Harry Potter In The Witcher

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"Harry…" Geralt said again, his voice still a low, warning rumble.

Harry brushed it aside with an impatient wave of his hand. "Don't get it in your head that I suddenly like Nilfgaardians or would ever, under any circumstances, help their rule," Harry said, trying to pacify the clearly suspicious witcher.

"I'm just asking a simple, hypothetical question, is all. Indulge me."

Geralt stopped and seemed to think on it for a moment, his golden eyes narrowed in thought before he finally answered. "I don't particularly like Nilfgaardians, that's true," he admitted, his voice a low grumble.

"But I can't honestly say I like many of the so-called 'nobles' of the Northern Kingdoms either. Most of them are either complete, utter idiots, or they're insatiably power-hungry. Sometimes, they're both. Would the common people, in the long run, actually benefit from a unified, orderly Nilfgaardian rule? Eventually, probably."

"Once they learned to accept it. But there would be a lot of fighting, a lot of bloodshed, before that ever happened, even if Nilfgaard does manage to completely overthrow the Northern Kings."

Harry nodded slowly, taking in Geralt's surprisingly pragmatic assessment. "I agree," he said. "Though Nilfgaard, of course, has its own, rather significant problems, I suppose. It's too bad, really, that there is no such thing as a truly perfect government… Well," he said, his tone shifting, becoming more final, "that is all I really wanted to ask you, Geralt. And I probably won't be seeing you for some time after this. Probably years, if I'm being completely honest."

Geralt raised a single, questioning eyebrow. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "For now, I am going to the Far North. I have… some rather ambitious plans I need to put into action."

"The Far North?" Geralt repeated, a hint of surprise in his voice. "There's not much out there except untamed, frozen wilderness and wild, dangerous beasts. Not many people live out there either, except for a few hardy hunters and the occasional, reclusive craftsman. It's too damn cold for anyone else to really live there for long."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of what the Far North is, thank you, Geralt," he said dryly. "But I would still like you to visit, if you ever get the chance, though," Harry told the man, his voice softening, becoming kind once more.

"And you expect me to just be able to find you, in the vast, uncharted wilderness of the Far North?" Geralt pointed out, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "I can't even seem to find you when you're in a settled, civilized kingdom."

Harry rolled his eyes again before reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looked like a simple, unassuming wooden bracelet. "Here," he said. "Tap the small, silver rune that's carved into the wood piece, and then just say my name. It will… help guide you to me, if you ever truly need to find me. And don't let anyone else take it, or they may not have a hand for very long." Harry said, as he dropped the simple, yet clearly magical, item into Geralt's outstretched hand.

Geralt turned the bracelet around in his hand for a moment, examining the intricate, unfamiliar rune, before slipping it onto his wrist. "I… appreciate the gesture," Geralt said, his voice sincere as he looked at the unexpected gift.

Harry just nodded. "Well," he said, "I must be off. There is plenty to do, and very little time to do it in." And with a final, small smile, he apparated away from the Witcher, leaving Geralt just standing there, in the quiet, peaceful forest, watching in that same, familiar amazement as Harry left him once again.

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Harry stood atop the highest peak of the Dragon Mountains, the biting, frigid wind whipping at his clothes, as he stared out into the vast, untamed wilderness of what was known as the Far North.

He had been into its icy depths only twice before in his long time on this world, and both of those times had been purely out of a sense of academic curiosity.

It was a harsh, unforgiving place to live, and that was mainly because of the relentless, bone-chilling cold. It snowed here all year round, and it had much smaller, more scattered populations of both animals and people.

Even most monsters, it seemed, refused to live up here in such harsh, inhospitable conditions, preferring to live further south, where it was warmer and prey was more abundant.

There were a few things that did live out here, though. White dragons, for instance, were the most famous, and most feared, of the Far North's inhabitants.

Many in the south thought of them as just a rare, exotic sub-species of common dragons, a myth even, yet Harry knew the truth.

There were more white dragons living, hidden and thriving, past these mountains than there were regular dragons in all of the Northern Kingdoms combined.

Especially since no one was foolish enough, or skilled enough, to come up here to hunt them.

Sure, they had started out with an extremely small, almost critically endangered population centuries ago, but now, there were probably close to fifty of them that called the vast, frozen expanse of the Far North their home.

Harry inhaled deeply, the freezing air burning his lungs, before exhaling a thick cloud of white steam into the air as his hot breath met the cold.

This… this would be his new home, for a good long while. Ciri was probably leaving this world any week now, as her destiny dictated, and he had no idea when, or even if, she would ever return.

What he did know, with an absolute, unshakable certainty, was that when she did return, she was going to need allies. Powerful, loyal allies.

He had tried to do it all himself, to protect her from the shadows, but he had discovered, the hard way, that even he could not be everywhere at once.

He needed back-up, a force to be reckoned with, to not only protect Ciri from the relentless pursuit of the Wild Hunt, but also from the many greedy, ambitious empires of the continent who desired her for her power, as well as the many other shadowy figures who wished to gain their own power through her unique, potent Elder Blood.

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