Hi dear readers,

As I had stated previously, this chapter update is slightly different than the usual. I've had many readers asking about Hermione's arrival into Westeros and while it is not wholly important to the story, I thought to indulge you with some backstory to that aspect. Please don't look to closely at this, don't worry to much about the details, it is simply to appease your curiosities but like I have already stated how she came to be in Winterfell is not all that important. I may or may not include more interludes as the story progresses if I feel the need for them.

Happy reading!

Interlude 1: Hermione

She was being chased. Her lungs screamed as she drew quick breaths and her feet pounded the pavement. Rogue Death Eaters had not been a problem for so long, Hermione had been lulled into a sense of false security. For just a fraction of a moment, she had dropped her defensives and now she was running for her life once more.

"Expulso!" A harsh voice cried and Hermione flattened herself against the wall just in time. The curse was sent whizzing past her.

The rogue Death Eater didn't stop and Hermione pushed herself off the wall immediately. "Bombarda!" she yelled over her shoulder. It blew a hole in the pavement, debris kicking up everywhere.

She was outnumbered and taken by complete surprise as she raced through the off alley turn, hoping to reach the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, where help would surely find her. She had almost managed to shake them off too, ducking the curses they threw at her when another imposing figure entered the mix. He had caught up far too quickly to her, jostling her as he roughly pushed her against the wall. She cried out in surprise, as the wall scraped her skin and she felt herself tumble against it taking her attacker with her. She heard the distinct snap of a wand and prayed it wasn't hers. Her attacker dropped a vial on the floor and the small space was already starting to smoke up.

Behind her, the heavy footsteps of her other attackers drew closer through the smoke. She coughed and wheezed, fumbling around for her wand. Her attacker lay beside her, unmoving. She hastily pushed him aside as she continued her search. Hermione tried crawling her way out of it but she didn't get far as black boots filled her line of sight. Her fingers finally grasping around the wood of her wand. She raised it just in time to stupefy him but had to duck and roll out of the way a moment later as another threw a blasting curse at her. The wooden door behind her splintered into a thousand pieces as she took cover. She crawled away, aiming for the edges of the smoke cloud that had gathered. Heavy movements had her senses prickling and she kept a firm grip on her wand. She turned, another attacker finally coming into clear view. As the spell left her lips, he threw another vial of deathly purple something at her. There wasn't enough time to avoid it as her spell broke the vial in mid-air and an explosion of light drowned everything else out.

All she knew then was smoke and white light.

A tight squeezing sensation much like being sucked through a portkey followed. Her entire world was spinning and she knew, however strange it might have seemed, that she was not on the dirty alley floor anymore. But everything moved so fast around her, the white light dusting over brief flashes of colour and sounds. Her ears hummed with the pressure and once she couldn't take the spinning any longer, she shut her eyes. When at last it stopped, she fell unceremoniously onto the ground. Her landing was awkward and it hurt as she fell onto her arm, her wand flying out of her hand. She gasped, in shock as her senses were jarred awake. She rolled over onto her back, groaning as she did so. All Hermione felt was cold; absolute cold seeped through her entire being. She dared not open her eyes for a moment as the spinning slowly subsided. Eventually, she regained control of her breathing, taking deep harsh breaths and then opened her eyes.

Above her, she made out blood-red leaves covered in snow. That was what the cold was, Hermione realized. It took her a moment longer to sense that she was lying on the snow-covered ground too. The more of the looming red-leafed tree she took in the more she worried. Panic slowly settled when she couldn't place where she had ever seen such a tree before. Quickly. She rolled over pushing herself to her knees and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea hit her.

"Oh fuck," she groaned, falling forward, her hands digging into the snow. She took deep breaths once more willing the nausea back. She needed to focus. She had no clue where she was.

At last, she felt a little steadier and pushed herself back up, gazing around her. She was in a clearing, in the middle of the forest, if she had to guess. Somewhere that was experiencing the height of winter. Her wizarding robes did nothing against the cold winds. A little stream ran through the clearing and when she finally gazed up she gasped at the sight of the tree before her.

