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.
Well I want to start off by saying that while I may have said it before (and I reserve the right to say it again) this collection of days might be my favorite! To everyone planning on celebrating I AM _ Day, I wish you an enjoyable holiday and to my understanding it is a day about positive affirmations which I feel that in general most people could use especially when they are having a bad day. So no matter who you are or what your truth is enjoy I Am _ day. Of course I also might not exactly be understanding the day as it is new so there is that haha. But additionally I hope everyone that had to change the clocks last night managed to survive and don't worry as tomorrow is National Napping Day which has to be in my top 5 of 'national days' that I have discovered so far. And finally to everyone out there who celebrated International Women's Day yesterday I hope however you chose to celebrate or recognize the day you had a memorable time!
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As Harry made his way back toward the Red Keep, his thoughts swirled with the events of the past few hours. The city's chaos was overwhelming, its narrow streets teeming with life and filled with a pungent mix of smells—fish from the docks, human sweat, and the ever-present stench of waste. Harry wrinkled his nose, shaking his head at the extreme lack of city planning. It was as if someone had thrown the buildings together in a hurry, with no thought to organization or sanitation.
The city's continuous background noise of shouting merchants, clattering hooves, and barking dogs added to the sensory overload. Harry felt a flicker of annoyance as he sidestepped a man dragging a cart filled with fish that reeked of brine and decay. This was the capital of the Seven Kingdoms? He shook his head and pressed on, doing his best to block out the chaos around him.
As he navigated the maze of streets, Harry's path took him to an area he hadn't passed before. He found himself on a relatively well-maintained road that seemed out of place amidst the squalor. The street was lined with blacksmiths' forges. The air here was thick with the scent of molten metal and burning coal, which, while far from pleasant, was a welcome change from the smells of filth and decay he'd encountered elsewhere. The clang of hammers striking anvils filled the air, creating a rhythmic symphony of activity.
Harry's eyes wandered over the displays of weapons and armor. Unlike the rest of the city, the street of steel had an air of order and pride. The shopfronts were sturdy and well-maintained, their owners clearly investing in appearances to attract wealthy customers. Despite himself, Harry found he was impressed. The craftsmanship on display was remarkable—swords with intricate hilts, shields bearing noble sigils, and intricate suits of armor polished to an almost mirror-like finish. One shop even had a magnificent helm shaped like a roaring dragon, its eyes set with small red stones.
Despite himself, Harry found his steps slowing as he passed each forge, his gaze lingering on the masterful works of art. These blacksmiths were more artist than craftsmen, and Harry could respect the level of skill and dedication required to create such pieces. He paused to admire a particularly beautiful blade, with a hilt wrapped in gold wire and an emerald set into the pommel, its steel glinting in the sunlight, when he heard a grunt of annoyance from behind him.
Turning to move out of the entrance to one of the shops, Harry realized too late that he was already in someone's way. He bumped into a figure, solid as a stone wall, and stumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on the cobblestones. Rubbing his backside, he looked up to apologize and froze. For a moment, he thought he had run into King Robert himself. The resemblance was uncanny—the broad shoulders, dark hair, and strong jawline. But as Harry blinked, he realized this person was much younger … and significantly thinner, a boy, a few years his junior.
The boy extended a hand to help Harry up, his expression a mix of irritation and bemusement. "You've got to watch where you're going," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
"Sorry about that," Harry said, taking the offered hand and dusting himself off. "I was distracted by the work." He glanced at the street, then back at the boy. "Thanks for helping me up. My name's Harry."
The boy hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Gendry," he replied. He crossed his arms and studied Harry with a curious gaze. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not. Although not sure how long I'll be here." He wasn't sure how much to reveal about himself, especially to a stranger in this unfamiliar city. "Are you … a blacksmith?" he asked, noting the soot smudging Gendry's clothes and the faint smell of iron that clung to him.
Gendry's chest puffed out slightly, a hint of pride in his expression. "'Prentice," he said. "I work for Tobho Mott. Best smith in King's Landing."
