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 celebrating Christmas on Wednesday, I wish you the most enjoyable of holidays! And I hope that the time spent doing whatever it is that you are planning is amazing and I hope that Santa is good to everyone! And to everyone else I hope you have an opportunity to enjoy the time and if you get to spend any time relaxing that is all the better. Additionally yesterday was the Winter Solstice so congrats to everyone in the Northern Hemisphere on your days getting longer from this point on (I think that is how that works), and to everyone in the Southern Hemisphere you have my condolences (but just think ... only 6 more months and then it is your turn ...)


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Sorry for the little delay in the chapters going up this week. But got to visit my new nephew! And just got home. Enjoy!


The journey had taken them nearly two weeks, and the closer they got to the northern edge of the Neck, the more the terrain shifted from the solid ground of the Kingsroad to a treacherous, marshy expanse. The wetlands stretched endlessly before them, a maze of muddy sinkholes and thick fog that rolled in from the water, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Progress was slow, each hour filled with the frustration of another wagon getting lodged in the muck, forcing the men around it to dismount and work together to free it.

Harry rode alongside the Starks, keeping a keen eye on the surroundings and enjoying the company of Arya. Since their first game of 'I Spy', they had spent many an afternoon playing games to pass the time, and today was no exception as her laughter echoed against the misty backdrop of the swamp. On the second day of navigating the marsh, Sansa had reluctantly begged off, claiming she preferred the wheelhouse to the uncertainty and messiness of riding through such terrain. She had managed to secure an invitation to ride with Queen Cersei, Myrcella, and Tommen, leaving Harry and Arya to fend for themselves once more.

As they traversed the difficult path, Harry spotted Lord Eddard Stark ahead, waving to Arya with a slight smile. But just as she returned the gesture, a strange sight caught his eye—a group of individuals emerging from the fog like wraiths. They were a peculiar folk, short and stocky, with skin that seemed to blend with the wetland hues of browns and greens. Their hair was long and wild, adorned with bits of feathers and leaves, and they wore garments made from the hides of the creatures that roamed the marshes. They moved with a grace that belied their rugged appearance after seemingly arriving out of nowhere, their eyes darting around as they scanned the area.

Completely taken off guard, panic rippled through the ranks of guards surrounding Lord Stark as the figures appeared. But Lord Stark, ever calm, rode forward to defuse the situation. "Howland Reed," he called, recognizing the leader of the Crannogmen. "Put down your weapons men, the Crannogmen are friendly."

"Ah, the Quiet Wolf rides south again," Howland replied with a partial grin, his eyes gleaming with familiarity as he looked towards Ned Stark. "Despite the rumors we heard of the King travelling north to talk with you, I didn't honestly believe the wolves would travel to King's Landing … after the last time."

Ned's smile faltered, and he looked away, the pain of old memories flashing across his face. "I have my reasons. I need to help my friend," he replied solemnly.

Howland nodded, his expression turning serious as he looked into the distance. "The wolves are needed in the North, now moreso than ever, to protect it more than they are needed playing with chairs in the warmth of the South."

Ned met his friend's gaze, firm but conflicted. "I don't doubt that for a second, but I'm honor-bound to help Robert. I owe him much."

The Crannogman's brow furrowed, a shadow crossing his features. "Knowing you as I do, I didn't expect I could change your mind, but I just hope I'm … wrong about what is to come and you'll be alright while you're in the South." Howland hesitated, then smiled wryly. "But I'm actually here to help you make your way through the swamps. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for the realm if the King, his entire family, and half of the fighting men of Winterfell and King's Landing somehow got lost in a fog?"

Ned chuckled at the thought, the tension easing slightly. "Your help is appreciated, old friend. Let me ride with you to the front, and perhaps we can get out of this while we are still young. And maybe you can tell me about just what you might think is coming."

As they rode off together, Harry caught sight of Arya drifting off the path and into the murky swamp. A sense of dread washed over him. He groaned inwardly, mentally smacking his head for not keeping a closer watch on her.

"Arya!" he called out, spurring his horse to follow her.

She turned, waving cheerfully as Nymeria padded beside her, a sleek shadow in the fog. "I just wanted to explore a little bit!" Arya exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This is unlike anything I've ever seen before."

Harry felt a mix of irritation and concern as he approached her. "What if something were to happen to you? What if you were attacked?"

