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Got - Chapter 07: Mind Magic
🕑 Added 2026-02-04 09:48:05 +0000 UTCDisclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
āDialogueā
āThoughtsā
-Author notes-
Chapter 07: Mind Magic
āWellā¦finally alone.ā Harryās voice was soft in the vast, silent library. He watched the door swing shut behind his uncle Tyrion. The dwarf had stayed a few minutes more, his clever eyes full of questions, before finally leaving with a strange invitation to a brothel.
āWho visits a brothel in the morning?ā Harry shook his head. This worldās ways were still strange to him.
āNo matter. Iād best not waste time.ā He glanced around, unsure of when the library keeper might return to his duties.
For his first real test of this new magic, he wanted no witnesses. There was always a chance of an unexpected reaction, and if he somehow ended up burning the library down, he didnāt want anyone here to see it.
Harry walked to a shelf and picked a book at random. The leather was old, the title worn: The Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Tales of Ser Duncan the Tall. He was not familiar with that one, so it would serve its purpose.
āLetās hope this worksā¦ā Harry closed his eyes. To do magic without a wand, you needed a clear picture in your mind. It was necessary to play a mental image that depicted exactly what you wanted the spell to do. The clearer the picture, the higher the chances for the spell to work. Once you completed that step, it was time to push a wave of magic through your body and onto your fingertips. Because of the lack of a wand, the fingers would have to be the foci instead.
In his mind, he saw himself pulling all the knowledge from the book. Not just reading it, but taking it. He pictured all the information flowing like a river into the great library of his mind...the Mind Palace he had built with Occlumency. It would be like moving a book from the physical world to a metaphysical one that only existed inside his head.
He felt the tips of his fingers grow warm. The magic was ready. He opened his eyes and spoke the incantation aloud, his words firm in the quiet room. āIndex Omnia.ā
A pale, silvery light, visible only to his magical sight, streamed from his fingertips and onto the tome he was holding.
The effect was immediate. A rush of knowledge poured into his mind. The book was about a hedge knight named Duncan. His travels, his fights, his friendship with a Targaryen prince. The information swirled, then settled neatly inside his mental library. It became a new book on a shelf heād labeled Histories: Lesser Tales.
He opened his eyes and smiled, satisfied. ā That worked better than expected for the first time.ā
The more he practiced, the easier it would get. This library had thousands of books for him to work on.
He looked down at the book in his hands. It wasnāt smoking. The cover looked fine. He was about to call it a complete success when he opened the book to the middle. āOhā¦hold on.ā
The pages were blank. Pure white and pristine. He flipped further. More blank pages. Whole chapters, gone. The words had been erased, sucked out by his spell.
āThis is bad,ā Harry muttered. This wasnāt what heād meant to do. It was collateral damage. His lack of a wand and his inexperience with this specific spell had stolen the words and left an empty shell behind.
āWell,ā he sighed, placing the book back on the shelf. āYou canāt make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.ā Heād have to be more careful from now on. Heād practice on less important books. One no one would miss.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
It was the day of Lord Arrynās funeral. The Red Keep was draped in mourning. A grand ceremony was happening at the Great Sept of Baelor. The King and all the high lords would be there to see the open casket one last time.
Harry, however, had been told by the Queen not to go. āThere is no need to expose my children to such a gruesome display,ā Cersei had said, her face pale and tight. āA corpse is not a fitting sight for a prince.ā
Harry had the feeling that the former Joffrey would have argued and insisted on attending, perhaps pushed by a morbid curiosity of seeing a human corpse, but he was no longer that person and cared little for being present at a funeral for someone he did not know.
Heād seen enough funerals in his past life. More than enough. Instead, he saw this as a chance. With the castle busy with grief, he could finally leave the Red Keep. He could see the city for the first time.
He told no one of his plans. His mother would have forbidden it. He simply left his rooms after breakfast, the Hound falling into step behind him like a silent, scowling shadow.
āWhat do you want to do here?ā the Hound grumbled as they passed through the castle gates and into the stinking, noisy streets of Kingās Landing. The air hit Harry with a thick mix of smoke, sewage, baking bread, and unwashed bodies.
āI just realized I barely know the city where I live,ā Harry said, his eyes scanning the chaos. āI wish to correct that.ā
āBetter stay away from Flea Bottom then,ā the Hound warned, his hand resting on his sword hilt. āLess you want shit thrown at you.ā
Harry stopped and looked back at him. āIs that really something they would do to their prince?ā
The Hound let out a short, harsh laugh. āThat might be the nicest thing they do.ā
āHmm.ā Harry thought for a moment. āThen weāll stay away from there.ā He pointed down a wider, slightly cleaner street. āI believe thatās the way to the marketplace. Right?ā
āI thought you knew nothing about the city, Prince,ā the Hound said, a flicker of suspicion in his dark eyes.
