Before remounting their Discs and flying southwards, Harry asked Adrastia to give them a moment alone, to which she consented easily, although not without a speculative glance.
Once they were alone, Harry looked at Luna and she nodded at him with a sad smile.
He put a death-themed ring on his hand that had a shiny black stone mounted in it. The Resurrection Stone.
"Nymphadora and Fleur." He said solemnly as he turned the ring around his finger.
The shades of hus long dead wives appeared, much to both his and Luna's relief. They hadn't been entirely sure if they could still be reached from this new world, even though the Void felt the same.
"It's so good to see you again." Luna said happily.
"How long was it this time?" Dora asked.
"About five years." Harry answered.
"Only five?" Fleur asked, raising a spectral eyebrow. "Did something happen?"
"You could say that." He replied a tad sheepishly.
"Harry, what did you do?" Dora asked, suspicion and exasperation coloring her tone.
"You remember that thought I had about prophecies?"
"Yes..."
"Well..."
Harry and Luna quickly went over what had happened, also mentioning that Adrastia had been yanked along for the ride, which amused the two dead women quite a bit.
"Looks like you've got a new adventure to look forward to." Dora said, smile turning sad. "We'll be waiting for you at the end of the road."
"Looking forward to it." Harry said and cancelled the summoning.
"That never gets any easier." Luna said somberly.
Harry put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. Shades summoned from the land of the dead had the nasty habit of beckoning you to join them, which was the true danger of the Deathly Hallow. Most people couldn't resist the call of their loved ones asking them to die, but the two of them still summoned Fleur and Dora every decade or so for a chat. Their sons and daughters they called even less often.
XXXXX
Harry's plan had been to wait until nightfall and then he and Luna would fly up to the Citadel to do their thieving. Adrastia had put the kibosh on that one by arguing that they needed to get a firsthand feel for how the culture operated, which meant actually interacting with the people.
Harry didn't necessarily agree with her, but went along with it anyway. It cost them nothing and it might provide a little amusement.
Indeed, the first bit of amusement presented itself almost immediately. While Harry and Luna no longer wore clothes designed present an image of wealth, dignity and power as they did in public appearances while he'd been King of Myth Drannor, their travelling clothes were still of high enough quality to pass for something that high status nobles would wear. They didn't even stand out too much because travelling cloaks never really went out of style in the magical world and they'd had a few stashed in hammerspace.
They made for quite the confusing spectacle. Their obviously high quality clothes marked them as nobility in the minds of the peasants, or 'smallfolk' as they were called in this world, yet they travelled without guards. Harry's clothes marked him as a noble lord and his build and scars marked him as a dangerous warrior, yet he carried no obvious weapon. Luna was assumed to be a highborn lady and Harry's wife, yet she wore trousers like a man. Adrastia didn't fit into the worldview of these people at all. Not only was she dressed just as richly as the other two in her body-hugging robes, but she also walked with them as an equal despite clearly being a foreigner and most likely Harry's mistress, so why did Luna look happy when she was being so blatantly, publicly shamed?
Some damned amusing rumors started going around before they'd made it even halfway to their destination.
Harry was apparently an arrogant deviant, Adrastia was a foreign witch and Luna was scandalous.
Harry decided to help the image along by grabbing a handful of rump on each woman as they continued walking, barely managing to suppress a snicker when an audible murmur of shock went through the observers.
"You are impossible." Adrastia murmured to him quietly.
"I can't help it, they're just so easily impressed." Harry murmured back, giving her a grin. After living in a society with a prominent veela population, seeing a bit of public groping get this much reaction was just too funny.
"Let's go over there." Luna cut in happily, eagerly tugging Harry towards a winding alley.
He couldn't hold in a snicker this time as he saw the even more baffled looks of the gawkers at Luna's behavior. Highborne women did not tug their husbands around like excitable children in medieval societies, and husbands, especially dangerous-looking ones like Harry, certainly did not go along with it while wearing expressions of fond amusement. Image was everything to a medieval noble and Oldtown's smallfolk population had no idea what to make of this decidedly atypical behavior. It was highly likely that they only avoided a cliché mugging scenario because there were too many people still on the streets at this hour.