A face had been carved into the tree. A solemn serious face that looked like it was weeping blood. The red of the leaves and the tears were a sharp contrast to the white snow that covered everything else in the clearing. Hermione shuffled back a little, now truly worried. She had never seen such a thing before. Spying the brown wood of her wand lying near the base of the tree, Hermione almost leapt for it. But she didn't, she made slow careful moves towards the tree, her fingers inching towards her wand and she sighed in relief when she held it in her hand once more. She sat in the snow, clutching her wand, trying to work out where she was and how she was going to get back. Clearly, the potion the Death Eater had thrown at her reacted poorly to her defensive spell and some sort of teleportation event had occurred.

The leaves rustled above and save for her breathing, that was all she heard.

Until it wasn't. She almost missed it at first, so intent on finding her footing that she nearly missed it. The almost quiet of the clearing only now amplified the strange new sound. She gripped her hand tightly in her hand as she found herself on slightly trembling feet. The growling sound – that much she was certain of – came from behind the blood-faced tree.

She came around the tree, tentatively and slightly scolding her foolishness all at once. The scream never made it past her lips as the creature came into view. The shock of such a creature gave her great pause. It reminded Hermione of Voldemort's inferi … only this one looked decidedly more savage and gruesome. A good portion of its flesh seemed to have rotted away. In one hand it held a sword which she thought odd, as the inferi never needed any sort of weapon in the past. She stumbled back a little, the crunch of snow and fallen foliage echoing loudly. She winced and the creature immediately snapped its head up to look at her. Unlike Voldemort's inferi, who usually sported white and cloudy eyes this one had absolutely cold blue eyes, that reflected something to her. But Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to identify what that was just yet. They were not particularly intelligent creatures, created for nothing more than being used as guards by nefariously dark wizards.

Hermione looked around the clearing and was struck with the thought that there couldn't possibly be anything here that would require an inferi. But she wasn't even sold on her assumption that it was an inferi, to begin with. It looked nothing like what she knew them to be.

Before she could speculate any further, the creature made a snapping, growling sound and moved. Hermione scrambled back a little more and when the creature turned to look at her, she knew she was in trouble.

With no true warning, it lunged at Hermione, throwing her to the ground. Hermione shrieked in horror and held her arms above her, attempting to hold off the creature as it snapped its mouth close to her. It was far stronger than it looked and more vicious than she had expected as it flailed above her, kicking and screeching. Hermione sobbed as she fought back, doing her best to hold it off. It gnashed its teeth and Hermione whimpered turning her face the other way. She pushed up, hard and with enough adrenaline coursing through her, she was able to push the creature of her completely.

Quickly she scrambled back, away from its wriggling form. It squalled for a moment and Hermione watched in abject horror. With alarming speed, the creature kicked itself back up and Hermione crawled back until her back hit the tree. Foolishly, she had not thought to reach for her wand and now she felt completely defenceless.

Pulling her strength together, she dug deep and tried to summon her wandless magic. Yet when she tried casting a protego shield, little more than a glimmering bubble appeared before popping from existence. Hermione screamed and shrunk into herself as the creature took a swing at her with its blade.

It didn't look all that sharp, but it was not a chance Hermione had been willing to take. She scrambled, on all fours away from the tree as the creature followed her. She turned, rolled flat onto the cold floor just dodging another sword swipe.

Her fingers dug through the snow, but she couldn't find her wand anywhere. Her fingers were frozen turning nearly blue as she shifted the snow about urgently but there was nothing.

Hermione screamed when she felt its cold fingers wrap around her ankle. She'd been wearing her wizarding robes over her office skirt and blouse. The cold from the creature's hand was unbearable compared to the cold of the snow. It dragged her through the snow and Hermione tried desperately to grab at anything around her.

The creature yanked her down a little more and when the sword was raised again, Hermione cowered slightly. It sliced through the air, just grazing Hermione's shoulder as she rolled away in time. Hermione whimpered, the pain in her arm on which she had landed on was now becoming excruciating. A cut above her brow, perhaps from her tussle in the alley and skin scratched off her hands from the wall she had been thrown against.

She trembled as she moved away as fast as she could, still in search of her wand. The creature seemed to be losing patience with her and advance. His strikes on her becoming more deadly accurate. Hermione knew she would not have much energy to out move him for much longer.

