Harry stared up at the walls before him, his heart beating heavily within his chest at the sight. The Dreadfort. Currently the seat of House Bolton. The sun had been hidden behind clouds today, making it a dreary grey morning and early afternoon. He turned to look behind him at the men that had followed him from Moat Cailin, some 15 or so guards that had chosen to swear allegiance to him. Some of them were from the now broken up Brotherhood Without Banners while others were men who had seen him go into Moat Cailin alone and walk out with surrendered ironborn.

Anguy the archer was one of the men from the Brotherhood, his longbow slung over his shoulder.

Robb and most of the northerners had left Moat Cailin a day ago and were heading to Winterfell. Harry had already sent word to Robb that Winterfell was empty, having flown over it the day before to scout. Winterfell had been empty but it was burned down. Anything that wasn't stone was burned down and the stone walls themselves had soot on them and scarring from the flames.

"We're here for Ramsay Snow," Harry finally spoke, turning back to the castle in front of him. The castle that would serve as his seat after they dethroned Ramsay. The banners that the men held behind him flew in the wind and they all held the snowy white owl mantling on a field of blue, the new sigil for House Peverell. He'd be Lord of the castle.

He could see archers on the walls and cauldrons of what was presumably hot oil right on the ledges. The gate was barred and the banner of House Bolton flew from the walls, the red flayed man on a pink field. Harry shivered at the sight and not at the cold temperature. It had grown steadily colder as he traveled further north and the chilly mist of autumn had followed them.

Winter was probably not far away and Harry wanted to be settled within the castle quickly, to prepare and to get to know his land. Also… If he needed to do some remodeling, which he had figured he would, he wanted to get a good start on it. He had listened to some of the rumors and gossip between the northerners on the way up north and it had not sounded good.

There were rumors of a torture chamber within the basement of the keep, rumors of a special room where the Boltons continued to flay their enemies. Harry's stomach had roiled when he had heard of that particular piece of gossip.

"Stay here," Harry remarked.

"Aye, my lord."

Robb had received a piece of flayed skin from Roose Bolton the day before the wedding at the Twins, a piece of skin from Theon Greyjoy. Harry had instantly known that the information that they had gathered about the fall of Winterfell was wrong then, having already known that Bran and Rickon were not dead. And with the more recent news that Roose was planning on betraying the Starks… Theon might not have been to blame for the fall of the castle either.

He had read between the lines of that letter from Roose too and if Theon was being held here… Ramsay was going to die and Harry didn't know whether he would insist on taking the whole castle with him or not. And he did not want to sit here in the snow about a mile or two away from the castle while they laid siege to it. That would take too long.

Harry pondered the castle in front of him, seeing the river on the eastern side of the walls. The castle lay on the banks of it and there were chunks of very big, very visible ice on the water. He dismounted from his horse and idly walked towards the walls, keeping an eye on the men on top of them.

He continued to walk until he was only a few feet from archer range, seeing the men on the walls nock their arrows. One man drew his attention in particular, a young man who leered down at him with ugly intent in his eyes.

Harry drew out his wand and touched his neck with the tip of it and started to talk. "You Ramsay Snow?"

His voice echoed throughout the valley in front of him and he could see the men on the walls stiffen. Perhaps they had heard of him, the wizard that was allied with the Starks, or perhaps not. It didn't matter to him if they had heard of him or not. Ramsay didn't seem the type to back down easily or to spook easily. He also didn't seem entirely… sane or anything like Robb.

He had already known that they would have to kill him to take the castle but he did wonder if Ramsay's men would keep on fighting without their substitute lord. There was no other Bolton in the castle and Lady Walda, the one who had wed Roose, was still at the Twins.

"Aye! Have you come to surrender?"

"Surrender to you? No. That's not on my list of things to do today," Harry said back, keeping his voice steady. "I know you won't surrender, Ramsay, but will your men surrender if you die? They are fighting for a bastard."

No one moved on the walls and Harry shrugged.

"We won't surrender to you or to any Stark. This is the Dreadfort."

Howls filled the air and from behind them slunk twenty wolves, of varying colors, and one direwolf. They padded out from behind trees, bushes and big boulders and surrounded Harry's men, who twitched and grouped even closer together. Sandor Clegane snorted and didn't move an inch as the wolves flanked them but his horse did, whinnying nervously. Nymeria howled loudly, baring her teeth as she growled under her breath.