It was even funnier because he knew it was setting Adrastia's teeth on edge. The Black Widow was a social chameleon and attracting this kind of attention by blatantly violating unspoken societal norms went against the grain for her.
So they left a trail of confused peasants as they walked through the labyrinthine mess of Oldtown's streets, slowly making their way to the Quill and Tankard, a very popular tavern. Adrastia had insisted on it, claiming that there were few better places to get a feel for the general disposition of a culture than the local watering hole.
Harry still wasn't entirely sure what she was hoping to actually do with this information, but didn't protest. Not like he and Luna had anything better to do until it was late at night.
But on the way to the famous tavern, Harry became aware of a most peculiar feeling.
"We're being watched." He murmured quietly.
"By who?" Adrastia was too canny an operator to tense even minutely, but she became more alert.
"That building has eyes." Luna said dreamily, pointing towards a large seven-sided building.
"The Sailor's Sept?" Harry muttered, recalling it from the maester's memories as one of the larger places of worship in Oldtown. They had passed close to the harbor on their way to the tavern. "How curious. Did we stumble upon a world with actual godlings in it? Or is this just some clever trickery?"
"Harry..." Adrastia trailed off warningly when he steered them towards the sept.
"Don't worry, I won't stage a bloodbath. Probably."
"That makes me feel so much better." She muttered.
They passed through the doors of the sept soon after and all three of them felt as if they had crossed something similar to a ward threshold, although it definitely wasn't one.
"I feel like a guest." Luna summarized the feeling, looking around curiously.
The sept was reasonably populated by various sea-going looking men, all on their knees before a collection of seven statues.
What was unmistakably a priest, a septon by local lingo, started moving towards them, most likely noting the quality of their clothes and deciding that they merited personal attention.
Harry quickly wove a mild confounding spell and aimed it at the old man. He had nothing to say to a priest and even less that he wanted to hear from one.
The feeling in the air became heavily disapproving and actively fought against his spell, trying to undo it.
Harry scowled and poured more power into the spell while shielding it from disruption. It was close, but he just barely managed to overcome the resistance and cast it, feeling as if he'd been wrestling with Fiendfyre.
"That was rude of you." Luna said.
"And foolhardy." Adrastia added disapprovingly.
Harry ignored them and glared at the statues representing the Seven Who Are One, feeling something glare back.
Our septon meant you no harm.
It was much like listening to a dryad 'speak', a collection of feelings and impressions more than words. Even a master wizard would have trouble deciphering such a thing, but Harry had centuries of practice.
"Your priest can get fucked, creature." He scoffed, quietly enough that none of the other people could hear him.
You dare speak so disrespectfully to a god? The Seven seemed displeased.
"You can get fucked, too."
We will have your obeisance within our temple! The offended god 'shouted'.
Harry felt the spiritual pressure bear down on him, using his own ability to perceive beyond the physical to try and force a gesture of submission out of him.
But the godling underestimated his will and he struck back, thrusting his defiance and contempt at the non-corporeal entity like a spear. The statues of the Father and the Warrior cracked minutely.
"You dare?" He growled lowly. "You, a dried up puddle of ectoplasmic excrement, dare attempt to force your will on me? Maybe my decision to not stage a bloodbath in here was a bit premature. I could start with every septon and septa in this fucking city."
Please, do not harm our followers. The disposition of the Seven changed drastically, becoming sweet and innocent, leading Harry to suspect that it was the Maiden aspect talking now. We apologize for the offence given to you, it was not our intent.
Harry continued glaring silently, making it clear that he wasn't even close to being appeased.
Picking a fight with a god, even one so limited as this, might not be the smartest thing he'd ever done, but he'd seen enough so far to know that it had very little power in the physical world. It couldn't really hurt him directly, just as he couldn't hurt it directly.
We saw your coming into this world. The Seven said, the feel of its' 'voice' changing once again, this time into what he tentatively assumed was the Crone aspect.
"I hope the Maiden enjoyed the sight of my cock dangling out in the open, mewling slut that she is."
Are you always so disagreeable?
"Yes."
You will not even hear our offer?
