Chapter 7: The Impressions of Others

Last time:

Harry finally heard what others had probably been shouting at him for minutes. He heard because his potions were ebbing. His latest blows draining the last unnatural power from his limbs and mind. Quickly he changed the angle of his suddenly heavy long sword and with the last of his strength introduced Ser Lothor's uncovered chin to the pommel of his sword. The blow was enough to knock the man's helmeted head back and close his eyes. Harry stepped back, to allow his men to grabbed the concussed hedge knight. But it proved unnecessary as the man collapsed forward unconscious.

Swaying with bone-numbing exhaustion Harry called out quietly, "Ser Nerris, Gardan, Lord Royce...I am... tired." And like a great tree felled by a final axe blow Ser Harold fell to the deck as well, sound asleep. The surrounding soldiers who had witnessed Harry's rage fueled rampage across the ship looked on to the blood drenched yet softly snoring knight in utter shock. That is before Lord Royce began to chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Laughs and grins were shared by all still able amongst the Valemen for a few beats before the stern Captain Nerris brought attention back to their prisoners with a few shouts at his men. The noble Royces offered to carry Ser Hardyng to the First Mate's cabin, both wanting to avoid the cabin of their magical arrival for as long as possible.

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It started with flashes of color surrounding blurred images, then those images became clearer. Faces. Faces of the men he had killed on the deck of the Gull's Dinner. Most were incomplete, profiles or three-quarters of a face, filled in with bloody wounds or shredded leather caps. He didn't want to see them, grunting, screaming, blood pouring from their mouths and ears. But he couldn't move, his body held in place and only vaguely there in the first place. Most didn't or couldn't speak but their eyes said it all, "why did you slay us?"

As more faces and images piled up before him, his perspective gradually widened to take in even more people staring at him accusingly. Amorphous humanoid shapes that he knew to be the wives, mothers, brothers, fathers, and children of the dead. Calling without words for justice against his crimes. Filled with guilt and shame Harold struggled to escape, to turn way from the eyes of judgment, but the more he struggled it seemed the tighter his bindings held him.

When his vision finally darkened and his view changed what was revealed might well have been worse. Before him now was his assembled family. His mother Anya Waynwood, weeping over the evil son she had raised. Comforting her while shooting accusing glares in his direction were all his foster siblings and their spouses. And to the side, worst of all, was a desolate Kara Stone bawling over her broken heart, falling for a murdering knave. Harold tried to defend himself, but his mouth was held shut, each defensive thought met and overridden with a flash of the face of a man he had slaughtered.

How long he was stuck in this hell of his own creation, the young knight Hardyng had no idea. The first change in quite some time was the entrance of Archmage Potter into the scene, shaking his head as he looked around. Then the cloaked wizard approached him, and once he was close enough to touch him, a mirror image of his own hand filled his vision. And with a resounding snap of the fingers everything shifted.

Harry now found himself stretched out on a comfortable couch in the interactive study of the Grimoire. His transition included him staring deeply into the crackling tendrils of a roaring fire. His head rested in a feminine lap and slender fingers brushed comfortingly through his hair. He could detect a floral scent mixed with parchment, a strange thing to notice in this dream as rarely did he ever notice smells. But still a slim hand stroked his head and slid through his unruly hair, comforting him just as Anya had when he was little and suffered a nightmare.

"Now that you've calmed down we need to talk. You've avoided this for far too long Harry Potter, but I can't wait any longer. Not after this latest stunt. Bloody Gryffindor." An unfamiliar voice spoke above him, with an accent not unlike that of Archmage Potter. The hand that had been petting him stilled and then lifted his head to look at its owner. Harry now saw a woman he had never met before. She was pretty, very trim with hazel eyes and curly light brown hair that bushed out in curls giving her over three inches of added volume. She was dressed very strangely in a buttoned up white shirt and a very odd scarf of red and gold. Also a rich black cloak, again cut in a manner Harry had never encountered before. She was also quite underdressed wearing only some sort of half dress bottom that left nearly all her lower legs exposed.

"Who are you?" Harry asked incredulously.

HP-aSoIaF

King's Landing, Maegor's Holdfast, Small Council Room.

The second day after the river battle, May 298 AC

Last evening Lord Stark had sent his longtime steward Vayon Poole to call for a meeting of the Small Council this morning. It had become the practice to meet twice a week unless there was a pressing issue. And in the Hand's mind such an issue had just happened. He was embarrassed to admit that Ser Hardyng had escaped just as he said he would. Eddard hoped to request from Varys, Renly, or Littlefinger any information they had on his whereabouts. But he also had in mind to discuss the bloody skirmish that occurred around dawn yesterday. Apparently Littlefinger's sworn sword, Ser Lothar Brune, though just a hedge knight, had rounded up a large group of sellswords and attempted to board and capture a galley owned by House Arryn that was being used by Lord Royce.

The doughty Bronze Yohn had rallied his men and defeated the boarders, but now the problem was Lord Eddard's. He had six longboats commandeered by the gold cloaks, twenty mercenaries in the first floor prisons of the Traitor's Tower that had been fished out of the Blackwater rush, and another sixteen badly injured being tended to in the Maidenvault by a pair of volunteer Maesters visiting the city. No one had been able to find Pycelle to do his duty for over a day. Yesterday afternoon he had spoken with the prisoners and was chagrinned to learn Ser Harold's sigil had been seen in the battle even though Lord Royce claimed not to know the location of the knight he was searching for.

The would be river pirates were less forthcoming on why they had followed Brune in attacking the Vale ship. When separated, a few mentioned that he should ask Baelish for more information. That was another reason he was eager to meet with the Small Council. The Master of Coin had skipped their last meeting and Ned wanted an explanation from the man that his wife had asked him to trust. A small part of him was curious about the truthfulness of Ser Hardyng's accusations of Baelish being far more powerful than was known.

Lord Stark arrived early so none of the other council members could see his limp. He crossed the bailey with a squad of thirty sworn swords, while his remaining one hundred and fifteen men under his newly promoted Captain Hallis Mollen's command remained in the tower with his daughters. As was his practice upon entering the small council chamber, he first stood gingerly at the windows looking out over Blackwater Bay. Also a part of his ritual since his failed attempt to resign the post of Hand of the King, he wondered what the hell he was doing here in King's Landing. His initial concerns of watching over Sansa, investigating Lord Arryn's final days, and helping his foster brother, the King were now far removed from his mind.

More and more he felt himself sinking into the muck of city, set up to fail since he was a late comer and an outsider in the capitol. All of his efforts and initiatives were seemingly carried out or rejected at the behest of others, often people he didn't even know were involved. And his old friend was a great disappointment. Eddard had no idea how Jon Arryn had put up with Robert for seventeen years if this was how he acted. The man might as well abdicate the throne for all the concern he showed. And yet the Baratheon King continued to insist his Stark Hand must 'run' the kingdom for him, whatever that actually meant. Eddard was starting to think it really only meant maintaining a constant stream of wine and women headed the King's way without interruption. If he weren't still too injured to ride, he would seriously consider just taking off.

Broken from his ruminations by the entrance of the Master of Laws, Renly, he moved slowly to his seat at the head of the council table to look over his agenda for the meeting. Over the next fifteen minutes the rest of the small council filtered in, including Queen Cersei who claimed Robert had sent her in his stead. Unfortunately, they were still lacking Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle. Eddard proposed waiting longer, but in a rare unsolicited offer, Varys declared them both officially missing from King's Landing as far as his 'little birds' could tell. Peeved at their continued absence, Lord Stark called for one of his men-at-arms to enter and ordered the man to retrieve a Maester from the Maidenvault to fill in for their missing brother Pycelle.

Lord Stark took a moment to mentally review his agenda and began with their prisoners from the river skirmish. In a rare success in this chamber, Eddard's proposal to send the pirates to the Wall was met with unanimous approval. Even the dour but just Stannis had no desire to house prisoners any longer than necessary, wasting the crown's resources when the men could be put to better use guarding the kingdom's borders. None of the prisoners had any standing to mitigate their crimes. Especially when they were so obviously guilty of piracy. The recently returned Baratheon sibling even proposed offering them the Wall or execution to encourage their acceptance of the sentence. As the Master of Ships, he had an especially dim view on pirates. While she didn't speak, Cersei seemed especially pleased to see Baelish's right hand banished to the far north.

In fact, her seeming joy at the removal of one of their governing member's most trusted servants filled him with concern. Never in his years of overseeing the king's justice as Lord of Winterfell had he sentenced a man or in this case a large group of men to such a final fate without greater investigation. How easily could he be stripped of his sworn Northmen were he to miss a meeting as Baelish was. Regardless, a win was a win, and so he moved on to the next pressing matter.

