Dragonlord (HP × ASOIAF)

Harry frowned at the work being done inside the smithy. The smiths of Winterfell were busy using their hammers, chisels and files to make tools for warfare. The tools of the blacksmiths were pounding away and if one had the necessary allure to the profession they could listen and recognize the music hidden within.

The ringing of steel as hammers pound away to shape the fine contours of the weapon being made. The chisels that help in etching engravings or even chip away slags. The files that remove the rust and keep the edge as sharp as it needs to be. These tools were indeed musical instruments.

Perhaps not of the same proclivity as regular musical instruments but certainly they were instruments of fine arts. The music they brought forth gave birth to weapons that sung the song of steel across the world. The weapons these tools made carried the song of death and yet they also brought salvation.

In his travels around the world, he came to love the craft of a blacksmith. There was something primaeval to that profession that called him to this ancient art. His curiosity had led him all the way to Sri Lanka and Southern India where the origins of Damascus steel lay waiting for someone with the right resources to claim.

The original techniques were lost in time but that wasn't going to constrain someone like Harry. He, after all, commanded the ability to summon spirits of long past. The only thing that inhibited his ability was the knowledge of those ancient souls. It was for this knowledge he travelled to these places to trace the lost arts of these ancient civilizations and his trip was not in vain.

He managed to succeed in accessing several old archives and through them he managed to summon the relevant spirits to the world of the living. From them, he cracked several methods of constructing Damascus steel. It was no easy task but with the aid of magic, he could ease the efforts put into the making and even improve upon the quality of the steel.

He had tried to access the secrets of Goblin steel or even the mythical metal Mythril. Sadly, he knew not how those were constructed. The secrets of Mythril eluded Harry as any information on the old metal was lost to the ages. No records survived about that metal and if there was such a record they were heavily shielded under a veil of anonymity. Goblin steel on the other hand was available to be studied. The sword of Gryffindor was more than enough of a specimen for Harry to study.

The Goblins were a tough bunch as even the long-dead spirits were not willing to share their knowledge with anyone outside their race. So, he went the old fashioned way to recreate the properties of Goblin steel. Trial and error was the norm he used and to his surprise, it worked.

The key to constructing a strong magical sword was spell forging. He trained for six months to properly use spell forging techniques by casting bronze swords. Then he went to steel casting after he became familiar with casting spells to bind layers upon layers of metal within a sword.

While Goblins found a way to bind spells within layers with their unique style of magic, Harry had to be more innovative. He used spells to bind the layers at the moment of casting but also included runes to maintain the spell's everlasting nature. He suspected the Goblins found a way to inscribe runes into the layers inside a sword. It was an art he was sadly unfamiliar with.

But, he knew to use the runes over the metallic surface. To preserve the aesthetics of a sword he could keep the runic inscriptions invisible to the naked eyes. The combination of spell forging and the secrets of metallurgy behind Damascus steel led him to create an entirely new form of steel.

What got his attention however was the new world he was born into already housed a similar version of such steel called the Valyrian Steel. The Valyrians who inhibited the Valyrian peninsula had managed to produce this metallurgical and magical marvel. They named it Valyrian Steel.

Rumours claim Valyrian Steel was made from dragonflames.

Harry knew that to be untrue. Well, maybe the Valyrians used the flames of dragons to melt the steel and keep the temperature as high as possible but magic was the backbone of Valyrian Steel. He knew that for sure when he studied the ancestral Valyrian sword of House Stark, Ice.

In Westeros and Essos, a Valyrian Steel sword was priceless. A mountain of gold could be acquired by selling a Valyrian Steel blade. Owning a blade was also a mark of prestige as no more Valyrian Steel blades were being made.

But, that was not why Harry was in the smithy of Winterfell making his first attempt in making a sword and armour in this world.

He had found out another bit of problem in his plan of charming the weapons and armours of Northmen with protective spells. His spells were not lasting more than a week. It'd seem despite using the Elder Wand his magic was not strong enough to properly use the abilities of the Deathstick. Usually, a spell cast by the Elder Wand would not easily weaken with time. Unfortunately, that's what's happening right now.

