A/N: Hey guys, it's been a while since I posted on here. I haven't been writing for a while and was struggling with where to start on my other fiction "Harry Potter and the Third Age" and so I decided to write something else to try and get back in the swing of things. Plus "A song of Ice and Fire" is just the greatest. Enjoy this first chapter, maybe it'll help me write the next chapter of the other one.

Disclaimer: I neither own Harry Potter nor Game of Thrones/A song of Ice and Fire, much as I wish I did. All character (that aren't OC) belong to J.K Rowling and George RR Martin respectively.

Chapter 1

Harry idly tapped his quill on the desk. It was a well-known fact that History of Magic was THE most boring class in the entire Hogwarts curriculum. Professor Binns had obviously decided long ago to stop trying to get children to listen to what he was trying to teach and just talked solidly throughout the lesson in the hopes that someone, one day, would pass his class.

Harry kind of liked it if he was honest. It gave him the perfect opportunity to catch up on the sleep he missed due to Ron's incessant snoring. It was so loud that even his silencing charms struggled to keep it out. Usually in this class he was out like a light, before Ron even got the chance to consider dozing off. Though his snoring lessened somewhat when he slept sitting up. Distractedly Harry wondered if he could use that to his advantage.

Now, Harry thinking at all in a Binns lesson was unheard of. Which was why this particular lesson seemed rather strange. In fact, it appeared that pretty much everyone in the class, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor alike, was awake. That was the first indication to Harry that something was wrong. The second seemed to answer the mystery of the first.

Binns had stopped talking.

Binns never stopped talking.

Why had Binns stopped talking.

"Uh, sir?" Hermione asked from her position next to him. Harry looked at her. Then shook his head slightly. Of course. Hermione always paid attention in History of Magic. How she did it he did not know. Maybe Binns voice was to her, what the Veela allure was to Harry. Maybe she was just immune to it.

She had been getting particularly irate this year at his and Ron's apparent lack of, well, anything when it came to History of Magic. Something about it being their OWL years or something, Harry didn't know or care. He usually just stared at her during these tirades, nodding at various intervals. He been doing that a lot lately. Ever since the Dementors he had been slightly vacant. At the trial he found himself studying Fudge's multiply chins whilst he was being accused of underage magic. He'd nearly applauded at Dumbledore's magnificent entrance, then proceeded to twiddle his thumbs whilst the Headmaster saved his bacon.

Now where was he.

Ah, yes.

Binns.

And his apparent lack of vocal chords.

The History of Magic teacher seemed to be having a silent conversation with himself. This was impressive in itself, Harry mused. Harry didn't know Binns had the capacity for anything other than Goblin rebellions.

"Sir?" Hermione tried again. The whole class was now staring at Binns in slight confusion. Not worry, Binns was dead after all, what could possibly be wrong with a ghost?

"…put this off far too long…" Harry heard Binns mumble. Ah. The mumbling stage. Harry knew it well. Hours spent laying in his bed staring at the ceiling saw Harry talking to himself quite often. It was oddly comforting knowing there was someone who understood him, even if the person was himself.

"Put what off for too long sir?" Hermione pressed again. Harry had the inexplicable urge to smack her on the top of her head. You don't interrupt people when they are talking to themselves. It was just rude.

Binns turned to face Hermione. Which also meant that Harry was in his line of sight. The look in the Professor's eye gave Harry pause. Was that excitement he saw in the grey eyes of their ghost teacher? No. Must have been a trick of the light. Binns didn't do excitement. It was the opposite of what he stood for. Harry became slightly worried.

"I never thought the day would come" the ghost muttered. "They said I would know when to do it, when it felt right. And they were correct of course, of course they were correct."

Harry was freaked out by this point. So was everyone else by the amount of wide-eyed looks being thrown in Binns' direction. Dread coiled in the pit of Harry's stomach. Binns was still staring at him. Or Hermione. But most likely him.

"I am sorry, Mr Potter" Binns said quietly. Harry's name didn't register for a second. When it did he began to stand up and back slowly away. Everyone was looking between him and the Professor now. Said Professor had turned away and was retrieving something from his desk draw. The draw must have been magically altered to make it bigger on the inside, because what Professor Binns drew out of the draw was something which both confused and astounded Harry Potter's already slightly messed up head.

It was a sword.

Not just any sword.

A big sword.

A big shiny sword.

A big shiny, oh so very sharp looking sword.

"Catch" Binns said simply and threw the sword, hilt first, towards Harry. Never mind that the ghost should not have been able to hold the sword let alone throw it. The weapon soared through the air and Harry, by instinct, caught it by the hilt.