That being the whereabouts of Ser Hardyng. When Cersei asked why he wanted to find such a lowly Vale knight, Eddard prevaricated about sending a message to his wife to unravel the Tyrion situation. Cersei revealed she was also interested in speaking with Ser Harold in regards to some disparaging remarks he made about her son's betrothal. Stannis scoffed at such petty concerns and made some digs at his brother for saddling this council with Cersei and her womanly prerogatives. He urged anyone to speak of this knight so they could move on.

Renly related that he practiced jousting with Ser Hardyng and spent some time reveling in the Red Tankard tavern with the young Valeman as well. It was his impression that the knight stuck close to the visiting Royces since their lord's grandson was his new squire. Next Lord Stark requested of Varys to relate what he knew, but he said the whispers weren't reliable at this time.

With both Stannis and Eddard glaring at him for dragging it out, the Spider related that he had heard that Ser Hardyng was reported to have been at multiple places at the same time, once being in both the Tower of the Hand and the Royce Townhouse in the same night, as well as somehow on the aforementioned Vale ship while also being in the Royce Townhome. With the Royces gone as well as their ship he couldn't accurately say where the knight was, speculating that for some reason the man had hired a double to confuse anyone tracking him. Eddard then requested of Varys to make sure there were some birds headed to Gulltown to see if the mysterious knight showed up there with the Royces.

Maester Donnagar finally arrived and revealed to the council that the Citadel had no knowledge of why Pycelle was missing. He and his fellow Maester Callos were merely passing through King's Landing awaiting ships to Myr and the Vale respectively when the city watch asked them for assistance in dealing with the wounded sellswords. He had looked through the rookery the previous night and found some clues that the elderly Pycelle had packed for a journey as well as taking with him all of the raven born messages from the past week.

Lord Stark requested he send word to Oldtown of Pycelle's disappearance as well as a request for an interim advisor until the whereabouts of the longtime resident of King's Landing could be found or officially replaced for abandoning his post without word. Donnagar agreed to stay in the Red Keep and man the ravens until he received commands from his order. Renly was quick to interject a question for Varys as to Pycelle's location as the Master of Whispers often knew more than he let on. But Varys would only reveal that the Grand Maester hadn't left by any gate, including the river gate to the harbor.

Lord Stark was quick to pick up on their perhaps being other exits from the capitol besides the manned gates and asked Varys about any hidden escapes he knew of. In response, nearly the entire council other than Donnagar and Stannis laughed or smiled at the northern lord's ignorance of the Red Keep's hidden tunnel system. Varys smugly offered to return with Lord Stark and show him one of several secret passages he knew of in Eddard's own Tower of the Hand. Now even more concerned about the safety of his household, the Lord Stark decided to push on with the meeting.

They next discussed the missing Lord Baelish. Both Renly and Cersei took the opportunity to propose increasingly absurd and vulgar reasons for the whoremonger's absence, until Stannis grew too disgusted and slammed his palm on the table, demanding they quit wasting his time with their japes. Varys then related that the last place any of his little birds had seen Littlefinger was entering Chataya's Brothel, one of many businesses Petyr owned. That put a scowl on Lord Stark's face and a smirk on Cersei's. As that was the very brothel outside which Jaime Lannister had ambushed Eddard, killing his friend and longtime captain of his guard Jory Cassell.

Deciding to push the dagger in deeper, Cersei then further side tracked the discussion by making accusations against Catelyn Stark for causing her twin's attacks. She was quite successful in turning the Hand's face ever grimmer until Renly interjected that she was just as likely as the Tully sisters to want her dwarven brother dead. Nodding begrudgingly at his brother Renly for diffusing a potentially volatile argument before it went too far, Stannis proposed they set the watch to search for Baelish and in the meantime think of new potential Masters of Coin who could possibly replace Littlefinger before their next meeting.

Lord Stark then requested for Stannis, Renly, and Varys to join him in investigating Baelish's rooms in Maegor's Holdfast for clues as well as any urgent business of the crown. That grouping had Cersei frowning even deeper than the earlier reminder of her misshapen brother. She impatiently awaited any further business, and when none was brought up announced she would inform King Robert of the important details of this meeting before storming off, somehow still showing off her unrivaled curves while stalking away like an angry lioness.

Entering Baelish's office was daunting. Nearly every surface was covered in loose parchment notes interspersed with a rare ledger book. Without Petyr's aid, going through the mess would be the work of days, perhaps even weeks to sort through the office. Varys offered to take the work off his hands, but Eddard declined stating that with Pycelle gone, along with all of the recent correspondence, it was even more important that the Master of Whispers focus on his task of gathering information throughout the kingdom. And as always the man demurred, showing no sign of frustration at being denied. It unnerved Ned, this man with no apparent emotions, only an ever-present sly smile to greet any situation.

Once Varys left the room he asked the two Baratheons to stay as his men began boxing up everything to take it to the Tower of the Hand. Renly questioned why he would take such a drastic step when Baelish wasn't even missing a week.

"Because my lords, this is an opportunity. Do either of you have any idea what the Master of Coin does with his time?" Met with a shrug from Renly and Stannis narrowing his eyes and frowning, Ned continued, "Neither do I. And yet somehow the crown is six million dragons in debt. How? Why? I aim to find out. Renly, Stannis, I desperately need some allies here. If your brother's house is to continue beyond his reign we need to take back the Crownlands into our… his control. Stannis, I know Robert has done little to earn your favor, but if not for his sake than at least for the legacy of House Baratheon lend me your support. We must get people loyal to your house, loyal to us into positions of power here in King's Landing."

"What is this all about Lord Stark. A few weeks ago you were trying to resign, now you want us to put in a larger effort and shake up the city to make it dance to our tune?" Renly questioned wryly.

Instead of responding directly Lord Stark turned to Stannis. "Can't you feel it. It's like back in the prelude to the Battle of the Bells. Now it is us instead of Robert that are outnumbered, defending a poor position. All our scouts have disappeared and we're blind, hoping that we'll have time to retreat before our forces are overwhelmed. This is not how ruling Winterfell feels, and I imagine Dragonstone or Storms End either. We must do something to change our position or just give up. Staying here as we are, is just asking to be overwhelmed."

Stannis stroked his chin as both Eddard and Renly waited on his answer. He had been days away from just leaving again himself, having only returned to carry out some tasks that had built up for his role as Master of Ships. His wife had sent him a raven about a messenger arriving at Dragonstone with a coded message from Jon Arryn. It still rubbed him the wrong way, how Stark had been chosen ahead of him for Hand. Yet, hearing it laid out in such a way, he knew that if he didn't get involved his Shireen might grow to inherit nothing. Perhaps not even Dragonstone as the Lannisters and merchant houses relentlessly marginalized House Baratheon of the Crownlands. With Renly's distasteful lifestyle, as well as Robert's, it fell to him to save House Baratheon from losing the victory. And so he nodded, leading to handshakes and promises to meet soon to begin their planning.

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The strange women briefly shifted to the form of Archmage Potter before resetting to this new form. "Clearly I am the Grimoire; how else would we be here in the first place? The more important concern is why we are here? Why you were so reckless to end up unconscious, magically exhausted, and completely at the mercy of strangers?" She stood now with hands on her hips and a foot tapping. It made Harry squirm in the face of her feminine rebuke.

"Yeah, but why do you look like that? You've never done that before. And thinking on it how did you set this up. If I'm unconscious, then I surely didn't open the book to initiate one of our sessions," he questioned.

"Now he uses his brain. I was growing concerned that you had somehow reverted into a typical Westerosi meathead, I mean knight, good for little other than brutalizing the weak and looking fancy. I portkeyed to you and imparted a little of my stored mana through our connection to make sure you didn't die from core exhaustion. While it turns out that this gesture was unneeded, it was a close thing as our link was nearly disrupted as you neared a death like state. Do you know what would happen to me if you died? That was a rhetorical question, of course you don't. Let me just assure you it would be a terrible fate, a book charged with teaching, never to interact with a student ever again." The young woman shuddered briefly before returning her gimlet eye upon him.

"I suppose introductions are in order. I am a part, but a separate aspect of my creator that I'm starting to think he wasn't initially going to include. I look like his closest childhood friend Hermoine Granger, and I exist because during his formative years Harry Potter's conscience, super ego…" she notices Harry's blank face" the part of his mind that tells him when something is wrong or evil, was attributed to his friend. Ugh, this is so difficult, we really should have included some psychology in your tutelage. That voice in your head that tells you not to do something, it wasn't his own, but Hermoine's. Once he finally started occlumency and discovered this arrangement, rather than changing the situation he decided he preferred having a Hermoine Granger in his mind keeping him on the straight and narrow. So here I am, and due to your foolishness and willful ignorance you've forced me bring you to task," she snipped.

"What?! Why, because I'm seeking justice for my family? Because I'm asserting myself rather than letting lesser men decide my fate?" he ground out with anger in his eyes at her criticism.

"What is your name wizard?" she intoned, interrupting the promising start of good rant.

