Harry grunted as he blocked a strike from Jon. Swatting the wooden sword away and putting enough pressure on his arm, he made for a sweeping swing. Jon was unfortunately far too canny and saw through his move miles away. His half brother ducked under the swipe and caught Harry with the tip of the wooden sword to his neck.

"I win." Jon crowed happily.

Harry shook his head and stepped back from Jon's swordpoint as his half-brother began jumping around celebrating the victory.

"Finally! This is over." harrumphed Harry, letting go of the wooden sword he promptly sat down on the snow-covered floor.

Jon paused celebrating.

"Over! What do you mean? Let's do it again." Jon crouched down and leaned towards Harry.

Harry sensed a hint of whining from Jon so he flicked his brother's nose.

"Ow!"

"Stop being a baby. Now, let's wrap it up. All this fighting has made me thirsty." said Harry, before reaching for a small flask riddled with Saxon runes.

It was one of his cleverest inventions in this world. Before leaving Winterfell he had the flask cast using some spare steel. Then, on the journey, he would carve the runes to filter and heat the liquid inside. Of course, it became abundantly clear that getting water on their journey was becoming increasingly difficult. Most of the time they had to melt snow to get water.

So, Harry came up with a simple solution. He tirelessly carved out runes whenever they stopped to rest. Until finally, he completed a runestone littered with spatial and instant transportation runes. Connecting two blocks of runes and transferring matter through space and time is the pinnacle of runework. But, this form of runework was no recent discovery. The Room of Requirement functions on the same runework Harry was using on the flask and the runestone. Although, such a comparison was frankly quite insulting to Rowena Ravenclaw's work. The Room of Requirement was frankly one of the greatest magical achievements by a witch in the history of the magical world.

Anyway, Harry's admittedly humble knowledge about spatial runes allowed him to construct a runestone that could suck water from a water source and transfer it instantly to his steel flask. The runes on the flask ensured Harry's access to clean and warm water by filtering and warming the water of all impurities. Intertwining a bottomless charm to the flask with the runes ensured an infinite supply of clean water for as long as the runes are charged.

Harry opened the flask and took a swig. The warm water trickled down his throat making Harry let out an appreciative sigh. His throat has been feeling itchy for some time now and the warm water provided a momentary respite to that issue. Harry threw a look to the east where the Long Lake lay covered with sheets of ice floating around. Summer may have come to Westeros but the North remained ushered in winter.

Summer snow, the people of the North called it.

Well, Harry appreciated the water of the Long Lake. It was certainly sweet and he could enjoy it for a long time seeing as he dropped the runestone deep under the depths of the lake.

Unfortunately, all the ruckus Jon made attracted uncle Benjen's attention. The man has taken a vow to teach Harry the 'glory' of swordplay. Harry was quite sure that was not going to make any traction with him. After all, who wants to wave around a piece of metal like some barbarian when he has the power to alter the reality itself. With nary a thought, he could turn these swords into butterflies. Even with his diminished magic, he would have the advantage against any army in this world.

In Harry's eyes, swordplay is not suited for him. There was no rational reason for him to learn swordplay especially when his combat style revolved around his magic. Sure, he was a dab hand at making weapons but that doesn't mean he was a sword enthusiast. His experimentation with incorporating magic into muggle metallurgy was to build better body armour. Forging swords were just a hobby he picked up. Swords played no tactical advantage in dealing with the muggles of his planet.

Now, bow and arrow is more his speed.

There was a certain elegance to the bow and he could incorporate magic into the arrows. In fact, he had seen many French wizards use this method after magic started disappearing from the people due to radiation.

"Up you get Harrion. Before this journey concludes I'll make a competent swordsman out of you." said Benjen, an unusual gruff tone taking over the youngest son of Rickard Stark.

"You should focus on Jon. He is the one with interest in swordplay." said Harry, trying to bring in Jon and escape what's obviously going to be a lecture about the traditional importance of swordplay and whatnot.

"You can't avoid these lessons nephew. Knowing your way around a sword is a necessary part of your education as a noble. How else are you going to defend yourself from your enemies? How are you going to stand by your brother's side when he becomes the Lord of Winterfell?" said Benjen.

Harry barely resisted an eye roll.

"Does a King need to learn farming for him to fill his belly with food? Does a lord need to be a musician to enjoy music?" Harry asked which gave Benjen pause. "Similarly, I don't need to learn swordplay to defend myself or my family. I can do that with my magic."

"Really? You can defend yourself with your magic?" Benjen asked sceptically.

"I can." Harry answered.

Upon seeing the sceptical look on his uncle's face Harry shifted tactics.

