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The Winter Wizard - Chapter 26 - The Trip to Meereen
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 20:00:07 +0000 UTCThe Sea Spirit sliced through the waves, its sails full of a steady wind as it cruised past the rocky shores of the Disputed Lands. The captain, a weathered man named Calador, leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the coastline. Jon and Harry stood nearby, listening as the captain recounted tales of the treacherous waters and the lands beyond.
“The Disputed Lands,” Calador began, his voice low and gravelly. “Not much to look at, but let me tell you, lads, there’s danger aplenty there. Not a place for honest men, or even dishonest ones who value their necks. They say that one in ten ships that drop anchor there don’t sail away under the same flag. Pirates, slavers, mercenaries—they’ll take your ship, your goods, and your freedom without a second thought. Trust me, it’s not worth it. Better to sail on by.”
Harry frowned. “Then why does anyone stop there?”
Calador chuckled. “Desperation, ignorance, or greed. Although it’s usually greed. Some fool thinks he’s clever enough to make a fortune trading goods without paying the tolls of Volantis or Braavos. Most of them end up rowing in chains. No, lads, we’ll keep our distance. Better to sail on to safer harbors.”
Jon crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “How safe is Volantis?”
The captain grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. “Safe enough if you’ve got coin and keep your wits about you. It’s a city of wealth and power, but also of slaves and shadows. You’ll see soon enough.”
By midmorning two days later, the towering Black Walls of Volantis loomed on the horizon. The Sea Spirit glided into the bustling harbor, a chaotic hive of activity. Merchants shouted from their stalls, sailors hauled crates of goods off and onto boats, and the scent of exotic spices mixed with the salt air.
“We’ll be here at least one night,” Calador announced as the crew began tying off the ship. “There’s good money to be made in Volantis if you know where to look. And I intend to take advantage of this. You two should explore the city. See the sights.”
Harry and Jon exchanged wary glances. “What if you decide to sail off without us?” Jon asked.
Calador laughed heartily. “Oh, don’t worry about that. You’re worth more to me as paying passengers than any amount of profit I’d get filling your rooms with silks or spices. But more importantly, I’d hate to lose the pleasure of your company.”
Jon’s expression remained skeptical, but Harry’s curiosity won out. “Let’s go,” he said, nudging Jon before whispering to his friend. “We’ll take everything important with us, just in case.”
With everything they thought might be difficult to replace secured in their packs, Harry and Jon stepped onto the cobbled streets of Volantis. The city was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds: towering temples adorned with intricate carvings, bustling marketplaces filled with goods from every corner of the known world, and the ever-present sight of slaves with tattoos marking their status.
“It’s overwhelming,” Jon admitted as they weaved through the crowd.
Harry nodded. “But fascinating. Look at that.” He pointed to a massive bridge spanning the River Rhoyne, lined with buildings and teeming with life. “That must be the Long Bridge.”
They wandered through the city, their wariness slowly giving way to awe. At a tavern near one of the main gates to the city, they stopped to rest and overheard a lively conversation among mercanaries and merchants.
“I’m telling you, it’s true,” one man said, slamming his mug on the table. “A giant Dothraki horde marched to Vaes Dothrak months ago, the horde was large enough it stretched almost from horizon to horizon, and with them was a woman riding side by side with one of the khals. Blonde, pale-skinned. Sure didn’t look like one of theirs.”
His companion snorted. “Barbarian nonsense. The Dothraki don’t take outsiders to ride with them, especially not women from the west. And if they did she certainly wouldn’t be riding side by side with them.”
Jon leaned closer to Harry and whispered, “They have a point. The Dothraki aren’t exactly open to … anything not Dothraki. Even though Maester Luwin’s books barely mentioned them, I’ve heard enough to know they hate outsiders.”
Harry frowned thoughtfully. “I know, but this is the second time we’ve heard about a blonde woman heading to Vaes Dothrak. There’s got to be something more to it. We’ll get more information as we get closer.”
Leaving the tavern, they continued exploring. The wealth of Volantis was staggering. Gold and jewels glittered in shop windows, and the markets overflowed with silks, spices, and other luxuries. Slaves carried heavy loads or fanned their masters with giant plumes.
Jon’s jaw tightened as they passed a slave auction. “This city may be rich, but it’s built on misery.”
Harry nodded, his mood somber.