"You know it very well. Harold Hardyng."

"This is why I am here. You know that is false. My other aspect has brought it up many times in the years since you acceded to not finding out how you received a Grimoire upon our first meeting. You cannot ignore this any longer, not when your false sense of identity drives you to such reckless behavior. Now answer truthfully, what is your name wizard?"

Harry struggled with responding. He attempted to exit the study, but unlike thousands of times before, he couldn't. So he set to pacing instead, ignoring this woman in the hopes she would leave him alone. He was unsure how long this went on, time in the study was always a shaky concept.

"I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. If you were conscious perhaps you could force you way out. But you aren't. This idiocy can go on no longer. Say it, you stubborn prat," she shouted at him.

"Fine! You want to hear my name?! It's Harry Potter, you crazy book. I don't know how or why but I'm Harry Potter as well as Harold Hardyng. Are you happy?" he sat on the couch panting, as if he'd been sprinting rather than just yelling. He crossed his arms and began brooding almost immediately, again ignoring the young woman directly in front of him.

"It isn't I that should be happy. But you. You are not Harold Hardyng, that boy died with his mother. You are the orphan son of James and Lily Potter, who was rescued from a very bad situation that the Archmage had to suffer through. So in order to save you from that ordeal, he inserted you into the Waynwood household so you could have a safe and happy life. You don't owe the Arryns anything, you aren't related in any way."

"So what, I'm just supposed to forget about my foster family! Do whatever you say and ignore all the people that helped me, that I grew up with, just on your word?" He snarled back.

"That is not what I'm saying. I do believe you are beholden to those that adopted you," she acknowledged. "The Waynwoods took you in and accepted you as a part of their family, and your feelings for them are real and important whatever your origins. What I cannot countenance is you continuing on, placing yourself in danger based on a lie. The Arryns are dead, or will be soon if Robert is somehow legitimate despite all evidence to the contrary. You have no more right to take the Lord Paramount's seat than does Petyr Baelish. At least not as you have been, ignoring the truth, pretending that you really are an Arryn heir." She sat beside him on the couch again as Harry glumly nodded.

"You are also attempting something that has rarely worked out in all of history. A wizard ruling over non-magicals. It has almost always led eventually to tragedy. Just look at the Valyrian's, slavers who crushed the world under their boot. It is very easy for a wizard to becomes a tyrant when the people flout his authority or power. The people could also turn on the wizard because he is different and they fear what he could do to them. Even when a wizard rules flawlessly, the wizard's children could eventually turn from the teachings of their magical parent to sour the right to rule. Or it could go a totally different way, you worshipped by the masses, your magic somehow becoming divine and you a god in their midst. That could go poorly in a number of different ways," Hermoine warned him as her look softened.

"But who else could take my place. That snake Baelish? Lysa and Robyn? Without an Arryn the houses of the Vale will descend into war. Each vying to place themselves or their ally into the leadership of the Vale. And it's not like I've presented myself as a wizard. It would be Ser Hardyng that becomes the new Lord Arryn not Wizard Potter," he argued.

"How long can that deception last? Your children, most if not all, will inherit you magic. You are not just committing yourself to this dual role but all that come after you." She held his eyes a moment before he turned away. "Harry, do you really want to live two lives. All the lies upon lies you will have to spin to everyone around you. Determining who you can trust with your true self. Does that life really sound appealing to you? I'm not trying tell you what to do, but I am in your head. I know you haven't thought any of this through. It is distressingly typical how even raised in an entirely different world, Harry Potter leaps in to save the day without a plan." She chuckled to herself.

"I…...Dammit! It's…. Why do I…...?" Harry spent a good ten minutes spluttering out sentence fragments and frowning in consternation. Finally, "As always you know me too well Grimoire. As painful as it is to admit it. You are right. Everything you've said has been lurking in the back of my mind and to my shame I've avoided even letting myself think about it. But I suppose I have time right now to make up a plan since I'm stuck here for….?" Harry paused, waiting for the Hermoine aspect to respond.

"By my calculations, twenty-eight to thirty hours. Harry you've really done a number on your body. Potions are not without cost; they often draw on your magic to complete their purpose. I am not exaggerating that you came very close to killing yourself when you took those potions on top of everything else you've done in the last day." Hermoine's concerned look softened the rebuke, sobering Harry's knee jerk desire to defend himself.

"I suppose you are not quite as…. patient and understanding as my magic instructor Archmage Potter?" Harry wondered to himself.

"His job is to teach. I provide you with the truth, a far harsher task. Especially when you avoid it because it is unpleasant." While her words were castigating her smile showed that the Grimoire was teasing, in the way things are funny because they are true. And with startling suddenness her demeanor changed once again as the study shifted, with chalk boards appearing all around their couch. "Now, no more slacking Harry, it is time to finally do your homework." She inexplicably now had a long wooden pointer that she tapped menacingly against her palm.

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Narrow Sea, Gull's Dinner

Three days out from King's Landing, May 298 AC

Robyr Royce leaned on his elbows, resting against the railing and occasionally looking over his shoulder eastward across the Narrow Sea in the early morning. With the sun still close to the horizon, the glare made looking to the open waters unbearable so instead he looked west to the Crackclaw peninsula. He could see a storm far out to their northeast but he wasn't really taking note of that. Instead he alternated between frustrated fidgeting and forlorn sighs. It was to this tableau that Lord Royce emerged from below decks. Robyr turned to face him at his approach shading his eyes with his hand.

"It isn't right! I don't understand why you and the captain are taking this so lightly. We should be doing something, placing him in irons at least. He was unnatural in that fight, and we found all those vials on him. Ser Hardyng has been corrupted by that Sorcerer. Do you know how many people on this ship this so called wizard has threatened with his magic? Dozens. And yet you counsel us to do nothing. We have the Grand Maester and the Master of Coin kidnapped on this ship on the word of some…aberration, and you lumped us in with him when you lied to the watch. It isn't right father," he growled, managing to both yell and whisper at the same time.

"Are you finished, boy. It seems you have forgotten our family's history, what I taught you about the world before you left to squire for that Seven worshipping knight. We are of the first men, Robyr, once allies of the Children of the Forest. We cleave to the Old Gods because we know of the power they possess, unlike these silly septons that demand money and bleat about proprieties while doing little for the community. Have you really forgotten the Runestone? I know I haven't shared all of its nature with you since you're my second son, but surely you can't discount that our lands produce greater yields than any other house in the Vale for their acreage. Or that we've never been raided by the mountain clans or pirates. Ever. Magic is real Robyr and only the willfully stupid disregard it when it stares them in the face." Yohn looked at his son disappointedly.

"You and Gardan are grumbling about magic being evil, while I see a single knight devastating an opposing force, or being able to move our troops in the blink of an eye to the battlefield. After Ser Hardyng's charge broke their backs, not one of our men was seriously injured. That is a miracle that I won't soon forget. Magic is just a tool. One which almost none know how to wield true, but not the danger itself. It is the one using the tool that you need to look at. What are their motives, their actions? And for now, we don't have that information. So we stay neutral, we wait and see if House Royce should be for or against." Yohn had placed his hand on his son's shoulder as they spoke. When Robyr tried to shake it off, his father's grip tightened.

"You need to reign in that temper, Red. I am still your lord and father and my word dictates the path of our house. Even if Hardyng is corrupted as you say, he may throw it off with aid. But most importantly, he is the heir of the Vale, and he has a powerful sorcerer aiding his every move. House Royce will not set in motion its own doom by making him our enemy. Not without more than your unease to guide us. Talk to him when wakes, find out what is going on in his head. You just spent an entire day with him in King's Landing. Did he strike you as unstable, or out to do you harm? Now is the time for calm curiosity rather than your hot headed accusations. Do you yield to my orders, or am I forced to bar you from Ser Hardyng?" Yohn's eyes bore into the now slightly chagrinned face of his son.

"I…...will follow your will. It's just, I've never believed. I always just thought you were a superstitious eccentric when you went on about your armor or the Runestone. Are you telling me truly that it has power?" Robyr had now relaxed somewhat and the two now sat side by side on the railing.

"We will be talking more about where this idea of my teachings being false comes from because you aren't my only son to think so. I haven't told you yet, but Weymar, the fool, went a step further and tried to damage the stone, to prove it was all nonsense. That is why he wears the black now. None from our family will be allowed to forget our lore or directly disobey their lord. Don't expect to leave Runestone anytime soon when we arrive. I will show you how wrong your thinking about my 'superstitious foolishness' you have been. But that is knowledge only for our ears so I won't discuss it here. Just prepare yourself Rob, it seems you'll need to open your mind to the weirder workings of the world."

With that parting phrase, Yohn patted his son on his head, messing up his red hair much to his adult son's annoyance. They smiled to each other, and Yohn returned below decks to allow his son to think about what they'd discussed.