Harry paused. He was sorely tempted to tell the this absurd godling where it could shove its offer, but he was curious.
"Spit it out."
Not since Hugor of the Hill has a mortal been able to speak to us, and even he did not hear so clearly.
"Who the fuck is Hugor of the Hill?" He had focused on geography and general knowledge rather than specifics when raiding the maester's memories.
The first King of the Andals. You could be the second to become so with our favor.
Harry nearly burst into laughter at the idiotic sales pitch. How stupid did this thing think he was? Or was this world just that full of morons chasing after crowns like dogs after a bitch in heat?
"You want me to spread your shitty religion in exchange for a crown? Bitch, if I wanted to be a king again I wouldn't need your help." No doubt this 'help' would also have multiple hidden requirements and price tags.
Then what of knowledge? The feel of the Seven changed again as it spoke, although it was starting to sound irritated by his disrespectful manner again. We sense that you are a great craftsman. We could show you how to work wonders the like of which you cannot imagine.
"You can't imagine what I can imagine." Harry retorted to what he assumed was the Smith.
The Seven seemed briefly stumped by his reply.
"Fuck this." He said abruptly, shaking his head in disgust. "Your painfully obvious attempts to make a pawn out of me are sad, pathetic and frankly pissing me off. Word of advice for the future; don't rely on awe making whoever you talk to stupid enough to swallow the shit you're shoveling. Now I'm leaving, and you can be grateful that I'm too old to follow through on my threat unless you provoke me again."
A few tiny chips of stone clattered to the ground from the statue of the Warrior, dislodged by the hostilty radiating from it.
He turned around and stormed out of the sept, pulling Luna and Adrastia with him under the curious eyes of the regular worshippers who had only seen him muttering to himself while glaring at the statues.
XXXXX
"Well, that was interesting." Adrastia murmured as they continued on their way towards the tavern. "I assume you were speaking to the Seven?"
"He was very rude." Luna offered.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, I was as charming as I always am when someone wants to use me to further their agenda." Harry waved off.
"Actual gods, of a sort, would explain several of the peculiarities of this world, yet it opens up so many other questions." Adrastia mused.
"Indeed it does." Harry agreed. "I'm going to have so much fun dissecting that godling after I find a way to reach and trap it."
That sad attempt at manipulation he didn't care about. After centuries of Bjomolf and his multi-generational schemes and decades of playing spy games with all of Earth's intelligence agencies before he'd nuked the world with raw magic, that was more insulting for its clumsiness.
But demanding respect from him? Attempting to force a gesture of submission? That he did not forgive. When all was said and done, the Seven would wish he had only butchered its clergy, torn down its temples and destroyed its literature.
XXXXX
They eventually reached the Quill and Tankard and Harry's amusement at Adrastia's expense continued.
Obviously, they had to order something, but the local cuisine was a far cry from what she was used to.
"Thank you." Luna said with a beaming smile at the serving wench who had brought them their food, leaving the young girl blinking in surprise at receiving such friendliness from a 'highborn lady'.
Meanwhile, Adrastia stared at the bowl of stew in front of her like it was a freshly killed rat. Possibly a diseased one.
"I don't suppose you have a proper meal stashed away in your hammerspace?" She asked bleakly.
"Only alchemical nutrient dust and a few super dense protein bars." Harry replied amusedly, taking a sip of the tavern's specialty cider. The stuff had quite a kick to it.
"This world is horrible." Adrastia muttered, reaching out to take the wooden spoon as if it was poisonous. "I don't think I will ever forgive you for this indignity."
"I never realized what a spoiled princess you were." Harry rolled his eyes.
She glared at him, wrapped her haugthy pride around her like it was an armored mantle and began eating with poise worthy of royalty, although Harry could see the minute tells that betrayed how unappealing she found the simple beef and vegetable stew.
On his other side, Luna dug into her own bowl with gusto. They had spent the past century on the road and the stew wasn't much different than what they often ate.
Harry merely took one of the aforementioned protein bars out of hammerspace and nibbled on it while sipping his drink. Most of his attention was on the conversations going around him.