A few things happened at once. First the sword started to glow. Gold. Then it started to become slightly warm. Then hot. Then scalding. Then it must have gone Supernova or something because Harry screamed in pain. His grip on the sword had not loosened, it almost seemed to be welding itself to his palm. He could hear the distant screams of other people, his classmates. His friends. But he couldn't stop staring at the golden sword in his hand.

The last thing he saw was Professor Binns' excited eyes. Then there was a blinding flash. And Harry Potter knew no more.

Harry groaned.

His head was pounding. His hand was stinging. His, well, everything was hurting. What had happened? He had been in…he had previously been in….

Ah. Yes.

Binns.

History of Magic.

Sword.

Pain.

It all came flooding back in a tornado of memories. Which of course lead to his head giving quite a nasty throb. Groaning, he back to take in the details of where he was. He was laying on something hard, it felt like stone. His hearing was somewhat muffled, Harry thought he could hear voices, but it was hard to distinguish. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes. At first it was agony, bright light assaulted his eyes and he quickly shut them again. It the sound coming rushing back into his ears to make him open his eyes again.

He seemed to be lying in a main street. Wooden houses were on either side of him, this was odd in itself. There was little to see apart from this, the street was rather closed off but since the sun was beating down it must have been midday. The voices Harry had heard previously seemed to be shouts, but there was no one in sight. A main street completely devoid of people. Harry was silently thankful that his spontaneous arrival had happened in a place where no one could have seen him.

The next thing Harry realised about this place was that it absolutely stank. Excrement was lying in the alcoves along the side of the street. Slight trickles of smoke was coming from some chimneys, though it was obvious that none of the fires were still going. The smell of sweat was ripe in the air. All of this combined was almost too much for Harry to take.

Retching, he searched for his wand. Thankfully it was in the back pocket of his jeans. Casting a quick charm to somewhat improve his breathing quality, he decided that his best course of action for the moment was to move towards the source of the noise.

As he got closer to the commotion the shouts became distinguishable as words.

"Traitor!"

"Off with his head!"

"Make 'im bleed!"

Harry blinked. That didn't sound like the words of friendlies. But he had to know the context. Rounding a corner Harry saw a gleaming white building with seven very pointy-looking spires. That seemed to be the direction from which the shouting was coming from. Harry broke into a run, suddenly feeling quite urgent to find out what was happening.

It did not take him long to get to the white building, and when he did…

A great crowd was gathered at the bottom of the steps leading up to the building, obviously a church of some sort. The people were all scruffy and dirty and, to put it plainly, quite obviously enraged. They were all looking up towards the top of the steps, where Harry saw a quite disturbing site. A bearded, bedraggled man stood tall and proud before the torrent of abuse, his head held high, hands tied behind his back, and eyes searching. A large, slightly intimidating man with an axe stood beside what was quite obviously the prisoner, a mask covering most of the man's face. To the right of these two was a congregation of people, all dressed in fine silks and robes.

"Royalty" Harry muttered under his breath, there was no doubt about it. You couldn't get more royal than this lot. Harry surmised the King was the one wearing the golden crown. This 'King', had to be younger than Harry, by a few years at least. The wizard frowned. What sort of World was he in that boys of 13 or 14 were given what was obviously a fair bit of power? Even if they were of royal blood there should be someone making all the decisions until said King or Queen came of age. Even Harry, who had never had much to do with the British Royal family, knew this much. And yet it seemed that the boy was the one calling the shots, and enjoying it too. Harry saw the prisoner open his mouth to speak.

"I am Eddard-" but he was cut off when tremendous boos rose from the audience. Harry was starting to become uneasy around them, there could be violence here, and Harry didn't want to reveal magic to this seemingly medieval time just yet.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King" the Prisoner said and Harry stared. Lord? What was a Lord doing on death row? "And I have come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and me"

'Treason?' Harry thought, looking closely at this Eddard Stark, 'this man does not look like someone who could commit treason' his gut told him. Harry could, even from this distance, see the slight shake of the man's hands, he was afraid. Afraid for what though? For himself? For his family? Harry started to get agitated, he needed more information, what if this was Sirius all over again? But instead of being sent to prison he was being sentenced to death? He had to do something, but to do so would mean using magic. Somehow he thought people wouldn't react well to that.