HP & aSoIaF

"What you've come up with, it does appear to work in theory, but…...?" the Hermoine aspect hedged.

"Come on, this is great for coming up with it on the spur of the moment. Not only will it secure the peace and prosperity of the Vale, but this plan will lay a strong foundation for a viable magical society. Why are you unsure of my…? I mean our plan?"

"It's just, if I were really Hermoine Granger I would be slapping you silly for being a letch and a pervert. My logical morality does agree that this…intention…of yours will best achieve your goals. I guess I'm just astonished that we haven't triggered any righteous feminine fury. Although," the Hermoine aspect cutely gnawed at her lower lip as she considered, "I suppose my lack of reaction could be because while I am intended to be an accurate depiction of Harry's best friend, I really am still a piece of Archmage Potter. The man's roster of lovers during his very long life numbered in the hundreds so I suppose it would be a bit hypocritical for me to begrudge you your plans." She chuckled good naturedly with Harry over the absurdity of their most recent discussions.

"But Harry, you are neglecting some pretty important factions in this scheme of yours."

"Who? I think I've fairly well mapped out all the political reactions from the lordly houses in the Vale and our neighbors. This will work, especially if I can maneuver things properly during the upcoming trail," he defended.

"Yes, yes, you've seemingly handled all the feudal interests that we can predict, but Lordly houses and merchants are not the only important forces at work in Westeros. What about the Septancy and the Maesters? One exerts great control over the pious, which includes upwards of eighty percent of your society. The other not only controls all non-military knowledge but also is the only method of long distance communication. Not to mention both have access to magic. You cannot overlook their importance."

"Are you saying that the Seven are real? That they actually involve themselves with their faithful. Come on Hermoine, the other aspect has always encouraged my skepticism towards any of the religions. Can't you two get your answers straight before you get me involved?" he grumbled in frustration.

"The Archmage aspect is charged with instructing you as a wizard, I imagine he didn't want you wasting your time with the gods when it might distract you from your own progress. I, as I have stated, am only interested in your mental wellbeing. A healthy mind must be honest with itself at the very least. I see no point, at this stage of your maturity, to hide the truth from you any longer. Yes, the gods are real in a sense. Yes they can interact with the physical plane. Now quit going off on a tangent and let's get back to planning your moves in regards to the Septons and Maesters."

"You can't just drop that surprise on me and move on. Not after it seems this crazy book has been lying to me for years. Tell me what you know about the supernatural or I'll refuse to spend any more time on what you want me to do?" Harry adopted his most stubborn face as well as crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back into the study's couch as far as he could go.

"You are being childish…. Really now? Fine. If it will get you moving again I'll give you a brief tutorial on what the actual Archmage Potter learned of this world's divine hierarchy before placing us here." The Hermoine aspect stood and with a wave of her reappearing pointer added a new chalk board full of a bulleted outline in neat if cramped writing.

"First, note that what I am about to tell you only applies to this reality. Now back in the beginnings of this universe there existed forces that allowed the worlds, stars, and eventually life to exist. With the advent of intelligent life, the human species in this world's case, man began to wonder at the world around them. Questions like why do things fall, why did they need food and water, how did plants grow? The mysteries of life in other words. And as is typical for primitive societies, they began to attribute such forces as the work of higher beings. Soon full mythologies were created to explain the natural laws governing their world and this is where things get a bit complicated. You understand so far?" she questioned. A sharp nod from Harry was all she needed to return to her lecture.

"These explanations soon turned to worship and the asking for intervention. At first I doubt the early men received much of a response. But as more and more worshipped, especially if that worship became mandatory to their culture, more and more spiritual energies where directed at the forces of the universe. This collective will went on long enough and was widespread enough that humanity succeeded in creating their own gods. Once this occurred and the various gods gained sentience the whole process of transferring spiritual energy to these emerging higher beings rapidly increased. Mostly due to the beings themselves starting to work on this plane to gain more spiritual energy. Other groups of men, envious of the divine works that neighboring tribes benefitted from rapidly converted or created their own religions and so the process spread and intensified."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that any religion that has been around long enough can create a god? That seems pretty farfetched. How can beings of spiritual energy as you call it actually interact with the world? And where do they exist? I," as Harry started to ask another question, Hermoine smacked her pointer against the board to interrupt the deluge of incredulity.

"If you would just listen without interrupting I'm sure all of your questions will be covered. Now, Archmage Potter came up with two theories on why/how this happened. The first is that their already existed some even higher level power that allowed or even facilitated this process for whatever reason. The other relates to the very…. thin barriers that exist in this universe between the physical plane and the inter-dimensions. You know, the slightly out of phase yet overlapping dimensions that correspond to the nuclear forces, which allows matter to exist. As well as the fifth dimension relating to the one element that can bend and break the interaction between all the others, Magic." Hermoine's eyes narrowed as Harry only blinked dumbly.

"Don't give me that vapid look, I know that the other aspect covered this in the introductory materials on Sorcery. If you cannot remember, then clearly that is a lecture for you to review on another day. Regardless, Potter theorized that the extremely strange entities that inhabit these singular force dimensions may have somehow colluded or interacted to give themselves a means to live beyond their origins, most specifically those beings from the Order (Strong Nuclear) and Magic dimensions. This while fascinating doesn't matter that greatly for you until you start your sorcery training. It happened, deal with it." Hermoine stared at Harry, almost daring him to interject again. Satisfied that he was sufficiently cowed enough to continue, she moved on.

"The thing most do not realize is that the original versions of the gods set their natures. So all of the subsequent schisms, heresy, and revisions to religions had no effect whatsoever. The gods, what their domains are, their powers, and their locations were set and all that varies is how powerful they became from their worshippers and whether they are at all still interested in the physical world. As you can imagine the Valyrian pantheon no longer interacts with the world that much as their worshippers where wiped out for the most part in the Doom. Most important for your concerns are the Seven-that-are-one and the Old gods, as well as the two outlier…demons for lack of a better term."

"The Seven are your adopted family's heritage, and reflect the beliefs of the early Andals. Those ancestors were not only interested in formalizing the domains of the Seven you were raised with, but also the stars, the brightest of which were actually planets. Such is the reason for the timing of the original high holidays and the seven-pointed star, which carries much greater significance than any modern septon realizes. The Seven as one relates to the different gods/planets coming together in groups or as one to affect the known world, in this case Northern Essos and most of Westeros south of the Neck."

"The Old Gods are a bit more straightforward. They were localized groups of beings that had some control over their surroundings. In other words, nature spirits tied to the earth, sky, bodies of water etc. The weirwood trees and the children of the forest were the actual physical manifestation of this faith, not that those pseudo elves would ever admit it following their war with the First Men. The trees are the focal point for the area's gods to interact with their worshippers, and the children were somehow created as their servants in this world."

"And those demons you mentioned? I get the general thrust of your explanation of those two religions, but how does something like a demon come to being? Who would worship something like that?" he asked with a shudder.

"Yes, they are a bit aberrant to how the gods were created. Archmage Potter could only speculate that they were powerful beings from the Ice or Endothermic (relating to Gravitation) and Fire or Exothermic (relating to Weak Nuclear) inter-dimensions that somehow became aware of this higher power, spiritual energy phenomenon. As some point these antithetical demons became angered at religions and gods being created. Or perhaps jealous that they were not included. The two of note are the Great Other and the self-styled Lord of Light. Somehow they managed to interact with some very foolish heretics that started up religions in their names."

Now in full lecture mode the Hermoine aspect energetically continued her lecture, "Since they directed their own manifestation, and their apparent long term goal is the destruction of humans and the gods they created, they are quite dangerous from time to time. They were only limited in power and scope due to their lack of understanding about the nature of the physical plane as well as the concept of time. Even so, they are both patient, cunning, and have no problem manipulating men, or children, into their service. You will recall one of their incursions, The Long Night of myth. So while their efforts are rarely encountered, they usually are quite devastating. Something to keep in the back of your mind but otherwise shouldn't have any bearing on your current endeavors."

"The final relevant information you should take into account is that the Maesters and the Targaryens managed to acquire or perhaps inherit some of the lore of Valyria. The Targaryen line were devout followers of the flame god Balerion, patron of dragons and their riders. While the Maesters probably have information on the entire pantheon, including the Valyrian gods of Light, Darkness, and Magic. Your duel with Pycelle suggests that those deities are still willing to bestow power to the acolytes of their mysteries. I hope this brief synopsis is sufficient for you to start developing a strategy to deal with the members of these various religions and orders." Hermoine after pausing to take questions opted to take a bow while Harry fanatically applauded her performance. A little humor was a balm for the serious discussion they had just completed. A faux tea service appeared on a side table for the two to relax around while they took a break from the intense planning session.

