Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the Witcher Series, they are the property of J.K Rowling, CD Projekt Red and Andrzej Sapkowski. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made on this work of fanfiction.

Her legs… her chest… her entire damned body was burning but she continued to push herself, continued to run. I do not want to die. It'd been so long since last her body was free of exhaustion that she scarcely remembered the feeling. At her heels, ever present and utterly relentless, were the Red Riders of the Wild Hunt, led by the King of the Aen Elle, Eredin Bréacc Glas. They followed her through time and space. She'd been to world's made up of little more than barren deserts and inhabited by what few parasites could survive in such a place, seen creatures the size of mountains burn the world where they strode, swam in the deepest seas , trekked along peaks stretching seemingly endlessly into the sky, and seen places covered in the endless cold of the White Frost. Even now as her body burned from her exertions, she could feel the cold creep up her neck as the Wild Hunt drew ever nearer. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon tired of running but she would continue on.

For a time she'd been accompanied by Crevan Espane aep Caomhan Macha, better known as Avallac'h. He was one of the Aen Elle, an Aen Severhne, a sage, one of the knowing and called by some, the Fox. He'd been the intended of her ancestor Lara Dorren before she took her human lover, and the first elf Cirilla met when arriving on the world of the Aen Elle. There he told her she would be allowed to live in peace, free of the elves, if only she were to conceive a child with the former king, Auberon. I was turned into little more than a broodmare simply for the sake of conserving the Elder Blood and yet, nothing ever came of it.

They traveled to the elven capital of Tir nà Lia, meeting along the way both Eredin and a group of unicorns; the unicorns would prove to be her only true ally on the elven world. She lived in the capital for a time, trying to conceive a child with the King to no avail. He saw her as a mere human and lacked the ability to perform. Eredin recommended to the king that he take a potion that would allow him to actually manage in the bedroom. But it was a lie, the potion killed him and upon Auberon's death, she fled only to be confronted by Eredin.

The unicorns had warned her, during their first meeting, that Avallac'h and Eredin were in league with one another, hell bent on using her and her blood for the Gates of the World. It would allow the Aen Elle to traverse worlds en mass and result in dire consequences for humans. During their confrontation, Eredin told her much the same. The pair fought, and because of his arrogance, she proved victorious and escaped in a boat to the unicorns. She was pursued by the Red Riders, and there was a battle between them and her equine allies. A unicorn she'd saved in her early days on the elven world, Ihuarraquax, helped her in the midst of the battle and she managed to travel through both time and space for the first time. She understood little of how the power truly worked and after time, by jumping through many worlds, found herself in her own again.

She remained out of the notice of the Aen Elle for a time, reuniting with her mother and father of choice if not blood, Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerburg, along with Triss Merigold, Dandelion, and Zoltan Chivay. But when Geralt was gravely injured during a riot in Rivia, Yennefer attempted to save him only to die herself. Despite her ability to perform magic, Ciri had long since sworn it off, and she could do nothing but watch the life leave them. It was at that moment that Ihuarraquax appeared, and channeled her own power through Ciri to try and heal Yennefer and Geralt. Ciri believed it hadn't worked, and so took her parents to a small island on a lake nearby. In her distress, she said what she thought would be her final goodbyes and left her world. I wish I'd just delayed a little longer.

Only months later, she'd encountered Avallac'h again. She assumed that he had hunted her down and meant to return her to Tir nà Lia, to face punishment for Auberon's murder, or worse to be used for the travel of the Aen Elle to another world. She was wrong; instead, the elven sage had come to help her. His intention, at least as far as the Gates of the World were concerned, had never been to harm her, even if they still weren't what one would call altruistic. He informed her that Eredin was growing desperate as the White Frost drew ever closer to consuming their home. He intended to use her, or more accurately her blood, to travel to her world and conquer it, leaving nothing but a bloody pile of corpses in his wake. Despite his complicity in her prior predicament, Avallac'h had spent years tracking and ensuring the safety of those from Lara Dorren's bloodline. He had no intention of allowing Eredin to murder her and use her for his purposes.

They spent more than a year together pursued by the Wild Hunt, but they were always a step ahead. Avallac'h taught her how better to control her unique powers and while it was often a struggle she made a good deal of progress. No longer was she forced to jump from place to place haphazardly with only the faintest hope of arriving where she wished; now she only need think of a place, take a breath and she was there. It was during this time that they learned both Geralt and Yennefer had survived the riots in Rivia, only for Yennefer to be taken by the Hunt. Gerlalt, in his attempts to free her was bound in servitude to Eredin's band.

