Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.
AN: Hello, this is my second story for the HP and GoT crossover fandom. I don't expect this story to get many reviews because of the pairings, but I wanted to try something different because I'm trying to grow as a writer. I'd appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism.
Full Summary: Harriet Potter is an abused, young witch from House Dursley. Every day she sits by her window sill waiting for her father to return from his expedition, but he never shows up. Then one afternoon on her thirteenth nameday, Tyrion Lannister visits the Dursley's with a marriage proposal that will change Harriet's life for good. Tyrion lets her know that their marriage will simply be an arranged one, as he is very much in love with his mistress Shae. They begin a tentative friendship, where he helps her to overcome all the abuse she suffered by the Dursley's. But he doesn't know the truth about Harriet's past, nor the danger that lies in the magical side of the realm, and how much of it ties with Harriet. As Harriet tries to find her place in both the muggle and magical society, she ends up gaining a secret lover of her own, Robb Stark! Tyrion begins to feel unsure about this development, as he realizes that he's falling hopelessly in love with his wife.
"Father, please don't go!"
"It's only for a little while," said James staring sadly at the tearful girl. Most people often thought that his daughter took after his likeness, but at the moment all he could see was Lily. A pair of green eyes, brighter than emeralds, stared miserably back at him from behind a curtain of dark, windswept hair. They'd flown for hours over the Narrow Sea, pointing out every merchant ship, sail boat, and island they came across.
"When I return I will teach you all there is to know about being a wizard," He said, wiping a stray tear on her cheek. "We'll travel the Seven Kingdoms together on our brooms, and visit the magical maesters in Hogwarts. It'll be just like an adventure."
"You'll tell me everything when you get back, even the scary parts?" She sniffled.
"Even the scary parts."
The sound of someone clearing their throat caused them both to look up. Standing at the castle gate was a rather large man with bushy grey whiskers, a tall, bony woman with cornflower hair, and a chubby girl who scowled meanly at them from behind her mother's skirts.
"Lord James, it is getting late...You'd best be off now before the rest of my keep sees you," Lord Vernon Dursley said, eyeing his firebolt distastefully.
The Dursley's of Little Whinging were one of the oldest, noble families in the Reach. They lived in a castle, high above a series of lush green hills and valleys; lavender rose vines climbed along the thick, stone walls, and water trickled from the giant marble fountain in the courtyard. Beauty shined in every fortress, stream, and acre of land, but not a spec of magic could be felt in the air. Strip away the flowers and pretty engravings, and the castle was just stone like all the others; plain, unyielding, and completely unimaginative—three things that Vernon Dursley held dear.
Lord Vernon was a stubborn man that didn't take kindly to uninvited guests, especially ones flying on brooms. He turned them away the minute they landed in front of his main gate. Thankfully for James, it had been his estranged sister-in-law who'd spoken up for them.
"We will take the girl," Lady Petunia had said, even though she looked just as displeased as her husband. Their daughter Daffodil had thrown a fit; kicking and screaming, and shaking her chubby fists, "I don't want the freak to live with us. Make them go away, father!"
James hated the idea of leaving Harriet in the care of muggles, especially ones as ghastly as the Dursley's, but he had no other choice. Dark times lied ahead, and he couldn't be sure if any of his true friends would stay alive long enough to protect her.
He pulled Harriet into a hug, wishing there was a way to freeze this moment in time. She was so small and fragile in his arms, yet he held on to her tightly, hoping that he'd made the right decision.
"Father," she said, her voice muffled in his traveling cloak. "Are you a brigand?"
He laughed, "Why would you ask me such a thing?"
"It's just something I heard mother say to you when she thought I was asleep. She said that Maester Albus turned you into a criminal. Is that why you've never taken me on your voyages?"
James sighed, kneeling down so that he was eye level with her. "Sometimes when people are angry, they say things without truly seeing the picture. I'm not a brigand...but the work I do for Albus is dangerous, much too dangerous for little children."
"What kind of work is it?"
"I help find things for him, most of the time they're in places people don't normally look."
"He should look for them himself," she said, bitterly kicking at a pebble on the ground.
"If only it were that easy. Don't worry, little one. I'll be back before you know if."
"Promise?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Pinky swear it," she said, holding out her littlest finger.
James let out another laugh and tied their pinkies together. Behind them the sun slowly sank beneath the rolling green hills of Little Whinging. He felt the Phoenix against his chest stir restlessly as it sensed the decision he was about to make.
"Father, what are you doing!?" Harriet gasped as he pointed his mahogany wand directly against her chest. The wood began to tremble between his fingers, and hiss like a kettle over a fireplace.
"I release her to you," he whispered, watching as a reddish gold light channeled slowly through the wood into his daughter's heart; her chest glowed as if a fire brewed there, flickering with each frantic beat of her heart. Then it was gone as soon as it came.
Lord Vernon looked as if he was about to faint. "I've had enough of this nonsense! Mildred, please escort Harriet to her bedchambers in the Great Tower."
"Yes, m'lord," said a plump, grey-haired woman, hurrying over to them. The warm smile on her face made James feel that maybe sending Harriet to live with the Dursley's wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Oh, you are so beautiful!" Mildred cooed, squeezing his daughter's cheek. "Here, let me carry your bag for you."
James gave his daughter one last hug, telling her that he loved her and would come back for her the moment his mission was complete, and then as quick as a bird taking flight, he hopped up on his broom and disappeared into the darkening sky. Not once did the wizard look back, for fear he would find it harder to leave.
Mildred's smile fell. "Come along now, sweet one. Lord Vernon doesn't like to be kept waiting."
