AN: This is the first story I've written and if all goes well it won't be the last. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. That being said, I don't like long author notes much so here we go:

Braavos, Free cities, Essos - 274 AC, third moon:

It was in the evening when his wife finally went in labor. He had been waiting for this moment for months to finally become a father, something he had always wanted to be. He had lost his family at an early age, but with the money they had left him he had been able to start trading and he was now a rich man. But this, this was worth more than anything money could buy.

It was hours later when the wet-nurse came out of his wife's chamber with a little bundle wrapped in cloth and a sad look on her face. "It's a boy" She said, but the smile on her face was strained.

"What's wrong?"

"It's your wife mister Leoni, she will not make it."

It was at this moment that his world came tumbling down. His wife, his beautiful wife was not going to make it. Taking his son from the wet-nurse he quickly walked into her room. Not knowing what to say he just sat next to her in silence. She looked up at him with a tired smile.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" She asked him.

"Hadrian" He said. "His name will be Hadrian Leoni"

"It's a beautiful name" His wife answered.

"Yes, it is" He said, and they sat in silence, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I'm going to miss you so much Verona" He whispered.

"I'm going to miss you too Nicolas. Take good care of my baby boy, will you?"

"Of course," He said, "I promise I'll take care of him."

An hour later his wife died from the blood loss and he was left alone with his son. A day that started off so beautiful yet ended so sad, it was almost incomprehensible. He looked at his son sleeping in his arms and felt saddened by the fact that he would grow up without ever knowing his mother.

From afar a man with white hair one side and red on the other was looking at this all, somehow knowing that this newborn was going to change the world. After a while he left his spot and returned to the house of black and white.

Braavos, Free cities, Essos - 281 AC, eleventh moon:

It had been weird for Harry, or Hadrian as his official name read, to grow up in a time that could be compared to the medieval times at his old world. For one thing everyone drunk beer instead of water, which while kind of fun was also very unhealthy. Then there was the fact that there was no shower or a regular bath for that matter. The mass of society lived in slums where the stench was unbearable. He was lucky he had been born into a wealthy household where the food was plenty, and some form of hygiene was enforced.

He hadn't thought about it at first when he accepted Death's request to become his champion of sorts. His job was to help Death collect the souls of those who tried to live forever. As Harry Potter he had already done so by not only killing Voldemort, but also by being a catalyst in the Death of the Flamels. Still that was not why Death had chosen him. No, he had been chosen because he unknowingly had united the three deathly hallows.

It had been a couple of weeks after the final battle at Hogwarts when Death had come to talk to him. At first, he had been shocked at the thought of becoming Death´s champion but also curious as to what the function would entail, but after a good discussion they made a deal. Harry would live out his life as a mortal and when he died he would be reborn into a new world.

It was eighty years later that he died in his sleep and met Death for the second time. Before he would be reborn Death had given him a quick outline of the world and told him about 'the others' and how the one leading them had evaded Death for over 12.000 years. According to Death if things were left the way they were the night king would come for them 23 years from now and swiftly destroy all humanity. It would be his mission to prevent this and kill the night king. Death told him he would receive the hallows upon his eleventh birthday as this was around the time his core would be stable enough to handle the strain of magic.

Death had mentioned he would be born into an era that was still in the middle ages. Harry had not minded much and imagined the fairy tales about knights, princesses and castles like Hogwarts. He had never realized how bad it would be to live in a time where a toilet was literally just a hole in a seat and where most people bathed only once a month. Still it could have been worse. His father was a rich man and could afford some luxuries and according to the merchants his father worked with the smell in King's Landing was much, much worse than what he had to deal with in Braavos.

As the son of a rich merchant he had heard all kinds of stories from everywhere around the world. His father had once shown him a map of the known world of Planetos and he had quickly deduced where he was in this world and how far away he was from the Land of always Winter. Death had told him about the necromantic powers the night king possessed and given the fact that he had lived for over 12.000 years Harry realized his army would be the size of thousands if not millions. Which meant apparating over there and just fiendfyre the shit out of them was a sure-fire way to get him killed. He might be powerful, but he would be magically exhausted by the time he killed the first few hundred and that was not even taking into account the magical powers the night king might have nor the chance that one of them would just shoot an arrow at him. Even with guerilla tactics it would take him years to even make a dent in the army's size. No, he concluded, he was going to have to do this the hard way and raise his own army.