Enraged, Cirilla, with Avallac'h's help, finally pursued the Wild Hunt instead of the other way around. They clashed outside of a lone tower, on a world devoid of life and encased in ice and snow. She cut down half a dozen of the Red Riders with little, if any, regard for her own well-being until she reached Geralt. She wrested him away from them and traveled to just outside of Kaer Morhen, the home of the witchers, and left him there to be discovered by, she hoped, her Uncle Vesemir. It was only after leaving Kaer Morhen that she realized that she had lost Avallac'h in the heat of battle. She'd jumped from world to world then, trying to keep the Wild Hunt off her scent but to no avail. There was a reason they took Geralt. Eredin knew that I would come for him, that I would do anything necessary to take him from their grasp. Once I finally showed myself it was infinitely easier for them to follow me.

For months since, she'd been traveling daily, hiding in the most obscure of places in the hopes that she could finally be free of her pursuers but as her current predicament indicated, that wasn't really possible. The time between each of her departures and the Wild Hunt's arrival became less and less with each new location until, finally, they were arriving almost immediately after her each time. I am afraid that without Avallac'h this can only end poorly for me.

She could hear the icy thud of the heavily armored horses as their hooves drove into the ground behind her but she dare not look back. At the moment, she was running through fields of wheat and had lost all sense of direction in the sea of golden brown. Her ashen hair whipped about her face as it had fallen loose of her bun some time ago. The thud drew closer and that moment she felt a hand reaching for her shoulder. She twisted her body away abruptly and batted away the armored hand that had nearly dug into her shoulder. In a fluid motion, she pulled her sword from where it was strapped across her back and slashed at the Red Rider, there was a cry from the elf as her sword found a weak point in his armor just near the shoulder. A streak of blood stained her sword as the rider fell from his horse, she quickly moved over to her fallen pursuer and drove her blade between the gap between his helmet and chest. The blade sank into the soft flesh of his throat with ease. She pulled it back and could hear the gurgling of blood behind the mask as the Red Rider took his last breaths. She resisted the urge to slump over in the wake of her exhaustion and instead turned from her enemy only to see the rustling of wheat as at least three more drew in around her.

There was no choice, Cirilla needed to travel or be surrounded in the wheat field. Without thought of a destination she stepped through time and space to arrive in a forest clearing of some twenty feet around. The overhead canopy stretched high above and was dense, barely letting in even a single ray of light. It was near twilight, wherever she'd arrived. She could hear the rustling of leaves, and the faint sounds of animals somewhere further within the forest.

Ciri twisted around for a moment hoping to find her way out of the maze she'd arrived in. She'd just decided on a direction when she heard the 'woosh' of a portal opening behind her. Not only do they follow immediately now but they also are far better at locating where I am upon arrival. She'd turned to see her pursuers. A navigator and five warriors stepped through the portal. She thanked whatever powers that be that none of them were, Caranthir, Imlerith, or Eredin. She could only assume that the King had business in Tir nà Lia, but the others she could not say. I doubt I have enough in me to run again at this point anyway.

She might not have been able to avoid the Hunt entirely, but only these six had managed to maintain their pursuit. If she could kill them, perhaps she would be able to win some small amount of time to finally recuperate after her prolonged time on the run. She was dead on her feet, she could feel the bags under eyes but she steeled herself for the coming fight, ignoring her muscles as every movement seemed to make them scream in agony. She brought her sword up as the Red Riders fanned out around her.

The first slash was aimed at her cheek from the right. She ducked effortlessly, a natural fluidness born of intensive training with the witchers at Kaer Morhen, and she angled her blade upward and stabbed into the armor of the attacker. Her sword penetrated the armor with a muted rending, and she felt as it went from the tough resistance of metal into the yielding softness of flesh and tissue until it came out the other side. Her other assailants didn't give her any time to revel in her small victory as another blade aimed for her left lung came at her. She shifted, and used her power to phase away from the blow. She turned and deflected a slash meant for her leg.

She parried a series of slashes and stabs from the Red Rider before she found an opening . She thrust quickly at his throat; the attack was defended but left her assailants left side open. She quickly disengaged, phased and struck; her blade made a new home in the left lung of the Red Rider. He took a wheezing breath before slumping to the ground lifelessly.

