Three days later, Harry finally managed to get everyone out of Winterfell, leaving him free at last to deal with the lizard-lion.
The reason he had brought the lizard-lion back alive was, of course, its core. He was going to try making a wand.
Wandmaking was a secret art known only to a handful of families.
The Potter family knew practically nothing about the subject. The only reason Harry believed he could make a wand was because he had once found an old book on wandmaking in the library of a Death Eater he had defeated during the war.
Knowing almost nothing about the subject, he had taken the book with him and read it whenever he found a few quiet moments.
Even with his limited knowledge, Harry suspected that the rituals and enchantments described in the book were somewhat outdated. The process seemed surprisingly simple, requiring only two primary components:
Wood.
And a core.
He had never actually tried making a wand before, so he had no idea what the result would be.
Still, considering how simple the process appeared to be, he wasn't expecting much.
First, he carefully selected a branch from the weirwood. He silently apologized before cutting it and quickly carrying it away.
He then ended the lizard-lion's life before swiftly processing the materials.
Back in his tower, Harry carved several runes into the floor, creating a ritual circle. He carefully inspected every line, making sure it matched what he remembered from the book.
With a wave of his hand, the weirwood branch flew into his grasp.
Examining it carefully, he carved several runes into its surface before placing it inside one of the two smaller circles within the ritual.
His hand moved again, and this time a box flew into his grasp.
Opening it, he took out a small crimson sphere he had created using the lizard-lion's core and several parts of its body.
Without wasting any time, he placed it inside the other circle.
Magic flowed gently through the ritual, activating the runes carved into the floor. The entire magic circle slowly began to rotate as the core and the branch rose into the air, orbiting one another until they collided.
Both seemed to dissolve into an amorphous mass before the ritual slowly began shaping them into a wand as white as polished bone.
Just above the handle, a small crimson sphere seemed to pulse ominously.
Twisting around it were small branches that appeared to grow and curl toward the tip.
The ritual then seemed to collapse as several runes flared across the wand before fading away.
Crouching down, Harry picked up the wand and tested how it felt in his hand.
It was comfortable, at least. Swallowing softly, he tried casting a spell.
"Lumos," Harry murmured as a small sphere of light appeared at the tip of the wand. Just as a smile spread across his face, the tiny orb swelled so rapidly that he had no time to react.
His eyes were blinded by the brilliant light as blinding light poured from every window of the tower. Fortunately, it wasn't nighttime, or it would have been far more noticeable.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness assaulted him, making him stagger toward the bed. Leaning back against it, he tried to recover.
His vision took nearly a full minute to return to normal. Staring at the familiar stone ceiling, confusion filled his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, Harry realized his body had been completely drained of magic. Having been accustomed since infancy to always having magic flowing through him, having it all ripped away in an instant...
It felt as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs.
Breathing did nothing to ease the feeling of suffocation in his body. Harry tried searching for and drawing magic into himself, but to his surprise, there was nothing.
The surroundings seemed utterly devoid of even the faintest trace of magic.
Not wanting to find out how long it would take for the area to recover, Harry stood up with a pale expression. His stomach churned as a wave of nausea washed over him.
Holding onto the handrail, he slowly made his way downstairs.
Avoiding his family while casually greeting the servants and guards he passed along the way, he managed to reach the courtyard before slowly making his way toward the Godswood.
Sitting down with his back against the weirwood, Harry slowly began replenishing the magic within his body.
It was as though his body had opened its mouth, greedily devouring all the magic flowing from the weirwood, yet even then, he realized it wasn't enough.
Looking at the wand still in his hand, Harry smiled bitterly. It was no wonder the author of the book hadn't even dared to leave his name behind.
The wand seemed to be stuck at maximum power. No matter how little magic he intended to use, it always tried to draw as much as it possibly could.
He had probably cast the most powerful Lumos in history.
The wand had drained every trace of magic within hundreds of meters around him, and when even that wasn't enough, it had begun draining the magic from his own body.
Slipping the wand into his robes, Harry let out a sigh, feeling that the entire experiment had been more or less a waste of time.
At least he would have another option if he ever needed to accomplish something on a truly grand scale.