However, it seemed like the only thing people could talk about was the recent ascension of Aegon V Targaryen to the Iron Throne, commonly known as Aegon the Unlikely because he was the fourth son of a fourth son.
That was something he had already known from the memories of the maester at Brightwater Keep, but listening to the chatter did give him a little additional insight.
The smallfolk seemed to have a highly positive opinion of the new king, no doubt due to the fact that he'd spent much of his time among them while squiring for his knight master, Ser Duncan the Tall.
The various novices and acolytes of the Citadel currently in the tavern were of the opinion that Aegon was going to be killed by enraged nobles for the egalitarian bent he was already showing.
Harry agreed with them. There was always someone that wanted to kill you when you were a king and this Aegon fellow seemed intent on stepping on a lot of toes.
"Hmm." Adrastia's predatory humm drew his attention to her, which let him see that she was eyeballing a newly arrived acolyte with narrow-eyed calculation.
"What?" He asked, seeing nothing special about the boy. He was just a gawky looking brat of about seventeen or so, with dirty blond/brown hair, watery blue eyes and a weak chin. There weren't any empty tables, which left him looking around in awkward disappointment.
"Be a dear and call him over." She said.
Harry shrugged and focused on the boy.
"Hey, over here." He whispered, sending a powerful subliminal message to his target. "Come sit with us."
Immediately, the boy's attention was drawn to them and he began approaching with a gait that screamed of cautious hope.
"Good evening." He greeted once he arrived. "May I share your table?"
"Go right ahead." Harry said, gesturing to the last empty chair.
The acolyte smiled in relief as he sat down. "Thank you, my lord. I am Pycelle, an acolyte at the Citadel."
"Halaster Blackcloak." The old favorite among his numerous false names slipped from Harry's tongue with ease. It had been a very long time since he'd used his real one. "But feel free to call me Harry. These are my wife, Luna, and my mistress, Adrastia."
"Hello." Luna chirped, leaving the acolyte nonplussed by the sunny greeting.
Adrastia merely inclined her head regally, smiling alluringly as the boy flushed.
"I do not believe I've ever heard of House Blackcloak." Pycelle said after recomposing himself.
"That could be because there is no House Blackcloak." Harry smirked. "I'm not a noble."
"Oh, my apologies." Pycelle was clearly embarrassed by his miscalculation. "Still, you must be quite successful in your endeavours to afford such fine clothes."
It was an obvious attempt at fishing for information wrapped up in a compliment. The boy had a bright future as a brown-noser and a spy if he kept working on that skill.
"I do try to be successful in all my endeavours." Harry grinned as he drove the conversation into a dead end.
"I would like to hear about our new friend's endeavours." Adrastia salvaged it, smiling at Pycelle in a way that had led hundreds of men to the grave. "You must be quite the smart one to study at the Citadel."
Pycelle puffed out his chest like a peacock trying to impress a potential mate. "I do not mean to boast, my lady, but the archmaesters say they have seldom seen a student as brilliant as me. In fact, I am to take my vows two days hence."
"But you're so young!" Adrastia gasped and Harry had to struggle keep down a snort at her acting. "I thought all maesters were old men."
"It is true that I am indeed very young to be taking my vows, one of the youngest to ever do so." Pycelle laughed, quite obviously fully taken in by the Black Widow's charm.
"But isn't chastity one of the vows you take?" Adrastia went on, reaching out to take one of Pycelle's hands as if greatly concerned by this.
The teenager stammered some tripe about sacrifice and duty, flushing as red as a lobster. He also directed a nervous glance at Harry, clearly afraid of what he might do at having his mistress flirt with another man.
Harry decided to make him sweat a little by giving no indication whether he cared or not.
"Don't worry about him, darling." Adrastia waved off with a smile. "He's harmless."
That got her an arch look from Harry and a slightly incredulous one from Pycelle.
Then Luna decided that she wanted to sit in Harry's lap, giving credence to Adrastia's ridiculous statement.
Harry could only roll his eyes and start giving her a scalp massage.
Pycelle was notably less tense after that, although he also seemed quite scandalized by Luna's shows of public affection.