HP & aSoIaF

King's Landing, Maegor's Holdfast, Queen's chambers

Five days after the River Battle, May 298

Cersei groggily untangled herself from the tanned teen arm that had been spooning her. With an aching head she turned to look at her bed companion in disgust. Last night, well into her second bottle of wine she had though it a great idea to invite cousin Lancel to her bed chambers. In the dark and with her inebriated state he looked just enough like Jaime to get her arousal flowing. But after forcing most of a third bottle on the young squire of her husband just to overcome his fear of discovery, the results could only be described as disappointing. Truly all that she had gained was increased frustration. That and a sliver of revenge against Jaime for abandoning her and their children to go attempt a rescue of that murderous creature she had for a younger brother. She was reminded yet again how easily she could use her beauty to manipulate hormonal young men to serve her needs. Cersei supposed she would need to feign satisfaction and prop up the little shit's ego if he were to remain her tool going forward.

After a quick breakfast spent reviewing her father's last few letters to her, she sent her page of the month to fetch her an escort from the Lannister sworn men. Cersei stepped outside to send away her kingsguard Ser Mandon Moore on an errand to Joffrey in order to escape his watchful eye, as well as provide Lancel a means to escape from her chambers. Soon she was accompanied by her guard captain Vylarr with ten red cloaks making their way down Shadowblack lane, home to the townhomes of many lords and merchants that could not afford the larger mansions further off this main thoroughfare of Aegon's High Hill. They stopped at a fairly nondescript two story home that housed a somewhat important factor of one of the eleven major merchant houses of King's Landing. Her escort stepped into a sitting room for refreshments, while she and Vylarr continued further back into a small office.

Here Cersei met with the actual head of the Merchant House of Bell, a family run outfit that focused on the forging and sale of weapons throughout Westeros. For quite a while Sercus Bell had been in lock step with Baelish's consortium, as Littlefinger had been integral to the family expanding greatly over the last decade. But with the Master of Coin's disappearance her father, or more likely his local financial representative in the capital Marcus Lanny, felt the time was right to sway the prominent merchant into their sphere of influence. It galled Cersei greatly to parrot the double speak and pleasantries she had been ordered to relate on her father's behalf. She was the Queen! This fat rich commoner should be bowing at her feet, begging to serve her interests. Instead she only succeeded in securing an additional meeting to discuss future counter proposals with the largest purchaser of iron ore in Westeros.

Her continuing frustration at her lack of true power led her to exit the back of this town home and meander through back alleys for a quarter mile before entering a gate marked with the sigil of the disgraced and un-landed knightly house Kettleblack. She was not entirely familiar with the house's history but their modest mansion suggested they had been prominent at some point. She and Vylarr were quickly escorted into a sitting room by a maid where she met the oldest of the Kettleblack brothers, Osmund. Setting up this meeting had been quite the task for her to arrange. She had no desire for anyone to discover her meeting with a sellsword on her own. Luckily Vylarr had proved both his loyalty and devotion to her above all others over the course of her marriage. His skill and competence left Cersei confident this introduction would avoid discovery.

"So what brings the Queen to such a lowly home?" Osmund challenged with a serious face.

"It has not escaped my family's attention that there has been a serious shakeup in the ranks of the mercenaries that call King's Landing home. The whispers suggest the family Kettleblack managed to escape a bit of unpleasantness in the Blackwater Rush recently. Rumors also suggest that many lesser sellswords that used to look to Ser Lothor Brune for contracts and leadership now have turned to your family for counsel on where to find employment. I wish to determine for myself the truth of the matter."

"Looking at your stature and unblemished face I am beginning to suspect that your prowess and position has not been exaggerated. What say you?" The queen had managed to shift throughout her speech into a posture that most accentuated her gorgeous figure. Her sultry voice seemed to diminish in volume as she spoke, causing Osmund to lean closer to her over the intervening coffee table. At such close proximity he could not help but to smell her intoxicating and expensive perfume.

"Oh, so even the high and mighty have heard about that successful robbery?"

"Successful? The many prisoners and bodies given over to the gold cloaks suggest otherwise. Explain…. if you would?" she questioned with an alluring smile, barely restraining herself from making it a command.

"Yeah the recovery failed, me and my brothers saw that as soon as those armored knights appeared from below decks. I'm talking about some knight from the Vale making off with thousands of dragons of the Littlefinger's gold. Thinking about it, he mustah done in the whoremonger beforehand, or else how'd he know where to find it all? Ha ha ha, wished we couldah convinced father to throw in our lot with the Valemen. Definitely would have been safer and more profitable than sticking with Brune. But father is always one for honoring his word or contract so we stayed with Littlefinger's side until the situation grew…. untenable."

Cersei stared intently at Osmund, trying to parse his rambling heavily accented account. Once she understood it was a struggle to only smile, rather than dance about the room in joy. Someone robbed or even killed Petyr Baelish. Another loose end seemed to be wrapping itself up. Before her glee could become overtly feral she reigned herself back in to focus on her current undertaking.

"Well, if profit is your key concern then I would think House Lannister would be your best bet going forward. More specifically service to me, your queen. I have need of an enterprising group of sworn swords that can react quickly to my interests. Far too many of the knights and officers protecting my family won't budge without an order from my father. With my brother and all his supporters rushing off from King's Landing, I find myself woefully under protected. Do you see, Ser Osmund?" Cersei had moved next to the large knight on his couch and punctuated her question with a hand gently resting on his thigh.

"What exactly did you have in mind, your highness?" The knight smirked at her before looking down first to her cleavage then her wandering hand.

"I would see that the sellswords of our city look to you and your family, and thereby take their cues from their rightful sovereign, their queen. Even the gold cloaks who have in the past have strayed in regards to their true mistress could be brought back to the fold. A family, or perhaps just a man, who could pull such strings on my behalf will be well rewarded, first in gold, then perhaps in land or titles. If someone were to serve me especially faithfully there could even be more pleasurable fringe benefits to come."

As Cersei spoke she sensually stroked the knight's thigh. When she mentioned her alternative interests she began lightly using her nails to raise goose bumps on the nearly panting Ser Osmund. She turned his head towards hers and slowly inched closer as if to kiss him before speaking, "Can I count on you putting forth your best effort on my behalf?" she purred.

Ser Osmund made to close the distance, but the queen had already slipped away standing and returning to her captain's side. Not trusting himself to speak while heavily aroused, the eldest Kettleblack merely nodded strongly. With a wink, the Lannister queen swept out of the once well-appointed mansion. Halfway back to the Bell factor's home Vylarr's second in command met them with the rest of her retinue in the pungent back alley. Two darkly robed men were with them, one of which she recognized as the head of the pyromancers.

"Castor, ambushing me in the streets will not make I or my father any more likely to increase your funding. What is the meaning of this?"

"My queen, while it is truly lovely to see your royal countenance so soon after our last meeting, it is not for myself that I have sought you out. The alchemists have recently taken on a new and very skilled mind. We thought that it might be to your benefit to meet the former maester Qyburn," the unctuous chemist bowed low gesturing towards his companion.

Cersei scowled at the two men. While she somewhat agreed with her father's insistence on keeping these potioneers and chemists funded in the hopes they may invent something useful, as a group they were ugly, often with disfiguring scars, and usually reeked even amidst the pungent smells of King Landing.

"What need have I of a former maester? Adding more members to your guild will not sway my father to increase his investment beyond what was already agreed upon. You should know this already Castor," she chided.

"My queen, if I may speak on my behalf?" questioned Qyburn, a pale black haired man of middling height with shadowed eyes and guant, nearly hollowed cheeks.

"Yes, just hurry it along, you two have delayed me enough already," she sniped.

"Well, it has come to my attention that the long time Lannister supporter, Grand Measter Pycelle has left the city. Soon some new member of my old order will arrive to advise the king. Except there are no guarantees that whoever is sent will be quite so loyal to members of the extended royal family as the last Grand Maester."

"That sounded dangerously close to a threat Qyburn, you best speak quickly or Vylarr will see you removed from my presence in a permanent fashion," Cersei growled.

"No, no, no…. nothing of the sort was my intention. I am offering my services to be your personal physician. With just a small budget, perhaps a location to conduct my business in close proximity to your household, you could have my services at your beck and call. And with no other groups to pull my loyalties away from your highness's."

"Why did the order part ways with you Qyburn?" Cersei spoke with a menace that most of the kingdom would be shocked to see. The presumption of this worm was already souring her jubilant mood from successfully gaining the allegiance of the Kettleblack sellswords, a group that would soon swell in size and influence if she had any say in the matter.

"Those fools. They were weak-kneed cowards. I forged my Valyrian Steel link, and then they expected me to just ignore all of the power at my fingertips to become yet another useless scholar. True power, is for those who have the strength to take it. I imagine that is something we both share my queen?" His black eyes bored into her, giving the impression of seeing far more than is visible. As well, his thin bloodless lips crawled into an awkward smile.

