The White Dragon - Wolves Tales. (Patreon)

Harry Potter, The Main Keep – Winterfell.

“So…are you sure about this?” Robb asked casually as the two of them walked through the corridors of the new Winterfell.

The Winterfell that should have always existed, vibrant and filled with magic, with its Wards operating at full power, an implacable magical stronghold of House Stark.

Before leaving for this…Wall he talked so much about, his brother had left a large number of wizards and witches at Lord Robb’s service, with the sole objective of completing the repairs, modernization, and fortification of the ancestral castle of his maternal family.

Including inner plumbing, to Harry's great relief.

And the young redhead had certainly taken advantage of it, Harry thought with amusement, as the two walked through the new and renovated central courtyard of the renewed castle.

All around them, there was no longer a single broken wall or tower. The fortress had been completely repaired, while the Ancient Stark Wards were slowly awakening from their long slumber.

The central courtyard had been expanded, as had the Family Fortress. Ten new towers had been erected, the outer moat had been expanded, and not only that, but Bill had used a kind of Egyptian runic stone, specifically designed to channel water through deep and dry deserts.

However, the brightest of the Weasleys, at the command of his even brighter brother, had carved seven modified runic monoliths, specifically designed to conjure and heat water, and had buried them in the moat surrounding Winterfell, flooding it. Not only that, but Robb, Aemon’s cousin, had ordered the construction of canals from the water in the moat directly toward Winter Town, which was also being rapidly modified and transformed.

In consequence, the Lands around the Fortress and City became fertile and ready to plow.

The old and sturdy castle Harry had known a couple of weeks ago had been completely transformed. Now it was something more akin to a Palace, although the inspiration of the original fortress had still been preserved.

The muddy courtyards had disappeared by Aemon’s order. Where there had once been shit and dirt, a beautiful layer of grass now proudly displayed itself. White Oak saplings rose proudly in the center of the new gardens, surrounded by bushes of winter roses. The Greenhouses, or as the locals called them, the Glass Gardens, had been fortified with magic and expanded with dozens of powerful enchantments. Aemon apparently was sparing no expense.

Although Harry could not blame him. A war was approaching, and his brother wanted Winterfell to be an implacable fortress before the war broke out.

And although Aemon’s orders were being carried out according to plan, not everything was functioning without difficulties, and proof of that was none other than Lord Robb.

“Shit,” Aemon’s cousin said while grimacing in discomfort and vigorously massaging his temples, stopping in the corridor on the way toward Winterfell’s main fortress.

Harry stopped and looked at him with a frown before asking.

“Headaches again?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The young Lord nodded with difficulty before shaking his head and answering.

“It’s…too much. The magic is overwhelming, you know? Every time another part of the castle awakens, it’s like my head is being punched from the inside,” Robb said with difficulty, shaking his head and blinking rapidly.

Harry nodded gently and replied.

“It’s understandable. Your body isn’t accustomed to magic, and unlike Aemon or me, you haven’t had the necessary time to grow accustomed to the sensation. It will pass with time, but it is imperative that your magical studies progress,” Harry said firmly, making Robb nod and sigh.

“I know, but…it’s rather complicated, you know? There’s so much to do. The Lords are coming for the Festival, and when they see the new Winterfell…”

Harry simply nodded, acknowledging the truth in the young redhead’s words.

“Aye, and that’s why we’re here. We still have matters pending in Midgard, but we’ll give you all the help we can,” Harry said solemnly, making Robb smile softly and nod gratefully.

“And House Stark is grateful for that, not only for the work on the Fortress, but also for the development of Winter Town,” Robb said with complete sincerity and solemnity.

And Harry understood.

The Coalition as a whole, seeing the obvious importance Aemon placed on his maternal family’s Fortress, had decided to make astronomical investments in the Stark lands and their surroundings.

Slowly transforming the small and decadent Winter Town into a proper city.

The muddy streets had disappeared, and paved roads, much wider and sturdier than before, now allowed products to be moved more quickly, not to mention the sheer amount of industry the Malfoys, the Perma, and the Delacours were planning for the enormous continent.

Even the Romanovs were more than interested in spending a considerable amount of gold, and judging by Natalia’s sister being present in Winterfell and the funny way she was looking at Robb sometimes, they were seeking a much closer relationship with the Starks of Winterfell.

But that was another story. Harry could not waste much more time. In a couple of days, he would have to return to Hogwarts for the tournament. He had many matters pending in England before he could leave everything behind for his new life.