Eventually, they made their way to the main marketplace.
The marketplace of Volantis sprawled before Harry and Jon like a labyrinth of colors, sounds, and smells. Stalls were packed tightly together, with merchants shouting over each other in a cacophony of languages to attract customers. The sheer variety was staggering: bolts of silk in vivid hues hung beside racks of gleaming armor, barrels of exotic spices wafted their scents into the air, and tables groaned under the weight of strange fruits and meats that neither Harry nor Jon recognized.
Jon broke the silence, his voice tinged with awe. "This market is almost the size of Winterfell."
Harry could only nod in agreement, his eyes darting from one vibrant display to another. The size of the market was overwhelming, and the chaotic energy buzzing in the air was unlike anything they had experienced.
They entered the throng of people, moving from stall to stall.
“This is incredible,” Harry said, examining a dagger with a hilt encrusted with emeralds.
Jon nodded but kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Let’s not get too distracted. This place is likely full of pickpockets.”
A merchant called out to them. “You, young men! Looking for something special? Perhaps a gift for a lady?”
“Just browsing,” Harry replied, though he couldn’t resist glancing at a display of ornate rings.
As the sun reached its peak in the sky, the market’s energy shifted. Musicians began playing lively tunes, and food vendors lit their fires, filling the air with tantalizing aromas. Harry and Jon sampled spiced meats and sweet pastries, their earlier wariness forgotten in the face of such vibrant life.
“Volantis is nothing like Winterfell,” Jon said as they sat on the edge of a fountain, watching the crowd.
Harry laughed. “It’s nothing like anything I’ve ever seen. But I think I like it.”
Jon’s expression softened. “It does have its charms. Even if it’s built on …” He trailed off, his gaze drifting to a group of slaves carrying a litter. “Even if it’s built on the backs of others.”
Harry followed his gaze, his smile fading. “We can’t change it, not today. But we can learn. Knowledge is power, right?”
Jon nodded slowly. “You sound like Maester Luwin.”
Harry grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
As they were walking down one of the isles Jon suddenly turned off having caught sight of a weapons vendor, his attention fixed on an array of swords displayed on a wooden rack. He picked up a few, testing their weight and balance, his brow furrowed in concentration. Harry lingered nearby at first, but his attention soon wandered as he observed the swirling crowd.
Nearby, raised voices caught Harry’s ear. Looking down the isles he saw two men were arguing, their gestures animated and their words sharp. Curious, Harry glanced back at Jon, who was still critically inspecting a sword, and said, "I'll be right back." Jon grunted in acknowledgment, too focused to protest.
Harry wove through the crowd that had gathered around the argument. The two men were dressed in strikingly different garb. One wore crimson robes and held a brass scepter, while the other was clad in black and silver, his attire marked by intricate star motifs. Their debate was heated, the air between them practically crackling with tension.
“R’hllor is the true god, the Lord of Light! He brings the dawn and banishes darkness!” the man in crimson declared, his voice booming.
“Lies and folly!” retorted the other man, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Church of Starry Wisdom sees the universe as it truly is—eternal, infinite, and beyond the petty flames your god commands!”
The crowd murmured, some clearly entertained and others growing restless. Harry leaned toward a man standing nearby and asked, "What’s going on?"
The man, a burly man with a grizzled beard, turned to Harry and shrugged. “Just a couple of preachers fighting over whose god’s the best. Happens all the time around here. They draw a crowd of folks hoping for a good brawl, but these two? They’re all bark, no bite. Been at it for almost an hour now with no action.”
Harry chuckled softly, thanked the man, and edged his way out of the crowd. He returned to Jon, who had just set the sword he was inspecting back on the rack, shaking his head.
"None of them are for me," Jon said. "Too light or too flimsy. Guess I’ll keep what I’ve got for now."
"Probably a good call," Harry said with a smile. "You wouldn’t believe the argument I just saw—two priests yelling at each other about their gods. Apparently, it’s a common pastime here."
Jon snorted. "Sounds like a waste of breath. Come on, let’s find something to eat."
They wandered deeper into the marketplace until an enticing aroma of roasting meat drew them to a small kiosk. The vendor, a stout woman with a broad smile, was turning skewers of sizzling meat over an open flame. The scent was irresistible, and they each ordered a skewer before finding seats at one of the small wooden tables set up nearby.