Cersei was startled to hear this explanation. This could be a very fortuitous opportunity. Pycelle had always been her father's man first. To have her own maester, one skilled in sorcery no less. It was too good a situation to pass up. If she had need of more loyal swords, then having another avenue to grow her strength would be just as useful.

"I am intrigued Qyburn. I will send word to Castor when it is convenient to speak of this matter again. Good day."

The two men knelt as her retinue continued on its way back to the main road and then to the Red Keep. Pyromancer Caster congratulated his relatively new acquaintance on gaining the favor of the queen. Had he been able to read the thoughts behind Qyburn's benign smiling face, he may have shuddered or even considered dropping one of the vails of wildfire held in his belt pouch at the man's feet.

HP & aSoIaF

"You feel it now don't you?" Hermione asked, sitting at the other end of Harry's preferred couch.

"Yes, but what is this sensation?"

"You are sleeping now. You have finally recovered enough magic into your body, or your core as many wizards were fond of calling it. A vast simplification of a very complex topic that is still not entirely understood. But since the metaphor does somewhat reflect reality, that wizards and witches have a finite ability to cast spells that recharges gradually overtime…." Harry interrupts her with a grin and some poorly stifled chuckles. "Pardon me for being precise you great prat!" Hermoine then turned away pouting, though she quickly showed the insincerity of her indignation by returning Harry's smile.

"Does this mean that our time is up?"

"Not yet. Yes, you could force yourself awake now, but we do have one last topic to discuss. Your dream, the one I found you in. Do you know what that was all about?" Hermoine asked gently, showing her concern.

"Nightmare seems more accurate," he sighed. Not for the first time in this marathon session in the grimoire Harry struggled to speak.

"Perhaps I could start. In your birth world there was a lot of study done on the mind and trauma. It was well documented that when children witness, experience or commit violence it could have a profoundly negative effect on their mental health. But even in most adults, even those who had previously dealt with such horrible situations in the past, there were always consequences. You have now killed and maimed people, you were also in danger of losing your own life. That is traumatic especially the first time it occurs."

"This is the reason I am here, as opposed to Potter. I am not only responsible for your developing morality, but your mental health. Archmage Potter would not allow this grimoire to teach those who will bring great harm onto themselves and others. So, I must ask you, how do you feel about the recent battle?" Hermoine schooled her features into a more neutral appearance and waited for Harry to respond.

"This isn't my first brush with combat. Why should this be any different?"

"Your own mind is telling you that it is. You haven't had these types of nightmares before. You don't know yet if you'll have flashbacks, unexplained anger, or any other possible symptoms. Think back to that dream, what was important?"

"I…. the other people…. they were afraid of me. And I destroyed them anyway. That's not how a knight should fight. Every other time…." Harry paused to gather his thoughts. "When I faced others in tourneys, or against Baelish and Pycelle, it was always a contest. We matched our skills and mettle to achieve victory. In the battle, I wanted to murder all my enemies. Slaughter any who stood in my way. Oh Seven, what did I do?" he muttered in shocked horror.

"Isn't that the purpose of combat, or war? Kill your enemies in order to get your way, even if your way only means that you and yours get to continue living when the other side wishes you dead and gone. Haven't you been trained for this as a squire and seen it in action in the Disputed Territories?" Hermoine asked playing devil's advocate.

"Yes, but…. That was other people involved. You know I've seen criminals beaten or executed even before becoming a squire. My knightly training was only an idea not yet realized in the world. This was different. I killed men, I stole their lives and their futures," Harry's voice become husky with emotion, his eyes watered and he looked away from Hermoine in shame.

"That could be it. Yet those men were also trying to kill you. They were threatening the lives of those under your command. Isn't it okay to prevent your own death, to save the lives of those you care about? I think this shame and blaming has another cause. Were you in control of yourself during the fight?"

"Of course! How else could I have fought so well?" he responded defensively.

"So you did not have any factors that impaired or altered you mind?"

And then Harry saw where Hermoine was leading him, "The rage potion. I was so tired. I was worried I would falter or appear weak in front of the Royces or my men. I've heard plenty of stories about berserkers, warriors that would fuel their fighting with anger out of control," Harry trailed off, his mind numb.

"Not only did that potion push you into magical exhaustion, but it removed your control. It was designed for use on your enemies. To make them attack their own allies or start hostilities so you wouldn't appear the aggressor. It turns men into beasts, with their only thought to strike out and crush their adversaries, even if they must create their own foes. You knew this, it was made very clear to you during your potions lessons. Those that opposed you did have cause to fear you. In some ways, your passing out may have been a blessing, as it prevented you from attacking your own side."

"So, this is it. One foolish error turns victory into anguish. I must atone for this. I turned myself into a monster. How can I look myself in the mirror, or my family?" he lamented.

"You will talk to your men, and your family, especially your brothers who will understand the best. Explain to them what you can and ask forgiveness if you think it necessary. Most importantly you will understand how and why you made such a poor decision. There are likely many factors yet what I must stress to you is that you were afraid. You worried that your normal power and prowess would not be sufficient. And then you looked to magic to make it all better," Hermoine admonished.

"That cannot be your response if you are to continue working with this grimoire. This is where all dark wizards and witches get their start. They feel the need for more power and begin to take foolish risks or ignore consequences. In this way, they begin to hurt others and themselves. Which unfortunately makes them even more likely to do so again, as others react to their horrid acts or the dark magic damages their minds and bodies. Thus leading the newly darkening wizard to fear even more for their safety and seek out more power. Do you see?" Hermoine questioned him sternly.

"Yes," he grumbled. Hermoine was not satisfied and asked again. "Yes! I understand mostly. I'll need to think more about this, but I get what you are saying about how this trauma relates to my abusing magic. I did something bad and now I'm feeling the repercussions, and as you say I will continue to for some time. But I vow that I will pay this price and will not fall victim to my fear again."

"I am glad I've gotten through to you about the seriousness of this issue. But do not be unrealistic. You are a young man. You will make mistakes in the future. You will face this dilemma again though it may be in a way that is not apparent at the time. I will be here for you. So will your family, your loved ones, and eventually your followers. Do not take on burdens that would be easier to bear with the help of friends. It is when people take on these difficult challenges alone that they start to ignore the problem or drown it in ale, or even fall fully into evil. Now give me a hug before we part ways for a time."

They did embrace for quite a while. Harry slowly relaxed from his overwrought state and then stood. He waved to Hermoine then closed his eyes, focusing on his physical sensations.

HP & aSoIaF

A few moments later he became aware of his surroundings though kept his eyes closed to assess his whereabouts. From the sounds and sway of the room he realized he was still on a ship. He opened his eyes to find his current second, Gardan looking at him with worry. His body felt incredibly weak, yet he forced himself to sit up. Harry recognized he was in the captain's cabin again.

"What day is it? How long have a been out?" he asked his subordinate who scowled.

"Two days, plus most of this night. What happened Ser?" Gardan asked with much misgiving entering his voice.

"I…. I made a mistake. Wizard Potter gave me some small drams of what he called potions. He was worried I would be too tired for battle, and that I would get myself killed and ruin his efforts. I thought I took the elixirs for strength and alertness but one of them was something else or perhaps I had a bad reaction. I've never felt rage like that. It was terrible, I've been having horrible dreams replaying the battle. What have people been saying?" Harry hung his head in shame as he waited for the leader of the Arryn sworn swords under his command to respond.

Gardan seemed to mull his explanation over before slowly responding, "Most weren't too concerned. You fucking wrecked those sellswords just as we were about to be overrun. So I guess most see it as a miracle sent by the Warrior. A few, including me and Robyr are a might worried about what's going on with this Wizard. Why is he around, and what's his game? The Seven Pointed Star teaches that magic will lead to damnation, so we're wondering why you've been acting so chummy with his so-called help. Is he controlling you, is that why we got the Master of Coin and the Grand Maester trussed up below deck?" he questioned.

"Oh Seven! The maester, is he still locked up? Did he escape?" Harry asked frantically, realizing his sleeping potion would have long worn off.

"What are you on about. Of course he's still locked up. Where the seven hells is he going to go while we're still sailing?" Garden asked in confusion.

"You don't understand. The Grand Maester forged his Valyrian Steel link." When Gardan still looked perplexed Harry continued, "He uses magic too. I saw them. A magical duel between Pycelle and Potter. After Potter won, the wizard made me swear to feed him a potion every day to keep him from using his magic to get free. But I've missed two days. I can see you're worried about all this accursed sorcery, but we could be facing it on our own soon. Sergeant, I need your help. Bring me to Pycelle immediately." Gardan's faced drained at the thought of facing magic himself so he rather frantically assisted Ser Hardyng into some clothes as well as returning his pouches and weapons that were hidden in a locked trunk.

