359Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own any part of the Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter universes That includes but is not limited to the characters, locations, … Who knew.
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Prologue: Winterfell Is Just Down the Road
All it took was one moment. Harry choses to take control of his life and ends up in a medieval magical world. When the war begins all of Westeros will come to learn of the Winter Wizard. Winter is Coming. Harry & Daenerys
Harry's pulse thundered in his ears as the world blurred around him. He ducked beneath a whirling curse, his wand flying up to shield himself from another incoming spell that he saw out of the corner of his eye. Yet, no matter how much he squinted around, he couldn't make out any of the faces of his attackers. They were all indistinct shadows, as if whatever they were wearing distorted them into unrecognizable blurs. His breath came in ragged gasps as panic caused his chest to tighten. As he jumped out of the way of another spell he didn't know where he was or how he had gotten here. Every spell he cast, every dodge, felt like he was only buying himself time.
Suddenly, the world seemed to shift and the background cleared up. To his shock, he found himself standing in front of the Veil, its ragged fabric fluttering ominously, despite the lack of any discernible breeze. He turned around, heart hammering in his chest, as a familiar voice echoed through the chamber.
"Did you really think you could escape, Potter?"
Bellatrix. The sound of her cackling laughter filled the air, sending shivers down Harry's spine. He whirled around just in time to see her raise her wand, the words that haunted his nightmares spilling from her lips.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The world seemed to slow. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the jet of green light hurtled toward him. He threw himself to the side, trying to dodge, but it was too fast. The light filled his vision, and then—nothing.
Everything went black.
He wasn't sure how long he lingered there in that void, frozen in nothingness. There was no sensation of time passing, no sound, no sight, no feeling. It was like being suspended in a dreamless sleep, unable to move, think, or act. But then, just as suddenly as it had come, the emptiness shattered.
A rush of sensation surged through him—air, warmth, the feel of solid ground beneath his body. Harry gasped, his eyes flying open. Above him he saw a wide expanse of blue sky, and the faint rustling of leaves echoed in his ears. He sat up abruptly, heart pounding, and looked around.
He was in the middle of a forest.
Confusion washed over him like a wave. The trees around him were tall and unfamiliar, some of them twisted and gnarled in ways that made no sense. There were no signs or clues to tell him where he was, and no hint of any magical or non-magical landmarks he might recognize.
Harry staggered to his feet, turning in a slow circle as he tried to get his bearings. It felt like he had been dropped in the middle of nowhere, and panic flared in his chest. He couldn't stay here, wherever here was.
Taking a step forward, his hand brushed against his pocket instinctively—and found it empty. His wand. Harry's heart stopped. His wand wasn't there.
Panic surged in full force now as he whirled back toward the spot where he had been lying. He dropped to his knees, frantically searching the ground and brushing aside leaves and twigs, his breath catching in his throat. After what felt like an eternity, his fingers grazed something solid and smooth beneath a bush.
His wand.
He let out a long sigh of relief, clutching the wand tightly in his hand as though it were going to flee. Without it, he felt naked and vulnerable, a feeling that was only magnified by the unfamiliar location combined with not knowing how he got here. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to stay calm. The forest stretched out in both directions along a narrow trail, offering no clear indication of where he should go.
With no better plan, Harry decided to follow the trail. It had to lead somewhere—or from somewhere. Either way, it was better than standing still in the middle of what might be nowhere. He set off down the path, moving quickly but warily, his eyes scanning the trees for any signs of danger.
As the hours passed, Harry's unease grew. He had walked for most of the day, yet there was no sign of civilization, no houses, no magical villages, not even a signpost. The forest seemed endless, its trees towering over him, their twisted branches casting long shadows on the ground as the sun began to set. The unfamiliarity of the place gnawed at him, a constant reminder that something was deeply wrong.
By the time night fell, Harry felt utterly exhausted. He found a small clearing just off the trail and, with little choice, decided to make camp. Gathering a small pile of sticks, he cast "Incendio," and a warm fire sprang to life. He huddled near the flames, grateful for the warmth as the temperature plummeted.