Harry had found the spells he used inside on his father's armour and shield had disappeared after a week. He didn't know why but he was curious to find out why magic was being drained. Meanwhile, he came up with a short term solution of spell forging a new armour and shield for his father. While he was at it he decided to spell forge two swords as well.

Harry was not so worried by the underperformance of Elder Wand nor was he worried about the absence of the other two Hallows. His research into ancient Norse rituals in Norway and Egypt made him learn of his quite accidental involvement in an old ritual.

The Hallows were not gifts from Death as the Tales of Beedle the Bard would have one belief. The Hallows were lynchpins to an old ritual. A ritual that had Nordic origins. The three Hallows were powerful objects but they were assembled by assigning them an epithet of three powerful ideas. The Elder Wand was tied to the idea of power, the Stone tied to the idea of spirit and lastly the Cloak tied to the concept of invisibility.

The ritual succeeded in making the there objects phenomenally powerful but his studies over the ancient runes and glyphs used on the three Hallows led him to conclude the ritual was never completed. The Hallows changed hands over the years through different wizards assimilating their power, character and magic throughout the years.

But, like all cups, there is a limit to which it can be filled. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on the situation when Harry came to possess the three Hallows he unwittingly managed to fulfil the thirst of the three Hallows. Being an unwilling Horcrux to Voldemort also did not help and he came to possess the Elder Wand after surviving a Killing Curse from Voldemort. The remnants of these two unnatural magical energies became a catalyst for absorbing the three aspects of Power, Spirit and Invisibility into his soul.

Power made his body endure time, invisibility gave his body a kind of invulnerability that allowed him to survive mortal wounds. For a long time, he had wondered what the aspect of spirit has given him. He had explored soul magic to its extremes but he never came to a solid conclusion.

Well, his present situation gave him an idea of what the aspect of spirit gave him. It'd seem he obtained the ability to reincarnate with his identity intact. In a way, the concept of spirit is synonymous with the identity of a person. He came to this conclusion based on the simple fact that he remembered everything that pertains to his identity as Harry Potter.

The Elder Wand was indeed as powerful as it could be. The only problem was that the world he lived in seems to suck out any shred of magic unless it was tethered by runic inscriptions. He had noted runic magic to function adequately as Valyrian Steel blades have not suffered any drain of magic.

Harry looked at the melting pot sitting inside the raging magical fire he had created. The blacksmiths were looking at him as if he was a god.

The Northerners were Pagan worshippers even if they don't identify themselves as such. At least, he considered them Pagans. Anyone who worshipped the forces of nature without devolving into organized religion was Pagan in his eyes. The Old Gods of the forest sounded more and more like a disorganised Pagan religion which only asked two things from their followers.

Say no to incest and slavery!

Both of those ideas he could easily get behind.

He also loved the fact that the Northerners worship trees and sees them as the divine embodiment of gods. He couldn't find a better way to instil nature preservation in a bunch of muggles.

Harry noted the crucible steel ingots he prepared had turned into a fluid state inside the melting pot. Without his spells, it would have been nigh impossible to use this method and cast steel swords or armour.

"Pour it into the mould Master Wegner."

The local smith nodded and took the mould out of the fire Harry provided and poured it into the mould.

Harry would have done the deed but his arms were not strong enough to bear the weight nor were they steady enough.

As Master Wegner poured the molten metal into the mould Harry began chanting in Latin. He began casting a long chain of spells that would shape, bound and link the layers of metal with magic.

As Master Wegner finished pouring the last drop into the mould Harry finished his chants. Then a helper of master Gregg took the clay mould and placed it in a bucket of water. The water hissed as it rushed into the metal and began to quench it.

Harry immediately cast a spell that removed the clay mould from the sword and began carving out runes all over the blade's periphery with his wand. The runes have to be drawn before the blade loses its heat so he supplemented the runes with heat preserving charms.

When all was said and done the sword was complete and with a small swish of his wand he made the runes flare up with magic before disappearing altogether. Then he removed the heat preserving charms and allowed the blade to cool down. Harry looked over the sharpness of the blade and the distinct ripples over the surface. It looked exactly like Valyrian Steel and now he could focus on other works.