Ciri could feel something coming at her from behind but she was too slow. A heavy hand struck squarely in the back of the head, dazing her and sending her toward the ground. Once her body hit the ground she quickly rolled back to her feet and slashed at the knees of her nearest enemy. A spurt of blood accompanied her slash as the red rider fell to the ground in a heap and began clutching at his injured legs. Ciri took the dagger from her side and shoved it through the eye slits of the rider's helmet. He screamed loudly, the sound carrying through the forest air before he fell silent. Three dead three to go.

Her momentary hesitation proved to be incredibly stupid. She felt cold metal run across her upper right arm and the warm trickle of crimson blood running down skin and toward the hollow of her elbow. The pain spurred her on and she brought her sword up to meet the next blow parrying it away from her shoulder. She rolled underneath the Red Rider's outstretched arms and stood up again as he turned to slash at her gut. She jumped backward and brought her sword over her head and down in a wide arc right at her attackers armored skull. He went to bring his blade up to deflect the blow but slipped on the greenery around him as he shifted his stance. Her blade sank through metal, bone, and brain matter as the elf died on contact. She went to pull her blade free from its new bloody home only to find that it refused to budge. In her weakened state, she couldn't pull the blade free from where it had lodged.

She felt another attack coming at her back and phased away. As she became tangible again, she reeled back and onto the ground as the staff of the Navigator smashed into her face with such force that she felt her teeth rattle. She fell hard into the ground, the roots and rocks serving as little comfort to her battered body. She rose to her knees and made to stand but before she had the opportunity a large hand took hold of her hair and pulled on it hard. She resisted the urge to scream as she was forced to arch her back and look up toward her enemy. The elf removed the faceguard of his helmet and looked down at her with a sneer.

"Your resistance is for nothing Zirael." He started dragging her toward the Navigator, "King Eredin shall take your blood, and your world shall become ours. The bones of your friends and family shall fill the valleys of the world and there is nothing left that you can do to stop it."

"Fuck Eredin, he'll need to take my blood from my dead body."Ciri spat back at the nameless elf before her.

He laughed at her, almost on the verge of a cackle, "I imagine he shall be quite agreeable to that idea, Zirael. In fact, I believe he finds your being alive for his plans quite inconvenient." Ciri wanted to fight, she wanted to struggle to the very last but she simply didn't have the energy left in her body to do it; there was nothing left. I've failed, and Eredin shall ensure I pay with my life for that failure. She closed her eyes in resignation, waiting to hear the creation of another portal, this time to Tir nà Lia.

Instead the events of the next few moments took her entirely by surprise. A red light flashed through the air from somewhere within the forest and drove into the chest of the elf holding her hair. His grip loosened immediately even as a another light came with greater speed from the same place and crashed into the elf's chest with an explosion, rending the metal and causing blood and organ to splatter outward from where it struck, staining her face. Ciri, knowing that there was only the Navigator remaining now, reached out to where her sword was lodged and, with what remaining strength she had, wrenched it out of the dead elf's head.

In an attempt to escape, the Navigator created a portal but Ciri refused to let him report back to Eredin. She grabbed his shoulder as he made to walk through the swirling gateway and brought the sword up to his throat, with a yell of frustration and anger she dragged the blade across the pale flesh. She felt him spit up blood and stain her gloved hand. She released her grip on his shoulder and watched as he dropped to the ground in a heap. The portal closed as quickly as it had opened.

Ciri looked around the small clearing and took in the carnage. She'd long since grown accustomed to killing, and for a time had even reveled in it but she truly couldn't believe she'd managed to survive this little skirmish. She became alert again then, remembering full well that had it not been for… something's…intervention she wouldn't have survived at all. She wheeled about looking every which way trying to determine who, or what, had saved her. There was nothing, no visible sign of anything.

At that moment she felt her legs give out beneath her, the last of her energy sapped from her in the happiness over having survived this encounter. It was as her eyes drifted closed that she saw a young man approaching. Ciri barely had time to take in his features before her world went black but she still made out dark hair, a lightning bolt shaped scar, and bright emerald eyes.

Harry sat at the Ravenclaw table, staring at the food in front of him; instead of actually eating it. He'd recently finished his OWL exams, and while he was nearly positive that he'd scored an EE or better on everything save perhaps his Astronomy and History of Magic exams, both of which were rudely interrupted, he didn't have it in him to feel pleased, or happy. Hell at the moment I don't feel much of anything but remorse.

