What if Harry Potter Crash Landed in Westeros скачать в хорошем качестве

What if Harry Potter Crash Landed in Westeros

What if Harry Potter Crash Landed in Westeros New Channel:    / @halfbloodtheorist   Discord:   / discord   YT:    / @threeeyedtheorist   Voice Acting & Narration: Steven Waters @bobablackfly602 Writers: Myself, @quadeong7453 , & @lordinquisitordunn336 Dunn's Amazon Books: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/... What if Harry Potter Crash-Landed in Westeros? Let’s explore the depths of it in the video. For those of you who love Harry Potter, we’ve recently started a new theorist What If Channel, Half Blood Theorist. Check us out when you get the chance. The channel can be seen in collaboration with this video. The link will also be in the description and pinned comment. Cold. A biting, savage cold that claws at his cheeks and forces the air out of his lungs in a sharp gasp. His eyes snap open. He is kneeling in the snow, one bare hand pressed flat against the rough bark of an enormous tree. But this is no ordinary tree. The trunk is wide as a house, bone-white, its bark pale as a corpse. And carved into that bark, or perhaps grown into it, as if placed there by something older than memory, are faces. Dozens of them. Twisted, weathered, ancient faces with hollow mouths and eyes of dried, dark red sap that weep silently down the wood like old blood. Harry stares at his hand against the bark. He doesn't remember reaching for it. He doesn't remember arriving here at all. He straightens slowly, joints stiff, breath misting in the frozen air. Around him, a grove of heart trees stands sentinel in the grey morning light. A pool of still black water mirrors the sky. The silence here is absolute. He turns in a slow circle. Snow. Bare branches. Stone walls in the distance. Harry(bewildered): "Where — " Three Eyed Raven Bran: "I have been watching you, Harry Potter." The voice doesn't come from any direction. It comes from everywhere — or perhaps from somewhere beneath everything, threaded through the roots under his feet and the branches overhead and the cold still air between them. It is a boy's voice, and yet ancient in a way that makes Harry's chest tighten. He spins, wand raised on instinct. There is no one there. Only the faces in the tree. And for just a moment, one of them seems different — its hollow eyes not empty but filled, two pale blue points of light burning within the carved sockets. The mouth does not move, but the voice returns. Three Eyed Raven Bran: "I am the Three-Eyed Raven. I have watched you across many times and many places. I watched you walk into death, and I watched what waited for you on the other side. And now I have brought you here, because I need you." Every instinct in him is firing. He has faced Voldemort, faced Dementors, faced things that should not exist, but this is different. This is calm in a way that frightens him more than rage ever could. Harry(tight): "Need me. Right. And who exactly are you? Where is here? What — " Three Eyed Raven Bran: "You are in the Godswood of Winterfell, in the North of Westeros. A world not your own." Harry(staring): "A world — " Three Eyed Raven Bran: "Darkness rises beyond the Wall. An ancient evil, patient as winter, older than kingdoms. It marches, and this world does not have the weapons to face it — not yet. But you, Harry Potter, carry something this world has not seen in a thousand years. Magic. Real magic. Wild magic. The kind that can change the course of what is coming. You are the key to saving this realm from the dark. When the task is done, when the Long Night is turned back, I will return you to your own time. To your own world. To the people waiting for you." Harry's throat tightens. Hermione. Ron. Ginny. The Great Hall. Harry: "W-What?! Wait — wait! I don't even know what you want me to — what darkness? What wall? What — " Silence. The faces in the weirwood are only wood again. Dead and hollow and still. Harry stands alone in the snow, wand gripped white-knuckled in his hand, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looks down at himself — still in the clothes he died in, still carrying his wand, still very much, against all logic and reason, alive. He lets out a slow, shaking breath. Harry(quietly): "Brilliant." He turns — and nearly walks face-first into something enormous and white. The direwolf is huge. Larger than any dog Harry has ever seen, larger than any wolf he has read about, its fur the colour of fresh snow and its eyes a deep, startling red. It stands completely still, watching him with an intelligence that is deeply unsettling. #gameofthrones #gameofthroneswhatif #whatif