The meat was savory and spiced in a way that neither of them had tasted before, but it was delicious. As they ate, their attention was drawn to a nearby table, where a group of men were talking in hushed tones, their voices just loud enough to carry over the din of the market.
"—still no sign of him," one of the men said, his tone grim. "The heir’s been missing for months now. If he doesn’t turn up soon, there’s going to be blood in the streets. The other families won’t let it stand."
"Could be dead," another man suggested, earning a sharp glare from his companion. "Or worse, captured. The last thing Volantis needs is one of the great houses dragged into a ransom dispute with the Free Cities."
Harry exchanged a glance with Jon, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Harry, however, couldn’t suppress his curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, straining to hear more of the conversation, but the men lowered their voices and eventually fell silent. The tension at their table was palpable, and it wasn’t long before they finished their meal and left the kiosk.
When Harry and Jon finished their meal, the sun was sinking lower in the sky, painting the city in shades of amber and gold. The marketplace was beginning to wind down, with some merchants packing up their goods while others remained, hoping for a few more sales before nightfall.
"We should head back to the docks," Jon said, his tone firm. "Just in case the captain decides to leave earlier than planned."
Harry nodded, and they started making their way through the dwindling crowds.
The bustling market of Volantis was beginning to quiet as Harry and Jon approached its edge. The fading sunlight cast long shadows over the stalls, and the air grew cooler, but a sudden shout stopped Harry in his tracks.
“Magical relics! Artifacts of wonder from across the known world!”
The voice, rasping and theatrical, carried over the noise of the crowd. Harry’s curiosity flared. Without thinking, he turned toward the source of the call.
“Harry,” Jon said, his tone both weary and wary. “We’re supposed to be heading back.”
“I know,” Harry replied, already moving in the direction of the voice. “Just give me a minute.”
Jon sighed heavily, muttering something about wasting time. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I’ll wait here.”
Harry nodded and slipped through the thinning crowd. The call had come from a stall unlike any other he had seen in the marketplace. Most stalls were open, with goods proudly displayed for all to see, but this one was shrouded in black cloth, forming a kind of tent that exuded mystery. A faint, flickering light glowed from within, casting strange, shifting shadows against the fabric.
Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed the heavy curtain aside and stepped inside.
Despite the heat outside and the candles within, the air inside the stall was surprising cool and smelled faintly of incense. Shelves lined the walls, filled with an eclectic assortment of objects: intricately carved wooden idols, jars of strange powders, books with cracked leather bindings, and trinkets that shimmered as if they were alive. The flickering light came from a cluster of small, candles hanging near the ceiling.
“Welcome,” a voice said, low and gravelly.
Harry turned to see an elderly man seated behind a cluttered counter. He was thin and stooped, with a weathered face and wisps of white hair clinging to his scalp. His piercing eyes, however, gleamed with an energy that contradicted his frail appearance. He reminded Harry of Dumbledore in some ways, though this man carried none of Dumbledore’s warmth.
“What are you looking for, young man?” the old merchant asked, his gaze sharp and assessing.
Harry hesitated. “I’m ... not sure.”
The man nodded sagely. “A common answer. Feel free to browse, then. Perhaps something will speak to you. But,” his voice grew colder, “let me be clear: stealing from this shop would be … most unwise.”
Harry nodded quickly, suppressing a shiver. “Understood.”
Harry began to explore the shop, his fingers hovering just above the items as his eyes scanned the shelves. A necklace with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon seemed to pulse faintly with a blue light. A dusty tome, its cover marked with runes that seemed to shift everytime he looked away from them. There was a dagger with a blade that shimmered like liquid, and a jar containing what looked like a writhing, silver mist.
Then he saw it: a small metal box on a pedestal at the back of the shop. It was plain, almost unremarkable, except for the way it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Harry felt a strange pull toward it and stopped in front of the pedestal, studying the box with a mix of curiosity and unease.
He turned to ask the merchant about it, but froze. The man, who had been seated behind the counter moments ago, was now standing directly beside him, silent and still as a statue.
Harry startled, taking a step back. “How did you—”
The merchant smiled, his lined face creasing like parchment. “You have good taste,” he said, ignoring the question. “This is perhaps the most curious item in my collection.”
“What is it?” Harry asked, his voice hushed.
The man shrugged, his expression enigmatic. “I don’t know.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know what it is?”