This was the reason why Harry was now training with one of the sellswords his father had found in Braavos. He had convinced Nicolas to hire a teacher for him, so he would be able to defend himself. His father had needed a bit of convincing as he did not think it was necessary for a merchant's son to learn how to fight, but Harry had been persistent and eventually his father had caved and hired a man called Kevan Stanner who was quite good with a sword and knew the dirty tricks of fighting. He was a decent teacher, but it was clear he only did it for the gold his father promised. Still he learned a lot from the man.

With his thin build Harry had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never be as strong as most knights who were just more muscular than him. It was because of this that he realized he would need another edge for when the time to fight came. Magic would not help him much there as it would easily be seen in a fight and while he might not have remembered much from Binns' lectures, even Harry realized that the statute of secrecy was there for a very good reason. Still magic would be a great asset for creating alliances, making money and ensuring loyalty. It would be a very powerful tool but not something he could use in a full-on battle for everyone to see.

For that reason, he had decided he needed something else to give him an edge and thus he had started practicing with two blades. He had gotten inspired by colorful tales from Westerosi merchants about Ser Arthur Dayne 'The Sword of the Morning', who supposedly was the best fighter of the Seven Kingdoms. He used two swords as well, though with his size he was able to handle two longswords. Harry had instead chosen to train dual wielding with two gladii. The short sword infantry soldiers normally used in combination with a shield a spear. The only complication with a fighting style like this was arrows. The point of using two smaller swords was gaining a speed advantage over the enemy which meant he couldn't be fully armored and without either armor or a shield he would be immensely vulnerable against arrows. It was, however, something to think on later he realized as his teacher slammed his body against the ground for the umpteenth time that day.

Braavos, Free cities, Essos - 285 AC, third moon:

Today was going to be a special day Harry thought. He had been looking forward to it since forever, because today was his eleventh birthday which meant it would be the day he finally got his magic back. Well, technically he never lost his magic, but since his wandless magic was non-existent and his accidental magic pretty was as the word said: accidental, it felt as if he had lost it. In Harry's opinion the trade-off was worth it though. He finally had a father to look up to and he actually had a childhood this time around. All he had to do in exchange was wait until his eleventh birthday for Death to bring him the hallows.

On that same morning in the house of black and white, the man with red and white hair found a stick a stone and a cloak. Normally he would have ignored it, but the night before he had had a vision about an old man who used the same stick and the same stone and the same cloak. He had seen how the Many-Faced God called him master and champion and how the old man morphed back into a baby, a baby he had seen almost eleven years ago. Even back then he had somehow known that this baby would change the world, but now he knew why. The Many-Faced God had chosen they boy, no the man as a champion of sorts and so he gathered the stick, stone and cloak and went back to the place where he had seen the man be reborn so many years ago.

Harry and Nicolas were still in his father's study where Harry had just received his birthday present, when seemingly out of nowhere a cloaked man appeared.

"Valar morghulis" The man said.

"Valar doharis" Harry's father said almost automatically before narrowing his eyes in the realization that there was not supposed to be another person in the room. "Who are you and what are you doing in our home?" He asked the man.

"A man has come to give the champion what was his." The man answered.

"What do you mean by that?" Nicolas asked agitated by the fact that the man never answered his first question.

"The Many-Faced God has three gifts for the young champion who is old all the same." The man answered mysteriously as he took out a stick, a stone and a cloak.

Nicolas was about to retort again when Harry spoke up. "I suppose you are talking about me then?" He asked, immediately recognizing the hallows for what they were.

"I am indeed champion"

"Harry what is going, who is this man?" His father asked now thoroughly confused about what was happening.

"I am not sure father, but I am guessing this would be one of the faceless man, am I correct?"

The man gave a slow nod.

"A faceless man… but that would mean… You are here to kill us then?" Nicolas asked while standing protectively between his son and the assassin.

"Not today. Today a man is here to give the champion his gifts." The faceless man answered calmly.

"Yes, so you have said, but what does that mean?" Nicolas said still not less confused about the whole situation.

