The Sorcerer’s War

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The Battlefield – The Stormlands' Edge

The night was thick with smoke, the air charged with the lingering remnants of battle. The Stormlands, once lush with rolling hills and dense forests, had become a land of fire and blood. Scattered bodies of soldiers, both human and creatures of the dark, littered the battlefield. The once-proud banners of Westeros fluttered in the wind, torn and bloodstained.

Harry Potter stood in the midst of the chaos, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His wand, still glowing from his last spell, trembled slightly in his hand. He had faced many battles in his life, but this war was different.

This enemy was something unnatural.

Before him, the Shadowborn, twisted creatures of magic and darkness, moved like wraiths in the mist. Their eyes glowed red with unholy fire, and their claws dripped with black ichor. They had been conjured by forces Harry could barely comprehend—dark sorcery woven from the remnants of old Valyria.

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow, tightening his grip on his wand. He had to push past exhaustion. He had to fight.

---

A New Spell – Magic Meets Blood

As the enemy advanced, Harry muttered an incantation under his breath. This wasn't just any spell—it was something new, something he had been working on ever since he arrived in this world.

The magic here was different from what he knew. It was older, wilder. It responded to him in ways he hadn't anticipated, twisting his spells into something greater… or far more dangerous.

His opponent, a Shadowborn Knight, let out an inhuman growl and lunged at him, its sword wreathed in dark flame.

Harry flicked his wand in an arc, shouting, "Ignis Tempestas!"

A whirlwind of fire erupted from his wand, swirling like a controlled inferno. The flames formed into the shape of a dragon, its massive wings spreading wide before it lunged at the Shadowborn Knight. The creature howled as the fire consumed it, its body turning into ash within seconds.

Harry panted, his magic surging through his veins. The spell had worked—but it took far more energy than he expected.

But there was no time to celebrate.

More enemies emerged from the shadows.

---

Pushing Beyond Limits

A horde of Shadowborn rushed forward, their twisted forms moving unnaturally fast. Harry raised his wand again, preparing another attack, but before he could cast, something struck him—a pulse of dark energy, crashing into his chest like a hammer.

He was thrown backward, landing hard on the scorched ground. His ribs ached, and his vision blurred. Through the haze, he saw a figure in black armor, standing at the edge of the battlefield.

It wasn't just any warrior.

It was a Deathbinder, one of the generals of the Shadow Wyrm.

The Deathbinder raised its skeletal hand, chanting in a language Harry didn't understand. The air around them thickened, the sky darkening even further.

Harry gritted his teeth. He could feel the magic pressing against him, trying to crush his will. No. Not today.

Fighting through the pain, he pointed his wand and took a deep breath.

"This has to work."

He whispered a new incantation, one he had spent weeks perfecting. "Astra Vortex!"

The very air around him shimmered with raw magical energy. The spell called forth the power of the stars themselves, manifesting as a swirling storm of blue and silver light. The vortex expanded outward, colliding with the dark magic of the Deathbinder.

The resulting explosion sent shockwaves across the battlefield.

The Deathbinder staggered, its dark armor cracking. Its spell had been disrupted.

Harry seized the moment. Summoning his last reserves of strength, he slashed his wand through the air and roared, "Expulso Maxima!"

A concentrated blast of force struck the Deathbinder, hurling it into the ruined remains of an old castle wall. Stone and debris collapsed upon it, burying it beneath rubble.

The battlefield fell silent for a brief moment. The other Shadowborn hesitated, uncertain without their commander.

And then, as if sensing weakness, the armies of Westeros charged forward.

---

Reinforcements Arrive

The sounds of battle filled the air once more as the Northmen, Unsullied, and Knights of the Vale clashed against the remaining Shadowborn.

Harry was about to collapse when a familiar voice called out—Jon Snow, riding toward him on horseback, Longclaw gleaming in his grip.

"You alright?" Jon asked as he dismounted.

Harry coughed, brushing off dirt from his robes. "Been better."

Jon smirked before his expression turned serious. "That spell you just used… that wasn't normal magic, was it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It's… something new. Something this world gave me."

Jon studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Whatever it is, it worked. We need to push forward before they regroup."

Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself. His magic still thrummed through his body, but the exhaustion was creeping in.

He couldn't afford to stop now.

With a final glance at Jon, he raised his wand and charged back into the fray.

---

The Shadows' Retreat

The Deathbinder had fallen, and without its power anchoring them, the Shadowborn forces began to waver. Their movements became sluggish, their unnatural resilience fading.

One by one, the enemy began to retreat, slipping into the darkness from which they came.

By dawn, the battlefield was littered with the remains of battle.

The Westerosi forces had won this skirmish, but the war was far from over.

---

The Aftermath – A Dangerous Revelation

Later that night, in the war tent, Harry sat with Daenerys, Tyrion, and Sansa. His hands trembled slightly, the aftereffects of his spellwork still lingering.

"You tapped into something," Daenerys said, watching him closely. "That was no ordinary magic."

Harry hesitated before speaking. "I think… I think this world is changing me."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Changing you how?"

Harry stared at his hands, flexing his fingers as if trying to feel the magic beneath his skin. "The spells I used today—they weren't from my world. I created them… but it's as if this land, this magic, is guiding me."

Sansa's expression darkened. "If that's true… then we need to be careful. Power like that comes with a cost."

Harry met her gaze. He knew she was right. He could feel it deep inside—the magic was growing stronger, but so was the danger.

Outside the tent, the wind howled, carrying with it whispers of the enemy.

The Shadow Wyrm's forces had retreated today.

But the true war was only beginning.