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.

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Author Note 1 - To everyone who prefers to read the story on Ao3 I will have started reposting the story today and hope to have all my stories caught up to where they need to be by New Years Eve - sort of a start the new year off gift to everyone. Enjoy!


The midday sun hung overhead as Harry, perched on his horse, cast his gaze over the long line of wagons, soldiers, and travelers stretching along the Kingsroad. The column had been making steady, if extremely slow, progress south toward King's Landing, and Harry found himself relieved to be riding as an outrider today, after volunteering once he learned out of the scouts had been feeling unwell this morning. The scouting horse, a sturdy, dark bay with a calm temperament, handled the uneven terrain well, and Harry appreciated the freedom of moving at his own pace, even if it did mean constantly circling back to check on the main party.

After dismounting, on a small hill at the edge of the forest, where he could use the elevated spot to maintain an eye on the long line of men and supplies. Harry loosened his shoulders and began the familiar sword fighting drills that Ser Rodrik had shown him, going through the motions slowly at first to let his muscles warm up. He worked on his footwork, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, practicing quick, light steps to keep his balance. The faint smell of earth and pine surrounded him as he maneuvered, the dull sound of his sword echoing faintly each time he swung. Remembering Ser Rodrik's instructions, he focused on his grip, keeping his hands relaxed to avoid wearing out his arms too soon.

He imagined an opponent in front of him, someone fast and unpredictable, and began practicing counterattacks. He sidestepped and parried an invisible blade, then followed up with a thrust and retreat, aiming for precision. His breathing steadied as he sank into a rhythm, the movements becoming almost meditative.

After about half an hour, his muscles ached, his shoulders and arms feeling heavier with each swing. He was making progress but still had far to go if he wanted to truly be skilled. With a final downward strike, he paused, lowering the blade and letting out a long breath. He glanced around, ensuring no one was nearby before sheathing the sword and taking a seat under a tree. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of the packed meal waiting in his saddlebag.

Opening the bundle that he'd been giving as a meal to eat during his time as an outrider, he found a slice of hearty bread, a wedge of cheese, and some dried meat. Simple but satisfying fare. As he ate, he kept his senses alert, feeling a quiet watchfulness settle over him as he looked down on the line of people stretched so far back that he could barely make out the banners at the rear. As he looked down on them, he realized he'd underestimated just how large the traveling party had grown as it approached the Neck.

As he chewed, Harry let his attention drift to the surrounding woods. He enjoyed the quiet, finding the dense foliage and whispering leaves incredibly soothing after days in close quarters with the main group. However, the sound of a crackling branch nearby jolted him from his thoughts, and he whipped around, his hand instinctively dropping to his wand. Scanning the treeline, he saw nothing at first, just shadows cast by branches shifting in the gentle breeze. But his instincts, honed from years of danger back in his own world, told him something was off.

"Homenum revelio," he whispered, flicking his wand subtly in the direction that he had heard the sound come from.

A faint tingle confirmed his suspicions—someone was indeed out there. However, whoever they were, they seemed to be moving away, slipping through the trees at a careful but hurried pace.

Casting one last look back at the procession and finding no immediate signs of trouble, Harry took a calculated risk. He mounted his horse, guiding it toward the tree line where he'd felt the spell's response. After tying the horse securely, he slipped into the trees, casting Homenum revelio every half dozen steps or so to make sure he was on the right track. His movements were careful, his footfalls soft as he could on the forest floor.

After about ten minutes of tracking the figure deeper into the forest, the spell's feedback shifted, suggesting multiple people now instead of just one. This caused him to freeze in surprise. He could sense a couple dozen individuals not far ahead, and while certainly not enough people to significantly pose a risk to the caravan, this amount of people could certainly do some damage if that was their intention.