They hurried below to the makeshift cells in the bilge and sighed in relief to see both prisoners still manacled and under guard. Both were also gagged for slightly different reasons. According to the Arryn men-at-arms Petyr Baelish had spent hours wheedling and tempting any that came near him to release him for future gold, even the small folk who brought him his meals. Frankly everyone was sick of listening to his oily voice, especially as it had spread throughout the ship that all the man's gold had already been seized by Ser Hardyng. Whereas Littlefinger wished to be released as befitted his status as a minor lord of the Vale, Pycelle had been relentless in his efforts to get his special manacles off. Whining, faking sickness, soiling himself, and playing up his advanced age to assist his begging. Pycelle was gagged so none of his guards would be tempted to kill him just to shut him up.

Ser Hardyng immediately pulled out the gag and with the assistance of Gardan forced the old man to take another sleeping potion. While Harry wished he could use this opportunity to start delving deeper into both prisoner's memories he knew his magic depletion was severe. Instead he returned to the captain's cabin to slake his gnawing hunger on bread and some cold leftover fish from the evening meal. Despite barely remaining awake to finish his food, he requested Gardan to wake him in the morning so he could meet with Ser Nerris and the Royces.

After a blessedly dreamless sleep Harry resumed the boring routine of nautical travel. Though now on a ship that was severely cramped and much louder with the addition of the returning smallfolk and the Royce sworn swords. With Ser Nerris busy captaining the ship, the meeting was put off to that evening. During the day, Harry took the opportunity to resurface the floor of the captain's cabin, removing his travel array. He also added this version of his traveling array to the list that shouldn't be used again inside his occlumency storage space. Far too many now knew not only that this symbol was associated with Wizard Potter, but also that it related to teleportation. It was possible some could even recreate the symbol in the future. A deadly risk he could not afford.

Ser Hardyng hoped to convince both the captain and Lord Royce to support his coming bid to claim the lordship of House Arryn. Ser Nerris would be important because over the next three weeks he could meet with up to eight of the other knighted Captains that ran the ten ships in the Arryn fleet. The soldiers and sailors manning these ships, the men-at-arms stationed around the Lords harbor, as well as the soldiers that guarded the custom officials constituted the largest force of Arryn bannermen outside the actual Vale of Arryn.

Lord Royce was important not only for his own house's power but because he was one of the richest and most respected lords in the Vale. Many of the lesser lords in the Fingers of the symbolic Vale's hand looked to him for advice and coordination in the region. If Harry could get his support, along with his mother's and two other major lords, then almost any of the possible outcomes of the trial of Tyrion Lannister would result in him becoming the new Lord Arryn. After the evening bells both men joined him in the captain's cabin.

"I can imagine you have many questions? Let me tell you what I know, and between the three of us I hope we can plan to get my great uncle Jon justice as well as ensure peace and stability in the Vale. While the both of you were away, Lysa and Catelyn nee Tully arrested Tyrion Lannister on charges of murdering Jon Arryn and the attempted murder of Brandon Stark. I thought this to be unlikely and went to the Eyrie to find out what the seven hells was going on!" Ser Nerris knew this part of the tale already but Lord Royce looked shocked.

"Lysa…. Lysa is unhinged. Despite the Blackfish's best efforts, it became pretty obvious that Tyrion was being used as a scapegoat, one very poorly chosen due to his family's vengeful history. It was also extremely suspicious that when I confronted her for trying to execute Tyrion without trial, she became enrage and called for my execution. I then questioned Robert's parentage and her reaction blatantly showed she was guilty of something. The next day I was exiled from the Vale by our dear Lady Regent," he growled sarcastically.

"Your cousin, the Steward, stepped in to arrange an actual trial as well as provided the writ I gave to you Captain Nerris. I was determined to find the truth and did I ever. But I never would have figured out anything without the man who calls himself Wizard Potter. He visited me during my first night in the capital. Initially he presented himself as Jon's personal master of whispers, so I told him my suspicions about Lysa and Petyr killing Jon. He agreed and led me directly to Littlefinger. That is when I first learned he could do magic, as Baelish set a large force of bodyguards against us. We would not have survived if he hadn't used magic to aid us." Harry met both men's eyes to convey the seriousness of his brush with death at the hands of the whoremonger.

"He brought me and Baelish back to my room with that transporting magic, told me his name and that he owed a debt to Jon Arryn that he intended to pay by aiding me in finding justice for our Lord Paramount. Without his ability to invade minds we would never have learned anything about the conspiracy to kill Lord Arryn, or why any of this occurred in the first place. Without his prowess in magical combat, I would not have been able to defeat the grand maester's magic nor learn that the so-called healer drugged Jon to prevent him from talking or dictating a will, then covered up the poisoning with a story about illness and old age." As he spoke Harry was again seething put took a beat to control his anger so he could continue.

"So I hope you can agree that I do have some cause to trust this Wizard. Not fully of course. I have no knowledge of any debt nor how or when it could be repaid. I'm not even sure if we will ever see Potter again. Perhaps he will show up later demanding favors on some future day. I saw the situation as him becoming a temporary ally while we were in the capital, and am therefore willing to hear him out if he ever returns. I will seek out my own maester with mystical knowledge to hopefully protect the Vale if this Wizard proves himself false," Harry reasoned.

"I am somewhat reassured that you are not fully in this wizard's control. Just as important, my family has never trusted the order of maesters. They hoard their knowledge too tightly and are far too discouraging to any who question their expertise or their role. If this conversation is heading the way I suspect, then we must speak further on the subject soon. Pycelle's treachery could give the Vale an opportunity to remove their linked collars from around our necks." Yohn seemed to approve of Harold's conclusions, but Ser Nerris continued to keep his thoughts hidden behind a neutral face.

"What I am asking of you two is your support in the confrontation that may be coming to the Vale. During Tyrion's trial, I intend to wrest power away from that murderous Tully woman and ensure the continuance of the Arryn line. Wizard Potter learned from Baelish that Lysa was taking moon tea throughout her marriage after she had her first miscarriage. She only ceased these deceitful precautions once she resumed her affair with Petyr. A man who had already gotten her pregnant before her marriage. I do not believe Robert to be an Arryn, rather a bastard Baelish. I cannot allow that madwoman to live much longer much less prosper from her crimes. What say you?"

Ser Nerris began to speak but caught himself and deferred to the noble Royce. Yet Yohn was in no hurry to reveal his thoughts.

"Ser Harold, when you came to my home in the middle of the night and coerced my aid in defending this ship, you mentioned a fourth conspirator. I was assured that you would reveal that person to me. On the surface, I have no love of the Tully's or Littlefinger taking control of our lord paramount's seat. Yet there are even larger dangers lurking beyond our kingdom that might sway me to keep my house neutral, and safe. I must know." Yohn implored.

Harry agreed to tell him, but only him, asking the captain for his forgiveness as well as assuring him it was safer to not know this secret. Ser Nerris then gave his total support to the young knight. When pressed for the reason he revealed a few. First, he was worried about his ongoing income and position if a madwoman and a dying child took hold of his sworn house. Secondly, he was impressed with Harold himself during the time they had been together. And finally, he was greatly concerned about the continuing favor the Graftons had been shown even over the interests of the Arryns or Shetts by Littlefinger, going back many years to his time as head customs official of Gulltown. He was eager for a lord that would increase his holdings vigorously as he assumed Harry would, rather than hobble his own supporters to curry favor with the most prominent Lord of Gulltown.

Harry, aware of this favoritism even before leaving for Essos, assured the Captain that not only would he be empowering his factors and captains upon taking control, but he planned to make a massive investment in expanding the Arryn fleet and incomes in Gulltown. Lord Royce commended him for his plans to reign in 'that up-jumped merchant' that was his annoying lordly neighbor. Harry then promised to meet again with the captain and his customs officers once on land to make plans. They would need to ensure the known Baelish supporter, Lord Gerald Grafton would be prevented from sending any support to Lysa should she manage to contest his taking control of his house.

After Ser Nerris left to bunk in with his first mate, Lord Royce was cajoled into swearing an oath to keep what he was about to learn secret. At least until Ser Harold freed him from the oath. Harry had every intention of learning how to enforce this oath with magic discretely later in the journey.

"Yohn, even now I am hesitant to speak. I know this stems from my hopes to avoid another conflict of the great houses, yet that isn't such a bad hope?" Seeing that Yohn was not swayed, Harry sighed and continued, "It is very likely that when King Robert dies, there will be a war of succession. Queen Cersei conspired with Littlefinger to prevent the Hand from informing the King of her adulterous treason. You see, Lord Jon found out that none of the royal children are the King's."

When Lord Royce responded to this revelation with skepticism, Harry continued, "All unions between a Lannister and a Baratheon have always produced children with Baratheon features. Yet both princes and the princess are golden of hair and green of eye. This quirk of bloodlines isn't widely known at this time, but despite Cersei's silencing of my great uncle, any competent maester can learn the truth with some study. In our lifetimes, the Baratheons will be forced to remove the false royals from the throne, if they can. This is inevitable due to the unfailingly just Stannis being his brother's oldest legitimate heir," Harry related. He also wondered why even now he couldn't muster the righteous fury towards the queen that he felt towards the other murderers. His only conclusion was her incredible resemblance to Kara.

