AN: I do not own either HP or Game of Thrones. They belong to JK Rowling and GRR Martin respectively.

This is my Harry/Jon story for my Top Harry series.

The thing that woke Harry up was not his internal clock or Ron waking him up or Madam Pomfrey checking on him but the feeling that he was on fire. He jolted awake, his fingers curling in the sheets of the hospital bed, and startled at the sight that appeared to him. There was fire on his fingertips. Small sparks of flame flowed between his fingers and he sat there, shocked.

"Harry?"

"Mate! You're awake! I'll go get Madam Pomfrey," Ron whispered, getting up off the chair by his bed.

"Harry?"

"What happened? Why am I… on fire?" Harry muttered, feeling heat slither throughout his body. It wasn't uncomfortable warmth but it felt… normal now. It felt… nice.

"You…" Hermione trailed off, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You've been asleep for four days. You brought Ginny out of the chamber four days ago and you've been unconscious ever since. Madam Pomfrey tried to wake you up but you weren't waking up. Even Professor Dumbledore tried."

"I've been asleep for four days? When did you get woken up?"

"Professor Sprout woke up everyone yesterday. I-"

"Mr Potter, how are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked, walking over with Ron at her side.

"I'm on fire," Harry answered, shrugging a little. "How do you think I'm feeling?"

Ron's lips twitched up into a small grin before he went over to the chair beside Harry's bed and sat down again.

Madam Pomfrey stared at him before sighing. "I've not been able to figure out what is wrong with you exactly, Harry. There is not a single book that describes your symptoms. I would try taking a deep breath and relaxing. If that does not work, we will have to bring in specialists."

Harry's eyes widened, his body freezing.

Poppy looked at him before her eyes softened. "Do you feel anything else?"

"I'm warm," Harry commented, shaking his head in disbelief. "More warm than usual."

Poppy blinked and Hermione's eyes lit up in interest.

Harry looked down at both of his hands, at the fingers on both. There were still sparks of flame hovering over his fingertips and he did as Poppy suggested, took a deep breath and relaxed. He sank back down to the mattress, inhaled, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled, clenching his hands into fists. He reopened his subconsciously closed his eyes to no fire though he still felt like he was warm, warmer than he had been before he had killed the basilisk.

Harry's last night in the infirmary was boring, only broken up by the appearance of one phoenix. Fawkes crooned out lightly, perching on the foot of the bed, and peering at him curiously. Harry raised an eyebrow at the fire bird, glanced to where his holly wand was on the bedside table then turned back to the bird.

"Fawkes?"

The phoenix hopped down onto the bed, sitting perched between Harry's legs and nosed at him through the blankets.

Westeros needs a phoenix of its own. Learn.

"What."

Fawkes stared at him, unblinking, before beginning to sing, his phoenix magic encompassing him.

"Fawkes, do you mean… am I becoming…" Harry trailed off, a strangled yelp leaving his throat as he felt himself tingling, his magic almost vibrating. In the next instant, he disappeared, reappearing in a wooded area with snow on the ground.

Jon held his broken arm to his chest as he leaned against the weirwood tree behind him, shivering slightly despite the cloak around himself. Robb had left to go get Lady Catelyn and Maester Luwin but Jon knew… Lady Catelyn would delay sending the maester, mayhaps for a while. Afterall, Jon was just a bastard child. A Snow. The physical evidence of Lord Stark's dishonor.

A startled cry drew his attention outward, his eyes widening at what he saw. A boy had just appeared out of nowhere in the Winterfell godswood. A boy who Jon did not recognize or know. The boy seemed to be the same age as Jon, maybe ten and two, with shaggy black hair and green eyes as soon as he glanced up at Jon.

And a scar. Jon's eyes narrowed at the scar on the boy's forehead, noting that the scar looked like a lightning bolt, like one of the bolts that came with a summer storm.

"Who are you?" The boy asked, his green eyes wide. "And where am I?"

Pain shot through his right arm as he accidentally moved it and he decided to stay put, regardless of whether or not the boy needed help. "I'm Jon Snow. Who are you?"

"Harry. Where… Is this the Forbidden Forest? No, it couldn't be. It's not winter..."

"Forbidden Forest?" Jon echoed, tilting his head in confusion. "What's that?"

The boy, Harry, stood up and walked over to Jon's side, sitting down in front of him. "It's a Forest."

Jon snorted. "How'd you just appear?"

"I… I don't know," Harry answered, shivering a little at a strong blast of wind hit them. "A… friend of mine… sent me here, I think. I didn't know that phoenixes could send people places. Where are we anyway?"

"Winterfell. The godswood. How come you don't know this place?"

"Winterhell? What's a Winterhell?"

Jon blinked then laughed. "Winterfell. It's a castle. It's where Lord and Lady Stark live."

"I still don't know what you're talking of. It's cold here though."

"If you're… not from around here, can you get back to wherever you're from? Wait… You said phoenixes. What..."