Harry looked around and saw his twin and Jon looking wide-eyed at the sword he produced. The other blacksmiths were not faring any better.

"So, there really is a ghost of the Builder in the crypts." whispered Jon turning pale white.

Harry barely suppressed his laughter. Oh, it was one of his best ideas to claim he was interacting with the ghost of Brandon the Builder. Now, he has got a plausible explanation for all of his miracle works and magic.

"Let's start again Master Wegner. This time with more steel."

After all, a single sword alone would not do the trick.

XXXXXX

"Ned, I'm concerned about Harry. Surely, you see his obsession with the smiths and his farfetched claims are not healthy." complained Catelyn.

Eddard frowned but otherwise remained unreceptive of his wife's concerns. It was not that he didn't understand Catelyn's concerns regarding their son. It was just that he didn't find much trouble with Harrion's interests.

He remembered a time when all he could think of was swords and horses. He had also been fascinated with how swords were made and he had itched to use one in his youth.

Eddard vividly remembered the first time he held a sword in his hand. It was no wooden sword but a castle forged sword. Brandon was the one who helped him get access to the sword. He was so grateful to his brother for doing that. His father on the other hand was not so pleased to learn about the incident.

If he was to pretend to be cross with Harrion he'd be a hypocrite. It'd seem his son inherited a lot more than just his looks.

As for Harrion's claims of ghosts and whatnot he was somewhat concerned. The Crypts of Winterfell is a dark place, especially if one goes deep enough. Even Eddard dared not travel too far into the depths of the Crypts. In part, this was because of Lyanna's attempts at scaring him in his childhood.

Though elder to his sister he remained vulnerable to her mastery of scaring people to their death.

"Harrion is a child Cat. It is only normal for young children to find swords, horses and soldiers fascinating. It is only natural for him to be scared of the crypts. Remember what Maester Luwin said. A child's mind is creative and comes up with most silly explanations to those which they do not understand."

"But Ned! Harry claims he saw a ghost! Not just any ghost but the ghost of your famed ancestor." Catelyn argued most fiercely.

Eddard loved it when his wife became all flustered and angry. A fish in hot water, his wife was, when she became all angry and protective. Not to mention her cheeks would turn red synonymous to her fiery hair.

"That is most likely because of old stories he loves so much to read. Harry has been learning even the Old Tongue to read some of the old scrolls in the library."

"Ned he claims the ghosts talk to him and teaches him things! Are you not concerned?" Catelyn asked with her nostrils flaring.

Now, he became concerned. Not because Harry made up some story to scare Robb and Jon. But because of his wife's rising ire. Even he knew he should not let her fall too hard into anger as she was pregnant with their fourth child.

So he petted her hair and tried to calm her down.

"I'll talk to him Cat. You worry too much my love." Eddard whispered into her hair as he pressed a chaste kiss on her head.

Thankfully, that drained the anger out of his wife. Now he understood why his father always said his mother was beyond his understanding. Women were difficult to deal with.

Sometimes later he sat in the Great Hall entertaining the guests he held under his roof. Much of the North was still mustering up the troops. The Northern army won't be sailing from the shores of the North.

For one, there was not much of navy to speak of to accomplish such an undertaking.

Eddard hoped to raise twenty thousand men or at least close to that number. Then he'd march that army south and help Riverlands in throwing the Ironborn to the seas. From there he and his men could board the ships of the Royal Fleet and eventually attack the Iron Islands.

There were quite a number of Northern ships in the Sunset Sea. But, they'd be tasked to protect the shores of the North.

Looking at the Great Hall he took note of Karstark, Bolton, Manderly, Lake, Tallhart and Glover men. There were other notable houses like Forrester, Whitehill, Locke and many more. The lords were all gathering in Winterfell for their long March to Riverlands. At the moment, many houses have yet to arrive like Umbers and Mormonts.