“You should rest. You’ve been extremely stressed, and magic is like a muscle. If you don’t give it the necessary rest, you’ll end up hurting yourself,” Harry said, repeating the same words he had hypocritically ignored from Aemon and Sirius whenever he was perfecting some particularly complicated spell.

Robb merely sighed and nodded, rubbing his face.

“Aye, you’re right. I’m especially exhausted,” Robb said while grimacing, making Harry roll his eyes and respond.

“That’s enough. Go rest. I can finish adjusting the battlements. The Lords won’t take long to arrive, and you’ll need to rest,” Harry ordered firmly, and the young Stark was so exhausted that he simply nodded and replied.

“Aye, you’re right. Thank you, Lord Potter. I’ll take you at your word,” the young redhead said before nodding softly and beginning his walk toward the main fortress, leaving Harry completely alone.

Harry merely shook his head and continued toward the battlements. Fortifying the secondary Wards was not an urgent task, but it was something that needed to be done, and with Bill and the rest of the Curse-Breakers occupied with the Central Runestone of Winterfell, this task had fallen to Harry.

However, fate apparently did not want Harry to finish his tasks, because a moment later, a pair of young feminine laughs echoed through the corridors of Winterfell.

Laughter familiar to the young Lord Potter, who could only sigh resignedly just as Clarissa and Arya, both mounted on magical broomsticks, flew at full speed, evidently escaping from something or someone.

“HAHAHAHA! Don’t fall behind, second favorite! They’re going to catch you! HAHAHA!” Clarissa said smugly, while the little brat performed a somersault with her Silver Arrow.

Arya, for her part, frowned at the challenge from the Black heiress and recklessly replied.

“I’M JON’S FAVORITE SISTER, USURPER! And I can do everything you can, but better!” the young Stark said recklessly before trying to imitate the trick Clarissa had performed…

Only to lose control and fall from her broom directly toward the ground. Young Arya’s eyes widened before she let out a scream.

“AHHHHHG!” she screamed in fear, prompting Harry to intervene quickly.

His trusted wand flew into his hand with momentum, the spell emerging instinctively from the young Potter’s lips.

“Aresto Momentum!”

The spell stopped young Arya’s fall mere centimeters above the ground, much to the obvious relief of both Arya and Clarissa, who had turned around to try to stop Arya’s fall.

“May I ask what the two of you are doing?” Harry asked with amusement, though his expression was stern, as he slowly settled young Arya down and gently placed her on the ground.

Arya and Clarissa were obviously embarrassed, at least until the young Black stepped forward with an innocent and therefore completely fake smile.

“We were just having an innocent race toward Jon’s Tower! We didn’t do anything wrong, right, Arya?” Clarissa said sweetly, making the young Stark nod rapidly, although her eyes kept moving and looking toward the corridor from which the two had emerged.

“Uh-huh,” Harry said with amusement, obviously not believing a single word the little devil had said.

And to confirm it—

“ARYA!! COME HERE THIS INSTANT!!” a feminine voice roared, making the young Stark shudder in fear before looking embarrassedly toward Harry, just as Lady Stark, accompanied by Sansa, appeared from around the very corridor in question.

“Shit,” the young girl whispered extremely softly, swallowing hard as she instinctively hid behind Jon, while Clarissa laughed with obvious amusement and raised her broom, staying out of reach of the fury of the pair of redheads.

And when Harry looked at the pair of redheads, the young Lord Potter had to make a titanic effort not to burst into laughter at that moment.

Both Ladies, beautiful and elegant, with red hair and blue eyes…were completely soaked, their hairstyles and dresses ruined. Both women were trembling…

Whether from cold or fury, Harry did not know. To be honest, it could have been either.

“My Ladies,” Lord Potter said while clearing his throat, blushing slightly as he observed Sansa’s hard, small nipples showing through her wet silk dress.

At Harry’s words, both women’s attention focused on him, causing the two redheads to open their eyes in absolute surprise, their reactions rather interesting.

“My Lord!” Lady Catelyn said with obvious embarrassment, while Sansa blushed completely, letting out a squeak and shouting.

“Harry!” The embarrassment on Sansa’s face was obvious, making the beautiful redhead cover her generous breasts by crossing her arms, embarrassed by the state she was in.

Harry swallowed before clearing his throat and speaking again.