They continued talking for quite a while, with Adrastia pumping the hapless teenager for information in between bouts of flirting. She even included Harry and Luna in the conversation every so often so as to make it seem more natural.
When the hour started getting late, Harry and Luna went to one room, while Adrastia took her latest victim to another.
XXXXX
Later.
Adrastia walked into the wizard's tent that Harry and Luna had set up in the room they'd rented without asking for permission.
To her hidden glee, they were soaking in a hot bath. Perfect.
"Done already?" Harry asked as she began stripping off her clothes.
"He was just a boy." Adrastia shrugged, as if that was all that needed to be said, and stepped into the bath with a sigh of pleasure.
"Wait, where did you get that pudding?" She asked, noticing Luna snacking on it.
"Hammerspace." The moonbrained witch replied. "I keep a year's supply of it with me at all times."
Adrastia closed her eyes. This would grate on her pride, but it had to be done.
"May I have some?"
"Of course!" Luna beamed and handed her a large porcelain bowl filled with delicious chocolate pudding and a spoon.
"Thank you." And she truly was grateful. After eating medieval slop with a wooden spoon from a wooden bowl like some kind of peasant, the luxury of chocolate pudding in a proper porcelain bowl and silver spoon was not to be underestimated.
"So, what was that about with the brat?" Harry asked.
"The Order of Maesters has the most convenient ready-made spy network in Westeros." Adrastia began explaining in between spoonfulls of pudding. "Pycelle had all the signs of an awkward intellectual with little to no experience with women, an easy mark in other words. I nudged his ambitions along a little to make him more useful as a tool, but even if he amounts to nothing more than a castle maester he will still have his uses."
"A tool for what though? It's not like we're going to be playing politics with these primitive cunts."
"You might not play, but I intend to." She sniffed. "A lady needs her amusements and you are too much of a boor to provide anything other than sex."
XXXXX
Later still. The Citadel, library.
"Hey, listen to this." Harry said with amused derision as he held up the Seven-Pointed Star, the Faith of the Seven's holy text. "'Hugor of the Hill was crowned by the Father himself, who pulled down seven stars to make his glowing crown. The Maiden brought forth a girl as supple as willow and eyes like deep blue pools to be his wife. The Mother made her fertile, and she bore Hugor forty-four mighty sons as foretold by the Crone. The Warrior gave each son strength of arms and the Smith wrought each a suit of iron plate.'"
"Sounds plausible." Adrastia said blandly.
"Yes, I'd love to know what kind of stars the Daddy pulled down." Harry pondered mockingly. "Blue giants? Yellow main sequence? Red dwarves? Neutron?"
"I feel bad for the Stranger." Luna pouted. "He got left out."
"I guess they ran out of things to give Hugo the Boss." Harry snorted and carelessly threw the religious propaganda into a corner. "Alright, enough poking fun at the mentally handicapped, let's steal some shit."
The Citadel had the most extensive library in this world. It was still nothing compared to the collection Harry had amassed on Earth, but it deserved some credit. The efforts of the maesters to collect and preserve knowledge even got them a little respect from Harry.
Didn't mean he felt any regret about stealing from them though, and the three of them spent a couple of hours browsing the books and anything that looked interesting or useful got stuffed into hammerspace. They focused mostly on books about history and such, seeing as any knowledge the maesters might have about topics such as biology, economics, mathematics and so on was inferior to their own. They did take a couple of books on astronomy as well though, and Adrastia insisted on a few describing the noble families of Westeros.
The late hour and locked doors which only the archmaesters were supposed to have the keys to, but which were no match for simple unlocking spells, kept them from being disturbed.
XXXXX
The Citadel, currently vacant study belonging to the Archmaester of Magic.
"So that's a Glass Candle?" Adrastia asked rhetorically, looking at the twisting pillar of green obsidian. "What an ugly thing. Your Palantíri were much more graceful."
"Quite." Harry agreed. "But let's see about its functionality..."
He stepped forward and held his hands over it, easily figuring out how to interface with the magical artefact.
The Glass Candle began burning, its eldritch light doing strange things to the colors of the dusty study. Instead of banishing the shadows, they became as dark as pits to the abyss. In fact, every color become more intense and seemed to come alive.