Even with the magical fire, the chill of the night bit through his robe, and hunger gnawed at his stomach, but Harry had no food. He wasn't even sure where he was, let alone how he would find anything edible in this forest.
Staring into the fire, Harry tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered the fight, the veil, Bellatrix, and then ... nothing. Where was he? That last that went through his head as he lay down by the fire, looking at the sky above, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, was why did the stars overhead look so unfamiliar.
Before drifting off, Harry forced himself to cast a proximity alarm spell. If someone—or something—came near the clearing, he would know. Once confident in the spell, he began to close his eyes, staring up at the unfamiliar constellations and trying not to think about how far away from home he might be.
When sleep finally claimed him, it was restless, filled with vague dreams and dark figures lurking just beyond his reach. He had no idea how long he slept, but he was jolted awake by the sudden activation of his proximity spell.
His hand darted for his wand, every muscle tense. He listened, straining to hear any sound in the stillness of the forest. After a few seconds, he heard it—a branch snapping, followed by a muffled curse from the far end of the clearing.
Harry froze, his heart racing. The figure in the shadows must have seen him tense, for suddenly, all pretense of stealth was abandoned. The intruder broke into a sprint, charging straight for Harry, a stone knife raised in the air.
Harry's breath hitched. A knife? He barely had time to process the sight before him before instinct kicked in. His wand snapped up, and he shouted, "Stupefy!"
The stunning spell shot from his wand in a burst of red light, hitting the man square in the chest. The figure crumpled to the ground, the knife clattering uselessly beside him.
For a long moment, Harry sat frozen in place, his wand still raised, his chest heaving. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? Why had he attacked? And why would someone that was attacking him he using a stone knife of all things, rather than magic?
After a couple of seconds to calm his breath, Harry slowly got to his feet and made his way cautiously over to the stunned man, his eyes scanning the trees for any sign of others who might be lurking nearby. The forest remained eerily still, the only sound being the faint rustling of leaves in the early dawn breeze.
When he finally reached the man, Harry knelt down, his wand ready. He hesitated before rolling the man over, unsure of what he might find. The man's face was grimy, his hair matted and tangled. His clothes were rough, worn, and patched in places, reminding Harry of something he'd once seen on television once when the Dursley's had been out—a documentary about medieval Britain. On top of his appearance, the man smelled like he hadn't washed in years, a pungent mix of dirt, sweat, and something else Harry couldn't quite place.
Harry shook his head, pushing past the revulsion, and began searching through the man's pockets, hoping to find something that would tell him where he was. As his fingers rummaged through the worn fabric, he found nothing remotely useful—just a handful of copper and silver coins, some tough, dried strips of meat that looked like jerky, and a couple waterskins that after taking a smell seemed to contain the worst smelling beer he had ever smelled. Unfortunately for him, there was no wallet, no identification, nothing that pointed to where this man might be from or who he was.
Straightening up, Harry took a step back, more confused than ever. He glanced around the clearing again, but there was still no sign of anyone else. It seemed the man had been alone. Harry raised his wand, casting "Incarcerous." Thick ropes sprang into existence, winding around the man's body. He let out a sigh of relief when the bindings settled, glad to have the attacker under control for now.
As Harry looked up, he noticed the first rays of sunlight creeping into the clearing. Dawn had arrived, and with it came a growing sense of urgency. He needed answers. Where was he and how had he ended up here?
Turning back to the man, Harry steeled himself. He didn't like the idea of waking him up, but there was a chance the man had answers. With a flick of his wand, he cast "Enervate."
The man's eyes flew open, darting around frantically before landing on Harry. He struggled against the ropes, the veins in his neck straining as he fought to free himself. After a few moments, he gave up, realizing the bindings weren't going to budge. His gaze locked onto Harry's.
"What do you want?" the man spat, his voice thick with an accent Harry couldn't place. "Where's your friend that knocked me out?"
Harry blinked in surprise. "Friend? It's just me," he said, holding up his wand.
