Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't care. Writing this for free.
AN: Hi there people! I'm alive! I do not have the drive to write any proper update for my previous fics, but I figured fixing an old plot bunny for publishing was OK.
While I am still in hiatus from truly writing any fic, I do still read fics here. I don't know how many of you know the author cherryvvoid. She is one of my favorite fic writers... who has a lot of unfinished fics (we are practically twins in that front). Anyway, point is she is hoping to get a fashion sponsorship and needs 1000 Instagram followers to get it. She is missing 400. If you could please follow the instagram account slimjimsandarizonas it would help her a lot.
Thanks to all that decide to help. You are making someone's life a wee bit better :D
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About the fic in itself... this is a collection of prompts to share ideas with other authors. Prompts are up for the grab, so PM to let me know and get the written content for this or any future prompts, so I can make a list for interested people to read other author's follow ups. I only ask for a little credit: something like: Inspired on/based on/follow up of, "Game of Prompts" ch:? by Chicaalterego
Prompt 1: Harry
The Promised Prince's Palingenesis
On a beautiful night, in a ancient castle named Hogwarts, a war hero was drowning a pint of Firewhisky. The man had black hair and green eyes, and had the most peculiar thunderbolt scar on his forehead. The room the man was in was as peculiar, if not more so than the legendary scar from the man: the room was made of old stone, moving portraits in the walls listening raptly to the conversation between the Man-Who-Conquered and the temporary owner of the room, one Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.
"There is nothing like good Firewhisky at the end of a school term, wouldn't you agree, Harry?" Spoke the headmistress with exhausted fondness.
Harry, who was more of a drinker of Butterbeer, simply took a sip. It was kind of funny that Harry ended up going back to Hogwarts as a DADA teacher, specially since he never finished his last year of schooling. After the Battle of Hogwarts was over, Harry had joined the Auror corps to hunt down the Death Eathers that had Aparated away from the grounds after Voldemort got a killing curse rebounded to his nose-less face. Becoming an Auror was tough work, but Harry felt the war wouldn't be truly finished until every one of Voldemort's followers were brought to justice.
It took Harry a solid five years to accomplish what he had sought to do. The last Death Eater catch was made by Harry along with Ronald Weasley and Nerville Longbottom. The three former Gryffindors had become one of the best teams in the corps by combining Ron's strategy, Nerville's sword-and-wand style of combat and Harry's mastery of jumping straight into enemy fire and come out alive. When the arduous last battle was over, the three friends had gone to drink and celebrate that it was finally over. Their private celebration had a lot of conversation, from the times in school, from their latest battle, to their plans of the future.
Harry had been surprised to discover that neither Ron nor Nerville had a plan to continue being Aurors now that they had captured all the responsible of the death of their loved ones: Ron had an open invitation from George to join him on Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and Nerville had a similarly open apprenticeship offer from their old Herbology professor, Pomona Sprout. As for Harry... he hadn't thought in his future beyond the idea of maybe marrying Ginny and making a family with her. Harry's plan of marrying Ron's younger sister was once more than a maybe, but between Harry's devotion to hunting criminals and his girlfriend obsession with her Quidditch career, their relationship had grown to become an after-thought with occasional bout of intense, passionate sex.
After the three friends bade farewell for the night Harry went to his home and tried to decide what he wanted to do from there on. He could continue being an Auror, he was probably one of the best men in the force... but was that what he really wanted to do? He couldn't say for sure it was. His pondering over the issue lasted a whole week before the answer to his pondering came as an unexpected owl from his old Transfiguration teacher, who had been unable to find a Professor Against the Dark Arts teacher (a position that remained cursed even after the defeat of Voldemort). Needless to say, Harry ended up taking the job.