Strangely enough Lord Orbert Stane of Skagos decided to answer the call. The man and the rest of Skagosi had arrived together with the Karstarks. Lord Orbert even gifted him Unicorn horn which was a rare item in itself.

After Aegon's Conquest the Skagosi have never answered the call of Starks of Winterfell unless it was to defend the North against Wildlings. It was for this reason the Starks before him never bothered the Skagosi. Then again, the oaths houses Stane, Crowl and Magner swore was to raise their banners in support to defend the Wall or to protect the North from Southern invaders.

"Lord Manderly seems to be in a good mood." said Lord Rickard Karstark as the Lord of Karhold approached him.

The Karstarks were Starks in all but name. Lord Rickard had more similarity to him than anyone else in the hall. For a stranger, Lord Rickard would look like an older brother or an uncle to him.

"Aye, Lord Karstark. A raven from King's Landing arrived informing the Ironborn has attacked Shield Islands. Anything that sets back the Reach is a cause of celebration for Lord Wyman." Eddard said with a somewhat amused smile.

"Hah! The man always says the story of Manderly's arrival to the North to his guests. I'd wager he is obsessed with the Starks." said Lord Rickard shaking with laughter.

"Don't forget you are a Stark as well my lord."

"I'm a Karstark!"

"Is there that much difference?" asked Eddard

"I suppose when you put it like that, my lord Stark. I noticed you named your second son Harrion. My eldest son is also named Harrion."

"I named him after the Builder's son." said Eddard

"You Starks have a penchant for naming your children after men of the past." Lord Rickard just grumbled goodnaturedly.

"A trait that is common among Karstarks as well." Eddard reminded his kin.

The doors to the hall opened snatching Eddard's attention. It was the local blacksmith who was accompanied by Robb, Harrion and Jon. Some of the Stark men were even pulling in a small wooden cart with its top covered with a cloth.

"What is this Master Wegner?" Eddard asked with a frown as he did not remember asking the man's presence least of all in the Great Hall in the presence of other lords.

"Apologies for the intrusion, my lord. But, this could not wait. A most extraordinary event has occurred my lord. Your son managed to forge Valyrian Steel!"

Eddard's mouth hung open and the whole Hall became silent for a moment. Eddard stared at the blacksmith confusedly wondering if the man lost his mind. He was not the only one who was thinking along those lines.

"What kind of foolishness are you talking about you fool? You dare to lie in the presence of a Stark at the heart of the North!" thundered Lord Rickard

"But…but…my Lord Karstark. I'm not lying. Look for yourself."

The blacksmith then removed the cloth from the cart to show a shiny new set of armour, greeves and a helmet. It was a full plate armour painted pitch black in colour. But that was not the detail that took the collective breath out of the hall. What surprised many was the shining rippling pattern that surrounded the armour. The paint may have covered the whole armour but the distinct ripple pattern was there if one looked close enough.

"If you still don't believe me look at this…" said Master Wegner, after which, the blacksmith picked up a sheathed sword from the cart.

With a flourish, the blacksmith drew the sword and the steel's singing was all too familiar for Eddard who was intimately familiar with Ice.

"Old Gods give me strength!"

Eddard heard Lord Rickard say with utter surprise.

He was not far away from saying something along the lines but he tried to keep a smooth face. Instead of saying anything, he turned to his three sons who were sporting different expressions on their faces.

Robb was positively thrumming with glee. Jon looked happy and yet a bit more concerned at all the attention they were garnering. Harrion on the other hand looked at him with an innocent smile.

"Told you Harry could speak with the ghost of Bran the Builder. Everybody made fun of me then. What say you now, huh?"

Eddard palmed his face at his eldest son's outburst. It did not help at all and the inhabitants of the Hall began excitedly whispering with each other. He could make out whispers like Stark blood being strong…wolf blood… blessed by the Old Gods...

'What have you done now Harry? Or maybe could his son truly speak with Bran the Builder?' Eddard wondered.

Looking at the Valyrian Steel blade which was now in Lord Rickard's hand he could believe his son's claim. Or maybe, could it be that his son is the second coming of the Builder?

Eddard eyed his son as if seeing Harrion for the first time.