Huffing and panting heavily, her fingers grasped the wood of the bloody-face tree. She turned and saw the creature looming over her. Through her frustration and confusion, pain and survival instinct, Hermione sobbed. Her lungs almost burned from the exhaustion she had put in under not to mention the absolute cold.

"A-accio!" she said desperately, hoping it was enough to call her wand to her. "Accio wand!"

Nothing.

The creature, now closer, raised its sword once more and Hermione despite how terrified she was did not look away. She tried once more to conjure a protection shield but it was nothing more than a wobbly bubble that the creature easily sliced through. Hermione screamed again, as the sword kissed the air far too close to her cheek. She could go nowhere else with the tree behind her and the creature looming over her. The sword was raised again and Hermione was certain this would be her end when another sound, clear and distinct cut through the air … and the creature. It squealed and then burst into nothing but dust. As the dust fell onto the snow, her vision focused on something else.

A man clad in heavy clothing and furs resembling something quite medieval, with a sword in hand stood before her, panting heavily.

"Are you alright?" he asked. His voice, though rough with his accent was softened by the obvious concern behind his words.

But she couldn't find her words. She simply stared and when he knelt, using his sword to balance himself slightly, Hermione drew herself away from him as best she could. He held his hands up in an almost surrender like fashion and she was certain he was speaking, but nothing registered to her. It was like her ears were filled with wool and as the adrenaline dropped, the reality began to set in. Frantically she searched around for something familiar, but there was nothing.

"Don't move," he was saying. "No, no…" he continued trying to stop her but she made an odd strangled sort of noise and he backed off immediately. "You're hurt… don't move…"

Hurt. She was hurt. Hermione didn't remember getting hurt beyond her scuffle and fall in the alley. But glancing down she saw he was right. A cut high up on her arm, where she thought the sword had missed. Nothing serious but it was deep enough to draw blood.

"I … I …" Hermione stuttered. She glanced down at the spot where the creature had been not mere moments ago.

"It's alright. It's gone now." he attempted to soothe.

"W- where am I?" she managed to ask.

He frowned. "The Godswood."

"The what?" she asked confused.

"The Godswood." He repeated slowly.

She had been almost afraid to ask but she had no choice. She had never heard of such a place and she knew plenty of forests and the like. They had been on the run for nearly a year. She had become quite familiar with those around Britain. Her stomach twisted. No such place came to mind. She didn't understand.

"I … how far is London?" she asked.

"London?" he echoed with a furrowed brow. "Is that beyond the wall?"

"Wall? What wall?" the more they spoke, the more questions she found herself having. She had to get back. The other Death Eaters would surely be able to track her now. She had to leave before they found her … or worse she stumbled upon another creature.

"No, don't …" he sighed giving up as Hermione stubbornly rose to her feet. She used the tree for support as she stood. Her clothes were now wet from the snow and dirty from her fight. She knew she was shaking, her body most likely going into shock, though she guessed it was more from the cold than the fight. Her apparent saviour seemed to realise the same thing.

"How did you make it this far dressed like that?" he asked.

Perhaps he was a muggle, she told herself, but quickly dismissed that when she remembered he still carried a sword and had struck down the creature with said sword. Not many muggles in her time did that. She had to get back, but she had no magic and … her wand! She had to find her wand.

"Here," he said pulling her from her frantic thoughts. He'd unclipped his heavy cloak and held it out for her. He didn't come closer. "It's okay, take it," he assured her when she did nothing.

She did. The cloak was heavy and so warm as she draped it over herself. It smelt of fire and something sweet she didn't recognize. For the first time since finding herself in the clearing, Hermione felt a modicum of safety. Underneath his cloak, Hermione saw that he wore a black leather jerkin and a silver gorget with two wolves on them. Boots and thick breeches too if he were so comfortable to brave such cold weather without his cloak. It was clothing, Hermione reasoned that was very reminiscent of medieval times. That sent her into a state of near-silent shock.

As she pulled the cloak closer, she noticed her hand. Shaking and trembling yes, but there was something else on them. It resembled something quite similar to a burn, but she didn't remember getting burned and the creature had grabbed her by the leg, not the hand. She hastily pulled up her robes to look at her legs and the man-made a surprised chortling noise. She ignored him, noting with some relief there was no mark there.