Harry's time as a teacher made him feel fulfilled in a way that Auror work never made him. He was sure -as he heard his students laugh at the closing ceremony, the Great Hall decorated in Gryffindor colors, in the one place Harry ever saw as home- that he wanted to come back to teach for many more years. The DADA curse still in place did not face him, after all, Harry had beaten the Dark Lord himself, so maybe it was a matter of fact that it would be Harry who was destined to break the curse Tom had put in the job as well. And so, with his future settled in his mind, Harry told Minerva McGonagall about his plans to come back for the next year... which ended up with the older witch asking Harry to meet her in her office after he helped the other teachers lead the students to the Hogwarts Express.
"Are you certain you can take the job permanently? I do believe that the Aurors would be hard pressed to let one of their finest go... not to mention the risk it could pose for you, Harry," while she dearly wished a reprieve of recruiting teachers for the cursed position, she didn't believe it was a realistic idea with how important Harry had become to buster the reputation of the Auror department. There was also the problem of the curse... but she was also of the mind that if there was one person capable of beating that one once and for all it would be the young man sitting in front of her desk.
"It won't be easy to convince them," Harry agreed "but I already spoke to Kingsley and he agreed to it, so long as I helped them out from time to time during the hols."
"I guess I will be seeing you next year as well then," Minerva smiled "and to think I will be having two former students as teachers next year..."
"Two?" Harry asked puzzled for a moment before it clicked, "Nerville is becoming the Herbology teacher, is he not? That was why Professor Sprout asked him to become an apprentice!"
"Five points to Gryffindor Mr. Potter," she joked amiably.
"Brilliant!"
To have Nerville by his side on top of getting the job of his dreams. Harry's future was looking very bright indeed.
...
Things were looking very grim. The mission Harry had been asked to help had seemed like a simple one in the beginning: go to the Ministry of Magic, escort this Japanese Quidditch player that was the son of Japan's Minister of Magic, as an act of good will to foster amiable relationships with their country. Of course, what seemed like an easy mission became a lot harder when white, ghostly tendrils invaded the ministry as a whole. Harry didn't know it right away, but that very same day a group of Unspeakables were studying the veil of death, and... whatever they were doing down there, managed to leave a crack in the arch of the veil. Old magic started to run amok, and it had been very few wizards that were good enough to protect themselves in time.
Of course, Harry being the person that he was, he didn't just stand and defend himself: he strode forwards towards looking for the source of danger. Harry ran across the Department of Prophesy, Elder Wand in Hand, to one where he spotted the familiar arch where his Godfather had met his demise at. The white tendrils coming out of the thing were countless, but much less than they would have been had Harry not spent the better part of an hour cutting and blasting tendrils in his way to the room. Then, as he was a scant twenty meters away from the Veil, he spotted a small crack that only one with the sight of a Seeker could spot.
Harry rose his wand to cast a Reparo with as much magic as he could muster:he was tired and running out of fuel for his magic. The spell struck true and the crack mended... but not before a last tendril of white wrapped around Harry's wand arm and pulled his soul out of him. Harry's soulless body slumped forwards, the Elder Wand rolling on the ground like a pencil would, somehow making it's way all the way to the arch its master had fallen through.
Somewhere in a Higher plane, a God rolled a dice.
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The merciless sun reigned in the cloudless sky in a small mining town between Norvos and Pentos; a little town between Norvos and Pentos. The wind, dry and full of dust, offered no reprieve, for it was harsh and full of heat, bringing in the sand of the desert. The streets of the wayward town were mostly empty that day: the weather carried the threat of a deadly sandstorm; so much so, that the townspeople opened their doors to decent people and beggars alike, an age-old practice to make sure the nearby desert wouldn't claim the lifeblood of the place. This practice was not born out of kindness, but from a need of survival on a hostile land that no man would live in if not for the money that could be earned from it.
And, of course, wherever men went in the search of money, brothels are bound to open their doors.
It was, perhaps, a kindness of fate that it was on such a place that Daenerys Targaryen had her first blood. The matron of the brothel her brother Vyserys and her had been allowed in was a stern woman, but not a completely heartless one: upon noticing the crimson staining the tattered dress of the Storm Born, she called one of the worker girls to teach her how to keep the blood form staining her clothes, how to lessen the pain and what it meant to bloom... even how to get rid of any child she might get.
