AN: A brief starting chapter to give some idea of what is to come. I do not own Harry Potter of Game of Thrones. Will only be continued if there is sufficient interest.

Chapter 1

He swept through the halls of the Red Keep, the hem of his black cloak trailing behind him, brushing against the cold stone hewn floors. Finally arriving at the throne room, he was announced by a guard and strode up to the Iron Throne before kneeling quickly.

"My King, I have arrived with your weekly medicine."

King Aerys II Targaryen looked up from the table in front of him, strewn with maps of the kingdom and statuettes symbolising army placements. His harrowed bloodshot eyes briefly reflected the firelight on the ensconced torches before they focused on the royal healer, and he waved him forward. The seven other men at the table, the Kingsguard, looked on impassively.

The king's scratchy voice sounded out. "Ah, you've arrived Maester Potter. Your skills have been much need. My fevered dreams visit me nightly, and these accursed headaches plague me endlessly. Your miraculous potions are my only reprieve."

Harry Potter nodded curtly before reaching into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a gilded flask filled with swirling fluid the colour of blood.

"Of course, my king. This is freshly brewed, maximum strength as you requested."

Seizing it, the king wrenched the sealed cork out with his teeth before downing the entire contents with a single swig. He face contorted into a rictus of agony, before the tremors that wracked his body abruptly subsided and he visibly relaxed.

Through gritted teeth he remarked in a weary voice,

"Truly, your creations are a masterpiece in paradox. They taste like death itself and seize the body in unimaginable pain, before giving way to an utter relief."

Harry inclined his head, the flickering firelight from the wall mounted braziers casting wild shadows upon his face. Eyes hidden by his hair, he replied,

"I am humbled by your generous compliments, my king. I live to serve."

King Targaryen grinned, showing his yellowed teeth and revealing the formerly handsome face that had given way to the ravages of time and madness.

Gesturing with his hand, he announced,

"It is best that I rest now. You are all dismissed. Kingsguard, report again to me at sunrise."

Bowing, all the men filed out of the throne room, leaving the king reclining on the Iron Throne, gazing absently at his claw like hands.

Branching off as they headed to their respective rooms, Harry proceeded towards his personal tower. He had always felt more secure being in a position of height. After the King had heard his story of how fumes must be expelled directly as high up as possible to prevent poisoning from the gas, he had received his request for the topmost room in the Red Keep.

The youngest Kingsguard trailed after him, before calling out.

"You know, it's amazing to me how you can face the King with such smiles and politeness only to turn your back and immediately scowl as if someone had pissed on your doorstep."

Harry continued to ascend the staircase, his gnarled wooden staff tapping along the stone steps.

"Bugger off Jaime. And it's called professionalism. I do not allow my personal feelings to get in the way of doing my job. I brew and heal. Whoever the recipient of my care is should not matter.

Jaime smirked, still following behind him

"Ah, but if you truly did not care, then surely there would be no need for such a thunderous scowl?"

Harry did not reply as he tapped the heavy oaken door to his room with his staff and opened it, sighing as he sat own on a tall stool. Jaime claimed the one opposite to him.

Resting the staff on a corner of his desk, he took a brief moment to stir the bubbling cauldron hanging above his fireplace before turning back to his impromptu guest.

"What about you then, Ser Hypocrite? You are a Kingsguard, the pinnacle of devotion to our majesty. And yet you despise him nearly as much as I do."

Jaime's expression sobered, his eyes quickly darting towards the entryway.

Noting his concern, Harry waved his betrayed gaze away.

"Do not fret so, you utter woman. None can hear us through my door."

Jaime glowered at his friend before subsiding.

"So I have no lost love for the King either, it is true. His insanity grows daily, and is only barely held in check by your potions. In fact, I suspect that the Seven Kingdoms owes much to you for sparing them from the king's mad vengeance. Soon, I fear even that may not be enough."

Harry nodded, his brows furrowed as he took in his friends appearance. Jaime had got up out of his seat as he spoke and began pacing back and forth in the room, his hands clenching and unclenching of their own volition. He spoke up.

"And yet, there is little we can do. Open rebellion will only lead the kingdom into chaos. The web of allegiances is too treacherous, there could be little unified front as long as the Lords continue to bicker amongst one another for scraps of land. And in the wake of a war, the people would suffer. You know as well as I do that the so called knights have little in the manner of restraint or mercy when it comes to sacking cities."

Jaime took in the words with a heavy heart, knowing that Harry was right. He mused out loud,

"I had hoped, as I believe much of the kingdom had, that the son would succeed the father and rule under a just banner. But increasingly that grows more unlikely. It seems that the apple did not fall too far from the tree. From within, the seeds of madness fester anew."

Harry nodded, turning back towards his potion which was filling the room with the smell of fresh cut grass and mint, an ironically out of place fragrance for their topic of conversation. He briefly toyed with the heavy ring on his left hand, the cracked black stone glimmering dully in the poor light.

"It seems that one way or another, there will be strife to come in the days ahead for the Seven Kingdoms.

With those ominous words, the two friends bid each other goodnight.

(Scene Break)