"The potion," Hermione mumbled to herself thinking back to the alley. Her attacker had thrown a vial of something at her. When her spell hit it, breaking the vial it must have spilt on her.

Hastily, she looked up at the man again. He was watching her, curious no doubt but also perhaps a little worried. "How did I … that's …"

"Do you not remember how you came to be here?" He did sound genuinely concerned.

"I … there was an attack …" she started slowly. Her brain went into overdrive, as she tried to piece together everything. "And an explosion … with the potion…" she said this turning to look back at her hand, "and then I was here…."

"A wight attack?"

"What's a wight?" she found herself mumbling.

He didn't say anything, just stared and she found herself swaying slightly against the tree. She steadied herself as best she could. "How did I end up here?" she asked. "Where are we?" she asked almost desperately this time.

He sighed, this time taking a step closer to her, slowly as he tried to help her. "The Godswood," he said again like that was supposed to mean something to her. "In Winterfell." When nothing registered he asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm …" she paused uncertain how far she should trust this stranger, especially with her identity. "Who are you?" she asked in reply, more harshly than she intended.

He seemed genuinely surprised at her question and looked slightly amused as he answered. "Have no fear, my lady, I mean no harm."

Her brows rose at his formality. How far had she tumbled from London? She now more than anything needed to get back. He shifted and it was only the slightest of movements, but she saw it, gasping in relief as she dashed forward.

He looked alarmed as she dug her fingers into the snow pulling out her wand. Well, half of it anyhow. Snapped in half, she realized with a heavy heart.

"Oh no! No! this can't be!" Hermione mumbled to herself. Shaking her head frantically as she held her wand helplessly. "My wand," she whispered. Whatever hope she had for apparating herself back home was now gone and with that came an awful sinking feeling and a fresh wave of nausea.

"What is that for?" He asked.

"My magic," she answered without thinking and then froze immediately. She looked up at him with wide, near frightened eyes.

"You're a mage?" he asked hesitantly.

"Well … I might be," Hermione answered. Her head was pounding too now like she'd been bounced against a wall. She thought it odd that he said mage and not witch but didn't think it necessary to argue over such semantics. "Who are you?" this time she demanded.

"Jon Snow," he said looking at her. "Are you okay?" he asked because she was swaying again, her vision going blurry as she mumbled to herself. "My lady!" he called and Hermione was certain she was going to fall straight into the cold snow.

Only she didn't. Jon Snow caught her. His arms wrapping around her waist as she fell against his chest. She mumbled something, the words heavy on her tongue as her consciousness drew further from her. She was vaguely aware of his worried voice, and only the smell of his cloak as everything finally went black.

When Hermione woke again it had been to a completely different scene. No large bloody-face tree or gruesome creature of death. Only warmth and the smell of something quite heavenly.

"Oh good, you're awake," a soft voice said and Hermione scrambled up in the bed. "Easy now, easy." The man warned. She looked up at him wondering if it was Jon Snow but it was not. This man wore long greyish robes that reminded Hermione a little of Professor Dumbledore and had several chains around his waist that clinked together every time he moved. "I'm Maester Wolkan." The man said slowly, "You've had yourself quite an adventure."

"Where am I?" Hermione asked, her voice rough.

"Winterfell." He said and she almost rolled her eyes at that answer. "You well, I supposed fainted in the Godswood and when you were brought back here, you had quite a few bruises and a nasty cut on your arm."

Hermione looked down at said arm to see that it had been cleaned and bandaged. "You did this?" she asked and Maester Wolkan nodded. "T-thank you." She murmured. He smiled a kind and almost comforting smile before turning away from her.

Taking that opportunity, she looked around the room. A fireplace had been light and was the source of much of the heat in the room. The bed she laid upon was comfortable and warm as she was covered in thick fur blankets. A few candles burned low and there was a window that allowed for some light through.

"I need to go home," she finally said.

"Hm, yes you were mumbling quite a bit about that," Maester Wolkan told her. When he turned back to her it was with a serious and questioning look in his eyes. Hermione's fingers flexed over the fur blankets. "You also mentioned something about a potion and a wand."

At the mention of her wand, Hermione's eyes jumped around the room looking for it. but she couldn't see it anywhere. "I'm told you are a mage."