Daenerys listened with quiet embarrassment to the words of the experienced woman; the moans of his brother as he fucked another of the workers in the next room making the whole thing all the more mortifying. Daenerys was usually made to stay outside on those nights when his brother went into brothels to spend the coin the two of them had begged during the day, but despite her growing used to the sounds of moans, the banging sounds and the screams, Daenerys knew not what happened behind those doors, and she was too afraid of Waking the Dragon to ask Vyserys.
Now she knew.
The sound of glass breaking came from the room Daenerys knew her brother was in, and the so familiar voice of the King of Beggars made his sister flinch. The closed door opened with a violent bang, and a half-naked woman with teary green eyes and a darkening bruise in her face, came out tumbling. "I AM THE RIGHTFUL KING! I SHALL REGAIN THE THRONE AND SLAY THE USURPER!" Vyserys screamed outraged. The woman had awoken the dragon.
What followed next was a scene that Daenerys was very familiar with: her brother roared and fumed, up until he was subdued by someone physically stronger under the watch of a mocking crowd. Promises of vengeance were spat from Vyserys mouth, and there was no doubt they would have kicked the both of them out if not for the sandstorm raging outside.
It was there, in the mist of derisive words and spite, that Daenerys spotted the woman that had been with Vyserys not long before. Eyes of an unusual shade of green, glared with fury towards them until the sandstorm was over.
...
Days turned into years, and the Storm Born turned into a strong woman. Long gone was the meek girl that begged in the streets under the shadow of his brother, leaving a conqueror who broke the chains of slavery of the whole city of Meereen.
Personal grow aside, Daenerys would always carry the drive to go back to claim Her Birthright as the queen of the Seven Kingdoms; how could she not? She had been told her whole life that it was her fate (well, her brother's fate and hers by proxy) to claim back what once belonged to the Targaryen and make their enemies pay. And yet... as she heard the people of Meereen call out to her so loud that their collective chant traveled from outside to where she sat in her newly gained throne, she felt torn: going away to Westeros meant leaving them behind the people she had freed: it felt wrong to turn her back on their devotion. She was unsure of what road to take. And so she sat in her stone throne, looking up to one of the windows that allowed the light into the room, pondering on whether to remain as the queen in Meereen or sail back to claim the Iron Throne.
But regardless of where she ultimately decided to reign, the weight of reigning was a heavy burden she was fated to deal with.
And, of course, when a person is burdened with making big choices, then big mistakes are inevitable: case and point the crucifixion of Hizdahr zo Loraq's father. By ordering every slave master of Meereen crucified -as a means of seeking justice for the 163 slave children those men had had killed in the same fashion- Daenerys had ordered the death of an innocent Great Master who seek to oppose the sin she had also blamed him for.
Daenerys' first time sitting in her throne officially, she had 215 hearings with the people of Meereen. Many months had passed since then, and the number had gotten lower. But less meetings didn't mean her life getting any easier. Now, with two of her dragons in chains, chains she had put around their necks, and with the sons of the harpy taking things a step further and killing her unsullied... ruling had become more daunting that she ever thought possible.
She closed her eyes to reign back her feelings of distress. She needed to regain her calm back before today's hearings.
Many men, and a handful of women, walked in to speak of their needs and desires; many of which were similar to the ones of the days before: people in need of job, people asking her to reestablish a practice she took down along with slavery... petitions that had stopped surprising her after the fist week.
But, among the unsurprising hearings, came one that she would never have predicted would come.
From the main entrance to the throne room came a very old, hooded woman carrying a bundle of clothes of the size of a goat. The woman's clothes were tattered and unclean, her visible skin a mix of sickness and sun burn, and her eyes, a misty blue that made Daenerys wonder if the woman was even capable of seeing her.