The man stared at the wand in confusion before letting out a rough, humorless laugh. "That's what you're threatening me with? A stick?"
Harry frowned. The man's reaction was odd, and it dawned on him that based on his reaction to Harry's wand, this might be a Muggle.
Realizing it wasn't worth trying to explain magic, Harry put his wand away and focused on getting answers. "Where am I?" he asked, trying to keep his tone steady and calm.
The man glared at him, jaw set stubbornly. He wasn't going to cooperate easily. "Why should I tell you anything?" the man growled.
Harry sighed, frustration building. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. I just need to know where I am. Where's the nearest town or city?"
But this time, he remained silent only shaking his head angrily at Harry, his lips pressed into a thin line. For a second, Harry thought he wouldn't say anything at all. Then, just for a moment, the man's eyes flicked toward the east.
It was subtle, but Harry caught the movement. The man wasn't going to tell him, but his glance had betrayed him.
Harry took a step back, shaking his head. "Fine," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "Don't answer me. I'll leave drop your knife at the other end of the clearing. You should be able to make your way over to it and cut yourself free eventually. But I'm taking your coins and your food. Don't follow me. If you come after me again, it won't end well for you."
The man's eyes flared with anger at the mention of the theft, but after a moment, he reluctantly nodded. He must have realized there wasn't much else he could do.
Harry bent down and pocketed the handful of coins and the jerky. It wasn't much, but it would help. As he turned away, he glanced back at the man one last time, ensuring the ropes were still securely in place. Without another word, Harry started walking down the path toward the west, just in case the man planned to follow him once he eventually managed to free himself. After several minutes he walked into the forest and cut back paralled to the path, before making his way back onto it well past where the clearing had been, determined to find whatever town or settlement lay ahead.
The trail was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds. Harry's mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything. The man's medieval-looking clothing, the strange coins, the lack of any clear sign of where he was—none of it made sense.
Harry made his way down the path for the better part of the day, only stopping to eat the jerky, which disappeared faster than he wished, and twice when he crossed small streams to fill the waterskin, which he had very quickly emptied in disgust after he had taken one drink. He cast a quick purification spell on the water each time—he didn't want to risk falling ill in an unfamiliar forest. As the sun began to sink lower, casting long shadows through the trees, Harry felt the first stirrings of hope when he saw several thin plumes of smoke rising in the distance.
Judging by the amount of smoke trails, he guessed there was a village nearby. He quickened his pace, eager to reach some semblance of civilization. By the time the sun had disappeared entirely, Harry's guess was rewarded. As he crested a ridge, the village came into view.
But what lay before him wasn't anything he could have anticipated.
It was a small, medieval town. The buildings were incredibly simple, with thatched roofs made of straw, and their wooden walls were worn and patched in places. Surrounding the village was a stone wall, and in the center of the settlement, rising well above the rest of the buildings, was a castle. It wasn't anywhere near the size of Hogwarts, but it was unmistakably a castle—complete with stone walls, battlements, and even a couple watchtowers.
Harry stared in disbelief. Where was he? This couldn't possibly be anywhere in the modern world, not even in some obscure, isolated part of the UK. There was no sign of electricity, no roads, no cars—nothing.
He stood there for several minutes, trying to process it all, but his mind refused to cooperate. The more he stared, the more surreal everything felt.
Realizing it was far too late to approach the village now, he retraced his steps to a clearing he'd passed earlier. There, he set up a small fire for warmth and cast the proximity alarm spell again before settling down for another night of restless sleep. Thankfully, it was far less disturbed than the previous night, and Harry woke to find the sun already high in the sky, warming the clearing with a golden light. Judging by the position of the sun, it was likely about midday.
Harry quickly got up and made his way back toward the village. As he came over the ridge again, he noticed a steady stream of people entering and exiting through the gates on the south side of the settlement. Most of them led small carts pulled by horses, laden with goods—mostly what appeared to be animals, grain, or wood. He squinted, trying to make out more details.
The gate was guarded by two men, both carrying swords and shields emblazoned with what looked to be a coat of arms: a battle axe set against a silver or grey background. Harry swallowed hard. This wasn't just some reenactment or historical village. This looked real—these were people who lived this way.