Steeling himself, with his wand raised Harry crept closer, making an even greater attempt to keep his approach unseen and unheard. After locating the position of two sentries, he skuttled along through the trees to an unprotected side of the clearing ahead. When he finally reached the edge of the small clearing, he ducked into the shadows at the edge of the tree line and peered out.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight: a group of at least thirty individuals were huddled around talking to each other. They wore clothing made mostly of animal pelts and leather, much rougher and wilder than anything he'd seen in the north so far.

Wildlings, Harry realized, his stomach twisting. They must have crossed the Wall somehow, sneaking past the Night's Watch.

Refocusing on the scene in front of him he saw that the biggest and burliest man at the center of the group was speaking to someone, his tone hushed but laced with irritation. "What were you thinking, Sarmas? We need to stay hidden. We didn't sneak past the Shadow Tower just to get caught by the kneelers in the forest. If they find us, they'll take all our heads, and that would be the best outcome."

As Harry raised his wand preparing to stun the entire group, two things happened. The first was that the large wildling shifted slightly, and Harry got a better look at the figure he was addressing—a young boy, certainly no older than Harry himself, whose face was smudged with dirt. This caused Harry's eyes to shoot up as he noticed that the group itself was not just men but comprised of several women, and a handful of boys and girls, several years younger than him, every single one of them looking half-starved. Harry's fingers tightened around his wand. He'd originally planned to simply stun whoever had been spying on him and the procession and drag them back to the guards, but this was no single spy. A group like this, desperate and on edge, could be dangerous.

The second thing he noticed caused him to freeze again, as before he could act, Harry felt a prickle of awareness—someone was behind him. Too late, he realized that the sentries hadn't been stationary, and they had actually been patrolling the perimeter of the clearing and one had managed to sneak up on him.

"Take off your sword, kneeler," a gruff voice hissed by his ear, and the sharp edge of a blade pressed against his neck. "Take off your sword right now and step into the clearing."

Harry's mind raced. He carefully raised his hands, trying to give the impression he was surrendering while keeping his wand just hidden enough up his sleeve.

The wildling's blade pressed firmly against Harry's neck as he slowly reached over to unbuckle his sword with his free hand, feeling the coarse leather slip through his fingers as he kept his wand carefully out of sight, confident that as long as he didn't do anything to alert the sentry as to its importance he'd eventually be in a position to use it. Carefully, he let the sword drop, and almost immediately, a second man emerged from the trees, who bent down to retrieve it. The man whistled as he stood back up, examining the blade with a grin as he swung it a few times through the air.

"This is fine castle-forged steel," he remarked, looking back at Harry.

Harry met his gaze steadily. "It's yours if you want it," he said calmly. "Just let me go."

The man chuckled, glancing at his companion. "Not my choice."

The wildling's sword eased off his neck slightly, though not enough to let him make any sudden moves. "Into the clearing, then," the man ordered.

At sword point, Harry was walked into the clearing. His sudden and unexpected arrival caught the others' attention and they all quickly clamored over to Harry. Almost the entire group, both men and women, stared, their eyes narrowing as they took in the stranger among them. The large burly man who seemed to be their leader, his weathered face set with a piercing gaze, looked at Harry and asked, "What do we have here?"

The man who'd held Harry's sword to his neck spoke up. "Caught this boy at the edge of the clearing. Think he might be one of the outriders for the caravan."

Harry nodded, careful not to brush his neck on the sword that was resting on his neck. "That's true, but I don't mean you any harm. I was on the edge of the forest when I heard someone running in the trees."

The leader spun around, fixing his stare on the younger boy that Harry had seen him talking to when he arrived at the edge of the clearing, the boy who was now looking at the ground with an embarrassed flush creeping up his face. The leader grunted, then turned his attention back to Harry. One of the men nearby, heavily scarred, scowled as he stepped forward.

"Let's kill the kneeler, Carnor, and get out of here before more of his lot come looking for him," he growled.

The leader appeared to consider this, his expression unreadable as he nodded his head slowly. Harry could feel his heart racing, but he kept his face calm.