"You might come closer," Daenerys ordered with practice ease, and the woman moved forwards with slow, wobbly steps, her eyes tracing the stair steps, careful not to trip.
The woman came closer than any other citizen coming in for a hearing; the Unsullied behind her stood on alert, but Daenerys rose a hand placatingly. The woman handed the Storm Born the bundle in her arms, making Daenerys momentarily fear that she was handed another child that had been burnt to death by the still missing Drogon. That fear vanished when the bundle shifted: whatever was inside was alive. She moved to unwrap the fabric, but was stopped by Ser Barristan, who took the cloth out of her arms, unwilling to let her risk herself with the unknown delivery of the elderly woman. The woman remained silent through the exchange, though her visage revealed annoyance.
When the bundle turned out to be a pale, white-haired boy of about eight name days, Ser Barristan let out a small gasp, Daenerys' eyes widened in surprise. The boy's resemblance to Vyserys was uncanny. Daenerys lifted her arms a bit, and the boy was put down in her arms. The Breaker of Chains let her delicate fingers gently brush the boy's fringe, revealing a little scar in the shape of a lighting bolt.
"Explain," Daenerys demanded sternly.
"Your grace. Nine years ago your brother spent good coin to sleep with one of my girls... with unwanted results," the woman dry-coughed, but didn't stop her story for long. "The mother of this child drank Moon Tea every day and every night, but her belly kept on growing... the gods must have willed this boy to be born." the old woman's words died. The silence reigned for several long seconds.
"What happened to her?" Daenerys asked.
"She drank Moon Tea until she gave birth... but it was her life that death claimed. And her child was left behind in our care... and care we did for him, care until it was time to give him back to you."
Daenerys eyes lighted with understanding "You came to leave him to me for a price?"
The woman smiled, the few teeth age had not made her loose were rotting. "Money would please me, yes. But I hand you your brother's bastard to repay a debt."
"To my brother?" The woman snorted.
"To Harry," she clarified, looking sadly to the boy in Daenerys' lap. "This boy is a kind one. Always has been. Too good, in fact; smart too. Named himself, that one, when we gave him no name. At first, we didn't thought he would survive, you see, he was born too soon, and the Moon Tea her mother drank made him sickly up to his toddle years. There was another whore whose baby was born dead mere days before this one, she fed him with her breast and nursed him back to health. We forbade her to name the boy, though... not much point in loving a boy that she could not keep, a pretty boy that we would sell later on."
Daenerys looked with disgust to the woman in front of her. The idea that this woman would think to sell a boy of her own blood made her burn with rage.
"We never got to sell the boy, though; he was too useful: he was talented in the kitchen, and his food helped bring many clients. By the time we decided to keep him he had already named himself."
"If he is so useful, why give him to me now?" Daenerys asked coldly.
"Bandits attacked our brothel and lighted it on fire. My husband's heart was pierced with a sword, our girls raped and taken away. I was trapped under the rubble and left for dead... but the boy, who had been hit on the head so hard when trying to protect the woman that raised him that I could swear his skull should have busted open, came back for me, helping me get out before I burnt to ashes. I owe my life to that boy. I do not like owing debts."
Daenerys could not muster any sympathy for the woman in front of her. Instead, the Storm Born asked something that had been bothering her from the start "Why is he sleeping?"
The old woman huffed "The boy is too kind for his own good; he wouldn't leave an old lady to die alone. I know he aches for family, anyone who lives as long as I learns to see the sings. He would have waited until I'm buried to search for you if I hadn't brought him here, and he would have asked you to let me stay if he were awake... then he would follow when he knew I won't stay here. So I fed him Milk of the Poppy, an expense that I would have done without if the child would let me get rid off him."
Daenerys was impassive, she could not like people who condoned slavery, much less so one who had taken advantage of a Targaryen; yet, she could not take revenge on a dying old lady who brought back the last family she had left in the world "You do me a great service by bringing my kin back to me. You will be given money and provisions as for your travels as reward for your troubles. Have a good rest tonight, you will be leaving Meereen in the morning. I do not want you around my nephew again."