She briefly glanced down at the small bundle that had been tied to her saddle—something Harry had noticed her looking at with more and more frequency over the last couple days—and then back at him with a bright smile. "With Nymeria here, I doubt I'd be in much trouble!" she laughed, confidence radiating from her.

But Harry's concern only deepened. "What if someone is hiding in the fog?" he pressed. "There's so many smells here that I don't know how much warning Nymeria would be able to get before you stumbled onto someone. It's hard enough to protect yourself from what you can see!"

Arya's confidence faltered slightly, her gaze shifting to the ground. But she quickly squared her shoulders and looked up at him defiantly. "I can take care of myself, Harry!"

He cut her off, determined to make his point. "And what if you fell into a—"

However, the rest of his sentence was cut off when his horse stumbled over an unseen branch, throwing him forward into the muddy puddle with a splat.

Harry groaned as he pushed himself up, sputtering and covered in muck. Arya was doubled over on her saddle in laughter, and for a moment, he couldn't help but join in, his frustration giving way to amusement.

But as he looked back toward the edge of the swamp, something caught his eye—a plant growing just beyond the water's edge. He blinked, recognizing it instantly. The pale green leaves stood out starkly against the brown mud, vibrant and alive. Dittany … or at least something that certainly looked a lot like it.

"Arya!" he exclaimed, the laughter forgotten as he climbed to his feet, brushing off the sludge, as best as he could, from his clothes. "Look! It's Dittany!"

Her laughter ceased, and she looked down on him, curiosity replacing her mirth. "Dittany? What's that?"

"It's a plant used for healing," Harry explained, excitement bubbling within him. "I've … heard stories about it—it can be used to treat all manner of wounds. We need to harvest some!"

He took a step closer to the water's edge, his eyes scanning for the best way to reach the plant without getting stuck in the mud again. But before he could make a move, a low growl emanated from Nymeria, who had suddenly tensed, her ears perked and focused on the mist.

"Arya, stay close to Nymeria!" Harry warned, suddenly reminded of the risk of unseen dangers lurking in the fog.

But Arya rolled her eyes, her rebellious spirit shining through. "I'm fine, Harry! See? Nymeria's here to protect me!"

He took another cautious step, trying to see deeper into the murkiness that surrounded them. "But what if something—"

Before he could finish, the air shifted, and a figure emerged from the fog less than ten feet in front of them, the mist curling away to reveal a woman cloaked in layers of greens and browns, her features sharp and wild. She looked every bit like a creature of the marsh, her skin glistening with moisture, blending seamlessly with the shadows.

"Not safe here for children," the woman said, her voice a low murmur that felt like it belonged to someone who lived in the swamp. "The fog hides many dangers."

Harry's heart raced. "Who are you?" he asked, taking a step towards Arya instinctively, his gut screaming caution.

The woman held up her hands, revealing a handful of the very plant Harry had noticed moments before, her fingers stained with earth. "I'm only here to collect," she said, her gaze drifting to Nymeria, who remained tense, low to the ground, ready to spring at any sign of threat.

Harry nodded as he looked at her. "You know of Dittany?"

The woman smiled, a sharp grin that revealed the secrets of the swamp. "I know many things. However, we call this the Heartleaf. We brew it into a tea to help heal a variety of ailments."

Harry's eye's shot open.

Seeing his reaction the lady nodded, "So perhaps this is the plant you thought it was as well. This land holds its own secrets, just as some people do." She said, staring at Harry, her eyes glimmering with amusement.

Harry exchanged a glance with Arya before looking back towards her. However, before he could respond she began talking. "Unless you intend to use these leaves immediately, they will do you no good as they tend to wither as you get farther from the waters around here."

Harry felt the excitement die slightly as he remembered Professor Sprout telling them that while Essence of Dittany once brewed was remarkably stable, the leaves of the Dittany plant itself needed to be harvest shortly before the brewing began otherwise the potency would be greatly reduced.

As if sensing his desperation, the woman laughed, the sound echoing strangely through the marsh. "However, should you find yourself with the desire to grow your own, you could perhaps try these." She said, holding out her hand.

His eyes dropped to her outstretched hand and saw a small handful of seeds in her palm. Looking back up to her he saw her smiling.

"Unsure I am about how these plants would turn out if grown outside of this area. But as long as they are kept moist I would imagine that there would be no cause for concern about their ability to eventually grow."