Harry nodded, remembering overhearing a conversation where Lord Stark mentioned the name. "I've heard of him."
Gendry's lips twitched into a small smile. "People from all over Westeros have, he's a master of his craft and I've learned a lot from him. One day, I'll be just as good."
Harry smiled back. "That's a good goal. Keep at it, and I'm sure you will be." He glanced around, realizing he had lingered longer than intended. "Well, I should get going. It was nice meeting you, Gendry."
"You too," Gendry said, stepping aside to let Harry pass. "Watch yourself out there. King's Landing's not the friendliest place for strangers. And many would react quite differently if someone ran into them."
Harry chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks again for helping me up."
Gendry gave a short nod. "Take care, Harry."
"And you," Harry said, watching as Gendry walked past him and entered the shop, his broad shoulders squeezing through the doorframe.
The clang of hammers faded behind Harry as he made his way down the Street of Steel, the Red Keep looming ever closer. From this vantage, the towering walls of the castle seemed to dwarf the rest of the surrounding buildings, casting long shadows over the bustling streets. Harry was relieved to find a relatively straight path towards the Keep, sparing him from weaving through more of King's Landing's chaotic alleys.
As he neared another square, that stood at the base of the hill that the Red Keep had been built upon, he immediately noticed a stark difference. This area was far cleaner and better maintained than the grime-covered streets he'd trudged through earlier. Cobblestones here were washed and orderly, the faint scent of incense wafting through the air almost managing to hide the less pleasant smells from neighboring streets.
Harry's gaze was drawn to a man standing on the wide steps leading up on of the large houses. Dressed in a fine, though slightly worn, black robe, the man was shouting at the crowd below. Street criers were nothing new—Harry had passed countless of them throughout the day, each hawking their wares or preaching their truths. They advertised everything from fresh meats and exotic spices to voyages across the Narrow Sea. Yet this one caught Harry's attention.
"Join us! Follow me to the Alchemist's Guild!" the man bellowed, his voice carrying easily over the murmur of the crowd. "Our order seeks volunteers for experiments—an opportunity to be a part of history! You will be fed and paid handsomely for your time and effort!"
Harry froze mid-step, the words striking a chord deep within him. Alchemist's Guild. His thoughts immediately went to Nicholas Flamel, the legendary alchemist who had created the Philosopher's Stone. While there had been some overlap with his world he couldn't help but wonder if alchemy as he knew it existed on this world as well.
Curiosity overwhelmed him, and Harry edged closer to the gathering crowd. Most of those assembled were commoners, their faces worn by the hardships of city life. Although Harry suspected that those who seemed genuinely interested, were drawn by the promise of coin rather than the actual work.
The crier continued his pitch, his voice smooth and practiced. "The Guild offers this chance to all—man or woman, young or old. Think of it: a chance to be part of something greater!"
After several more minutes of promises and enticing rhetoric, the crier seemed satisfied with the size of his audience. "Those of you brave enough to seize this opportunity, follow me! The Guildhall awaits!"
With that, he descended the steps and began leading the crowd away from the square. Harry hesitated for only a moment before falling into step at the rear of the group. He told himself it was mere curiosity, but in truth, he felt a twinge of excitement. This city had been a mixture of wonder and disappointment so far, but perhaps this would lead to something worthwhile.
The crowd followed the crier through a winding path of narrow streets, the noise of the city gradually fading as they entered a quieter district. Here, the buildings were older but sturdier, their stone facades weathered yet dignified. As he looked at the buildings he froze as he noticed that some of the buildings bore symbols he didn't recognize—symbols that certainly resembled the runes he had seen in textbooks Hermione had taken out from the library.
Finally, they arrived at a tall, imposing building. The Guildhall of the Alchemists stood apart from its neighbors, its dark stone walls and narrow windows giving it a slightly sinister appearance. The air seemed cooler here, the usual stench of the city replaced by a faint metallic tang.
The crier pushed open the heavy wooden doors and gestured for the group to enter. Harry hesitated briefly, a sliver of doubt creeping into his mind. But the promise of answers—and the possibility of learning something new—was too tempting to resist. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.