Even with all its flaws, the wand's ability to channel the magic from hundreds of meters around him was something he definitely couldn't achieve on his own.
Temporarily setting the wand aside, Harry pushed himself away from the weirwood with a grimace. Although he hadn't fully recovered, at least he no longer felt as though he were dying.
....
On Bear Island.
Dacey Mormont stepped off the ship with her bag slung over her shoulder as she walked toward home, followed by Uru, who let out an excited roar before running off in search of his sister.
Another roar echoed back from the distance in response.
Dacey smiled as she watched the excited Uru before continuing toward home, greeting the islanders she met along the way.
Walking inside, she tossed her bag aside and looked at her mother.
Maege returned the look with a faint smile.
"You're back already?" Maege asked, raising an eyebrow.
Then she suddenly looked at Dacey with a rather mischievous expression.
"Did you get pregnant?" Maege asked, glancing toward her daughter's stomach.
"No," Dacey replied, rolling her eyes.
"Is the Stark boy still too young?" Maege asked teasingly before bursting into laughter.
"I don't think he is," Dacey replied with a faint smile as she dropped onto a fur-covered chair.
Maege stopped teasing her daughter and asked with genuine interest about the trip.
Dacey immediately perked up and began telling her everything about their journey south. Maege listened attentively until Dacey reached the part where Harry fought the lizard-lion.
"I didn't know you wanted to become a bard. Even they wouldn't make up stories like that," Maege said, clearly not believing her.
"It's true, I'm telling you I saw it with my own eyes. Not just me, all the other heirs of the Northern Houses saw it too," Dacey said, a little annoyed that her mother didn't believe her.
"You've certainly become infatuated with our Young Lord, but there's no need to make things up," Maege replied teasingly. Despite her words, however, she seriously considered what her daughter had said.
She didn't think Dacey was lying.
She simply found it difficult to believe.
That a twelve-year-old boy would throw himself headfirst at a creature like that.
What would he become once he was grown?
"Believe it or not, it's the truth," Dacey said, pursing her lips as she lost interest in convincing her.
"How long will you be staying on the island?" Maege asked casually, setting the previous topic aside.
"For quite a while. Harry kicked me out. He said he had a lot of things to do, so I might take Uru around the island for a walk."
"Speaking of which, Uru's a coward. He didn't even dare growl at the lizard-lion, can you believe it?" Dacey said, still indignant just remembering it.
Maege merely chuckled, not particularly surprised. In the end, they weren't completely wild bears.
"Now that they're adults, we should let them roam the island on their own. We don't need pets," Maege said with a quiet sigh.
She had grown attached to them and hoped they would both return safely.
....
At Last Hearth.
"So? Did the Young Wolf convince you?" Greatjon Umber asked, looking at his son with interest.
"He did," Smalljon replied without hesitation.
His immediate answer made his father raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"Tell me, what kind of miracles did that young fool perform to convince my foolish son?" Greatjon asked with a booming laugh as he took a drink and leaned forward.
Smalljon began recounting everything that had happened since he arrived at Winterfell, telling him about the sparring matches with the other heirs and his duel with Harry.
"His swordsmanship was decent, but what was truly impressive was his physical strength and his reflexes. It felt as though every move I made was effortlessly countered," Smalljon said, still sounding slightly confused.
"Then he led us south. At first, several of us had our doubts. The Neck is a dangerous place, after all, but somehow... we went anyway," Smalljon said with a grimace as he began recounting their journey.
His voice rose with excitement beneath his father's intense gaze as he described the battle against the lizard-lion.
"Ha! Quite the adventure. That boy... he seems like he'll become a lord worth following, doesn't he?" Greatjon said, slapping the armrest with a deep laugh.
"Hm... there's something about him. He could probably smile and tell us we're about to fight a dragon, and we'd still follow him," Smalljon said, remembering the madness of venturing into the swamp a second time to capture that creature alive.
"Maybe... it's because he's always the first to charge. He never asks us to do something he isn't willing to do himself," Smalljon said, unable to fully understand that feeling.
"I see," Greatjon said as a deep laugh rumbled from his throat.
In that regard, the son seemed far more wolf than the father.
His eyes grew somewhat distant as he thought that he would probably never have the chance to go to war alongside the boy.
