"Remember," Harry commanded Jon and the men of the Night's Watch. "Stay at my back. What I'm about to do is dangerous – if you get out in front of me I might not be able to pull it back in time."
"Aye lads." Mormont nodded, hoisting his sword. He and his men were to watch for stragglers and guard the sorcerer as he did his magic. Naught else. "You heard 'im."
"Yes, Lord Commander." The Watchmen sounded out, Jon giving Harry a nod.
The sorcerer had explained – in detail – just how nasty the spell he was going to use against the wraiths was. And not a man of them were eager to taste it for themselves.
"Good." Harry breathed, hardly able to believe that not only was he free but that he was once more getting thrown head-long into someone else's fight. "Now: stay back."
With that, Harry cast the spell to open the secondary escape hatch out of the tomb. On silent feet, the company strode into the dark stair that led upwards, winding around and around in pitch black, not one of them so much as breathing hard. Harry wasn't able to guarantee that the tunnel the goblins and Teddy had used – one that used to lead from a bathroom down to another hidden Chamber – was completely intact or that it had remained unbreeched by the White Walkers. Thankfully, save for a few spots where Harry had needed to cast some reinforcement charms at signs of the walls beginning to buckle under the strain of erosion and age, they made it to the end without incident.
Taking a deep breath, he lit his wand and hissed: "§Open§" much to the discomfort of his companions at the sibilant sounds of Parseltongue.
The old marble panel opened into darkness, the snow pack having buried the escape route under several feet of snow and ice. Cancelling the wand-light, Harry used a series of Incendios to melt away the snow, casting another charm over himself and the others to protect them from the sudden downpour as his spell reached further and further out, until the tunnel was bared beneath the harsh Northern sun and they were freely able to venture forth without having to climb up through feet of snow pack.
Stepping out into a new world, Harry paused a long moment, staring at the ice-and-rock-and-snow that made up his current view of his new life. It was a stark as his companion's bearer's House name and just as wildly beautiful as Jon himself. He loved it – and hated the bitter cold – in equal measure.
"Harry." Hissed Jon, reminding him that he was blocking the exit.
"No." Harry waved for them to stay down. "Stay there a moment. I see them."
Without further discussion or fanfare, Harry lifted his wand and cast a spell that once-upon-a-time he swore to himself he would never use after seeing its fatal beauty at far-too-close of range:
"Fiendfyre."
The deadliest of cursed fire shot and raged from his wand, fueled by his own hate of the undead and his view of Jon's fear of the creatures who only seemed to die by fire. Sweat beaded upon his brow as he stared out at the creatures that were still surging against the door at the bottom of the cliff-face, the escape tunnel having released him at the top of the mountain Jon's memories dubbed "The Fist of the First Men." It was a gift, the view his exit had given him, allowing him to rain down a storm of fire on the creatures before most – but not all – were able to react.
All but those at the very back were swept up in the deadly jaws of the great serpent made of naught but fire – and none were there to see it save for a sorcerer long displaced in time and a general on a dead steed with a crown of ice and burning blue eyes.
"Up! Up!" Harry called as the few remaining White Walked raced up the hill at the command – a boney, skeletal finger pointing at Harry's still form, fire still raining down on them from his wand – of the Other. "On my flank! I can't use another spell until this one is done!"
As it was it took all his concentration to speak, let alone attempt to break the spell. Fiendfyre was nearly impossible to control, taking a massive among of strength and an iron will to subdue it. And it only took the slightest bit of direction, leading to Harry needing someone to watch his back as he tried to turn it back towards himself and scorch the remaining undead rather than race towards the massive trees of the Far North. If it made the trees, it could very well consume the entire Land of Eternal Winter before sundering against the Wall.
And Harry wasn't even sure the Wall might be enough to stop it if it raged out of control with the wild magic of the land to fuel it.
"Positions!" Mormont called as they circled the sorcerer backs to him – but none getting between him and the great fire snake he was attempting to control. "Swords away lads! Torches in hand!"
After what seemed like an age of seeing the Wraiths run closer and closer – knowing that some of them may very well die this time – they heard what might as well have been music to their ears:
"Tintreach stalic!" Harry cried out, a burst of lightning striking from his wand and hitting the closest Wraith before branching out and hitting the others close to it.
Harry had been able to stop the Fiendfyre.
Not that the lightning strike spell had done much but put a hole through the Wraith and knock them down…but it had been worth a shot.
Setting his jaw, Harry took hold of his sword and raised it, setting it aflame with a wordless spell as the lead Wraith regained its feet, quickly catching up to the others.
Fine then. He thought, glad he'd traveled and trained after Hogwarts now more than ever. Fire spells it is then.
"Mastix ignatio." He intoned, calling up a spell favored by his former Headmaster: a lash made of solid fire. Though in his case it was the much nastier mastix curse which created a cat-o-nine rather than the simple flagellum hex Dumbledore had used.
:::
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