The men on the walls shuddered visibly, their skin paling even more. Ramsay didn't even move, his eyes flicking towards the direwolf in amusement.

"You sure?"

"I have hounds her size. She would make a good hunting dog."

"They all know human flesh," Harry remarked, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug. "Lannister or otherwise. Bolton guardsmen won't matter to them. Besides, she's loyal to her Stark which is more than I can say for you or your father."

"Ned Stark's little princess? That redhaired cunt with you? She'd make a good Lady Bolton for the Dreadfort. Perhaps even last longer than the others."

Nymeria growled louder and led her wolves past Harry's men, loping towards where Harry was. Sandor drew his big sword, the sound of sliding steel filling the air.

Ramsay smirked and raised his hand. Harry twitched his wand, whispering words under his breath and watched as blue light rose out from the tip of his wand and floated upward. The light stretched over him, his men and the wolves just as Ramsay gave the word to fire when ready. Arrows came striking down on them only to hit the blue shield, clattering onto the magical shield and breaking into two.

Harry raised an eyebrow, looked at the gate and waved his hand at it, imagining what could be barring it closed and pulled. Metal grated against his ears and stone moved as the gate swung open.

Sandor gave the agreed upon signal and charged his horse, followed by twenty mounted men. Harry flicked his wrist, muttering an incantation and watched as the archers on the wall were pushed back. Some vanished, perhaps falling off the other edge of the wall, while others fell onto their backs. Nymeria howled again, this time eerie and aggressive, as she led her pack towards the opened gate.

Harry followed after his men and the wolf pack, hearing the sounds of men fighting already. Swords clashed against swords, horses whinnied loudly, wind howled and men shouted out in pain. Harry raced in, a spell already on the tip of his tongue as he looked around for Ramsay, seeing wolves bring down men in Bolton colors all around him.

Blood spurted onto the stone beneath them and Harry dodged swords and arrows as he raced through the crowd, spotting Ramsay one second and losing him the next. Harry spared a glance to the keep ahead of him and kept moving as the sounds of fighting fell away, the sound of Ramsay's words echoing in his mind.

Sandor yelled out and Nymeria growled loudly, her claws echoing throughout the air and Harry saw Ramsay duck into what might have been the kennels. Gryffindor's sword flashed into his left hand as he ran down the closest set of stairs and into a hallway, striking a man in Bolton colors away and dodging one of his own men as he chased after Ramsay. Cages filled the hall on either side of him and the hungry growling of dogs echoed against the stone walls.

He could hear the click of claws behind him as he pushed open the stone door of the maester's tower, only to stop at the sight before him. Ramsay was standing by one cage, leering at the occupant within.

"Reek, it's time to go, pet."

A whimper came from within the cage and Harry winced inwardly at the sound. That had not been made from canine vocal cords. Harry looked into Ramsay's eyes, seeing the utterly cold and remorseless expression in them and whispered two words. Green light sped from his wand and entered Ramsay's body a second later.

Ramsay's eyes went wide and then keeled over a second later, his body making a resounding thump onto the stone floor. Harry sucked in a tight breath and then let it out, flicked his wand at Ramsay's body and floated it over towards him. He peered down at Ramsay Snow and then struck out with the sword in his hand, impaling it in Ramsay's chest.

The dogs in the cages around him were still growling hungrily and Harry sighed before turning around and heading out, still floating Ramsay's body next to him. He slid out Gryffindor's sword and kept his arm at his side, stepping out of the kennels. There were still sounds of fighting coming from the courtyard and Harry raised his wand up to the sky, whispered the incantation of a certain spell that he had tweaked.

A ghostly, giant owl rose up into the sky and hooted loudly, its eyes peering down at the castle underneath it. Harry ran over to the courtyard and raised his voice, placing his wand at his neck again.

"Lower your weapons and yield! Ramsay Snow is dead!"

Swords dropped to the ground almost immediately and Nymeria howled eagerly, joined by her wolves. Sandor's voice filled the courtyard as he yelled at the men around him, holding his dripping sword out.

The soft thunk of the banner echoed in the otherwise quiet air as House Bolton became extinct. Harry peered down from the wall to the pile of House Bolton banners on the snow covered ground and then walked back to the set of stairs, avoiding the bodies of men that had been killed in the fighting. Most of them were covered in Bolton colors and there were five dead Bolton guardsmen for every one of his. He ended up in the courtyard, glancing to the keep before him and the big stone doors that had been opened up.