Seeing her nod, Harry took a step forward for her to drop the seven seeds into his outstretched hand. He turned around and made his way to his horse where he dropped her gift into one of the pouches attached to the saddle as she continued speaking.

"The Neck is full of whispers and shadows. You may find allies, but there are also those who would see you harmed … this is perhaps an important lesson that the Neck can teach us about the world beyond the swamp."

Harry turned around to thank her for the gift and to ask her what she meant by that last statement, but as he she turned, he noticed that she vanished back into the fog, leaving Harry and Arya in stunned silence.

"What was that about?" Arya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, glancing back toward the spot where the woman had stood. "But I think we should get back to the others."

"Do you think she's dangerous?" Arya asked, her brow furrowing.

"No … well, dangerous enough to be wary of," Harry said cautiously. "Let's just get back to the Kingsroad. We'll be safer with everyone else. Certainly don't want to get lost here for any length of time."

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The journey through the Neck had proven to be much more challenging than Harry anticipated. According to the maps Maester Luwin had shown him back in Winterfell, the swamps of the Neck were not especially vast; however, time seemed to bleed together in the thick fog, and every mile took several times as long as expected. The murky waters and boggy trails turned travel into a constant battle, and Harry found himself surrounded by a perpetual haze that dampened sound and stole any sense of direction.

While Harry remained somewhat tense, he noticed that neither Lord Stark nor the more seasoned men seemed particularly troubled by the slow pace, although almost everyone seemed more than a little on edge with the fog. Everyone that was except for the Crannogmen, Howland Reed and his people appeared and disappeared like ghosts through the mist. However, rumors began to spread through the caravan of strange disappearances. At least a small handful of men had wandered into the fog, seeking firewood or perhaps a brief respite from the group, and while their guides had managed to find most of them, at least two of them had never returned. Anxiety rippled through the ranks, and Harry often caught suspicious glances cast toward the thick, swirling fog that seemed to encroach a little closer with each hour spent travelling through the swamp land.

Following Lord Stark's example, Harry did his best to remain relaxed, especially around Arya, with whom he spent most of his time riding. Arya, adventurous as ever, seemed to find the whole experience thrilling, though Harry's unease grew. He had seen the Crannogmen on and off but only briefly and at a distance, where they would nod in silent acknowledgment before slipping away again. Their eerie detachment and ability to vanish into the fog was unnerving, and at one point, Harry decided to confront one of them, hoping to get some answers about the strange nature of the swamp.

"Excuse me," he called, trotting his horse over to a Crannogman who stood watching the line of men passing him from the edge of the trail.

The Crannogman turned, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he stared at Harry, as though studying him. Then, without a word, the man turned and walked into the mist, vanishing in an instant. It was as if the fog had simply swallowed him whole. The unsettling experience left Harry wondering if for some reason the Crannogmen were avoiding him, of he actually hadn't heard him.

By the end of what must have been another full day, although time was difficult to track in the constant haze, Harry noticed the air clearing slightly. The thick, damp smell of the marsh gave way to the faint scent of grass and trees, and the fog slowly began to recede. As they made their way to the edge of the marshes, a breeze swept over them, cool and refreshing, carrying the promise of drier, solid ground.

The sight of open land ahead seemed to reinvigorate the group, and many of the men muttered in relief. Before them stretched the Riverlands, with rolling hills and streams cutting through the landscape. It was a welcome change from the claustrophobic marsh, and Harry took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air and the warmth of the sun breaking through the clouds.

Ned Stark rode from his position in the column off to the side to meet Howland Reed who was standing on a small hill several paces away, and Harry couldn't help but watch as the two old friends shared a parting moment.

As Ned extended a hand, Howland clasped it firmly. "I did not think I'd see the day you ventured south again, my friend," Howland said, his voice quiet.

"I'm bound by duty," Ned replied, looking away briefly. "Robert … he's my friend, and he needs me."

Howland's face softened with a sad smile. "You've always put others first, Eddard. But remember, there are many who believe that you are better off serving the realm from your seat in the North. Don't forget that you have importance in the North."

Ned nodded, his gaze steady. "I'll remember, Howland. Thank you—for everything."

Howland clasped Ned's shoulder before stepping back. "I hope I get to see you again, my friend," he murmured as he turned, though there was an unmistakable weight to his words.