“Nor what’s inside it,” the merchant admitted. “It is a mystery.”
Harry frowned, looking back at the box. “Why not open it?”
“Ah,” the merchant said with a dry chuckle, “if only it were that simple. Every tool imaginable has been tried—hammers, chisels, saws, even swords. Nothing leaves so much as a scratch. I’ve even cast it into a forge, hoping the flames would weaken it. But it emerged unscathed.”
Harry’s intrigue deepened. “Where did it come from?”
“Old Valyria,” the man replied, his voice taking on a reverent tone. “Before the Doom. It has been passed down through generations, though my father acquired it in Qarth. A wealthy merchant was selling the possessions of an even wealthier man who had fallen on hard times.”
Harry’s gaze lingered on the box. There was something about it—something familiar and strange all at once. The pull he felt was almost magnetic.
“How much?” Harry asked.
The merchant smiled faintly, as if he had been expecting the question. He named a price that made Harry’s stomach twist.
“That’s outrageous,” Harry said.
The merchant spread his hands. “Old Valyria does not come cheap. But I am a reasonable man. Let us negotiate.”
The haggling was spirited but good-natured. The merchant’s sharp wit and dry humor made the exchange almost enjoyable, though Harry suspected he was still being overcharged by the end of it. At last, they settled on a price, and Harry handed over a pouch of coins.
The merchant wrapped the box in a piece of cloth and handed it to Harry with a knowing smile. “Good luck discovering its secrets,” he said. “And should you ever learn what lies within, I would very much like to know.”
Harry nodded, gripping the wrapped box tightly. As he exited the stall, he found Jon leaning against a nearby post, arms crossed and looking unimpressed.
“Done?” Jon asked.
Harry held up the wrapped bundle. “Found something interesting.”
Jon sighed. “I’ll take your word for it. Let’s get back to the docks before we run out of time.”
The streets were quieter now, but still lively enough to keep them on edge. As they passed through the market’s outer edges, they noticed the atmosphere growing darker—not just from the setting sun, but from the shift in the type of people they encountered. Groups of rough-looking men and shadowy figures loitered in the alleys, their eyes following passersby with unsettling interest.
Jon’s hand instinctively went to his sword, and Harry kept his wand hidden but ready beneath his cloak. They quickened their pace, their senses on high alert.
When they finally reached the docks, the sight of their ship brought a wave of relief. The captain was overseeing the loading of crates onto the ship, his booming voice barking orders at the crew.
“Back already?” he called out when he spotted them. “Thought you’d still be wandering the city, lost in its wonders.”
“We’ve seen enough for today,” Jon replied, his tone curt.
The captain chuckled. “Fair enough. Get some rest, lads. We set sail with the tide tomorrow.”
That night, Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of their cramped quarters aboard the ship, the mysterious box resting before him on the rough wooden planks. Its dark surface absorbed the dim lantern light like a void, revealing no seams or marks that might hint at its purpose. Harry had spent nearly an hour trying every spell he could think of: Alohomora, Diffindo, Reducto, even powerful piercing hexes, but the box remained unyielding.
"Come on," Harry muttered, his wand in hand. "There’s got to be something.”
Jon, seated on his hammock nearby, watched with mild curiosity. "You’ve been at this for a while without success," he said. "Maybe it’s not meant to be opened."
Harry exhaled sharply, lowering his wand. "It must have a way to be opened. I just haven’t found it yet."
“Maybe there’s no secret to find. Maybe it’s just a box,” Jon offered with a shrug.
Harry laughed humorlessly, picking up the box and turning it over in his hands. "A box that can’t be opened by force, magic, or heat? I doubt it’s just a box."
Jon shook his head, reclining in his hammock. "Suit yourself. Just don’t lose sleep over it."
Dejected, Harry placed the box into his bag, its mysteries unanswered. The rhythmic creaking of the ship’s hull and the gentle rocking of the waves eventually lulled him to sleep.
The ship set sail at dawn the next morning, its hold freshly stocked and its sails full with a strong wind. The voyage southward took them along the Smoking Sea, where the ruins of Valyria lay shrouded in mist and legend.
It was well over a week before they finally passed the shadowy coast of the Valyrian peninsula. During that time the sailors avoided looking toward the shore, their faces pale and their conversations hushed. On one of the final days they were within sight of Valyria, Harry and Jon, stood at the railing, staring in awe at the faint shapes of jagged ruins and distant columns of steam rising from the sea.