“Allow me to help you, my Ladies,” Harry said, and without waiting for a response, he moved his trusted wand, sending a warm and pleasant magical sensation toward the two Ladies, who let out a small surprised squeak before sighing in relief and pleasure as they felt their dresses and hairstyles become completely dry.

As if nothing had happened.

“Good as new,” Harry said elegantly while putting away his wand, and a surprised Arya emerged from behind Harry’s protection, dazzled and excited by the magic she had witnessed.

“That…was…INCREDIBLE!!! How did you do that? What spell is that?” Arya asked while bouncing excitedly in place, her gray eyes completely focused on Harry.

Harry merely smiled softly and replied.

“It’s a simple personal-care spell. Witches use it to dry and care for their hair,” Harry replied with a smile, making Arya look at him in surprise and open her mouth, ready to continue the conversation.

Until Lady Stark’s swift hand intervened, firmly pulling the young Lady by the ear.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” the mischievous little Stark whimpered, while Lady Catelyn looked at him with obvious gratitude in her eyes.

“Thank you for intervening, my Lord, as well as for your assistance in our…vulnerable state,” the beautiful but terrifying Lady said before taking the magical broom Arya had…acquired, and beginning to drag her toward the Main Fortress.

“You will be grounded until the day of the Festival! No more games or magical studies until further notice, young lady,” Lady Stark said fiercely, while young Arya complained and tried to negotiate, evidently without success.

Harry smiled and shook his head at the hilarious sight before raising his head and seeing Clarissa looking at him with obvious amusement and satisfaction in her eyes, while the young Black descended elegantly, still mounted on her broom.

“Well, that went well,” Clarissa said with obvious satisfaction, making Harry snort and roll his eyes, while Sansa discreetly approached Harry, taking his arm with the elegance of a Lady. She was blushing, but the satisfaction in her eyes was obvious.

“You planned this,” Harry said as a statement, making Sansa inhale sharply and Clarissa smile with false innocence before shrugging and replying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother. I would be incapable of making Arya soak her own mother, as well as planning her capture just to annoy her…that would be so…Slytherin of me. I would be incapable of such a mischief,” Clarissa said with false innocence before smiling and laughing at Sansa’s look of realization and Harry’s amused expression.

Lord Potter merely rolled his eyes and replied.

“Go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”

Clarissa rolled her eyes before replying.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry, if you want to stay alone so you can make out with Sansa, you only have to say so,” the little terror said, making Sansa let out a squeak of embarrassment and begin stammering.

“My Lady! I…I…” the redhead tried to say, completely embarrassed, looking toward Harry to see his reaction to Clarissa’s provocation.

Harry merely rolled his eyes and took Sansa by the waist, gently pulling her against his side, making the young redhead gasp in surprise, completely embarrassed, while Harry replied.

“I’m glad you understand, sister. We both want privacy. Why don’t you go bother Draco? From what I heard, he was recruiting locals with Lucretia for the Malfoy farms,” Harry said with a glint of amusement in his eyes, laughing loudly when he saw Clarissa’s expression fill with mischief and she began laughing to herself.

“Oh, what a wonderful idea, dear brother,” the Black maiden said before leaning forward on her broom and disappearing through one of Winterfell’s windows at full speed.

Draco would undoubtedly have a rather interesting and stressful afternoon.

Harry merely shook his head before focusing his gaze on Sansa, who was looking at him with dilated eyes and biting her lips, as if she were gathering the courage for something.

“Are you all right, Sansa?” Harry asked curiously, and young Potter received his answer an instant later when the innocent and beautiful redhead looked at him with determination, closed her eyes, rose onto her toes, and tilted her face toward Harry, raising her lips…as if she were expecting a…

Oh, he realized, seeing what the young redhead was waiting for.

Harry hesitated for an instant. However, young Sansa looked so…beautiful, so innocent, that Harry felt a strong impulse to protect her from the cruel world outside.

So, gently, Harry took Sansa’s face in his hands, making the redhead gasp in surprise, parting her lips softly…just as Harry kissed her lips with extreme delicacy and skill, acquired thanks to the countless kissing sessions he had shared with his witches.

“OHHHHHH,” Sansa moaned with pleasure as she wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pressed her body against Lord Potter’s without a shred of restraint, losing herself in the intense kiss they shared.

Sansa’s hands caressed Harry’s hair desperately, undoubtedly overwhelmed by the intense sensations she was experiencing, while Lord Potter’s hands held her firmly and dominantly by the waist.