The five of them walked back to the castle in tense silence; winding through countless corridors and up spiraling staircases, only the flickering light from the torches above guiding them. They passed by portraits of beady-eyed men in silver armor, heraldic tapestries with the Dursley coat of arms; a white knight against a plum-colored backdrop, and statues of scenic battles throughout the Age of Heroes and Targaryen Conquest.
Harriet's feet began to hurt as she wondered how long it would be before they'd get to see the top of the Great Tower.
"We're almost there, little one," Mildred huffed beside her, "This tower is the tallest in the whole castle, you can see everything from up here."
Finally, after ascending another flight of stairs and then another, they reached a narrow landing with a heavily bolted door at the end. Vernon squeezed his way past them, fat beads of sweat dripping down his purple face. Out of his pocket, he pulled out a row of brass keys that shined when he held them up. Harriet got a sickening feeling in her gut when he twisted them slowly into each lock—a total of five, she counted—each click of the deadbolt making her whole body tense up.
"This will be your new bedchambers," he said, swinging the door open. The room inside was the homeliest looking garderobe she'd ever seen. Cracks shaped like clawed hands stretched along the rounded stone walls, and spider webs hung from the moldy rafters. A film of dust decorated the wooden tiles and velvet upholstery. There was only one circular window, though it was pointless to look out of it now that night had fallen. Before Harriet could ask whether they brought her to the servant's chambers by accident, Daffodil came up behind her and pushed her face first into the floor.
Everyone, except for Mildred found that amusing.
"You can't do that," Harriet said, beginning to cry. "I'll tell my father what you did."
"You're father," Vernon sneered, "He's given you up, hasn't he? Off on another one of his great adventures...the lunatic. I bet by morning he'll be dead as that whore you called a mother."
"Stop it!" Harriet screamed, trying to run out the room.
Petunia blocked the door. "I know those eyes," She said, her voice colder than a northern wind. "They belonged to my sister once...All the knights and lords in the seven kingdoms worshiped the ground she walked one. They thought she was so special. But I knew the truth, I could see what they couldn't see. My sister was a freak!"
Lord Vernon snatched Harriet's extendable bag from Mildred, and upended all of her things onto the floor.
"What is this—this nonsense?" He spluttered, staring down at the colorful pile of witch robes, quick quotes quills, magical tomes, a toy broom set, a mirror that never told lies, a stuffed lion that sung sonnets and solved complex equations on command, and a whole assortment of other magical objects that made Vernon look as if a bug had landed in his soup.
"It's not nonsense, its magic," Harriet said, the sickening feeling in her stomach growing worse.
"Magic," Vernon sneered, "Did you say magic?"
"She said the word, father! She said it!" Daffodil hissed, stomping her foot.
"You are never to utter that word in my presence again, do you understand?" Vernon screamed, spit flying out of his mouth. He kicked the stuffed lion on the floor; it giggled and began to sing Bear and the Maiden Fair. "Mildred, burn everything!"
"Don't, please, my mother gave me those!" Harriet cried, rushing over to the pile. At first she hadn't felt it. It was so quick; a stinging slap against her cheek. She reached up with trembling fingers to trace the spot his engraved ring had cut into flesh; when she pulled them back they were streaked with blood.
"Listen very closely, brat. This is not House Potter, this is House Dursley! If you want to remain here, you will follow the rules, and rule number one is—"
"No magic," smirked Petunia, looking triumphant.
"Right," Vernon said with a firm nod. He pulled a handkerchief out of his doublet and wiped the sweat off his face. "Mildred, see to it that the girl has a bath. She reeks of outside."
"Yes, sir," Mildred said quietly.
"Come Petunia, Daffy, let us depart to our chambers. I believe Potter here has learned her lesson."
The second the door shut Mildred quickly stripped Harriet of her traveling cloak and tossed it into the hearth.
"Here," She snapped, throwing a rag at her. "Get into the tub and wash up with that. You're in luck, I filled it up this morning—might be a tad bit grubby, but a little dirt never hurt anybody."
Harriet climbed into the tub as Mildred tossed the rest of her things into the blazing fire. The water was ice cold. She sluiced it over her face, trying to ease the throbbing on her cheek.
"Word of advice, girl," said Mildred, putting poor Ser Lion out of his misery with her poker. "Let it go. Whatever you thought you was, whatever your father told you—all those pretty magic things, let it go. No use holding on to what's gone."
For a while there was silence as Harriet shivered in the freezing cold water. "Can you help me?" She asked, holding the dripping rag over the brim of the tub. The Potter house elves had always assisted her with her baths.
"You're gonna have to start learning these things on your own soon, little one," Mildred said, but helped her anyway; scrubbing her down until all the blood and dirt from that day had dissolved into the water.
While she was ringing the cloth dry, her eyes caught something red, fluttering underneath Harriet's straggly black curtains of hair. She brushed aside the dripping wet tresses and gasped at the strange sight that met her. Right at the center of the girl's chest was a scarlet and gold Phoenix, its wings spread as if it were soaring up into the sky. When Harriet reached out to touch it, the bird burst into a flame that neither burned nor made her feel afraid.
Later that night, after Harriet was bathed and fed a measly supper of scraps from the kitchens, she lied in her bed thinking of her father, wondering where he was, and if he would ever come back for her. She thought of him the next day, and the day after that; sometimes sitting on the window sill, face pressed against the glass as she waited for her father to return from his expedition. Weeks, months and then six years had passed, and still not a spec of his magic could be felt in the air, nor a whisper of his firebolt zipping through the clouds.
On the morning of her thirteenth nameday, Harriet of House Dursley, decided to stop hoping.
AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please tell me what you think. If I get enough reviews I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. : )