Just a few short days earlier his godfather was murdered during a battle in the Department of Mysteries, a fight where he had the advantage of surprise.

Harry spent almost two years working tirelessly both through self-study and the help of Professor Snape to perfect his occlumency shields. His diligence and Snape's unparalleled ruthlessness in attacking his mental defenses brought him to a near master level of skill at the art. Even the Potion's professor couldn't help but concede that there was nothing left he could do to improve but grow in experience. And considering the man had seemingly reveled in making Harry's life difficult since day one of his education at Hogwarts, that was saying something. Fortunately, I've been up to the task and at the very least by the time third year rolled around he stopped caring about who my father was and just hated me like he would any other student.

Thanks to his impressive mental shields, Harry had been capable of recognizing a false vision from Tom when he'd seen it. To be safe, he called his godfather on the mirror he'd been given and found him alive and well, within the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place. Together, they planned a trap of their own for Tom and his Death Eaters. They even included Dumbledore in this plan and he'd agreed if for no other reason than it would vindicate the aged Headmaster and allow him to cast Umbridge out of Hogwarts.

Harry's motivations certainly didn't include vindication but that was because he wasn't foolish enough to proclaim Tom was back when the Minister clearly didn't want to believe it. Instead, he'd allowed Dumbledore to take the brunt of the public's disapproval, something the revered old wizard had been far from pleased with. While Dumbledore was attacked in the public, Harry did as he always did and silently worked to improve himself for what he knew was an inevitable confrontation. Though, even I can admit that it would have been nice to avoid Umbridge if possible. I wouldn't have had to teach people from years one to seven if it weren't for her incompetency.

So, a trap was set with plans for the Order of the Phoenix to attack the Death Eaters when they showed themselves in the Department of Mysteries and for Amelia Bones to be brought in personally with her Aurors to ensure that nothing could be brushed under the rug.

Harry entered the Department of Mysteries along with a dozen members of his Defense group: Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Blaise, Tracey, Daphne, Susan, Ernie, Michael, Hannah and Ron. The baker's dozen quickly found the room of prophecies and one labeled with Harry's name. He barely had time to lift it from its pedestal before they were approached by Death Eaters on all sides. Some thirty masked murderers had come for the ambush in total and the students were outnumbered.

This disadvantage didn't last long though, as members of the Order joined them mere moments later and managed to catch the Death Eaters by surprise, cutting their numbers down by a third in the first volley of spells. Instead of Harry and his friends being on the run, the Death Eaters had been forced to flee through the ever changing rooms of the Department of Mysteries. They ran until all combatants found themselves in the Veil Room.

There the fighting had been the most brutal, killing curses turned the air a sickly green color, they lost three Order members when all was said and done but the Death Eaters were worse off with thirteen dead, and all but one of the others captured. More than once Harry had to fight back the urge to throw himself in front of his friends; instead, trusting them to have the reflexes and skill necessary to outfight their respective opponents. While none of the students came out unscathed from the fighting, everyone did at least keep their lives.

Harry was dueling Antonin Dolohov after he severely injured Hermione when he saw it happen out of the corner of his eye. Sirius was engaged in an intense duel in the middle of the room with his deranged cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius always had a flare for the dramatics, but he certainly chose the wrong time to start making japes. Bellatrix threw a curse at him in his moment of jest and pushed him through the Veil, never to return.

Harry would never forget the unyielding rage he felt in that moment. He returned his attention to Dolohov and bombarded the skilled Death Eater with spell after spell, throwing excessive amounts of magic into each attach and eventually leaving the criminal bloodied and unconscious on the floor. He heard it then, the mad cackling of Sirius' murderer as she fled the battle. He pursued her with nothing but her death in his mind. He cast an unforgivable curse for the first time in his life in the atrium of the Ministry and had actually enjoyed watching Bellatrix writhe in pain underneath the strength of his curse.

He lifted it when he felt another presence nearby and sure enough Tom arrived just seconds later. Harry fought him, just as he had the year before in the graveyard, and while it had been a good showing, it ended with Harry bleeding profusely from both his arm and leg, panting heavily while Tom looked little worse for wear; though, he was once again impressed with Harry's talent and made him an offer. Harry had all but spat in his face as he removed the prophecy from his pocket and smashed it against the ground with a self-satisfied smile. With a look of utter rage on his snakelike face he cast a familiar curse; the green light came racing toward him only for Harry to be thrown away at the last second by Professor Dumbledore.