Harry let out a growl of desire upon feeling Sansa’s nipples become hard as stones, rubbing against the Lord’s chest, until the redhead needed to breathe.

Their mouths separated, the heat of their bodies was unbearable, and lust was at its limit.

Harry looked with amusement as Sansa’s pupils were completely dilated, her body flushed.

“That was…” the redhead said, still breathless, so Harry continued.

“Intense and pleasurable,” Harry finished with a smile, which Sansa returned, still maintaining an outrageous closeness to Harry, evidently not wanting to separate even a single inch.

The beautiful redhead raised her gaze toward Harry, biting her lip, and asked softly, but with obvious desire.

“Can we do it again?” she asked hesitantly, but with a desire that threatened to consume the redhead.

Harry laughed softly and took Sansa’s face again, kissing her once more and drawing another moan from the lustful redhead, who this time massaged Harry’s chest with desperation and desire.

Immediately afterward, Harry separated from Sansa’s lips before giving her a sensual kiss on the neck, making the redhead let out the most guttural and needy moan he had ever heard.

With a satisfied smile, Harry leaned toward Sansa’s ear and spoke.

“I have work to do on the Battlements, my Lady…it will take me all afternoon, and…I will be completely alone, unless a beautiful Lady Stark decides to bless me with her presence,” Harry said with amusement on his face.

Sansa could not help but shudder. Harry and she alone…for hours…in the corners of Winterfell…

Gods, this was how so many of those lustful stories Beth occasionally shared with them began, so, biting her lip, the redhead replied almost breathlessly.

“Lead the way, my Lord,” she said needily, making Harry give her a smile before caressing her face again.

He only had a couple of days left in Winterfell, so he would live them to the fullest.

Who knew? Perhaps he would use Sirius’s Seduction Advice to officially become family with Aemon after all.

He had always liked redheads, after all.

Although the attentions of a certain blonde princess were not exactly unwelcome either, if he was being honest with himself.

He would think about that later. For now…it was time to enjoy Sansa’s attentions, who was even more eager than Harry, much to the young Lord’s amusement.

Eddard Stark, the Red Keep – King’s Landing.

“But my Lord! I…” the insolent man tried to say, daring to interrupt Eddard’s decree.

“You will obey. I did not ask for your opinion. You will organize Robert’s Tournament in the Old Targaryen Arena. That was not a question,” the Lord Hand said without hesitation and without stopping his writing on the parchment he was working on.

Renly, as was obvious, was going to protest. Robert’s younger brother frowned and replied.

“His Grace will not like this,” he said threateningly, making Ned roll his eyes and answer firmly.

“I don’t care. Obey. Move your useless men and clean the place. Meanwhile, I will have my northerners secure the docks, as well as the streets of Steel, Silk, and Grain. Three pennies will be charged per adult in the stands, a silver stag for the middle stands, and five gold dragons for the nobles, without exception. Announce that the prize will be one thousand gold dragons. I will make the King see reason about the stupid prizes he was promising,” Ned said with obvious disbelief at the order to give forty thousand gold dragons as a prize.

That fucking coin could feed half a continent for a year. It was more than many nobles had seen in their entire lives, which led Ned to the next important point.

Where the fuck did the little pest Baelish get the gold for these tournaments? And where did it go?

According to the reports, Robert’s double had held at least five tournaments in less than two years, all with extremely substantial rewards.

And every single one of the prizes…simply disappeared, along with whoever had obtained them.

It was obvious that something was happening, and he would get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

“Have you heard from your brother?” Ned asked simply.

And Renly replied by shaking his head.

“No. He has ignored the summons, Lord Hand,” the young Baratheon said, making Ned frown and reply.

“I understand. That will be all. Inform the Tyrells that I wish to speak with Lady Olenna as soon as they arrive. You may leave,” Ned ordered indifferently.

Renly froze for an instant, confirming Ned’s suspicions about the nature of Renly and Loras’s relationship, while the Lord nodded and left the office, leaving the Lord Hand completely alone, finishing the letter for Aemon.

The situation in King’s Landing was a fucking powder keg. The Stags and the Lions were at each other’s throats, Cersei was just as stupid as he had imagined, while Varys continued weaving his threads in the shadows.

Oh, the fucking spider was quite discreet, but the Wolf’s Blood within Ned allowed him to see things in a…different way than a normal person.

He could feel…people’s emotions, such as Varys amusement and lies whenever he claimed that his only interest was the well-being of the Realm.