"I'm not your enemy, I mean you no harm," he said firmly, lifting his chin. "I swear it by the old gods." His gaze moved over the group. "I wasn't expecting to come along anyone when I was riding and as long as you mean the caravan no harm, I have no quarrel with you. But I have to ask, what brings a group of Wildlings south of the Wall? You must have known it would be dangerous."

"Free People, boy." The leader said as he looked at Harry. "We are the Free People not some wild people."

Harry's eyes shot up slightly before he nodded in understanding.

However, the scarred man interrupted and made an impatient sound, glancing at Carnor. "Carnor, kill him, and let's be done with this."

Carnor silenced him with a sharp look. "Hold your tongue, Rolf," he snapped. "Maybe the boy has something to tell us. Perhaps we can learn a thing or two before we ... decide."

He trailed off, turning back to Harry, who met his gaze steadily.

"Answer my questions," Carnor said, his voice rough but intrigued. "And maybe you'll live."

Harry nodded. "I'll answer your questions," he replied, keeping his voice steady, "if you answer mine."

The entire group, with the exception of the scarred man, laughed at this, clearly amused by his boldness, but after several seconds Carnor gave a slight nod, a faint smirk still tugging at his lips. "I like you, boy," he said. "Fine. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

Carnor's eyes immediately narrowed, scrutinizing Harry. "What's this caravan for?"

"The king is heading to his home," Harry answered simply.

Carnor chuckled, glancing at his men. "Looks like their king got tired of the cold and is heading back south to play in the warmth."

Harry shrugged. He didn't feel the need to defend King Robert. "What are you doing here, though?" he pressed. "With women and children? Don't you know it's dangerous for Wildl … Free People south of the Wall?" He said correcting himself.

Carnor's eyes glinted with a hard edge as he shook his head. "Our women aren't helpless things like your southern ladies. I wager your life that any one of them could take you in a fight." There was pride in his voice, and Harry saw that the women in the group shared the same hard glint in their eyes as the men.

However, he eventually continued answering Harry's question, his gaze distant, as if recalling something grim. "We're fleeing the coming winter. Our tribe comes from near the Lands of Always Winter, and things … things are changing." He hesitated, his eyes sharp as he looked at Harry. "White men with blue eyes have been venturing forth again."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he struggled to mask his shock. Thinking of the vision he'd had of blue-eyed white men while in Winterfell.

"Who ... who are these blue-eyed white men?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Carnor's brow arched in response to Harry's reaction. "I didn't expect to see your response … surprised any this far south know of them, I thought those south of the wall had no knowledge of the threats north of the wall," he said, before his voice dropped as he leaned in towards Harry. "But they are death itself." His words hung heavy in the air, filling Harry with a chill deeper than the northern wind.

Carnor's eyes flickered, taking in Harry's shock. But before Harry could respond, he moved on, asking his next question. "What would your fellow guards do with us if they found us here?"

Harry shook off the eerie feeling lingering from the last question and met Carnor's gaze. "Honestly … they'd likely kill you," he admitted. "The people of this land don't seem to like … the free people very much."

Carnor's gaze sharpened as he stared at Harry. "The people of this land?" he echoed. "Not your people?"

Harry gave a nod. "These aren't my people," he replied. "I'm from ... far away." He hesitated, then continued. "As for me, I don't have any quarrel with wildlings. While I've made friends down here, and the commonfolk seem decent enough. I wouldn't want anyone, whether them or yourselves, hurt without reason."

The man gave a slight nod before looking back to Harry, a rare look of approval passing across his face. "We have no intention of hurting anyone," he said, his voice firm. "We're trying to escape the North. If it were possible, we'd sail across the Narrow Sea and live out our lives in peace."

Harry nodded, relaxing as the tension in the air seemed to lessen. He was about to respond when the scarred man jumped towards Harry, surprising him and causing him to stumble backwards, his voice was harsh when he opened his mouth.