"Tell you what? We can make a wager out of this. You can use any weapon you want and all you have to do is to touch my skin. If you can manage that then I'll stop complaining and start learning swordplay in earnest." Harry offered, making Benjen raise his eyebrow incredulously.

"You will start taking the lessons seriously and stop complaining if I can touch you using any weapon?" Benjen asked curiously.

"You don't even have to use a weapon to touch me. Use whatever you want. If you manage to touch me someway then you would win the wager and I'd be a good student. However, if I win you shall no longer bother me in this matter uncle. Do we have a deal?"

Benjen was a little bit perturbed by the confidence in Harrion's eyes. Nonetheless, he was committed to seeing through this wager. Besides, it's not as if his nephew was proposing an impossible task.

"Alright." Benjen shrugged before taking the wooden sword Harrion had left on the ground.

Harry eyed his uncle from his seated position. He could feel the eyes of the guards directed in his general direction as well. He knew he should not be doing this but if he could just stop all the nagging about learning swordplay he could focus a lot of his time on his magic.

As his uncle made to tap Harry with the tip of the wooden sword Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hand. In the blink of an eye, the wooden sword in Benjen Stark's hand turned into a pair of white lilies. He loved transfiguration. It was one of his go-to branches of magic while dealing with the muggles of his world.

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Harry laughed before he applied the sticking charm to his uncle's feet making the man stuck on the ground and unable to move forward. He watched on with amusement as his uncle tried in vain to dislodge himself from the ground to no avail.

"That fancy sword of yours is no good if it can't match my speed of thought. Now you see why I don't bother with swordplay."

While Harry was focused on his struggling uncle he was not blind to the reactions of the guards watching the events unfold. Before this moment, he had never used his magic as a weapon least of all before an audience. He was more than aware there was going to be a fundamental change in how these people were going to view him.

But, Harry was not as concerned as he was before. He was cautious thus far only because his magic was fragile. But, that's no longer the case.

Of course, Harry was horribly weak compared to his prime moments in his world. However, in this world his present level of magic was more than enough to defend himself should the worst happen. The power ring he constructed and the runic blocks he carved to stem the drain of magic from his body were working far better than he hoped. Harry could already feel enough magic at his fingertips for a Fiendfire curse if he pushed hard enough. It'll certainly be a challenge to sustain the curse nonetheless he was confident his magic was improving day by day.

As such, Harry felt it was time to slowly display his power and let the people slowly adjust to him over time. There was no point in keeping the true extent of his magic hidden. Hiding was the mistake his people did on Earth. No matter how hard one tries to hide, truth has a way of getting exposed to the world. It may take a long time but truth tends to materialize in the most unexpected ways.

Taking the faults of his world into consideration, Harry believed it was better to confront the world rather than hide the nature of his magic. He was fully aware there were going to be issues and it'd be a tremulous journey ahead. However, this struggle was part of life and he theorized the decadence of the wizarding folk started when they gave up the struggle. Wizards had struggled with Dementors, giants, werewolves, vampires, goblins and other magical creatures. These struggles had left the wizards and witches in a position to coexist with magical creatures without compromising their society. If his people had shown the same resilience with muggles early on then it was likely his world would have been better off.

Anyway, what happened has happened. Despite being the recipient of the Deathly Hallows and achieving a higher state of connection with magic, he had his limits.

'Master of Death! A pretentious and misleading title.' Harry thought.

Further thoughts were put aside for the moment when his attention shifted to the edge of a long line of trees near the Long Lake. There was something moving between the trees at a rapid pace.

Harry was not the only one to take notice. The guards around him also had their attention on the cover of trees. They didn't have to wait long before the culprit stepped out from the trees.

Harry was expecting some wild animal instead it turned out to be a man in his early twenties. The strange thing was the man was running towards them with terror written all across his face. The guards around Harry were quick to react and they took up their weapons fearing this was a bandit attack of some sort. It only took a few moments to disprove this assumption.

"Help! Help me! Please help!" the man screamed as he ran as if his life was on the line.

It was then Harry noticed a pair of golden eyes from the shade provided by the lines of trees. Without a doubt, it was a predator and was most likely assessing whether it should give chase to its prey. It clearly did not perceive them as a threat because it stepped out of the shadows and chased after the running man.

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the form of a wolf with black fur. It looked like a giant mass of darkness with bright golden eyes. It was far bigger than a hunting hound and it was quick on its feet.

The guards around Harry were only momentarily stunned before they spurred into action. The two archers in his company readied their bows and took careful shots at the wolf. Unfortunately, the arrows never met their mark but they certainly forced the wolf to break its pace allowing the fleeing man to put more distance from the wolf. The archers continued to target the wolf but to no success. The wolf became visibly agitated because of its inability to capture its prey.