Lord Royce's mouth gaped in surprise at the ramifications of this disclosure. Images of Robert's Rebellion played out in his thoughts. "Why didn't you warn the King and Lord Stark before you left? It is our duty to our king to reveal this treachery," Yohn snapped at Harry.

"Is it wrong to wish to avoid yet another war ravaging the Seven Kingdoms? Very soon House Tully will become enemies of the Vale. I will see Lysa dead, and Petyr too who was fostered at Riverrun. As I see it, when the stags fight the lions, many will seize the opportunity to strike at their neighbors. Those damn fishes might take the chance to avenge themselves, with the Starks also drawn in against us if they aren't already fully engaged against the Lannisters on Stannis's behalf. I don't want any of my countrymen to die over that wretched throne, so I hope that Robert keeps on living and the current peace continues. At the very least I want to buy some time to consolidate my rule and make some plans on how to move against Cersei," he argued.

"You would let one of Jon's murderers go without punishment? You would force the king to continue suffering under the illusion he hasn't been betrayed? What you yourself are contesting? That Robin isn't an Arryn? This does not resemble the Arryns words. How are lies and secrecy 'As High as Honor'?" While the bronze Yohn's words were inflammatory, Harry recognized what they really were, a test. One that could earn or lose the Royces support going forward.

"Must our honor be acted upon immediately? I have no intention of letting that adulterous harpy escape justice, nor for her bastard children to rule. But I hope I am not the only one to notice how strongly the Lannisters hold Kings Landing in their grip. Or how perilously outmanned are the soldiers loyal to the King or the Hand in the capital. My honor will not allow me to set in motion their deaths just to revenge Lord Jon's."

"If I have my way, this horrible truth will be revealed to all nobles of the Vale soon after they swear their fealty to House Arryn once again. With the support of many maesters behind us, no assassination of one or a few will be able to hide this crime against the Old Gods and the New. Then we can discretely inform those who should know and allow them to prepare for the fallout, just as I am preparing now for the fall of Lysa." Harry looked into Lord Royce's eyes, imploring him to understand.

The older lord considered the young knight before him for a few moments. Though for Harry it felt likes ages had passed in silence. Eventually Lord Royce nodded his head and extended his hand. The young knight was startled at first, but quickly grasped the other man's upper wrist. They shook once to seal their alliance then spent a few more moments discussing how this royal scandal could play out depending on when the news spread and who would learn of it first. Eventually they decided this was too momentous to be dealt with by them alone. When Harold took the lordship of House Arryn they would meet again with several of the most prominent and cunning of the Vale lords to decide upon an actual strategy.

Harry tried to turn over the captain's cabin to Lord Royce in gratitude, now that he was no longer unconscious or too tired to move. Yet Yohn suggested he should get used to being deferred to. Other lords and ladies might take insult to what he had just done. Most would likely note him as a weak leader if he treated his social lesser as equals or of higher status than himself. The sage advice reminded him of past lessons with Lady Anya back when he was still Jon Arryn's heir. As he lay in bed, avoiding sleep and possible nightmares, Harry used occlumency to review past lessons preparing him for just this situation. Unfortunately, even studying his memories until he was completely exhausted did not save him from troubled sleep. He was at least thankful upon waking that he couldn't remember exactly which nightmares had plagued him.

HP & aSoIaF

Gulltown, Lord's Harbor, Gull's Dinner docking berth

Four days after Harry regained consciousness, May 298

Harry gathered the belongings scattered around his temporary accommodations over the course of the trip from Kings Landing to Gulltown. While he was now fully recovered, Harry was ruefully that due to lingering magical exhaustion he missed many opportunities to mentally interrogate his two prisoners. Instead the young knight split his time between training his squire and combing through all the many records found alongside Baelish's gold stashes. Not to mention his usual magical study protected by a Notice-me-not ward. He did manage to spend some time plotting with Lord Royce as well as getting further instruction on the Arryn's naval and mercantile holdings in Gulltown from the captain and his boatswain.

The remainder of the voyage was not all boredom and scheming. Every day he would visit with the returning members of his great uncle's staff. Part interview and part attempt to win back their loyalty, he was mostly successful. Seventeen would return with him to Moon Gate to find roles again with house Arryn. Six would stay on as staff in Gulltown for the current Arryn steward Marq Arrynton, an extremely distant relation. There was even a couple that wanted to be far from any city or town that he convinced to work for him at the Hardyng lands.

Perhaps more important were the awkward conversations he had with Robyr. Gone was the easy camaraderie they had exhibited in the capital. The red-headed second son was struggling with many deep thoughts. They talked of religion, comparing the worship of the Old Gods the Royce grew up with versus the Faith of the Seven that he has mostly converted to during his time as a squire. Now he was unsure of which to religion to believe. Harry added fuel to the fire by question why he had to choose. Where they really mutually exclusive?

Submerged in all this spiritual talk was Robyr's great unease with the subject of magic. The topic surfaced a couple times in their discussions. The red-headed knight was reassured when Harry denounced the sacrificial rituals and grotesque priests of most Essosi religions that could cast spells. Robyr was equally shocked to learn there were sorcerers amongst the maester order. Harry would always try to steer the conversation back to honor. If the magician acted honorably to those around them, then shouldn't they be allowed to continue in their usage of magic. Whereas those who use their magic for evil actions, should be both damned by all gods as well as fought by any true knight they should encounter. Robyr did not seem entirely convinced by this argument.

Their talks were not only for Robyr's benefit, but a test for future attempts to win over Vale nobility to Harry's point of view. After discussing things with the Hermoine Aspect he had many plans to turn the Vale into a much more accepting place for the mystical. He hoped to make changes in how the maesters and the Faith operated in the Vale to facilitate a possible reveal of the separate magical enclave Harry was also planning to setup. Harry hoped that one day magic could be used throughout the Vale to help all his subjects.

He also wanted to wrest away control of religion from the extremely corrupt High Septon into more local and adaptable hands. The same for the maesters, even if he was forced to create a rival scholarly organization. His only partially successful attempts to win Robyr over with his arguments tempered his zeal somewhat, reminding him this would be a process that could take decades to achieve. If it could be achieved at all.

Harry Potter's setbacks did not only take place in the realm of philosophy. He was greatly surprised to find that he could not bind Yohn Royce to his oath of secrecy after the fact. There was a simplistic ritual involving cut palms and a spell that could force a non-magical to keep their word to a magical. This was unfortunately not something he could start doing until his position was far more secure. Harry briefly considered casting a Fidelius charm to protect the knowledge of the false royals, but couldn't get himself to aid Cersei that much just to keep control of the situation.

With his travel chest now packed, and dressed in his chain mail and leathers for travel he stared out the ship width window out onto the Lord's Harbor. The deepest portion of the bay Gulltown grew around, it contained fifteen berths of varying sizes connected to a quay about one sixth the size of Kings Landing's. The entire dock rose into a walled compound around a central keep. Once the seat of the Shett kings, the aged Fort now housed the Arryn steward and custom's officials. This small fortification was surrounded by a score of warehouses within the walled section under full Arryn control. What House Arryn didn't use for its own trade was rented out to other Vale lords that desired to trade in security and with diminished tariffs.

He noted a few ships, one from Wickenden, another from the Three Sisters, another Arryn galley, and what looked like a cog from Braavos loading timber. For a moment, he lost himself in thinking about the intricacies of Vale economics and his house's role and position. A knock on the door broke his reverie. It was Porthos the first mate letting him know the smallfolk has disembarked and his man Gardan was asking for him to oversee the unloading of their special cargo. He emerged on deck seeing sailors carrying trunks and crates mostly full of the spoils from Baelish's caches over to a loading wench.

On land were a couple wagons ringed by his men-at-arms and further up the berth were the Royces waiting to say their goodbyes before heading home to nearby Runestone. Harry dipped back below decks and joined six of his soldiers in escorting the two prisoners, still gagged, manacled, and with cloth bags over their heads. When the two men were placed in separate wagons he headed over to say his parting words to Yohn, Robyr, and the other sworn swords he had gotten to know during the trip. Harry had just clasped hands with Robyr and was about to turn back to his nearly loaded wagons when he saw a group emerge from keep that made him freeze in…. shock? (terror?)

"Oh, bloody buggering bollocks," he cursed to himself.

"Is that anyway to great your mother Harold Hardyng!" said Lady Anya Waynwood, somehow having heard his whispered epithet through divine motherly intuition.

AN: Some of the background on Gulltown, and the Vale in general, going forward will be original content. I am primarily doing this because Martin never went into describing these people or locations.

AN2: For those curious, I did give up writing for quite a while due to real life issues. But thankfully the drive and opportunity to write has again returned.