Harry noticed none of this, his mind flying far away. Having centuries of practice with scrying devices, it was easy for him to adapt to the foreign device. If anything the Glass Candle was actually easier to use than his Palantir and quite a bit more refined.
That kind of annoyed him. Where did those lizard-brained twats from Valyria get off on making better stuff than him? Although they did have thousands of years to do it, so he supposed it made sense.
Through the Glass Candle he saw far. He saw the other three Glass Candles in the Citadel and even more across the Narrow Sea. One in Volantis, behind the Black Walls, nearly a dozen in ruined Valyria, one in Qarth, one in the city of Yin in Yi Ti and one all the way in Asshai-by-the-Shadow.
Not yet willing to disengage, he turned his sight north, to the lands where he intended to rebuild his tower.
What he saw pleased him. Ancient boreal forests and snowy plains, ice-clad mountains and frozen lakes, untamed wilderness and best of all, the definitive sense of magic. It reminded him of Greenland, which had always been one of his favorite places on Earth.
He turned his gaze further north, into the Lands of Always Winter and there he was stymied. Powerful necromantic magic blocked his sight and when he tried to push through the resistance, something struck his mind like a hammer, sending him stumbling away from the Glass Candle with a terrible migraine.
"Ow." He complained, rubbing his forehead.
"What happened?" Luna asked in concern.
"I tried to peek on the Others. They didn't appreciate it." Harry explained, using Occlumency to expel the leftover foreign magic from the counter-attack.
"And you still insist on going beyond the Wall?" Adrastia asked archly.
"Duh."
"Are we going now?" Luna asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"No, we're stealing two more Glass Candles. The maester's are only using them to make some obscure point anyway, and they can do that just as well with one as they can with three."
XXXXX
Ill-gotten gains in metaphorical hand, the tree of them zoomed north at high speed on the Discs. Had it been just Harry and Luna, they would have walked, even if it took them a year or two to reach their destination, but Adrastia would bitch about it the whole way if they did that and that would take all the fun out of it.
They made a brief stop in Highgarden, to take a look at the castle's heart tree.
The Old Gods religion had made it to the prestigious number one position on Harry's 'least offensive religions' list due to its lack of churches, holy books, dogma, priests or organization. Its animistic bent and worship of nature spirits won it a few points as well. It was still a religion so he sneered at it on principle for the excuse it gave people to not think by claiming that something was 'the will of the gods', but he was at the very least curious to examine a weirwood tree, particularly the special type with a face carved into it called a heart tree.
Now the three of them stood stood before the Three Singers, the trio of weirwood trees that had grown so entagled together that they looked like a single massive tree with three faces carved into them.
"These are more than just trees." Harry said softly, sensing something very unusual.
Stepping forward, he cautiously placed his hand on the white trunk.
As if from a deep sleep, he felt the weirwoods awaken and regard him curiously.
Greetings. They said through the rustle of wind in the blood-red leaves.
"Hello." Harry returned bemusedly. "Did I wake you?"
Yes.Long has it been since a greenseer last touched us.
"I'm not a greenseer." Harry denied.
Yet you hear us more clearly than any greenseer ever has.
He wasn't sure what to say to that.
"Why are you sad?" Luna interjected, hugging the massive trunk. No doubt she had sensed some kind of melancholy coming from the tree. Harry had too little empathy to notice such things unless he was specifically searching for them.
Our children are fading, soon they will all be gone.
"That's terrible." Luna sniffled. "Our children died too, only one of our sons is still alive."
The weirwoods 'said' nothing, but there was a distinct sense of compassion being directed towards Luna.
"You're different from the Seven." Harry muttered, having been straining his perception to determine the nature of the entity or entities speaking to them. "I could sense that it wasn't quite part of the physical world, merely connected to it, likely through the worship of its followers, but from you I'm sensing the exact opposite."
We were once of flesh, each an island unto ourself. Now we are one within the trees.
Harr'ys eyes alighted with realization. "A collective soul, and the weirwoods act as a locus to make it possible? Fascinating. How did this happen?"
We can show you, if you wish.