The interior of the Guildhall was dimly lit, with flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and chemicals, a heady mix that made Harry's nose wrinkle. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass vials, powders, and strange instruments that Harry couldn't begin to identify.
The group was ushered into a central chamber, where several figures in dark robes awaited them. These must be the alchemists, Harry realized. Their attire was plain, but their presence was commanding. Each wore a chain around their neck bearing a pendant shaped like a flaming hand—the symbol of their order.
"Welcome," one of the alchemists said, stepping forward. He was an older man with a gaunt face and piercing eyes that seemed to see right through Harry. "You stand in the halls of the Alchemist's Guild, an order dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and the mastery of the hidden arts. You have been called here because you seek opportunity. Am I correct?"
The group murmured their agreement, though Harry suspected they were more so looking forward to their payment.
"Good," the alchemist said with a nod. "We have long been misunderstood, our work dismissed. But we persist, for the secrets we uncover have the power to change the world."
Harry listened intently, his curiosity growing with every word. This man spoke with the same intensity and passion that he had seen in Hermione when she talked about something she was passionate about. However the conviction in his voice bordered on zealotry.
"Today," the alchemist continued, "we offer you the chance to join us in an experiment that could pave the way for a new era of discovery. The details will be explained in due course, but know this: your participation will not go unrewarded. Those who contribute to our work will be compensated generously."
At this, a ripple of interest passed through the crowd.
The alchemists began separating the group into smaller clusters, directing them to different areas of the Guildhall. Harry was assigned to a group led by a younger alchemist, a woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor. She introduced herself as Elyse and instructed them to follow her down a narrow corridor.
As they walked, Elyse explained their task. "You will assist us in testing a new formula. It is … relatively harmless, I assure you, but it requires precision on our part and patience on yours."
Elyse led the group down another winding corridor before stopping at a room with wide double doors. She pushed them open to reveal a surprisingly lavish room, a long table in the center laden with platters of roasted meats, fresh bread, cheeses, and fruits. The aroma of the feast was tantalizing, and most of the group immediately surged forward, piling their plates high and tearing into the food without hesitation.
Harry, however, held back. He had eaten earlier during his walk through the city and wasn't particularly hungry. Instead, his attention was drawn to a smaller table on the far side of the room. It held an assortment of vials, each placed carefully over small candles, their contents bubbling and emitting faint wisps of steam. The colors of the liquids varied—starting with shimmering silvers and making their way through all shades of green. His curiosity piqued, Harry wandered over to examine them more closely.
The setup was oddly familiar, but nothing from his world or this one immediately came to mind. He frowned, leaning in slightly to get a better look, but the smells and appearance were unfamiliar. Shrugging, he decided to let it go for now and turned back towards the main table. However, as he did, something on the far wall caught his eye—a cluster of plants in pots arranged on a shelf.
As he looked, something about the plants looked eerily familiar. Narrowing his eyes, Harry approached, his steps quickening as recognition dawned. It was appeared to exactly match a plant that he had studied in Herbology back at Hogwarts, though the name escaped him for a moment. It had broad, waxy leaves and vivid purple flowers that seemed to glisten in the dim light of the room. The memory hit him like a jolt.
"Pyrelum ignis," he muttered under his breath, recalling the name Professor Sprout had drilled into them during their spring Herbology lessons.
He vividly remembered the class. Each student had been required to put on a full-body dragonhide suit to handle the plant, ensuring no skin was left exposed. The flowers produced an oil so potent that even a single drop could burn through flesh to the bone and was nearly impossible to remove from the skin or treat after the fact. He could still hear Professor Sprout's stern warning echoing in his ears: "This oil is dangerous, more so than almost any potion you will ever brew. Mishandled, it can cause catastrophic harm. However, under controlled conditions, it is a key ingredient in the world's most potent burn cure."