He watched numbly as the two greatest wizards of the age dueled each other to a standstill in the front room for the magical government. Neither of the men noticed as the minister, Amelia Bones and her Aurors filtered into the room, staring awestruck as a supposed dead man performed feats of magic against a supposed nutter. Upon seeing the gathered crowd, Tom stopped the duel then and attempted to force his way into Harry's mind. I was having none of that. He cast the Dark Lord out of his mind, using every ounce his anger he felt toward Sirius' death to injure Tom.

Dumbledore had received his well-deserved vindication, and the Ministry openly admitted Lord Voldemort's return. Of course it was impossible for them to continue sticking their heads in the dirt after Madame Bones found out the truth. Umbridge was removed forcibly from Hogwarts by a contingency of the teachers, including the resident dueling master, and had been brought up on charges for the illegal ownership and use of a class three dark object; with how thoroughly her name was being dragged through the mud, none of her former associates in the Ministry were willing to come to her defense.

Upon his return to the castle, Dumbledore told Harry the exact wording of the prophecy. He would be lying to himself if he didn't slightly resent the man's timing and procrastination in telling him, but Harry had long since suspected that he would have to kill Tom, or that Tom would kill him. In the end, the exact nature and wording of the prophecy made little difference to Harry. He would fight Tom Riddle till the day one, or both, of them was dead.

So, Harry sat at the Ravenclaw table with a sense of remorse that he simply couldn't shake. Rationally, he knew that he wasn't responsible for Sirius' death. We planned the whole thing together. He understood the risks, as did I. I know he died doing something he thought was right. But none of that overrode his sense of grief, the feeling of loss at seeing the closest thing he ever had to a parent taken away from him. Two years was far too little time together. He deserved more than two years of freedom.

Harry shook himself and became aware of his environment once again, he looked across the table to see Luna reading the most recent copy of the Quibbler. She had some rather nasty bruising on her left cheek from a dark variation of the bludgeoning hex, Madame Pomphrey did all she could but it would just have to heal naturally. As he stood, the blonde haired girl looked to him and gave him a small smile. They'd been friends since her first year, and while she was an eccentric and slightly odd young woman, Harry couldn't help appreciate her insightfulness. He went to Flitwick on her behalf when her yearmates started insulting and bullying her. The half-goblin professor had put a stop to the more overt forms of attack and Harry had insured that that the name-calling came to a quick end with the use of his wand.

He returned her smile with one of his own before turning and making his way out of the Great Hall. He could feel eyes on him from every direction but he'd grown accustomed to that years ago. He quickly scanned the Hall for those who'd been with him at the Department of Mysteries, all of them looked worse for the wear while Ron, Hermione, Michael and Hannah weren't even there. Their injuries warranted an extended stay in the hospital wing. He gave each of his comrades a small look of recognition as he stepped out of the Hall, through the entrance and out to the grounds of the castle.

The sun was setting over the late spring day, there was a crispness in the air, and it was surprisingly clear for Scotland. He walked down toward the Black Lake aimlessly, thinking on his pending conversation with the Headmaster. No doubt to discuss my summer living arrangements, he was… less than pleased… when Sirius informed him I wouldn't be going back to the Dursleys. As he rounded the edge of the lake that ran along the Forest , he felt an unnatural chill in the air. Dementors maybe? But why would Voldemort send them here now? But then he noticed that despite the chill, his most unpleasant memories weren't being dragged to the surface against his will.

He turned toward the forest and hesitated for a moment. If I decide to step through, I will have crossed the wards and be open to attack. Perhaps that is exactly what Tom wants? But then he heard something from within, something which he truly didn't expect. Is that… swords clashing? Curiosity overwhelming his sense of self-preservation…Something which has gotten me into more than a bit of trouble over the years… He walked into the forest following the sounds of steel meeting steel.

He walked a hundred yards before coming to a little clearing. There were six tall, heavily armored, men, only five of whom were alive, and one young woman. The armor the men war was dark in color, black in most places with the slightest tinge of red tothe metal in others. Their helms were pointed on the tops, and their faceguards appeared to be skulls. Much like the Death Eaters, perhaps these are some new servants of Tom's. Four of those remaining carried swords while the last was holding a staff.