āNot from first-hand experience. But I memorized a map. I donāt want to get lost.ā He started walking again, his pace brisk. āLetās go to the market first. Then we can visit the docks. Thereās much to see and so little time!ā
He strode forward. Behind him, Sandor Clegane groaned loudly before following, his armor clanking with every step.
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Sandor Clegane watched the prince with a wary, simmering confusion.
The boy walked through the streets without fear, drawing stares from every corner. Smallfolk scrambled out of his way, bowing and muttering. Sandor kept his hand firm on his sword, ready to jump if some fool tried to grab the prince or put a knife in his back.
But Joffrey didnāt act like a target. He stopped to talk to people. He smiled at a fishmonger. He tapped an old woman on the shoulder and asked about her wares. The commoners were terrified, but alsoā¦ pleased? It was a strange mix. They were honored by the attention, but their eyes darted around, scared one wrong move would mean a beating or worse.
An hour passed. Sandor watched in silence, his mind working. The change was too big. Too sudden to make sense of it. Was this some kind of intervention from the Gods?.
The Hound did not believe in any God in particular, so he didn't know.
It had started that morning weeks ago. The servant girl had come to fetch Joffrey. The old Joffrey would have yelled, maybe thrown something. This one had beenā¦ polite. Heād gotten lost on the way to the hall. Then came the dawn drills in the yard. Sandor had expected it to last a day. The old prince hated sweat, hated effort, hated pain.
But this Joffrey was different. He took hits. He got bruises and cuts from the practice blades. Sandor had been careful, but it was impossible to spar without some marks. Heād waited for the crying, for the complaints to the Queen. They never came. Instead, Joffrey asked him to hit harder. To stop holding back. And he was learning...fast. Too fast for him to make sense of it.
On the first day, the Prince couldnāt hold a sword properly. Now, he could give a decent account of himself against a green recruit.
āWhat would you like, Your Grace?ā an old baker asked, bowing low.
Sandor didnāt catch the princeās quiet words, but a short while later, the baker returned with two large sacks, stuffed with fresh bread, meat pies, and sweet buns.
Joffrey turned, hefting one sack onto his own shoulder. āCome, help me carry the other.ā
āIf you wanted bread, the castle has plenty,ā Sandor grunted, taking the heavy bag. It was another odd thing. To see a prince carrying his own share of the load.
āCome on,ā Joffrey said, a strange, bright look in his green eyes. āI want to visit the docks. Give these away.ā
Sandor stared. Give them away? To beggars? It made no sense. Was this a new game? A cruel joke? The old Joffrey might have thrown bread into the mud and laughed as people fought for it. But thisā¦ this felt different. The princeās face showed no malice, only a calm purpose Sandor couldnāt puzzle out.
He followed, the weight of the food in one hand, the weight of his confusion growing heavier with each step.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Harry walked calmly through the wide street, the sack of bread a comfortable weight on his back.
So far, so good, he thought. No one seemed to notice a thing.
Every person heād spoken to today had been part of an experiment. With each smile, each touch on a shoulder, heād been practicing his magic.
The Mind Arts...Wandless Legilimency was a tricky thing. He didnāt dive deep. He just skimmed the surface of their thoughts, like dipping a cup into a stream.
Heād tried different methods. Eye contact was necessary, but it was weak. A physical touch made it stronger. Just a hand on someoneās shoulder, even through cloth, created a much clearer link, allowing him to travel much further into the mind of the individual.
He was learning. The minds here were simpler, rougher. Less guarded. Fear and want were loud and easy to read.
Now it was time for the next test. For that, he needed subjects no one would care about. His first thought was the slums, but the Houndās warning was clear. He didnāt need a mob throwing filth at him.
The docks were the next best place. Here, the air was thick with the smell of fish, salt, and human misery. By the large fishing ships, a crowd of ragged people swarmed, their hands held out, begging for scraps as sailors unloaded the dayās catch. Men with hollow eyes, women clutching skinny children, old folk who looked like walking bones.
Perfect.
Joffreyās lips curved into a small, private smile. Yes. These will do nicely.
It was time to test compulsion charms. To see how much of anotherās will he could bend with a thread of magic and a focused thought. What could he make them do?. But more importantly...will they notice something?.
He adjusted the sack on his shoulder and walked toward the crowd of beggars. The Hound followed close behind, a looming, confused shadow, likely thinking his prince was trying to play at being a kind-hearted fool like Baelor the Blessed. He had no idea of the princeās true intentions, hidden behind those calm, green, watchful eyes.
Comments
Alkole
Thanks for the chapter