Or when he sensed Baelish’s excitement whenever gold was brought up. The little pest practically salivated every time the word loan was mentioned, or even more interestingly, whenever a particular subject was brought up.

Bastards.

When Baelish heard Ned mention that word, for some reason, the man became filled with…anticipation, as if he could not wait for something to happen, and Ned did not have to be a genius to know the intentions of the disgusting leech.

Oh, but he would take care of the pathetic creature, and to do so, Ned was waiting for his next guest, someone who, he was certain, would make the plans of both the spider and Baelish go straight to the seven hells.

Ned finished writing the letter to his King, placing it on the enchanted tray and watching, still as astonished as the first time, as it disappeared instantly, being sent to another similar one, directly toward the Wall.

Toward his beloved son.

Ned was still looking at the entire matter of magic with disbelief. Robb had sent him a message telling him about all the changes taking place in his beloved home, all the wealth and blessings Aemon and his allies had brought to the North.

He spoke of an entirely different Winterfell, wealth never seen before, food and work for everyone in abundance.

He could hardly wait to see it, if he was being honest with himself, to imagine his home in its new and magical splendor…

Very soon, Ned thought, just as Jory appeared at his door and said.

“My Lord, the Queen has arrived,” his guard said, making Ned nod softly and reply.

“Let her in,” Lord Stark said, at the same time raising the runestone Aemon had given him and striking it twice against the wooden surface of the desk.

Supposedly, that would ensure that the conversation he was about to have was completely secret.

A moment later, the door opened softly, revealing the sight of Cersei Lannister in all her splendor, Queen Cersei Lannister herself.

“Lord Stark,” the woman said calmly. Her eyes looked calculating, but Ned had ruled long enough to recognize the suspicion and fear in those emerald orbs.

“Your Grace,” he said politely, as the Queen walked firmly into the office, looking around with interest, undoubtedly trying to find something she could use against him.

Ned stifled a snort at the transparent woman. It was…sad that she considered herself a player, to be honest, although Ned would not judge her so harshly.

If it were not for his magical advantage, he would most likely be just like her.

However, to the misfortune of his enemies, Ned was about to make a move that would send the plans of both the spider and Baelish straight to hell.

One that had, evidently, been the brilliant idea of his nephew.

The Queen walked in silence, sitting expectantly in front of Ned. The absence of any comment about the office or any insult toward Ned made it clear how nervous she was.

But that would change in an instant.

“Your Grace, we are in danger,” Ned said with false solemnity, enjoying inwardly the way the Queen’s surprised eyes widened for an instant before she composed herself and spoke.

“I’m afraid…I do not understand you, Lord Stark,” she said somewhat arrogantly, now much calmer, but still expectant.

So Ned prepared the final strike.

“I have discovered that Lord Baelish has been spreading lies and terrible calumnies about Prince Joffrey’s legitimacy, to such an extent that even Prince Stannis has doubted his own nephews, and both of them plan to dispose of Prince Joffrey as soon as Robert dies,” Lord Winterfell said solemnly, analyzing each of Cersei’s reactions.

There was fear at the mention of Joffrey as a bastard, confirming his suspicions about the nature of that claim. There was relief at seeing that Ned believed they were merely calumnies, and there was also disproportionate fury toward Baelish and Stannis for daring to steal what belonged to her son.

By the Old Gods, this was easy, Ned thought incredulously, while keeping his expression serene and waiting for the Queen’s response.

“Those…are very serious accusations, my Lord,” the woman said, recovering some of her arrogance now that she believed Ned was unaware of the true nature of her offspring.

And now, it was time for the grand finale.

“And not only that, but the little pest has also been stealing from the Crown for years,” Ned said as he placed his hand over the thick accounting books he had…confiscated…from Baelish’s brothels.

And Ned could only smile inwardly when he saw fury and indignation invade the Queen’s gaze as she gave the Lord Hand her full attention.

“What do you have in mind to deal with this impertinent creature, my Lord? If you have called me here…it must be because you have a plan,” Cersei said, with respect in her voice that she had not previously shown toward Ned.

I have you, Lord Stark thought with satisfaction.

The spider and the little pest wanted to set the Wolf and the Lion against each other…

They would be very disappointed. Cersei would fall upon the Master of Coin like the lioness she was, with power and intimidation, but with the subtlety of a fucking elephant. The spider would have to do damage control…

Allowing Ned to continue degrading Baratheon control of the city.

In the end…the Dragon of the North would rise to his rightful place.

Whatever the cost.