"I most definitely do wish."
Then see.
Harry felt himself and Luna being drawn into a memory and allowed it. He had asked for it after all.
There was an ancient and withered creature kneeling on the grass, unmistakably one of the Children of the Forest. He had an obsidian dagger in his hand and cut his wrist, letting blood spill down on the seed of a tree.
He was chanting- singing, really – something in a language that Harry had never heard the like of, but which he could tell was somehow uniquely connected to this world.
Eventually, the ancient being died and the first weirwood grew from the seed, the new vessel for the soul. He watched over his children and eventually they joined him inside the weirwood. More seeds bloomed and more weirwoods grew. Faces were carved into them so that the souls within could see more clearly.
Harry inhaled sharply as he came out of the memory.
"Now that is an interesting form of immortality, but not my style." He said with a small grin.
A distinct sensation of a shrug came from the triple heart tree.
"And I'll bet that there's a lot of giants, animals, First Men, Andals and probably even a few Rhoynar in there as well these days." Harry said shrewdly.
We are all one. Was the answer, which he took as a 'yes'.
"You know, you are a lot more tolerable than the Seven." Harry commented.
Disappointed? The leaves shivered as if in laughter.
"Luna would never let me dissect you if you refuse to act like dicks, so yes, I am a bit disappointed."
"I want to plant more weirwoods, not hurt them." Luna interjected dreamily, nearly dozing where she was still hugging the heart tree. "Will you help me, Harry?"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Planting trees was hardly a new activity for them – they had been doing it for centuries after all – but the religious affiliations of this particular brand of trees grated on his sensibilities.
Still, he no longer concerned himself with humans and the stupid shit they believed, so it wasn't as much as it would have been back in the day. Seeing how the Seven reacted to a sudden resurgence of the Old Gods might even prove useful in cornering that conjoined cunt.
But at the end of the day, the crux of the matter was that Luna had asked him to do it and he didn't have enough of an axe to grind on the subject to refuse her.
"Sure."
XXXXX
The rest of the trip north was made almost without interruption. They made a brief stop in Winterfell to loot another map of the lands beyond the Wall, and then another at Castle Black to do the same, as well as to ooh and aah at the Wall for a little bit.
Then they were zooming through the frozen lands, looking for a likely place to start building a wizard's tower.
Harry had originally been considering somewhere in the Frostfang Mountains, but decided it may be best to keep those in between himself and the Others after getting his nose bloodied by their response to his scrying attempt.
Adrastia voted that they take over the ruins of Hardhome so that they could eventually build a port city there, but he had no interest in doing such a thing.
Now they were taking a look at the Fist of the First Men and Harry immediately knew that it was perfect.
The rocky hill that the Fist was situated upon was decently large and there was plenty of stone to work with in the area. It sat on the western edge of the Haunted Forest and offered a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. The Milkwater river passed by to the west and it was very close to both the Skirling Pass and the Giants' Stair, the two main ways into the Frostfangs.
"Alright, time to get started." Harry said, cracking his knuckles in preparation.
"Hmph." Adrastia sulked. She was bundled up in heavy robes laced through and through with warming charms, but she still hunched into herself to keep the biting wind from getting under the cowl of her cloak.
Harry never did understand people who hated a little cold breeze, but would happily sing praises of the sweltering, insect-infested summer. Lunatics.
He pulled his staff out of hammerspace...and then stared at it was if he'd never seen it before.
"What?" Adrastia asked snappishly. "Just get on with it already!"
"It's dead." Harry said blandly. "I should have figured. Neither the wood nor the core have any connection to this world, so they can't channel my magic here. Looks like it'll be wandless until we can make some staves out of local materials."
"So it'll take even longer?" Adrastia groaned.
"At least the concentration of magic is higher on this side of the Wall." Luna spoke up optimistically. "It shouldn't take us more than a week to fully erect the tower Harry wants."
"I still say a castle would be better." The miserable, tropically-inclined woman muttered.
"Dora, Fleur and Narcissa talked me into making a castle instead of a tower once, but by thunder I won't be swayed this time." Harry insisted stubbornly. "And I'm calling it Dol Guldur."