"Of a sort," Hermione said. "I have to go back home."

"Soon enough," the Maester said. "Our King will be in to see you soon."

"King?" she echoed but the maester was already walking out the room.

She was left to her thoughts, and they were plentiful. It did not take her long to surmise what had happened. The potion that had broken during her scuffle had been a variant of some kind to make teleporting easier, perhaps designed to take her to the one leading the rogue Death Eaters. Nobody had accounted for what would happen if her magic reacted directly to the magical properties in the potion. When the vial broke and touched her magic it must have sent her elsewhere. But where? How far could she possibly have gone?

Hermione left the bed, grabbing the cloak to cover herself as she went. She was glad to see that she was still wearing her own clothes. Walking to the window on unsteady feet, she looked out trying to gauge where she was. As she saw the buildings through the window very reminiscent of medieval times, she found her answer. Very far if she were, to be honest with herself. This didn't feel like she was anywhere close to London. Not the time or the place. She pulled all the knowledge she had from everything she'd read about such a time and hoped it was enough to buy her some time till she figured a way back home.

The door creaked behind her and she jumped a little. The Maester had returned. "You really should be resting, my lady."

Behind him came what felt like a horde of people, but it was just four. Hermione recognized Jon Snow immediately as he came through. He wore more of the same black clothes from earlier and she noticed he had on a different fur-lined cloak this time. A tall beautiful but unsmiling lady followed him with red hair that almost rivalled Ron's. It suited her fair complexion though. A boy, with a near bored expression, was rolled on what she assumed must be a wheelchair and lastly, an older man, with greying hair and an equally greying beard followed and closed the door. As it shut, Hermione felt a great sense of trepidation.

It was surprisingly the boy who spoke first, "Hermione Granger," she startled again, this time panicking at the ease in which he addressed her. She didn't recall telling anyone her name.

"H-how do you know my name?" she stammered wishing she was grasping her wand rather than the fur cloak.

"I know many things," the boy replied smiling though not at her exactly. "You have travelled far."

"How far exactly?" she asked quickly but the boy didn't answer. Hermione frowned wanting to question him further but the woman was speaking and gave her no opportunity to do so.

"I'm Sansa Stark," she spoke, her voice formal and with little warmth. "You've met my brother Jon," she gestured to him and then pointed to the boy in the chair, "this is my other brother, Bran and this is Ser Davos." She pointed to the older man who gave Hermione the smallest of smiles, for which she was grateful. "How did you come to find yourself in our Godswoods?"

"I … I don't know…" Hermione shook her head.

"Lady Granger," Maester Wolkan addressed. "Now as his grace tells me, you were fighting a wight when he found you."

Hermione felt frustrated and slightly panicked. She knew nothing of what they were talking about.

"It's just that the woods are in the middle of the castle, and no one recalls having seen or hearing of you before then, my lady," Jon said stepping closer.

"Jon," Sansa warned.

"I doubt she's going to attack me right now Sansa," Jon said looking at her. "She looks like she's about to fall over." Hermione wanted to object to that but found she didn't quite have the strength for it.

"There are those that want to hurt you, and will stop at nothing to see that it happens," Sansa said quietly and while it was only intended for Jon to hear, her voice carried enough in the quiet room for them all to hear. "We cannot trust her."

"I only intend to know how she came to be in the Godswood fighting a wight of all things." Jon sighed.

"They call you a witch where you come from," Bran said and Hermione stiffened. Her eyes jumped from Jon to Sansa to the door and then back again. She waited, anxiously, for the outrage or disbelief but none followed. "You had magic."

Hermione almost shattered for he said had. She thought back to the pitiful protego charms she tried casting in the woods. Did that mean her magic was no longer with her?

"Bran," Sansa interrupted.

"She is not of any danger to us," Bran merely said but Hermione was sure the yet was still implied. "But you have found yourself far from home now. Such strange tragedies that brought you here." He spoke without looking at her.

"How do you know that?" she asked in a near whisper.

He smiled and it seemed so uncharacteristic of him. "I know many things, Hermione Granger." He almost sighed, "but there are still some things unknown to me. Like why you came to be in our Godswood."

