Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Valar Morghulis
Disclaimer: Nobody owns anything in this material world. +Standard disclaimer.
Day One
He stared, puzzled, but the more he tried to make sense of it, the more confused he became. He blinked and shook his head, thinking that it must be some illusion. Yet when he opened his eyes, the sea was still there. Indeed, the blue waters stretched to horizon before him. Despite living on island his whole life he never had seen sea before. The scene was majestic and frightening, for he didn't have faintest idea how he got here.
Part One
Chapter One
Last of the lost race
"I come in peace"
Bugger this, he thought, maybe he was little too hasty. He should have gathered more information. This was going to be a hellishly uncomfortable night. At least it's warm. Varamyr sixskins was not a craven. Once, when he was ten, Haggon had taken him to a gathering of such. The skinchangers were the most numerous in that company, the wolf-brothers, but the boy had found the others stranger and more fascinating. Borroq looked so much like his boar that all he lacked was tusks, Orell had his eagle, Briar her shadowcat (the moment he saw them, Lump wanted a shadowcat of his own), the goat woman Grisella …
None of them had been as strong as Varamyr Sixskins, though, not even Haggon, tall and grim with his hands as hard as stone. The hunter died weeping after Varamyr took Greyskin from him, driving him out to claim the beast for his own. No second life for you, old man. Varamyr Threeskins, he'd called himself back then. Greyskin made four, though the old wolf was frail and almost toothless and soon followed Haggon into death.
Varamyr could take any beast he wanted, bend them to his will, and make their flesh his own. Dog or wolf, bear or badger … but this boy was different. A warg can always tell other by feel. I am not strong enough to take this boy on, not if they battled as wargs and Varamyr was not as young as he used to be. At his prime he could fight all day and fuck all night. Those days were long gone and so was his plan for this boy. Now if the little bastard is as naïve as I think, I will escape this night alive.
"No, you don't have peace in your mind. Tell me truthfully why you are here Varamyr Sixskins, and if I like your answer I will not cut you into pieces".
Not naïve then and well informed too. Situation was as dire as it gets. Trapped with powerful foe without any ally. Wits it is then, he concluded.
"I heard about a warg who can heal anything for a price. Is it true that once you regrew a man's hand and you can heal the cursed wounds? If so, I need your assistance. I cannot see with my left eye. Perhaps you can help me. I will…"
"Stop. Only thing injured about you is your soul and I don't heal souls"
"I told you to speak truthfully and yet you refuse me. Do you think I cannot feel your wolves patrolling outside, waiting for a signal. Or your shadowcat hiding behind the tree. I gave you chance to come clean. I know what kind of beast you are. Villagers told me about you."
Boy lifted his gleaming sword and started towards him.
"Wait!" he thought frantically."I can teach you skinchanging. You must have dreams in which you are an animal"
Boy's eyes widened slightly and that enough for him.
"Why would I want to learn that?"
Not a skinchanger yet then. There was hope yet. Boy had enormous potential. A real wizard! He had deduced that much. Though how a wizard child ended up north of wall must be story for songs. Wizard of these days were measly spellcasters or seers or illusionalists or wargs like himself. Haggon had told him of wizards and how they were prominent race two thousand year ago. Nobody knew what led to their fall. Scholars say it was infighting that destroyed them and other claimed that wizards grew so arrogant in their power and superiority that they angered the gods and lost their Magic. Whatever the reasons, there were no true wizards left. Boy was last of his kind or maybe first of his kind.
"Why not? You can be any anyone you wish. Only one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger."
"I accept your bargain teacher, /a spared life for your knowledge. Please come in."/
A short, black wolf sat by the door. It was chewing on big bone. Varamyr was suddenly reminded of One Eye, his oldest and best wolf. The hut was warm and well lit, with a hearth and a writing desk— equipped with quills and ink. The floor was covered with a plush rug.
"What is your name boy?"
"My name is Harry, Harry Potter and don't ever call me boy."
A/N: Forgive my awful grammar skills. All reviews are welcome. All the suggestions and ideas are most welcome. As most of info is yet to come and my writing is flexible all input will be helpful. Chapter are small I know but presently only one POV is available. Harry may seem little OC but it will be clear later on. Ratings may go up in future.