....
Similar scenes played out across nearly every noble House in the North, but there was one where the lord did not seem pleased at all to hear about the Stark heir's potential.
Domeric looked at his father, whose expression was cold. Noticing the tension in his jaw, he realized he was clenching his teeth in anger.
"I wonder if what you've told me is true," Roose Bolton said, looking at his son.
"I see no reason to lie," Domeric replied calmly.
"It seems the Starks' position as the ruling House of the North is truly secure. There will be very few opportunities for our House in this generation," Roose said with a frown.
Ned had truly been fortunate to have such an heir. He had genuinely hoped House Stark would decline after the last war.
"Were you planning to rebel?" Domeric asked in surprise, hearing about his father's ambitions for the first time.
He had spent his youth as a page in House Dustin before serving as a squire to Horton Redfort, a knight of the Vale.
He had only recently returned home before immediately leaving for Winterfell at his father's insistence.
"Why not? In the past, we stood alongside the Starks as rivals. We were no less than they were. Must we remain their bannermen forever because of one temporary defeat?" Roose asked, looking at his only heir.
"The Starks are good lords, honorable and respectful toward their bannermen, something rarely seen in Westeros," Domeric replied, his gaze distant.
"House Bolton could also be good lords," Roose replied calmly, looking at his son.
For a moment, Domeric wondered whether his father truly realized the reputation House Bolton held among the other Houses.
"Don't you want to rule the entire North?" Roose asked, fixing his son with a sharp gaze.
Domeric fell silent. Of course he had ambitions, but not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined something like what his father was suggesting.
Not to mention that there was a genuine sense of camaraderie among the entire group, especially with Harry. He truly admired him and considered him a friend. The mere thought of betraying them made him feel dirty.
Roose's gaze softened slightly when he saw the conflicted look on his son's face before insisting that he tell him more about Harry—his connections, how he reacted in different situations, his charisma, even any small habits he might have noticed.
Domeric didn't lie and told him everything down to the smallest detail.
"The Young Wolf... seems rather reckless." Roose said slowly.
"I think he's brave," Domeric replied without thinking before suddenly falling silent.
Roose remained silent. His expression was unreadable to Domeric. After several minutes without saying another word, Domeric realized the conversation was over.
Rising to his feet, he silently bid his father farewell before returning to his room.
Somehow, the Dreadfort felt lonelier than before, and his father's words troubled him.
He would never dare rebel, but his father was like a snake, patiently waiting for his prey to show the slightest weakness.
Domeric closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but his father's words kept circling through his mind.
....
Harry woke up and felt someone hugging him. It was a light weight he was far too used to to be startled by. Opening his eyes, he saw a head of red hair peeking out from beneath the blankets.
Raising an eyebrow, Harry wondered what this surprise was about.
Arya usually ended up sleeping in his bed a couple of times a week after they played together, but Sansa hadn't done so since the septa found out, scolded her, and told her she could no longer sleep in her brother's bed now that he was growing up.
In return, Harry gave the septa quite a scolding, telling her that his sister could sleep in his bed whenever she wanted, regardless of how old she was.
And in return, his mother scolded him, prompting him to make a tactical retreat from the situation, though not before shooting the bothersome woman a deadly glare.
Since then, months had passed since Sansa had slept in his bed.
Reaching out, his fingers played with her red locks, causing her head to emerge from beneath the blankets, a pair of blue eyes looking at him timidly.
"Sansa, is something wrong?" Harry asked with an affectionate smile.
"I had a nightmare, and I was really scared," Sansa said, looking at her brother.
"I see. Tell me what it was about," Harry said calmly as he gently tucked Sansa's hair behind her ears.
"I dreamed I fell into a river, and something pulled me to the bottom. I felt like I couldn't breathe," Sansa said as her eyes began to well up, her hands clutching his shirt tightly.
"It's alright. You don't have to be afraid. Even if you fall into a river, I'll jump in after you and pull you out," Harry said, comforting her with a small smile as he pinched her soft cheeks.
Her little nose sniffed loudly before she looked at him with teary eyes.
"Really?" Sansa asked.
"Of course," Harry said, hugging her little red-haired head.