As the rest of the Crannogmen disappeared back into the fog, Howland lingered just long enough to stop beside Harry. His keen eyes met Harry's with an intensity that sent a chill down Harry's spine.

"I have been told by some of my people that you, unlike most, have a large destiny before you," Howland said, his tone quiet but firm. His gaze lingered, searching Harry's face as if looking for something hidden. "But such a destiny is not always a good thing, lad. Be careful of the decisions you make, for the consequences for Westeros …" He trailed off, shaking his head with a small, pained look on his face. "Take care."

Before Harry could reply, Howland shrugged slightly, as if deciding that was all he had to say, and then turned to join his people. Harry watched him vanish into the fog, leaving only the faintest rustle of reeds and the distant calls of swamp birds in his wake. A shiver ran down Harry's spine, and he found himself wondering just how much Howland Reed truly knew.

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The party resumed their march southward with lighter hearts and quicker steps. Arya, as usual, was buzzing with energy and hardly able to contain her excitement. At first at the thought seeing her grandfather's castle at Riverrun but later, when the realization that she was no longer actually in the North, at the thought of seeing King's Landing. As they rode along, she fired off questions faster than Harry could keep up with, speculating about the city's size, the sights, and, most importantly to her, the chance to see the legendary dragon skulls rumored to lie beneath the Red Keep.

"I heard they're bigger than a house!" Arya exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Maybe," Harry replied, amused by her enthusiasm. "But I'm just glad they are all dead. Certainly wouldn't want to … well, I can't imagine it would be fun to have to try and fight on of them."

Arya wrinkled her nose. "That's boring. Maybe they'll let us see them. And maybe …" She lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Maybe we'll find something even better. They say there are all kinds of hidden passages and secret rooms in the castle. Who knows where they might lead. I might even find my own dragon."

"You sound like you're planning to explore every corner of the Red Keep," Harry replied, chuckling. But he didn't doubt that given the chance Arya would do just that.

That night, as the camp settled down under the cover of the setting sun, Harry, who was enjoying the relative warmth of the Riverlands, rolled out his bedroll beside a small, clear stream that wound its way along the edge of the camp. The soft sound of water trickling over smooth stones created a peaceful rhythm, and despite the tension of the previous couple of days day, it quickly lulled him into a relaxed state. He lay back, watching the ripples shift and glitter in the moonlight, until his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted into sleep.

In the dream, Harry found himself in an open, dimly lit hall filled with shadows. A girl stood a few paces ahead of him. She was silver-haired, and stared down at a wooden box that she cradled in her hands. Curious Harry made his way around to see what she was staring at. Inside the lay three stones.

He took a hesitant step closer, unsure if drawn to the stones or the girl. The girl seemed not to notice him at first, her gaze fixed on the stones as if in deep thought. Then, suddenly, as he took another step forwards, flames burst from the box, engulfing the stones in intense, roaring fire. Harry stumbled back in shock, his skin warm with the heat. He could almost feel the flames licking the air in front of him.

When he looked up again, the girl's lavender eyes were locked onto his own.

With a jolt, Harry awoke, his heart hammering as he lay by the stream, staring up at the dark sky above. After meeting her eyes, he had recognized her instantly; she was the same girl who had appeared in his dreams before. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the feeling that clung to him like mist.

Who was she? And why was he dreaming of her? He had been in Westeros only a short while, and was fairly certain he'd remember seeing anyone like her. But she felt more than just some figment of his subconscious, especially this time … this time, there had been something more vivid about the entire encounter—the fire, the stones, the sense that she'd been watching him.

Realizing he felt no desire to go back to sleep, Harry rose quietly, careful not to wake the others that were in his general vicinity. The camp was silent for the most part, the men's bedrolls scattered like shadows under the low-hanging branches. Taking a deep breath, he started wandering through the camp, his thoughts churning as he tried to make sense of the dream.

He paused at the edge of the camp, staring out into the misty darkness beyond. There was something strange going on and he wondered if that girl, whoever she was, had something to do with it.

After a while, he found himself back near the stream, drawn to its quiet, familiar sounds. He crouched by the water's edge, dipping his hands into the cool, flowing current and letting it wash over his skin. Looking into the stream, he saw his reflection flicker, distorted by the rippling water, his face blurred in the low light provided by the moon.