"You can't seriously be trusting this boy, Carnor, by his own words he admits that he travels with those who would kill us as soon as look at us. I don't believe for one second that he wouldn't do the exact same. Carnor, we should kill him. I don't trust him."

Carnor stepped towards him and stood right in from of him until the scarred man reluctantly took a half step backwards and looked to the ground. Carnor turned to Harry and seemed about to respond when Harry heard a rustling sound behind him. He instinctively turned, his hand tightening on his wand as he scanned the trees, his heart racing. He couldn't see anyone yet, but judging by the noise it sounded as if someone or multiple someones was making their way through the trees towards them.

The wildlings began to murmur nervously, with a few of them drew their weapons, their eyes flicking to Harry in suspicion.

"It's a trap!" someone whispered.

Harry shook his head quickly. "It's not a trap," he said, raising his hands to reassure them. "Trust me, this isn't an ambush. Someone might just be looking for me."

Carnor gave him a long, searching look. Finally, he nodded. "What would you have us do?"

Harry's mind worked quickly, and he met Carnor's gaze. "Take your people just outside the clearing," he said quietly. "Hide in the trees, but stay close. Out of sight but maybe not too far. If you run, they'll hear you, even if you try to be quiet that amount of you is certain to make noise."

For a moment, Carnor's eyes remained locked on Harry's, evaluating him. Then, with a nod, he turned and began directing his people into the shadows of the forest. A few cast wary glances at Harry as they looked between him and the cover of the trees, but in the end they did as their leader ordered. In moments, Harry was left standing alone in the clearing, the silence pressing in around him.

A few seconds later, Jory Cassel emerged from the trees, his sword drawn and his eyes scanning the area until they landed on Harry.

"Harry?" he called, lowering his sword slightly. "What are you doing here? I saw a horse picketed on the edge of the woods and thought I'd investigate."

Harry felt a wave of relief but quickly masked it, trying not to glance back toward the hidden wildlings. "I had been riding outrider when I stopped for a meal. thought I heard something in the trees," he explained smoothly. "Came to investigate, but it was just an owl."

Jory chuckled, shaking his head. "Spooked by an owl, were you?" He sheathed his sword, slapping Harry on the back. "Come on, let's get back before someone thinks you've gone missing."

Harry nodded, turning to follow Jory. As they moved to the edge of the clearing, he couldn't help glancing over his shoulder. He could see the glint of eyes and the faint outlines of figures watching him from the shadows, and he mouthed, Be careful.

As they finally exited the tree line, about fifty paces from where his horse was tied up, he heard a faint call of a hunting horn. He looked towards Jory with a raised eyebrow not recognizing the signal.

Jory nodded and looked towards the front of the riders before looking to Harry. "Sounds like the signal they make when the see the first signs of the Neck, sounds like we will be riding through the marshes soon." He said with a hollow chuckle.

As Harry jumped onto his horse, he turned to his companion. "Jory," Harry asked as they began riding down toward the main group, "why does the North hate the wildlings so much?"

Jory stopped in his tracks, turning to Harry with a frown. "What's brought that question on?" His face held a look of mild surprise and curiosity.

Harry shrugged, trying to look casual. "I don't know, really. I was just wondering and riding certainly gives you a lot of time to think. I certainly heard of the hate between the North and the Wildlings but hadn't seen any reason why when I was looking through Maester Luwin's books."

Jory gave a slow nod, his expression thoughtful as they resumed their ride. "Not much written down about them, no," he agreed. "Mostly stories passed down, tales of raids and fights. You've been raised somewhere far away, I know, so it might seem strange to you. But to people in the North, wildlings aren't just strangers. They're threats—bandits, thieves, killers, slavers, even cannibals. It's a hard land beyond the Wall, and harder people still. Most Northerners won't speak of them without spitting."