But that wasn't all. Sprout had gone on to explain the plant's darker history. Its oil was also the main component in creating Everlasting Fire—a magical fire that was nearly impossible to extinguish. Before it was banned, this fire had ravaged entire villages, entire regions, during the Middle Ages, killing countless people, both magical and non-magical. The wizarding world had since strictly regulated the cultivation and handling of Pyrelum ignis, with severe penalties for anyone caught misusing it.
Harry's stomach churned as he looked in front of him, as if there was any doubt, directly behind it, on a small stand, was a suit that appeared to be made of dragon scales. Its purpose was unmistakable—to protect someone while harvesting the deadly oil.
Spinning around, Harry's gaze snapped back to the bubbling vials on the smaller table. None of them looked like burn salves or cures; instead, their shimmering, volatile appearance seemed far more ominous. His pulse quickened. If they were experimenting with Pyrelum ignis oil, the implications were terrifying. Was the Alchemist's Guild trying to recreate Everlasting Fire or had they already learned how to make it and were trying to make more?
Panic rising, Harry bolted for the door. His mind raced with the potential consequences. King's Landing was a city largely built of wood and crammed with tightly packed buildings. If Everlasting Fire were unleashed here, it could consume the entire city in a matter of hours. The thought made his blood run cold.
As he flung the door open, he turned back to the others. "We need to get out of here," he urged, his voice low but urgent. "You don't understand—this place isn't safe."
One of the men looked up from his plate, a chicken leg in hand. "What're you on about? If you don't want the coin, suit yourself. More for the rest of us."
Harry tried again. "I'm serious. You don't know what they're working on here. If anything goes wrong—"
"Listen, lad," another man interrupted, wiping grease from his chin. "You're just scared of a little experiment. Let the alchemists do their work, and we'll take our payment."
Realizing he wouldn't convince them, Harry gave up. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
Without waiting for a response, he darted out of the room and into the corridor. His heart pounded as he navigated the Guildhall's maze of halls, each step fueled by a growing sense of urgency. Luck seemed to be on his side—he encountered no one as he retraced his steps to the main entrance. Bursting out into the street, he took a deep breath of the air, thankful his bubbleheaded charm was still in place, and broke into a run.
The Red Keep was his destination. Lord Stark needed to know about this. If anyone could address the danger posed by the Alchemist's Guild, it was Ned Stark. Harry sprinted through the streets, weaving past startled passersby and ignoring the shouts of peddlers trying to hawk their wares.
As he ran, he couldn't help but take in the sheer vulnerability of the city around him. Most of the buildings were constructed of timber, their dry, aged beams practically begging for a spark. The narrow streets and overhanging balconies would allow flames to leap from one structure to the next with terrifying ease. And then there were the people—with what seemed like thousands of them packed into each of these crowded streets and alleys. He knew if a fire broke out there would be little chance of escape.
Harry shook his head, trying to push the grim images from his mind. He couldn't afford to dwell on worst-case scenarios now; he needed to act. The Red Keep's imposing walls finally came into view, and Harry pushed himself to run faster.
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Harry pressed his back against the cool stone wall of the castle corridor, his breath quick and shallow. Sneaking past the guards had been easier than he expected, but his heart was still pounded from the run through the city. He moved cautiously and quickly. His destination was clear: Lord Stark's solar. If anyone would take his warnings seriously, it was Ned Stark.
As Harry rounded a corner into the area assigned to the Hand of the King, he collided headlong with a solid figure. And for the second time that day, the impact sent him sprawling backward onto the cold stone floor. Groaning, he looked up, rubbing his bruised shoulder, only to find himself staring into the stern face of Ned Stark.
For a moment, Harry froze, caught between mortification and relief. "Lord Stark!" he blurted, scrambling to his feet. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to—"
Ned raised a hand, cutting off his ramble. "Harry, what are you doing here?"
Harry straightened, brushing dust from his tunic. "I need to speak with you," he said, his voice firm despite his nerves. "It's urgent. It's about the—"
"Not now," Ned interrupted, his tone measured but leaving no room for argument.