"Father, we need to talk, and I think maybe the faceless man too. What should I call you?"

"The champion may call me Jaqen." The faceless man answered.

"Ah okay Jaqen, could you give me the wand please?"

The man looked at him questioningly.

"It's the stick." Harry said quickly, realizing the man had no idea what a wand meant. As he took the elder wand from Jaqen he savored the feeling of his magic reconnecting to the wand. Sparks came out of the tip just like when he bought his first wand at Olivanders. He saw both his father's as well as Jaqen's eyes widen when that happened.

"Harry what is going on?" His father demanded.

Harry ignored him and casted a couple of spells to seal the room shut and make sure no sound would come out before turning to his father again.

"Well father I suppose there is something I should tell you about myself… This is not my first life. In fact, this is not even my first world." He let that sink in for a bit before continued with his story. "I have been sent to this world by Death, or the Many-Faced God if you may as a champion of sorts with the task to kill the one who has evaded Death for over 12.000 years. I suppose I should tell you about my original life first though and how I became Death's champion."

And so, he told his father about his life as Harry Potter, the most famous orphan of the wizarding world. How his first parents had been killed by a madman and how he had subsequently been raised by his so-called family. How he had returned to the wizarding world and learned about magic in a castle with moving staircases and talking paintings. How year after year he had fought a man so much more powerful than him and how in the end he had avenged his parents by killing their killer. He then spoke about the three hallows he had collected without even meaning to do so. He spoke about his conversation with Death who had come to him and asked him to help collect the souls of those who cheated death, for according to Death in the end everyone must die. He told his father about how he had become an auror, the magical equivalence of the city watch, and how he had eventually been promoted to head auror. He told his father about his beautiful wife and the children they had together. He told him about his friends and how together they had changed the wizarding world for the better. How he had finally learned to use the cunning the sorting hat had seen in him to navigate the political waters of wizarding Britain. And finally, he told his father about how in the end he died in his sleep at the ripe old age of ninety-seven.

When he was finally done with his story his father stayed silent for a long time before he turned to Harry. "You know it's funny, I had always thought of you as a gift of the Gods." He said smiling fondly at Harry. "Your mother and I had long given up on our dream of having children, but then somehow you happened, and I thanked the Gods with all my heart for giving me this gift, but until now I never realized how right I was." Harry smiled at that and they fell into a companionable silence.

"You know, you might thrice as old as me, but you will always be my little Harry." Harry chuckled at that. "I'm proud to be your son father." His father walked to the window of his study that looked out over Drowned Town, but if one looked a bit further you could see the Arsenal where the fleet of the Braavosi army laid. It was said that within a day a complete war galley could be built on the Island. Nicolas sighed. "Things are going to change now aren't they?"

"Yes" Harry answered simply, knowing that pretending things weren't going to change wouldn't help his father.

"A man must ask, who is it the champion has been sent here to kill?" Jaqen asked, breaking the silence that had ensued.

"Have you ever heard of the stories about the Great other?"

"Isn't that from one of those Westerosi children stories about some ice-man up North?" His father asked incredulously.

"The very same, only it turns out he is quite real. He is told to bring cold and death everywhere he and his army of walking dead go. The men and women who fall in battle rise again when he gives the command and now they will fight for him. According to Death this Night King would return in the year 304, which means we only have nineteen more years to amass an army and march against the Night King. I figure we will need at least an army of 400.000 given the size of his army."

His father stared at him in shock. "How many did you say again?"

"400.000 at least. The Night King has had over eight thousand years to grow his army of dead people. North from the wall they won't miss the few hundred people that he takes every year. They would blame it on wild animals or hunger. I reckon his army consists of around 1 maybe 1,5 million wights."

"I may be no general, but even I can see those are impossible odds" Nicolas said.

"For a normal army that may be true but remember that only a small part of the dead were actually fighters in life which gives us a good advantage. Besides they are supposed to fall to fire quit easily which should make it easier for us to deal with them." Harry explained.

"Still," His father said. "How do you plan to get an army of 400.000 people and better yet, how do you plan on marching them North without anyone stopping you?"

With a shark-like grin Harry responded. "Well father, that's where you come in to play. How would you like to become the new Sealord of Braavos?"