Harry absorbed this, recalling the wildlings he'd just met: the women, children, the wary faces, the desperation in their leader's eyes. They were certainly different from what he had seen of the North, but they hardly seemed like monsters. "They're just people though, aren't they?" he ventured.

Jory shrugged, but there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. "Aye, in some ways, I suppose they are. But they choose to live beyond the Wall, outside any lord's protection or law. That's how they see freedom—being able to take what they want, live how they want. They don't follow the old ways, nor the new, and they don't kneel to any king."

They walked a little farther, the murmur of the caravan growing louder. Harry turned Jory's words over in his mind. "But why do they stay up there if it's so harsh? Why not come south and make peace?" he asked.

Jory chuckled, but his voice was tinged with irony. "You'd think that'd be the easier choice, wouldn't you? But if there's one thing about wildlings, it's their pride. They'd rather starve beyond the Wall than bend the knee to a king. And if they come south, like the ones who occasionally do, they're putting themselves at risk of being hunted down and killed. No peace to be found here, just suspicion and steel."

Harry nodded, though he couldn't help but think of Carnor and his people, huddled in the woods, fleeing some unseen threat. "Aren't there things beyond the Wall that are worse than just people?" Harry asked.

This time, Jory's laughed before looking to Harry. He glanced around, as if expecting someone to overhear, then lowered his voice. "Sounds like you visited Old Nan and had time to hear some of the stories she used to tell us as children. White Walkers, the dead men with ice for blood, blue-eyed and cold as death itself. They're just tales, though. Nothing more than stories though."

Harry couldn't shake the feeling of unease those words gave him, the memory of Carnor's fearful tone still fresh in his mind. "But what if they're not just stories?" he asked.

Jory cast him a sidelong look, then shook his head. "Believe me, Harry, we've got enough real threats without worrying over ghost stories. If we had to fear every shadow beyond the Wall, we'd never have peace." He gave Harry's shoulder a friendly pat, as if trying to dismiss the notion. "Besides, you won't be going near the Wall, will you? Whatever threats there might be, they're a problem for the Night's Watch."

They came alongside the column, the wagons trundling along at their slow pace, riders moving in formation around them. The conversation might have ended there, but Harry felt compelled to press Jory a bit further.

"Do you think it's possible, though, that things could change?" Harry asked quietly. "If the wildlings came south to live, maybe they wouldn't need to fight or raid. Couldn't they settle somewhere?"

Jory considered Harry's words, though he looked uneasy, as if Harry's line of questioning felt more than a little peculiar. "Perhaps they could change," he conceded after a long pause, "but it's hard to imagine. We've been enemies for so long, even just the thought of a wildling south of the Wall would stir up trouble. They'd never be trusted."

Kind Regards,

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Story Note 1 – Wanted to add a little bit of substance to the trip south, so there will be several adventures/experiences to help flesh out the world and help set up ideas for upcoming arcs in the story. And of course, there is the possibility that some of these characters might make a return at some point …


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, Guest - Thanks so much for the feedback and I hope you continue enjoying the story as it progresses!

tylor13roney - That is a really good catch that will certainly be looked at going forward.

Fenrir070 - Glad you enjoyed it and I had toyed with a specific event to occur although a direwolf/lizard lion showoff might have been exciting. I'd hope so although Ned certainly seems the type of individual to follow his path once he sets foot on it.

Blaze1992 - That was certainly part of it although there will be more to this that will be looked at in upcoming chapters (good catch!)

et-reader97 - I felt that was something that would have fit within the universe and could open a potential to bridge the magic introduction. Certainly imagine if there is one place in Westeros to find the ingredients King's Landing would be a good bet.

Robtar - Magic will play a significant part in the story, that I can promise.

MonkeyD. Conan - Well I'd imagine that Howland knows more than he should and I can promise this isn't the last of Howland and Co that we've seen!

Ferdiad - I'd imagine it might be looked into ... one way or another ...