"I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert," Eddard shouted. "I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before his blood was cold, I plotted to despose and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: Joffrey Baratheon is the on true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Harry tried to process all of this in his frazzled brain. So this Eddard was a friend to the former king, Robert was it? And this king had died, whereupon Eddard had schemed to have…Geoffrey? Joffrey? Joffrey, murdered in order for him to claim the crown. Then something about the Seven, the High Septon and Baelor. They sounded like holy names, names which wouldn't look out of place on a church tapestry. Whilst Harry's headache from earlier was starting to grow, the crowd had become downright animalistic. Some called for Eddard's immediate execution, whilst some wanted a slow death. There were bricks, stones and…other…things thrown Eddard's way, some of which hit him. All this decided it for Harry, how could he take the lead from any of these 'people', Harry wouldn't wish a slow death on even his worst enemy. Ok, maybe his worst enemy, but still, the point remained. And throwing things at an unarmed man; that was just cruel. Maybe he had some more perspective on these events than the people around him, maybe he didn't have enough, but he was convinced that this Eddard Stark was lying.

An extraordinarily fat man knelt in front of the king and, what Harry assumed was the King's mother, said loudly; "As we sin, so do we suffer, this man has confessed his crime in the sights of gods and men, here in this holy place. The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall be done with this traitor, your Grace?"

The king stood slowly, smirking cruelly in the direction of Eddard Stark who now had his head down, yet his eyes were still searching. Harry was about to turn back to Joffrey when he saw Eddard's eyes widen and lock onto someone in the crowd. Harry followed his line of sight and found a small boy, or maybe it was a girl, sitting on the base of a big statue in the middle of the large crowd. Harry noticed the girl had tears in her eyes. It took him a second to make the connection, just as Joffrey began speaking.

"My mother bids me let Lord Eddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father" he said loudly, turning to look at a very pretty girl maybe a year younger than Joffrey. She smiled slightly at him, and he smiled back. Yet there was still a cruel glint in his eye. Harry frowned, like hell was this little rat going to let Lord Eddard live.

And he was right.

"But they have the soft hearts of women," he said, his smirk growing to dangerous levels "so long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

Harry's eyes widened at these words. What could he do? They were do far away for him to summon the sword which the large man, Ser Ilyn had just pulled from its scabbard. He darted forward and pushed and shoved his way through the crowd. He had to save the man, crazy though it was. He saw the sword raise, he wasn't going to make it. It that one split second Harry's eyes locked with Eddard's. The Lord, with his last action on this earth, jerked his head towards the girl on the statue. Harry then had to watch in horror as the sword was brought down and in one swipe, Eddard's head was severed from his shoulders.

Harry could do nothing but stare. The body still twitched slightly, remaining electrical pulses still travelling to organs. Finally, when Harry regained movement of his arms and legs, he looked back at the statue, only to find the girl, Eddard's daughter, missing. Harry ran. He couldn't save Lord Stark, but he could damn well protect his daughter. He could hear the screams of the other daughter from the top of the steps, but focused on finding the one who wasn't one of the King's favourites. Looking around frantically, he spotted the girl being dragged away by a man dressed all in black. He followed them, sprinting as they entered a dark alleyway.

As he turned the corner he was just in time to see the man in black hold a knife up to the girl's throat. Not thinking, not even considering the fact that he was a wizard, he ran straight at the man and jumped. Whilst in mid-air he delivered a ferocious kick to the man's side, sending him sprawling. Not even stopping to consider what he had just done, he grabbed the girl and slung her over his shoulders. She was light enough, and didn't appear to put up much of a fight. Harry thanked whatever god was out there for this, they had to get out of the city before they locked it down. The missing daughter of the treasonous ex-Hand would certainly be of interest to the crown, whom Harry disliked greatly. It took him several minutes of running before he realised he didn't know where he was going. He had been acting purely on instinct, adrenaline coursing through his vain. That same adrenaline was still there, as strong as ever.

He took out his wand, how could he apparate? He didn't even have the slightest knowledge of how to accomplish such a feat. Turning quickly at the sounds of guards marching down the street, he found himself compressed into what seemed like a very thin tube. It was suffocating, squeezing him until it hurt. He felt like he was dying, but just as soon as the pain had come it was gone again and he found him and the girl standing on top of a hill with nothing to see for miles around.

He groaned, and carefully laid the girl, who was passed out by now, down on the grass.

If he ever got back, he and Binns would be having words.

A/N: Quick poll, which character out of this lot would you want Harry paired up with? Review with your answer, also tell me what you thought about this chapter

- Daenerys Targaryen

- Sansa Stark

- Margaery Tyrell

- Arianne Martell

- Other (tell me who)