“It still doesn’t look like what I expected,” Jon said, though his voice held a note of awe.
Harry shook his head. “Despite appearances there may still be things to find there. The stories say Valyria was the most powerful civilization the world has ever known. They mastered magic, dragons, and weapons beyond anything Westeros has seen.”
Jon glanced at him. “You sound like you’d want to go there.”
Harry hesitated. He couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward the place. “If it wasn’t so dangerous … maybe. Who knows what they left behind? Knowledge, artifacts, magic …” His voice trailed off as he imagined the possibilities.
The captain, a burly Braavosi man with a booming voice, appeared beside them, pipe in hand. “Curious, are you? Best to let Valyria lie, boy. Even the sea won’t touch that place. Look to starboard instead.”
Both Harry and Jon turned to where he pointed. In the distance, a cluster of dark islands loomed, their jagged cliffs rising ominously from the water.
“The Basilisk Isles,” the captain said with a grim chuckle. “Once crawling with basilisks, or so they say. Now it’s worse. Pirates, slavers, skinners, cannibals—brindled men with no love for strangers. A lovely place, eh?”
Harry felt a chill run through him, memories of his second year at Hogwarts flashing through his head. “You plan to go there?”
The captain barked a laugh. “Not for all the gold in Braavos! Not unless death were the only alternative. Best to keep a wide berth, eh? Those waters reek of blood.”
Harry shivered, gripping the railing tighter. The world was far darker and more dangerous than he’d imagined.
The journey continued, and for a time, the days blurred into one another. The ship sailed steadily northward heading towards Slaver’s Bay, cutting through the azure waters. The sailors, seasoned and superstitious, took every passing cloud as an omen, muttering prayers to the gods as they worked.
Harry spent his time alternating between helping where he could and pouring over the box.
Midway through the second week since leaving Valyria behind, a fierce storm descended upon them. The ship tossed violently on the waves, and the crew scrambled to secure the sails. Harry and Jon were confined below deck, clinging to whatever they could as the ship lurched dangerously.
When the storm finally passed two days later, the crew’s relief was palpable, though they insisted it had been a mild squall. Harry and Jon exchanged incredulous glances, silently agreeing that if that was mild, they didn’t want to see a real storm.
The next morning, just as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Harry and Jon climbed onto the deck to find the captain waiting for them. The Braavosi man spread his arms dramatically.
“Welcome to Slaver’s Bay, boys!”
The water around them was calm, the sky clear. In the distance, the towering pyramids and great harbors of Meereen came into view, their grandeur dwarfing anything Harry had ever seen. The city rose like a jewel from the arid land, its golden walls glinting in the sunlight.
Harry stared in stunned silence. Even Jon, who had grown up within the walls of Winterfell, seemed taken aback.
“It’s … massive,” Harry said finally.
The captain grinned. “Aye, and dangerous. Be careful when you disembark. The slavers here have no qualms about adding fresh stock to their pens. You two would fetch a high price.”
Jon scowled. “Thanks for the warning.”
The captain laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, boy. You’re young, strong, and healthy. What slaver wouldn’t want that?”
Kind Regards,
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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it’s the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.
Story Note 1 – As I said last chapter, I’m really enjoying writing these Harry and Jon chapters and so glad they met up and are travelling together rather than Harry having to make this journey alone. I really hope you all are as well although please do let me know.
Story Note 2 – So as promised this was a single chapter although currently deciding how I want to put out the plans I had for their layover in Volantis. Had originally planned have them there for three days waiting to take on supplies but decided I didn’t want to drag out the getting to Daenerys at that point. However, I did plan and mostly write the adventures of Jon and Harry. But I suppose that is up to you. If anyone is interested in seeing these let me know otherwise I don’t need to share them.
Story Note 3 – And welcome to Meereen! If I were to bet I would they are getting incredibly close to meeting Daenerys … kinda exciting!
Story Note 4 – Also yes Harry is obviously interested in visiting Valyria, however this might have to wait a while as there are obviously pressing reasons or unavoidable circumstances that lead him to landing there … but as of now Harry certainly has no plans to land there at least in the near future. Certainly without knowing he won’t die there.
A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.
Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own any part of the Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter universes That includes but is not limited to the characters, locations, … Who knew.