"But—"
"Not now," Ned repeated, his gaze hardening. "Come to my solar in an hour. There's something I must attend to first, but we do need to talk."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the stubborn look in Ned's eyes made him hesitate. Swallowing his frustration, he nodded reluctantly. "All right," he said, stepping aside to let Ned pass.
The Lord of Winterfell strode away without another word, his cloak billowing slightly as he disappeared down the corridor. Harry stood there for a moment, chewing his lip in frustration before turning back the way he had come and heading off in the direction of his room.
Back in his room, Harry checked on the batch of Essence of Dittany he had been brewing. The liquid had reached the perfect pale cinnamon brown hue, signaling it was complete. Carefully, he made a small cut on his hand and applied a single drop of the potion. The wound closed instantly, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin. Satisfied, Harry filled five flasks with the potion, sealing them tightly before setting them aside.
With the remaining ingredients, he started another batch, his hands moving methodically as his mind raced. The Alchemist's Guild and their experiments weighed heavily on him. He couldn't shake the image of those bubbling vials or the Pyrelum ignis plant. The thought of Everlasting Fire being unleashed in a city like King's Landing was enough to make his stomach churn.
He paced the room, his steps echoing softly off the stone walls. Each minute felt like an eternity, and the hour seemed impossibly far away. Finally, unable to stand the waiting any longer, Harry decided it was close enough. He grabbed his wand and headed out.
When Harry approached the door to Ned's solar, the guard stationed outside raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Lord Stark will be surprised you managed to wait the full hour," the man remarked. "He's expecting you. Go on in."
Harry gave a tight smile, pushing open the heavy wooden door. "Lord Stark, I had been exploring the city today and—"
He stopped mid-sentence, his words faltering as he took in the room. Ned Stark was seated behind his large desk, as expected, but he wasn't alone. Sansa and Arya were sitting directly in front of the desk, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension as they looked at Harry. Off to the side of the room stood a figure Harry hadn't anticipated seeing.
"Jon..." Harry breathed, his surprise evident.
Jon Snow turned, his dark eyes meeting Harry's. A small smile tugged at the corners of Jon's mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hello Harry," he said, his voice tinged with both warmth and weariness.
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 – Looks like his walk through the city was not exactly what Harry expected, although I'd imagine if almost anyone from modern times was transported back to medieval times we'd be in for a shock. Spent a lot of time researching this that he might experience and overall I think I did a decent job capturing it. Although looking forward to the feedback. As for the specifics of this walk looks like he met a familiar face on the Street of Steel. Gendry's future will certainly be different in this story (aka no potentially romantic relationship with Arya despite their age difference – which is not significant later in life but at that stage …)
Story Note 2 – As for the Alchemists meeting, no reason to assume they are up to anything bad … but it certainly is obvious why Harry might have jumped to that conclusion. As it sure seems like Harry was right that they were making 'Everlasting Fire' … or whatever the Westerosi equivalent for that would be … hmmm …
Story Note 3 – Surprise ending! Looks like Jon has officially made it to King's Landing! As compared to the books/show this will be significantly after Lady Stark had made it, some details will be provided in upcoming chapters to help nail down the timeline as well as reasoning as to why it took him longer to get down there. Wonder what could have happened to him between Winterfell and White Harbor and then between there and King's Landing.
Author Note 1 - I might have exciting new to reveal next week. Still trying to finalize some details but looking forward to sharing!
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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Blaze1992 - Ya while they might be fun to capture while writing it certainly wouldn't be a picnic to live in!
Fenrir070 - Happy to see your reviews again! Ah technology problems ... ugh ... Personally I think without magic I'd defintiely not be walking around a medieval city/town but then again I'd have problems Harry wouldn't have. Haha ya I certainly love modern times a lot more!
Monkey D. Conan - Without a doubt ... I imagine seeing that kind of thing would very quickly disillusion someone from the royal family. But I guess we will see.
Fediad - That's a really good idea!
Nisargfr1 - Thanks for the feedback on King's Landing. Obviously a little more work goes into describing the city rather than the twins as there is so much going on and even once things start happening that result in some or all of the Stark's leaving King's Landing will keep popping back as things will certainly keep happening.