. Harry, after a conversation with Lord Stark, had been granted permission to accompany them as well, presumably as a way of repaying Harry for his bravery in saving Arya and finding Bran and making sure he got help after the fall. Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness about heading south.
Harry found himself wandering Winterfell alone in the day before the departure, his mind weighed down by the grim atmosphere. It had taken him only a couple minutes to pack his few meager belongings for the journey to King's Landing when he realized he hadn't seen Jon in days. He had begun to think it was odd as Jon had always been present, whether sparring in the yard or brooding in the Great Hall, before realizing that Jon might have been hiding. Harry had looked everywhere before realizing that Jon seemed to be hiding in the godswood, but every time he tried to approach the ancient trees, he got the same strange feeling he had gotten before and decided to wait for later to try and find him.
In the end, it wasn't until the morning before the departures that Harry finally saw Jon. They spotted each other at the same moment, near the edge of the godswood. Jon looked like he might turn and walk away, but Harry wasn't about to let Jon slip away so easily.
"Just hold on, Jon," Harry called, quickening his pace as he made his way over to him. "If you want to walk away after we talk, then fine. But just hold on for a moment. I've been looking for you."
Jon hesitated, then turned to face Harry with slumped shoulders. His face was clouded with anger and pain, but it was the exhaustion in his eyes that Harry noticed most. "What do you want, Harry?" Jon's voice was low, and the words felt heavy.
Harry didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied Jon for a moment before asking, "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in the training yard. I miss hitting you with a sword." He said, trying to lighten the mood, his voice light.
That almost got a smile from Jon, but he shook his head. "I've been thinking," he said quietly. "The last thing the Starks need is for me to be around them."
Harry frowned. "And why do you think that? The Stark children are all hurting, and you've just pulled away from them. If what I heard Robb talking about with your uncle is true, you've made up your mind to go north with him, to the Wall. Haven't you?"
Jon nodded, his gaze falling to the ground. "It's where I belong, it's my fault Bran fell."
Harry stepped back in surprise. "How do you figure that, Jon? Did you convince him to go climbing? Or better yet, did you push him off the wall yourself?"
Jon looked up sharply, anger flashing across his face. "Of course not! But I ignored him. If I hadn't—"
"Then get over yourself, Jon," Harry cut him off, his tone forceful. "We've already talked about this. It wasn't your fault. And if you think ignoring Bran was the problem, why are you ignoring all the rest of the Stark children now? Do you think Rickon understands why you're avoiding him? Don't you think Robb would have preferred to have you to talk to during this time, rather than Theon? Arya and Sansa—they're about to be taken away from Winterfell, their home, away from everything they know, right after Bran fell, before he wakes up, and you aren't even doing them the favor of being there for them, checking to see if they are alright. I can't imagine any of them are better off because you're punishing yourself."
With each accusation, Jon flinched as though Harry had physically struck him, but he maintained eye contact with Harry, his expression pained. Guilt gnawed at Harry for speaking so harshly, but he knew it needed to be said. His tone softened as he continued. "This is your family, Jon. No matter what you think, no matter what Lady Stark says, no matter how much you seem to doubt it sometimes. I would have given anything to have a family to lean on during hard times. My parents were killed when I was a baby, and I grew up with people who hated me—I grew up being treated worse than the way Lady Stark treats you. I would have done anything to have half-siblings who cared for me like the Starks care for you. And yet you're ignoring them as a form of punishment to yourself over something that wasn't your fault."
Jon's expression softened, and he looked down at the ground again, shame etched into his features.
Harry pressed on. "If you're still considering the Night's Watch, fine. But don't leave without talking to them. Especially now. You owe it to them and yourself."
Jon shook his head. "You don't understand, Harry. I'm a bastard. The Wall is the only place I can earn my honor. It's the only place I can belong."
Harry sighed, frustration and sympathy swirling inside him. "You don't have to go to the edge of the world to earn honor, Jon. You're one of the most honorable people I know."
He paused, scratching the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. "Do you know what happened the day Bran fell? Right before we were supposed to spar?" Jon looked at him, confusion crossing his face at the sudden change of topic, but he remained silent.
"I was talking to Bran," Harry continued before Jon could say anything. "I had been watching him practice his archery for a while as I waited for you, and eventually, he got bored of archery and came over to ask about you." Jon looked away, guilt evident on his face. Harry pressed on, "He wanted to know if you were all right, why you were ignoring him and going to join the Night's Watch."