It began to switch from trying to approach linearly in favour of circling the perimeter and carefully making measured inroads. Over time, the wolf began to close the distance making the guards worry. At a crucial moment when it looked like the wolf was going to come dangerously close, Harry decided to step in.

The power ring in his hand pulsed with magical power as the spell in his mind took effect. Harry applied the levitation charm and suddenly the wolf was lifted straight up into the air. He quickly reinforced the spell with a Levicorpus which dangled the wolf by its hind legs. The archers made to finish off the wolf but Harry nipped that in the bud by disarming those archers.

"Don't harm it." Harry ordered sharply.

In all sense, the guards were not required to take his orders. He was just a six-year-old kid in their eyes. But, he was also a Stark and he was no simple ordinary kid. The only ordinary kid nearby was Jon who was hiding behind Benjen Stark while throwing fearful looks at the wolf.

"Harrion, stop! Don't go near that. It's a direwolf." Benjen warned.

Harry moved ever closer to the wolf despite the protests from his uncle. His interest was piqued by this latest revelation. Direwolves were a rarity beyond south of the Wall. At least, that's what Maester Luwin said. The Stark banner has a grey direwolf so he was naturally curious about the creature during one of the lessons.

The direwolf struggled in mid-air as Harry closed in. Its efforts were in vain as his spell held strong despite its struggles. He could see the fear in its eyes and it began to let out pitiful whines as it struggled to free itself.

All of a sudden Harry's grey eyes locked on to the yellow eyes of the direwolf. The world suddenly shifted and Harry's perception changed. He found his senses heightened as he could hear multiple heartbeats. He could hear the breath of every living creature in his immediate vicinity. Most of all, he could see himself from the eyes of the direwolf. It was a jarring experience and he could feel an alien anxiety and the frenzy of hunger clawing at his mind. There were other primal instincts that were trying to claw at his mind but he whacked them down quickly by reinforcing his Occlumency barriers.

Harry suppressed his emotions and the frenzy that he felt subsided. All of a sudden, his perception returned when a sharp pain flared up on the back of his head.

"Ow." Harry yelped.

Harry rubbed the back of his head. It felt like someone threw a stone at the back of his head. Turning around, he faced his uncle who had his arms extended out.

"Did you just throw a stone at me?" he asked incredulously.

"I did. You just lost the wager and most importantly undo whatever you have done with my legs."

Harry was fairly tempted to let his uncle suffer through the indignity of getting bested by a six-year-old. But, that'd be childish of him. So, reluctantly Harry undid the sticking charm.

"I should have used the full body-bind curse." Harry muttered gloomily.

"Now, what should be done with this creature?" Benjen wondered out loud smarting from getting stuck on the ground.

"No one's killing it." Harry made his opinion known.

The direwolf might be a dangerous creature but he was reluctant to see it killed.

"The direwolf is a symbol of House Stark. It is a sign from the Old Gods. Clearly, our journey is being watched by the ancient spirits of the forest." Harry subtly added, measuring his words to push the right amount of religious sentiment to suit his needs.

"You be a Stark milord?" asked the man whom Harry and by extension, the whole company of his men, saved from a gruesome death at the jaws of the direwolf.

Harry eyed the man who wore only rags for clothes. The man had barely any clothes. There was not even a pair of trousers to cover the man's legs. Harry wondered just how the man survived this biting cold till now dressed as he is.

"Aye. My name is Harrion Stark. I'm Lord Eddard Stark's second son." Harry introduced himself, taking in the tired and frankly malnutritioned visage of the man he saved.

The man fell to his knees with his forehead touching the ground.

"Please help us, milord. Only the Magnar of Winterfell can help us."

'Well, isn't that just nice?' Harry thought.

XXXXXXXX

Bloodraven pulled out from the ravens circling near the Long Lake. He was quite satisfied with how things turned out. He was not quite sure how Harrion Stark would take to the little gift he sent the boy's way but it turned out his worries were unfounded. The young Stark took the direwolf alive. Of course, there was also the worry something unsavoury might occur to the boy.

While Bloodraven remained confident in his abilities to control the creature should the worst happen he had committed mistakes in the past. He had mucked up when it came to Euron Greyjoy and the madman was out there piecing together the grand old puzzle towards unspeakable power. A power that should have stayed dead after the egress of the Dawn Age.

Unfortunately, due to his mishandling, a madman now was set loose on the world. There will come a time when he'd have to own up to the monster he made but there was time.

For now, his focus was on grooming the Stark boy for the threat beyond the Wall. In his stead, the world would need a powerful skinchanger. Who else but a Stark or Blackwood can fulfil such a role? After all, their blood ran thick with the blood of the First King.

"Grow, Harrion Stark. Grow. When your wings grow as long as they can, you shall fly."