The woman bowed and walked away without a word of thank nor complain on Daenerys order. Before she left the room, though, she turned back to the where Meereen's queen sat, "Tell Harry that Sena will wait for him in 'the next great adventure'." And with those last words she was gone, never to be seen again by Targaryen eyes.
"Tell the others I shall not receive more people today," Daenerys ordered and stood up with the sleeping child in her arms. That said, she left the room as well, closely followed by Ser Barristan to the queen's room."
...
The sun had sunk in the horizon when Harry woke up in a familiar room. He looked up to his a beautiful purple-eyed woman with hair as white as Harry's own. He could tell was his aunt by the descriptions he had heard of the Targaryen Princess. The woman smiled softly at him, her eyes slightly wide in surprise when their eyes met.
Her nephew had green eyes.
End of Prompt 1
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AN: The idea of this fic was born before I published the first chapter of "Rise of the Pale Dragon", back then, I had like 3 plotbunnies of HPxGOT and about 5 in other xover areas. I had to chose but the ideas (and in some case drafts) remained. So I polished this one and post it.
I hope you liked the first prompt of this thing. Now, since fair is fair, I decided that prompting could go both ways: so, I made a list about what to expect on this fic, how to prompt me, etc.
Remember my request to follow the Instagram account: slimjimsandarizonas Making other people's better for free... on a easy way... earn yourself some karma points XD
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LIST OF WHAT TO EXPECT ON THIS FIC, HOW TO PROMPT ME, ETC.
1. All prompts can be modified, but if you want your to be on the list it has to be obviously inspired from the chapter you took the prompt from.
2. I can send anyone willing to further any Prompt the specific chapter you want through the doc delivery.
3. I plan to give one scenario per character and no more. I do accept prompts from readers for character I haven't published on.
4. If you want to prompt me, any suggestion on how HP characters get to GOT are valid; It doesn't matter if its by rebirth or dimension hopping by Nargle magic (this last one is literal, I plan to use that one). Also, it does not need to be a unique traveling method, i.e. you can suggest any character be in the Ministry of Magic during this chapter, or use any excuse you might have read somewhere. Cliche's are valid: no points gained or lost for originality.
5. There are no time restrains on when a character gets to GOT: A character might get out of HP after another, then get reborn first. For example, let us say I decided Kingsley was in the Ministry of Magic that day just as Harry was, but have the man get into GOT decades before or after.
6. The character getting out of the HP universe must not change HP cannon. Meaning, unless the character is not all that important on all scheme of things, then you should wait for the Battle of Hogwarts as an earliest point to get the character out of that universe.
7. Dead characters in the HP book can get into the GOT world: i.e. Fred Weasley, R.A.B., Dumbledore, Snape...
8. Anything happening in this fic takes place in GOT. I WILL NOT write GOT characters going to the HP world.
9. I think it's fun and beyond cool to imagine all prompts happening in the same universe (therefore the 1 prompt per HP character). I do not actually imagine myself working on this fic long enough to make all prompts collide, but I plan to keep it an open option just because. Which means I plan to make fics that do not conflict with one another. Any suggestions that go against this idea will likely be ignored or modified (or published once I completely give up on the idea of merging... which is likely to happen).
10. Updates are irregular with high likelihood of lasting forever for me to give you any new chapter. Remember, each chapter was written as a oneshot, and will remain so until stated otherwise.
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Yeah... that was a long list...
whatever.
Give me a REVIEW and I will be very happy, don't give me one and 'suffer my... displeasure' (got that reference anyone?)
As for the list of fics inspired by this...
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FICS INSPIRED BY THIS PROMPT
Name of the fic: _ Author:_
(AKA: None so far. Time will tell if anyone takes the prompt)
See you on the next one!