"It's time for breakfast. Come on, I'll take you to your room so you can get changed," Harry said as he threw back the blankets and got to his feet.
"Princess Sansa, I'm ready to carry you," Harry said as he crouched down in front of her.
Sansa covered her mouth with a giggle before giving a small jump onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck while resting her head against his.
Harry smiled as he held her legs and walked downstairs.
The spoiled little girl smiled happily while her reddish hair spilled down her back.
As he reached the bottom, Harry's smile disappeared when he saw the septa sitting there, apparently waiting for them.
Feeling Sansa happily kicking her legs beneath his hands, it was clear she hadn't noticed the woman.
Turning his body slightly, he blocked Sansa's field of view.
Harry looked at the septa in silence. The startled and nervous expression on the woman's face made it clear that she hadn't expected to find him there.
Without turning to look at the woman, who seemed frozen in place, Harry quickly walked past her, making sure Sansa never saw her.
Using his foot to open the door to Sansa's room, he walked over to her bed before crouching down.
"Princess Sansa, we've arrived at your destination," Harry said jokingly as he set her down on the bed.
"Very well, my knight. Now help me fix my hair," Sansa said, pretending to wear a haughty expression.
"I don't think that's a knight's job," Harry said with a quiet chuckle as he stood up.
Sansa let out a little giggle as she looked at her older brother with sparkling eyes.
"Get ready for breakfast," Harry said, pinching her soft cheek before winking at her and leaving the room.
Letting out a sigh, Harry turned toward the hallway, seeing the septa looking in his direction with her hands clasped against her chest, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
"You know... you're starting to make me lose my patience. I've been putting up with you for my parents' sake," Harry said, his expression devoid of its usual kind smile.
"But my limit begins when you try to make my sisters act as though I weren't their brother," Harry said, looking at the woman. Unaware of it himself, the green of his eyes began to shine with an unnatural intensity.
"I-It's better to be cautious. Siblings who care too much for each other have ended up doing things they shouldn't," Mordane said, trembling as she met Harry's gaze.
"The fact that such thoughts even crossed your mind says far more about you than it does about me. Are you speaking from experience? I'll only say this one last time''
''Sansa may become a lady in the future, but before that, she's my little sister. If I ever catch you watching me whenever I spend time with her, or if you keep insisting that she should be careful around me, I'll make sure you end up at the Wall," Harry said in a flat, cold voice.
The sound of Harry's footsteps fading away finally allowed her to breathe again as she felt her legs trembling.
Her heart pounded rapidly, partly from indignation at his words, but even more from fear. She knew that the balance of power within this House had been slowly but steadily shifting toward Harry.
His supposed accomplishments had earned him a name, respect, admiration, and loyalty.
She called them "supposed" because, aside from the strange new grain, everything else was nothing more than rumors to her.
Although he was only a little over thirteen years old, he certainly didn't seem like it. To her, he looked every bit a grown man, which was why she didn't think it was a good idea for Sansa and Arya to keep sneaking into his bed to sleep.
She hesitated between going to tell Lady Catelyn or remaining silent, but in the end, she didn't have the courage to complain, knowing that Lady Catelyn had nothing to lose by scolding her son.
"That was rather harsh, son," Ned said as he looked at Harry, who had just stepped out into the hallway.
Harry's voice hadn't exactly been quiet, and Ned had overheard enough of the conversation.
"I didn't know you had a habit of eavesdropping, Father," Harry said with a faint smile.
"Does it still count as eavesdropping if it's my own castle?" Ned asked, looking at Harry with annoyance.
"I don't understand why you let the septa turn Sansa and Arya into 'ladies.' It'll only make them foolish," Harry said mockingly, placing particular sarcasm on the word ladies.
"Every lady in Westeros learns those things. Your mother did too. Do you think she's a fool?" Ned asked as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and walked beside him.
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Although his mother wasn't foolish, she often shared the same ideas the septa tried to instill in Sansa and Arya.
"They'll inevitably marry one day, and knowing those things helps strengthen both their current House and the House they'll belong to in the future," Ned said gently.
"Father, our House is already strong. Why would we need to sell Sansa and Arya? Even if our House were weak, then it doesn't deserve to survive if we have to sell the women of our House just to keep it alive," Harry said as he looked at his father.