The woman was of average height, with a slim body with noticeable, and pleasant, womanly curves. She had a scar that ran along her left cheek. Her hair was an ashen shade of white, the likes of which he'd yet to see. It wasn't Luna's pale blonde nor was it Fleur's platinum blonde but something entirely unique in his experience. She wore a white shirt, though tunic would be a more appropriate description and studded leather pants that hugged tightly to her body. Along her midsection was a guard of some kind adorned with silver plates and green gems. On her hands and feet were leather boots and gloves, clearly of a fine quality and strapped across her back, was the sheath for the sword in her hands.

Even as he watched, the young woman cut down another of her foes. Harry felt the urge to assist her but also couldn't help but watch as she danced and dived around their blows with a level of intuition and skill that clearly took years to perfect. He hoped to achieve that same level of fluid grace in his own fighting style and couldn't help but marvel as the young woman made it look so incredibly simple.

He winced as he watched her take a heavy-handed blow to the back of the head but she shook it off within moments, finishing a roll before lashing out at the legs of the one who struck her. With deadly accuracy, she took a dagger from her waist and drove it through the eye slits of the man's helm. She was sliced across the arm by a blade and Harry took a step forward, drawing his wand from where it was concealed along his forearm but hesitated as she dodged away from another attack before bringing her sword down with so much force that it destroyed the man's skull … and lodged in his brain. Gruesome, yes, but also very impressive.

It was only then that the battle took a turn toward the worst for the young woman. She was struck hard across the face with a staff topped by a glowing blue ball. She fell to the ground and before she had the chance to stand the last remaining swordsman gripped her hair in his hand and pulled her back in a painful, swift movement. Harry watched as he removed his faceguard and was surprised to see elegant elfin features beneath. The warrior taunted the young woman and Harry heard every word. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. I'll be damned if I allow anyone to be sacrificed for the sake of their blood. He'd been used unwillingly for his blood, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. From the sound of things, the ashen-haired young woman wouldn't survive her own ordeal… without intervention.

With a flick of his wrist he sent a stunner flying at the elf holding her hair. He had no desire for the bastard to rip half her skull off when he followed it up with an explosive hex right to the sternum. It destroyed the man's armor and ripped open his chest in unpleasant gore as it threw him back and away from her. Harry had lost all qualms about violence where battle was concerned. He fought to kill, let peace be made afterward.

He watched as the one with the staff turned and created a large rift. It was black in the center, with licks of vibrant blue appearing around its rotating edges. Harry made to fire another spell but stopped as he noticed the young woman had retrieved her blade and with a yell dragged its sharp edge across the elf's neck. He couldn't help but do a slight internal cheer at her success. Harry thought about approaching as she stood there in the clearing, breathing heavily and surveying their combined carnage. Though to be fair most of that was definitely her work.

It was only now as he watched her begin surveying the forest, likely in search of him lest he be another threat, that he noticed the obvious signs of physical exhaustion in the woman's body. The rings around her eyes, the droop to her shoulders, the way her legs are shaking ever so slightly; she looks as though a stiff breeze would be enough to knock her over now. It was strange to think such a thing given what he'd just seen her do but it was the truth.

Her legs gave out from underneath her and she fell to the ground in a heap. I can't just leave her here. Between the centaurs and the acromantulas there is no way she would survive the night.

The last thing he noticed before exhaustion claimed the young woman was her eyes peering into his own from the ground, they were green along the outer iris with hints of yellow on the inner iris. When she fell unconscious he moved quickly to her side and checked her pulse; she was still breathing. Well that is a good sign. He levitated her and cast a disillusionment charm before hesitating. Right, now where do I take her?

Hey there, this fight in the forest between Ciri and the Wild Hunt has been rolling around in the back of my head for a while now and I wanted to write it down.

This in no way is going to take precedence over TDOMCM or TLLOHR, but at some point I will continue with it. The story will take place first in Harry's world and later in Ciri's, they will aid each other with their destinies as it were.

Obviously, Harry is not canon Harry and I will explain where the differences happened and how they affected things. This will likely play out as conversations between Ciri and him. There will be no bashing, but his relationships with characters will be different than they were in the books. As evident by the people he took with him to the Ministry, he will have acquaintances, at the very least, from each of the four houses. There will be at least one more character who isn't in the same house as they are in the books.

Thank you for reading.