What does it mean? he wondered, staring into his own eyes in the stream. The images from the dream flickered in his mind: the box, the flames, and that piercing gaze. It felt like more than just a figment of his imagination; it was as if a warning or message was buried within it, just beyond his reach.

The longer he thought about it, the more questions crowded his mind. Had she been real, or was she only a vision? And if she was real, where was she? Perhaps, like him, she was someone out of place.

Shaking his head, he splashed water onto his face, the cold waking him fully and grounding him in the moment. The soft rush of the stream was comforting, and he focused on it, trying to calm the swirling unease that still clung to him. He was far from home and had a feeling that he couldn't shake, one that he might not ever be able to get home.

He stood up, taking one last look at the stream before heading back to where he had left the few supplies he had to his name.

Just as he reached his bedroll, he noticed a faint light on the horizon—the first pale suggestion of dawn creeping over the landscape. It cast a muted glow over the camp, slowly illuminating the mist as it began to lift and shift. Harry settled down, pulling his blanket over his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

As the camp began to stir awake around him, he made a silent promise to himself: no matter what strange dreams or visions haunted him, he would press forward, and he would find his way through whatever difficulties might be in store for him. And perhaps, one day, he would understand why he kept dreaming of a certain silver-haired lavender-eyed girl and what that meant.

Kind Regards,

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Story Note 1 – It felt right that if Harry was to discover something of importance The Neck would be a reasonable place for that to happen. Additionally, it helps flesh out the trip south. So now Harry has Dittany seeds … I mean Heartleaf seeds! Of course there are still several ingredients he would theoretically need before he could attempt to make Essence of Dittany but saw no reason the plant couldn't also exist in that world if it exists in ours.

Story Note 2 – Certainly, looks like some of the Crannogmen might have an idea about what might lay in store for the Starks in the south. If only Howland had been able to convince Ned, but honestly even if he had told Ned what he had heard from his people I doubt there is anything Ned could have heard that would have made him change his mind. However, felt that it wouldn't have fully stopped Howland from trying to at least remind Ned that there is much to do in the North.


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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cameron1812, BioHazard82, GRNauman - Thanks so much for the review and I hope you keep enjoying the story going forward.

Max3636 - That will certainly be looked into going forward. Really glad you are enjoying the story though and look forward to the continued feedback.

Guest - Some was obvious to us and some was obvious to Harry but there will certainly be things that are less obvious that will come into play. I do try to incorporate things that go unnoticed for a bunch of chapters. So as a fun thing there are a couple things I have written so far if you want to try and find them.

Ariadne Venegas - I do understand the caution on not doing that but it had been done in the the source material. Myrcella had been sent similarly and unlike this scenario where Arya had her father and older sister Myrcella did not have either.

Blaze1992 - I imagine it certainly was not great. But I imagine Bran will be able to say something and this way Harry will have something to investigate as well. Oh I surely imagine that Joffrey is in for a bunch of unfortunate occurances that happen to him ... as if by magic.

et-reader97 - Haha and that was how the game of I Spy was invented in Westeros. Congrats Harry! Without a doubt Harry will start furthering relationships (both in a positive way and negative way). And as for the Jon to the wall comment. I obviously agree while I think Harry certainly gave him some additional things to think about, having him change his mind due to a handful of words from a relative stranger seemed like alot. That being said Jon's future is not set ... yet. And I had considered it and had stuff written but in the end his closest connections were with Robb, Jon, and Arya. And felt that he and Jon had their goodbye chat, Robb had alot that was going on, and he was going south with Arya.

Fenrir070 - I'm really happy when I get to hear feedback like this :) really happy when people enjoy the chapters! Well I sure hope no wolves will be harmed but I guess we shall see! Awe thats adorable ... I'm not jealous at all! I hope you have an amazing time for the holidays and enjoy spending as much time with family as you can

Monkey Prince - I guess we shall find out Lady's fate quite soon ... I hope shes ok. Poor Sansa that must have been rough.

Monkey D. Conan - I would imagine while that is something that might not bother Ned so much as I always felt Ned was more of a pragmatist and cares more about who someone is in the moment compared to their past. I certainly imagine there will be some people in King's Landing who shall try to get as much info on Harry as they can and will not be satisfied with holes. In fact they might even start ... filling in these holes with assumptions ... and that wouldn't go well ...

Ferdiad - This is something that might pop up a little.