"Do you know who else gets sold? Even if it's only for a few coins?"
"Enough! You shouldn't even say such things," Ned said, frowning.
"It's still selling, no matter what name you give it," Harry replied with a shrug, though he let the subject drop.
"Are you leaving today?" Ned asked, just like Harry, unwilling to continue that discussion.
He decided to leave the subject of marriage to his wife. She could argue with their son all she wanted.
"Yes, after breakfast," Harry replied with a nod.
After a little more than a year, he wanted to see how the railroad tracks were progressing.
"Are you sure you don't want to take some guards? Even though the North is relatively safe, you never know when some dangerous creature might appear," Ned said with a slight frown.
"Don't worry. Besides, if I take guards, it'll take much longer to get back," Harry replied casually.
"That's exactly what worries me." Ned said.
Father and son continued talking as they made their way to the Great Hall.
Little by little, everyone arrived and they began eating.
Breakfast was peaceful, with Catelyn reminding Harry to be careful, while Jon and Theon complained about not being allowed to go with him.
"I want to go," Arya said immediately, looking at Harry with puppy-dog eyes.
"Alright. I won't be gone for long," Harry replied with a nod.
Catelyn shot Harry an annoyed look when he agreed without even asking her first.
"Don't worry. It'll only be a couple of days," Harry said, giving his mother a shameless grin.
Arya didn't celebrate out loud and merely smiled at her brother, trying to stay unnoticed by her mother in case she changed her mind and refused to let her go.
After breakfast, Harry hugged his father, kissed his mother on the cheek, said goodbye to his younger siblings, and walked out into the courtyard.
Arya also hurried off to pack some clothes, and with a rather displeased expression, Catelyn followed after her to help.
Harry walked outside and fastened Ater's saddle. After another year, Ater was now a fully grown horse, nearly four years old.
His height had stopped at two meters at the withers, which was a great relief, since if he had kept growing, Harry would have looked downright ridiculous riding him.
Even so, Ater was already a monster among horses, unique and unmatched.
Patting his neck, Harry could feel the incredible hardness and strength of his muscles. He truly had raised an exceptional horse.
Ater neighed and affectionately rubbed his head against Harry, delighted that they were going out together.
Although he was usually free to roam wherever he pleased, going out with his master simply couldn't be compared.
It only took Arya a few minutes to come running back with her bag, which she handed to Harry with a bright smile.
Harry secured it with the rest of the luggage on Ater.
Helping Arya into the saddle, Harry climbed up behind her, and together they waved goodbye.
Ready to leave, Harry urged Ater into a run, and Ater did exactly that. His powerful legs drove him forward, and within moments the three of them had disappeared from everyone's sight.
Perched atop Ater, the wind struck Arya's face as Winterfell quickly vanished behind them.
Back at the castle, Catelyn gazed into the distance. Everyone else had already gone back inside except for Ned.
"You didn't argue with him about Arya," Ned commented as he stood beside his wife.
"Every day I find it harder to resist his decisions," Catelyn said with a sigh.
"That's true. Sometimes it feels like all that's left for me is dealing with the troublesome details," Ned said. Although it sounded like a complaint, there was pride and relief in his voice.
He had never been raised to become Lord of House Stark, nor had he ever truly wanted the position.
Catelyn simply let out a soft laugh and shook her head.
"I only hope he'll listen to me when it comes to his marriage, but if he insists on refusing, there really isn't anything I can do," Catelyn said with an elegant sigh.
"I'll probably pass the lordship to him once he turns sixteen. You should start looking for a wife for him," Ned said jokingly as he looked at his wife.
"Perhaps then we'll finally have time to see everything Harry has accomplished without us even noticing," Catelyn replied. She had heard firsthand about everything he had done, but had never gone to see it with her own eyes.
"Right now he's working on a much faster and easier way to travel. We should try it once it's finished," Ned said with a nod, looking at his wife tenderly.
She hadn't been the wife he had chosen, but if he were ever given the chance to choose again, he wouldn't choose anyone else.
----
Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to support my work, you can find me on Patreon as Fast_Writer, where 10 advanced chapters are available.
Thank you for your support!