Day One
He stared, puzzled, but the more he tried to make sense of it, the more confused he became. He blinked and shook his head, thinking that it must be some illusion. Yet when he opened his eyes, the sea was still there. Indeed, the blue waters stretched to horizon before him. Despite living on island his whole life he never had seen sea before. The scene was majestic and frightening, for he didn't have faintest idea how he got here.
Part One
Chapter One
Last of the lost race
"I come in peace"
Bugger this, he thought, maybe he was little too hasty. He should have gathered more information. This was going to be a hellishly uncomfortable night. At least it's warm. Varamyr sixskins was not a craven. Once, when he was ten, Haggon had taken him to a gathering of such. The skinchangers were the most numerous in that company, the wolf-brothers, but the boy had found the others stranger and more fascinating. Borroq looked so much like his boar that all he lacked was tusks, Orell had his eagle, Briar her shadowcat (the moment he saw them, Lump wanted a shadowcat of his own), the goat woman Grisella …
None of them had been as strong as Varamyr Sixskins, though, not even Haggon, tall and grim with his hands as hard as stone. The hunter died weeping after Varamyr took Greyskin from him, driving him out to claim the beast for his own. No second life for you, old man. Varamyr Threeskins, he'd called himself back then. Greyskin made four, though the old wolf was frail and almost toothless and soon followed Haggon into death.
Varamyr could take any beast he wanted, bend them to his will, and make their flesh his own. Dog or wolf, bear or badger … but this boy was different. A warg can always tell other by feel. I am not strong enough to take this boy on, not if they battled as wargs and Varamyr was not as young as he used to be. At his prime he could fight all day and fuck all night. Those days were long gone and so was his plan for this boy. Now if the little bastard is as naïve as I think, I will escape this night alive.
"No, you don't have peace in your mind. Tell me truthfully why you are here Varamyr Sixskins, and if I like your answer I will not cut you into pieces".
Not naïve then and well informed too. Situation was as dire as it gets. Trapped with powerful foe without any ally. Wits it is then, he concluded.
"I heard about a warg who can heal anything for a price. Is it true that once you regrew a man's hand and you can heal the cursed wounds? If so, I need your assistance. I cannot see with my left eye. Perhaps you can help me. I will…"
"Stop. Only thing injured about you is your soul and I don't heal souls"
"I told you to speak truthfully and yet you refuse me. Do you think I cannot feel your wolves patrolling outside, waiting for a signal. Or your shadowcat hiding behind the tree. I gave you chance to come clean. I know what kind of beast you are. Villagers told me about you."
Boy lifted his gleaming sword and started towards him.
"Wait!" he thought frantically."I can teach you skinchanging. You must have dreams in which you are an animal"
Boy's eyes widened slightly and that enough for him.
"Why would I want to learn that?"
Not a skinchanger yet then. There was hope yet. Boy had enormous potential. A real wizard! He had deduced that much. Though how a wizard child ended up north of wall must be story for songs. Wizard of these days were measly spellcasters or seers or illusionalists or wargs like himself. Haggon had told him of wizards and how they were prominent race two thousand year ago. Nobody knew what led to their fall. Scholars say it was infighting that destroyed them and other claimed that wizards grew so arrogant in their power and superiority that they angered the gods and lost their Magic. Whatever the reasons, there were no true wizards left. Boy was last of his kind or maybe first of his kind.
"Why not? You can be any anyone you wish. Only one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger."
"I accept your bargain teacher, /a spared life for your knowledge. Please come in."/
A short, black wolf sat by the door. It was chewing on big bone. Varamyr was suddenly reminded of One Eye, his oldest and best wolf. The hut was warm and well lit, with a hearth and a writing desk— equipped with quills and ink. The floor was covered with a plush rug.
"What is your name boy?"
"My name is Harry, Harry Potter and don't ever call me boy."
A/N: Forgive my awful grammar skills. All reviews are welcome. All the suggestions and ideas are most welcome. As most of info is yet to come and my writing is flexible all input will be helpful. Chapter are small I know but presently only one POV is available. Harry may seem little OC but it will be clear later on. Ratings may go up in future.
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