"I don't know why or how," Hermione said suddenly. She turned away from them shaking her head. She took a deep breath, her fingers tugging absently on her curls. "There was an attack, and I was being chased… there was an explosion and the next thing I knew I was in the woods." She turned back to them not at all surprised to find them looking at her. "I don't know much else," Hermione said, deciding to keep her theory about the teleporting potion to herself for now. They were already weary of her.

They were all quiet for a moment and Hermione worried over what they might do to her. Was she their prisoner? Is that why they took her wand? Broken though it may be, she would have felt far better with it. An unsettling feeling took over as she noted Bran simply starring at her, though it felt much like he was looking straight through her.

Deciding she'd had enough with answers she did not understand, she pushed her hair back as she looked at them. "Where exactly am I?"

"Winterfell, my lady," Maester Wolkan said almost worriedly.

This time she did roll her eyes. "Yes, I gathered that much. But where exactly is that? How far are we from London?"

"London?" Sansa asked frowning as she turned to Jon, who could only shrug. "I have heard of no such place."

"You haven't heard of London?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "How could you not have heard of it?"

"Is it across the Narrow Sea?" the one they called. Ser Davos asked gently. "Essos maybe?"

Hermione frowned, feeling her panic and frustration grow again. "I assure you, Lady Granger, there is no such place in Westeros. Certainly not the north." Sansa told her.

"The North?" Hermione questioned. "The North of what?"

That gave them all pause. She was entirely too confused and panicked to care at that point. She just wanted an answer so she could find a way home.

Ser Davos asked, "Where do you think you are?"

She was afraid to answer, for they might think her mad. "I don't know," she said quietly.

It was Jon that answered. "You're in the Northern Kingdom of Westeros, my lady." He almost seemed to pity her confused state.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to process that information. She knew of no country or land that called themselves such… was it possible rather than simply jumping from one location to another she had jumped times? But she knew her history well and had never heard of such a Kingdom.

"I… I don't understand," Hermione mumbled.

"Yes you do," Bran said, with a seemingly far off look in his eyes. "You know the answer. Strange though it may be, it is the only possibility."

Hermione swallowed thickly, silently trying to deny his words. Because the only alternative she could so hastily come up with was that she had possibly somehow jumped realities. How would she ever find her way back home now?

"It can't be," Hermione said quite stubbornly. "It just can't," she whispered.

"Of course it is," bran said sounding almost impatient. "You carried with you some magic. This is not so far from that margin of near impossibilities."

"So she is a witch?" Sansa asked sharply.

"She is not of this world, Sansa," Bran told them all. None spoke, Hermione dared not breathe. "She's come from a different time and a different place. It does not mean the same thing to be a witch there as it does here."

"How?" Sansa asked frowning, sounding as flabbergasted as Hermione felt.

Bran looked at his sister, "I cannot say yet."

"Bran," she said making it sound quite like a chiding.

"She is neither friend nor foe yet," Bran said. "The sight of the raven does not permit me to know everything all at once."

"Then what do we do?" Sansa asked visibly unhappy. "How can we trust her?" She asked as if Hermione weren't there. Hermione wanted to scoff at that but even she couldn't decide if she should be so trusting of them.

"I have no more reason to trust you than you have to trust me," Hermione answered.

"You really don't know?" Sansa asked her truly curious now. "You have no idea who we are?" she asked again.

"No," Hermione said almost meekly then. Her lack of knowledge and understanding in the situation made her feel small and vulnerable but she did her best to hide it. It felt a lot like the floor giving out underneath her.

"Then allow me to make some introductions," Sansa continued as if taking mercy on her. "I'm Sansa Stark of Winterfell." That much she knew, "This is Brandon Stark and this is Jon Snow; the King in the North."

"King?" she spluttered turning to him. "Y-you're the king?"

"Aye," he said smiling slightly. "Welcome to Winterfell, my lady."

"Oh, bloody hell," She muttered tugging her hair once more. It would seem things had somehow become just a little more complicated.

AN: Hope you enjoyed it! I promise the story will continue as per usual with the next update!

I realised there were a few details missing in this chapter that i have hopefully ironed out. Thank you to JayMJane for pointing it out!

Don't forget to leave a little love and review! Thank you to all those readers who have followed, favourited or reviewed this story!

Stay safe!