"They're fire birds," Harry said, glancing at him. His green eyes lit with curiosity and a question.

Jon stared at Harry then shrugged, lifting up his cloak with his left arm and Harry immediately understood, shuffling closer until they were right next to one another. The Stark cloak covered them both, shielding them from the moderate snowfall and wind. "Fire birds?"

"Yeah, don't you have them here, wherever Winterfell is?"

"No. We had dragons…" Jon trailed off, leaning more into the other boy. "They were kind of fire birds, I suppose."

"Dragons. We have dragons too, where I'm from. Though they're wild and dangerous and like to eat people. They are also people who like to study them. I think my best friend's brother studies dragons."

"You have dragons where you're from?"

"Yeah. You had dragons?"

"They died off hundreds of years ago. The Targaryens too though Lord Stark does not like to talk about the Rebellion."

"Targaryen?"

"House Targaryen. It's one of the houses, like House Stark."

"What… what is this country called?"

"Westeros."

Harry stilled next to him, equally leaning into Jon though he was careful to not touch Jon's right arm. "Why is your last name Snow? Is that a common last name? Is your mother's last name Snow?"

Jon sighed, ready to hear his new friend withdraw from his side just because Jon was a bastard. "It's the last name that bastards receive when they're born in the North."

"Bastard? Like your parents weren't married?"

Jon nodded, turning to glance at Harry to check his reaction.

"So your parents weren't married. What's the big deal?"

Jon's eyes widened.

Harry turned to look at him too, his green eyes wide. "You're implying that bastards are treated differently here."

"We are. Our parents didn't marry. Lord Stark brought dishonor to his family when he got with a woman."

"Jon."

"Aren't bastards treated like they're inferior in your world?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes bright with something akin to dislike. "No. At least, I don't think so. My parents were married before they died but if they hadn't and still had me, I still would have been a Potter."

"Your parents are dead too?"

"Yes. Yours?"

"I don't know who my mother is," Jon said, shrugging a little before peering up at the keep, at where Lady Catelyn Stark and Lord Eddard Stark were. The keep where Robb, Sansa, Rickon, Bran and Arya were. His half siblings. "Lord Stark changes the subject whenever I ask."

"That's stupid."

"It's the way it is," Jon spoke. "At least, Lord Stark lets me live in Winterfell with his family. Most bastards don't even get that. Lady Stark is the only one who treats me as… inferior. Doesn't let me sit with the family at feasts, doesn't talk directly to me..."

"It sounds like… well," Harry went silent at Jon's glance, his eyes going soft a little. "My aunt and uncle treat me like I'm inferior too."

"Why is that?"

"I'm a wizard and they don't like that."

Jon stared. "Pardon?"

"I'm a wizard?"

Harry grinned at whatever Jon's expression was and pulled out something from a pocket, a thin piece of wood. "My wand. It's holly wood and phoenix feather."

Jon continued to stare. "You have magic?"

Harry nodded, glancing down at Jon's broken arm. "I would try to heal your arm but I have no healing experience and trust me, you need someone with experience. Ugh."

"What?"

"One of my… Wizards and witches where I'm from go to school, learn how to cast magic," Harry explained. "This year, one of the professors was… not a professional. He tried to heal my broken arm a few months ago and only removed all of the bones in it."

Jon grimaced, glancing down at his left arm and holding it closer to his chest. "I would rather not then."

Harry grinned again and was about to say something else when Jon spotted Robb and Maester Luwin.

"Jon!"

Harry stilled.

"It's okay. It's only Robb and Maester Luwin," Jon said.

Robb ran up to them, his eyes going wide at Harry's appearance. "Who's that?"

"This is Harry," Jon introduced, as Luwin knelt at their feet and looked him over.

"Broken arm?"

Jon nodded.

"We were playing on the tree," Robb whispered, his Tully blue eyes looking Harry over in suspicion.

"He's okay," Jon added, taking Robb's offer of help by taking his outstretched hand. Robb pulled him up, letting Jon lean on him.

Harry stood up too, shivered once and then stood still. "So this is Westeros then."

Jon nodded. "Can you get home?"

"I don't know. Fawkes just sent me…" Harry trailed off.

As Jon watched, Harry started to spark with flame, little flickers of fire running over the boy before Harry disappeared before their very eyes.

"What the hell, Fawkes?" Harry grumbled, reappearing in the infirmary of Hogwarts. The phoenix was perched by the foot of the bed and was staring at him, unblinking. "Why send me to Westeros?"

You and Jon. Your destinies are intertwined by your song.

"Okay, that means absolutely nothing to me. Besides, Jon looked miserable. What's up with the bastards there?"

You two have prophecies about one another. Westeros will need you and Jon in a few years' time.

Harry glared at Fawkes. "We're from two different worlds, Fawkes."

That changes nothing. The Song of Ice and Fire begins.