With no other options, Harry made his way down to the line of people waiting to enter. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, hoping to blend in. As he passed through the gates, his heart hammered in his chest, but the guards barely glanced at him. Their eyes lingered only long enough to assess whether he was a threat, and then they turned their attention to the next person in line. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and quickly stepped to the side, leaning against a wall to get his bearings.
The village was bustling with activity. The streets were narrow and lined with wooden stalls, where vendors shouted their wares to passersby. Farmers unloaded sacks of grain, a blacksmith hammered away on an anvil, and children darted between the legs of adults, laughing as they played. It was a scene straight out of a history book.
Harry took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. He needed answers. But how could he even begin to ask the right questions in a place like this?
He smiled faintly, an idea forming. If this really was a medieval town, there would almost certainly be a tavern or pub. If he could find one, he might be able to eavesdrop on some conversations or ask a few questions without drawing too much attention to himself, while pretending to be a wandering traveler.
Following the flow of people deeper into the village, Harry soon spotted what he was looking for—a large wooden building with a sign above the door. The sign depicted a beer stein and what looked to be a plate of food carved into the wood, a universal symbol for a tavern if ever there was one.
Harry's stomach growled at the sight, and he realized how hungry he was. The jerky he had gotten earlier was long gone, and the smells wafting from the tavern made his mouth water. Steeling himself, he approached the door, pushing it open with a creak.
Inside, the tavern was dimly lit, with low wooden beams overhead and a stone hearth in the center of the room, casting a warm glow. Rough wooden tables were scattered throughout the space, most of them occupied by villagers eating, drinking, and talking in low voices. Harry kept his hood up as he made his way to an empty table in the corner, sliding into a seat with his back to the wall.
Just as he settled and tried to gather his thoughts, a young serving girl, maybe a couple of years younger than him, approached his table. She had curious eyes and a kind but puzzled expression. "What'll it be ... my lord? … Ser?" she asked hesitantly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Harry blinked in surprise, staring up at her. "My lord? Ser?" he repeated, confused.
The girl motioned to his clothing. "We don't often see anyone as clean as you ... and your clothes—they're different from what we're used to."
Harry glanced down, realizing she was right. His clothing, though modest, stood out significantly among the rough-hewn tunics and coarse wool garments of the rest of the individuals in the tavern. He cursed under his breath for not considering how much his appearance would raise questions he had no way to answer.
Shaking his head slightly, he looked back at her. "I'm not a lord," he said with a soft chuckle, "just ... not from around here."
The girl stared at him, suspicion and curiosity battling in her eyes, but after a long pause, she simply nodded. "Right then. So, what would you like?" she repeated her earlier question, tilting her head as she waited for his answer.
Harry hesitated, unsure of what to ask for. "Uh, just some food and water, please," he said, his voice steady but careful.
She looked at him in confusion, her brow furrowing slightly. "No ale with your meal?" she asked, as though the idea of someone ordering food without ale was unthinkable.
Harry looked around again quickly, noticing that every person in the tavern had a large stein, apparently containing ale, in front of them. Feeling her staring at him, he looked back to her and slowly nodded. "Right. Ale, too, then."
The girl nodded, though she still seemed unsure about him, casting one last glance over her shoulder as she left to get his order. Harry took the moment to survey the room. The conversations around him were mostly mundane—talks of harvests, the hunt, and the latest news from the nearby farms. Nothing that would help him figure out where he was.
Eventually, the girl returned with a plate of bread, cheese, a small bowl of what looked like oatmeal, and a large mug of ale. Harry thanked her and began eating, keeping his ears open for anything that might give him any specifics. Unfortunately, all the talk was still just trivial matters that even the individuals in the tavern weren't excited for, save for a brief mention of an upcoming marriage, which was of no use to him. After a while, he tried the ale cautiously, finding it strong but drinkable unlike whatever it was his attacker had been carrying—though certainly nothing like butterbeer.