Jon's expression crumpled, but Harry continued. "I told him you were going through a lot, that you felt like being a bastard isolated you and the only way you could make something of yourself was if you joined the Watch. And do you know what he said?" Jon shook his head slightly, his eyes distant. "He said you weren't a bastard—you were family. That you would always be a part of their family. He said you'd always be part of the family, no matter what. Then he suggested you become a knight, maybe even join the Kingsguard, after which he rattled off names of famous bastards who made names for themselves as either knights or members of the Kingsguard itself."
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Jon's lips as he imagined Bran saying those words.
"That's the last thing Bran said to me, Jon," Harry continued, his voice soft. "He was on his way to find you, to convince you not to go to the Wall. He didn't want you to disappear into isolation. He wanted you here."
Jon was quiet for a long moment, processing Harry's words. His face was torn when he finally looked at Harry. "But the Night's Watch—"
"I've read about the Night's Watch," Harry interrupted. "And I won't lie, it's a noble calling for some. But it's a life of isolation and hardship, Jon. And you have other options. You could serve as a sworn sword to House Stark, help Robb when he becomes lord. Gods know Robb would appreciate that more than you can imagine. Or you could do as Bran suggested—prove yourself worthy of knighthood, work your way south and find a place where your skills can make a difference and you can 'earn' your honor without giving up everything. You have options, Jon. More options than you think."
Jon stared at him, the weight of Harry's words pressing down on him. "You don't understand..." he began, but his voice trailed off.
Harry smiled sadly. "I know better than most that life isn't fair, Jon. You've been dealt a bad hand, but what you do with it—that's your choice."
Jon looked at him, conflicted. "And if I fail?"
"You won't," Harry said simply. "But even if you do, it's better to try than to hide at the Wall for the rest of your life. From everything I read, once you say the vows and take the Black, there's no going back. Just ... think about it, Jon."
With that, Harry turned and walked away, leaving Jon standing at the entrance to the godswood, deep in thought.
The next day, as the two parties prepared to split and all the goodbyes were being said, Harry stood by the Stark contingent, watching as Jon and Benjen made their way towards the gate. Jon caught his eye from across the courtyard, and for the first time in days, Harry saw something in Jon's expression that wasn't despair.
Maybe there was still hope for him after all.
Kind Regards,
FavoriteAuthor
If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it's the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.
Story Note 1 – Covered a lot in this chapter! First of all while there were a handful of really good guess I wanted to congratulate the two people who guessed who had caught Harry using magic. I wanted to write it in a way where it was subtle enough that there was some uncertainty but still possible to guess.
Story Note 2 – I'm sorry to everyone who felt that Harry should have been able to convince Jon to join them on their way south. But at the end of the day Harry had been in Winterfell for just over a month and while he's persuasive at the end of the day the feelings of isolation at the hands of Lady Stark and everyone who referred to him as a bastard were significant and would take time to break down. However, can already see that the words had an affect on Jon. I guess we will see what he chooses as the time comes. And as Jon volunteered to go north he still has a choice in the matter.
Story Note 3 – Really enjoying writing Tyrion and I hope he comes across the same way as he did in the books. And I meant what I had written. Obviously, would never want to come face to face with Jaime on the field of a battle but do think that Tyrion would be a more dangerous opponent. Hopefully, Harry doesn't end up in that category!
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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Guest x 2 - Thanks so much for taking the time to leave feedback and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
rice2999 - Certainly as more people find out that he has magic he'll be more comfortable using it. And as for the pace it will certainly start picking up and as it progresses he'll slowly start becoming more and more powerful.
cameron1812 - I agree! I think it adds something to the drama as well.
1529 - I suppose that's a fair take, although caution isn't exactly cowardice. The way I try to write is to slowly separate from canon in a logical manner. And overtime the small changes add up.
rajeshkont - That was a pretty good guess and for a second had considered Arya but have a special reveal for her planned when she discovers his magic.
JayMJane - Of course. If you take the time to review, I should at least take the time to let you know I saw it. I might have taken a little creative license but it was mostly to help people visualize it rather than coming up with a new spell. Although I do agree that scene was well done. That was a good guess!
Monkey D. Conan - I would imagine things will end up going better for him. Including a significant not heading South Arc coming up! Teasers! Shhh don't tell anyone! As with a previous comment about Arya, Jon will have a very significant chat with Harry about magic rather than just a simple spotting in the woods.
StrangestQuark - Ooo that would have been good but Sansa shall have to wait.
Fenrir070 - Thanks so much for the comment! Were you able to spot the small mentions about her blue eyes in your reread. But no matter the case I hope it was a good reveal! That's a really good idea and it was one of the options that I had written down ... I guess we shall see what is in store for King's Landing. Didn't even think about how bad it would be for the wolves! Ouch!