He had already searched the keep for anything out of the ordinary and had found nothing. Though that rumor about the torture chamber had been true. There had been skeletons in the basement that he had stepped into and two men and three women who had been strapped down and tortured. It was already on his list for a remodel and Harry strode through the courtyard, getting the layout.

There was a stable, parked next to the walls on the northern side, that was probably big enough to hold a hundred horses. There was a godswood behind the keep, a barracks that was big enough to hold his men right now, perhaps big enough for fifty guards. There had also been a postern gate on the western wall, one that was hidden by vines and a slow sloping roof on the outside, good for escape.

It was smaller than Winterfell, smaller than Riverrun and definitely smaller than the Twins. The castle itself looked to be a fortress and there was no town outside it like there was with Winterfell. There were no hot springs that heated the inside of it like Winterfell but Harry was already thinking of remodeling it.

The torches inside the keep were made of skeleton hands reaching out from the walls.

Perhaps he could make the keep look like… Harry shook his head in thought and walked right over to Sandor Clegane and his other men. Nymeria and her pack had since left, trotting out through the open gate and slinking back into the wooded area around the castle. The direwolf would probably head back to either Robb or head back to Riverrun, where Arya still was. Harry had had no thoughts about traveling with the wolves and he hadn't thought they would actually go with him but he had seen a glimpse of another mind riding in Nymeria's body while they were fighting.

Even if Arya's body was in Riverrun safe and sound, she had been taking revenge either way.

"Let's set up camp outside the castle for now," Harry remarked, raising his voice just a little to carry over the crowd of men. "I'm going to do some remodeling and such before we can settle in. Clegane, what are your plans? Did the king ask you to head back to him after taking the Dreadfort?"

The men began to whisper between themselves and Harry walked over to Sandor, raising an eyebrow. The Hound's sword was still bloody, dripping with red sludge. The bodies of the Bolton guardsmen had been piled together in a corner of the courtyard, away from the bodies of their own men and Harry would see to it that they got buried away from the castle altogether.

"I'm staying," Sandor replied, wrinkling his nose as smoke trailed through the air. Someone had already started a fire and Harry noted it, spared a glance to the men who had dragged over tree stumps to sit on. "The little bird will need a sworn shield."

Harry blinked but nodded. "Fine. Go, set up camp outside."

"Where you going?"

"Kennels. There's someone I need to see to."

"Greyjoy? He in there?"

"Yes." Harry turned around and headed back over to the kennel door. He had left it open after bringing Ramsay's body out and the sounds of the dogs could be heard throughout the castle. He idly wondered what Ramsay had fed them and the smells caught up to him a minute later, the smell of dried blood. He winced, the image of the flayed man in his mind and decided he didn't want to know. Ramsay Snow and Roose Bolton were dead and House Bolton was extinct.

He walked into the aisle between cages, padding quietly through the dirt covered floor and stopped at the last cage. "Theon?"

The body in the cage was covered in rags but it was moving, twitching as if in pain. Harry waved his hand over the cage lock and pulled it open with a loud thud. Theon Greyjoy, the man that most northerners had taken to calling the turncoat, lay at the back of the small cage, curled into the fetal position. Theon was shivering violently and whimpering and tried to make himself smaller the second he saw Harry.

His hair was limp against his skull and white. From what Harry could see of both of Theon's feet, he had lost two toes and all of his toenails. Dried blood covered almost every inch of him and a patch of raw skin covered his left shoulder and Harry's stomach roiled, attempted to bring up the last meal he had had.

"Theon? Ramsay's dead," Harry whispered, reaching into one of his pockets and drawing out a spare cloak.

"Reek. It's Reek," Theon muttered hoarsely, clutching his head and rolling. "Rhymes with freak."

Harry stopped, feeling the blood in his face drain at the word. Freak. "Theon…"

He sighed and closed the distance between them and knelt, wrinkling his nose at the smell that wafted off of Theon.

"No! No! Don't…" Theon whispered, batting out with his hands.

He had lost all of his fingernails too and one finger and most of the skin on another. "Easy. Not going to hurt you. Let's get you out of here, hmm?"

Theon shook more violently and Harry slowly reached over, placed the cloak on the floor next to Theon. He slowly and gently pushed Theon over onto the cloak and then scooped him up from there, holding the man in a bridal carry. Theon tried to fight him, kicked out once before falling limp against him, his breathing slowing.

Harry winced and stepped out of the cage, wrapping the cloak further around Theon and headed out of the kennels.