When he finished, the serving girl returned, this time with a brighter smile on her face. "Was there anything else you wanted?" she asked, standing beside the table.
Harry shook his head. "No, thank you. That was delicious."
She smiled again, looking pleased. "I'll make sure to let my mum know," she said, before adding, "Two coppers for the food and ale."
Harry nodded and handed her the coins. As she pocketed them, he pulled out two of the silver coins he had taken from the man in the forest and placed it on the table, hoping to gather more information. The moment her eyes fell on the coin, her face paled. Her gaze snapped back to him, her expression suddenly panicked.
"This ... this isn't that kind of place, my lord," she blurted, glancing around nervously. "But I could point you to somewhere more ... suitable if that's what you're looking for."
Harry stared at her, confused for a moment, before the realization dawned on him. He waved his hand quickly. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I just have a few questions."
The girl still looked suspicious, but she slowly nodded, watching him carefully.
"Where am I?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual.
The girl's brow furrowed again. "The tavern? This is The Wolf's Rest," she said slowly.
Harry shook his head, trying to clarify. "No, I mean ... what village or town is this?"
Understanding lit up her eyes as she realized what he meant. "Oh, this is Castle Cerwyn," she replied. "But where were you headed if you got so lost you don't even know where you are?"
Harry forced a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "I'm new to the area. Looking for opportunities," he said vaguely, trying to deflect her suspicion.
She stared at him for a long moment before asking, "You're from the south, then?"
Not knowing what else to say, Harry nodded.
The girl seemed to accept his answer, her face softening a little. "Well, if you're looking for opportunity, there's plenty of work for a healthy, strong man around here. But if you want to head down the Kingsroad, Winterfell's only a half day's ride north of here."
"Winterfell?" Harry asked, the name completely unfamiliar to him.
The girl's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Aye, Winterfell. It's the largest city in all of the North. It's the home of the Starks. You must be from pretty far south if you've never heard of it."
Realizing he was beginning to draw more attention from her than he wanted, Harry forced himself to stop asking questions. He gave her a grateful smile and slid the silver coins across the table toward her. "One last thing," he said. "Is there somewhere nearby where I can get supplies for the trip to Winterfell?"
The girl eyed the coins for a moment before slipping them into her pocket. "Aye, two doors down there's a shop where you can get clothes more suited for the North. They'll likely have other supplies too. And ... if you need food for the trip, my mum can prepare something for you before you leave."
"Thank you," Harry said, rising from his seat. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, gave her a nod, and made his way toward the door.
As he stepped back out into the chilly afternoon air, his mind whirled. Winterfell. Castle Cerwyn. None of these names meant anything to him. But he'd just learned one crucial thing: wherever he was, he was pretty sure he wasn't anywhere in his world.
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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it's the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.
Story Note 1 – This will be as canon compliant as I can make it, until events start changing. And this will definitely be a story where Harry's actions are going to start changing the plot almost immediately.
Story Note 2 – Besides changing the plot this isn't going to become an industrial revolution type story as even though Harry lived in a much more advanced time and has access to magic, I highly doubt he would have learned about important skills. Although I'm sure some basics stuck like the benefits of washing hands and food, and boiling water. Although to what extent that ends up getting incorporated by the rest of society … I guess we'll see.
Story Note 3 – For the most part Harry will attempt to try to not use magic in front of people as to this point he was concerned that these were muggles, but as he becomes more involved in society he will come to realize that the people of Westeros are not the most welcoming of individuals to things they do not understand. However, magic (and related practices) will still certainly be a large part of Harry's character. With the exception of apparition, I personally found that while it is very useful it is incredibly OP and any attempt to limit it comes across as contrived. So unfortunately for poor Harry he'll be stuck walking until he gets a horse. This however is a point I'd be willing to reconsider depending on feedback if a good reasoning is provided. But as of now will just avoid mentioning it.
Story Note 4 – As for how Harry ended up here ... That will be certainly come up in a relatively soon chapter. Which I'm sure leads to the follow up question of if he can go back … I guess we'll see.
A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.
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