Disclaimer: I own no published intellectual properties mentioned in this fic.
Minutes before the Spark: Universe 4,185,194,514
"You really know how to ruin a party, don't you," asked Harry Dresden, Winter Knight, Former Warden of the White Council, Current Warden of Demonreach, and Supreme Annoyer of Evil Doers.
"As a signatory of the Unseelie Accords, I am duty bound to present a gift to the Winter Lady on her birthday. Have you even read the Accords?" retorted Gentleman Johnnie Marcone, Accorded Baron of Chicago, Crime Lord of Chicago, and Ethical Pain in Dresden's Posterior.
Mouse growled softly as he sat between the Marcone party and the rest of the party goers. It was not a threatening growl, but more of a way to tell everyone present that he expected everyone to behave while in the Carpenter backyard. Those with experience with Mouse, which was mostly everyone, took note that the Foo dog was not to be trifled with. Those who knew the Carpenter house had literal angels guarding it knew it was unwise to upset celestial guardians. Maggie Dresden, almost eleven years old but looking more like six, buried her face in the dog's massive fur.
"Be welcome, John Marcone," Molly intoned formally as she turned to everyone present. "I am sure no one needs reminding of the rules of hospitality."
As she looked at each group, from her own family to her magically adopted one, including a content Ivy attempting to bob for apples with Harry Carpenter, Kincaid ever vigilant but nodding at Molly's warning gaze. The supernatural among them, wizards and vampires and werewolves and Spirits of Intellect contained in crafted skulls and hid expertly in the treehouse to view the party, instinctively knew the obligations of hospitality and the penalties Molly would face if one of her guests broke the rules at her birthday celebration. Mac, who'd dropped off a keg of his finest ale, didn't even grunt.
On the other side, Marcone only had Gard and Hendricks accompanying him.
"We will not impose on you for long, merely to give you a token of appreciation for what you've accomplished, and to celebrate your mortal birth." It was the Valkyrie Gard who spoke, taking two boxes from Hendricks and handing them over, each the size of a pillow. "The red is from Mr. Marcone. The blue is from Donar Vadderung."
"How is he?" Dresden butt in, smiling with nostalgia.
"Still CEO of Monoc Securities."
"Got it, right. Separation of powers and hats and all that," Dresden winked. While not common knowledge, only several within hearing range knew Vadderung was also Santa Claus and Odin.
Several things happened at once. Mouse began to glow, growling in warning. Molly, Dresden, Butters, Thomas, Mac, Ivy, and Gard all looked around in half-panic and half-fear. Those capable of it began drawing in power to defend or attack. Everyone under the age of thirteen disappeared from view under the patented Molly Veil, accept no substitutes. As per the practice drills Charity Carpenter held on a monthly basis, the kiddos should have been walking calmly back to the house and into the panic room. Kincaid, Murphy, Hendricks, and Thomas pulled pistols of various sizes and took guard positions.
There was a flash more intense and more disorienting than Molly's One Woman Rave, screams of fear and pain, and then everyone was mostly silent while they took in their surroundings.
Fifty feet away from the Carpenter house lay a giant castle that defied all engineering principles and safety codes. Looking closer, the more visually observant amongst them noticed that ten feet around the fence-line, the terrain changed. Asphalt ended abruptly while grass continued. At no immediately visible threats, guns, swords, and magical implements were lowered but not put away. Over the sounds of nature was the gentle crying of Ivy, cradled now by Kincaid.
"You do this?" Dresden whispered to Marcone.
"Certainly not. You?" Marcone replied.
"Nuh-uh. Twenty-four hour truce?"
Marcone glanced to Gard, who nodded imperceptibly before continuing her vigil around her.
"Truce. Any idea what just happened?"
"Not a one, but that castle looks kinda familiar."
"It's Hogwarts," Maggie Dresden answered her father's unasked question. Her tiny voice carried through the silence.
"Stars and stones," Dresden breathed. "She's right."
"We're in a kid's story?" Murphy asked in disbelief.
"Not just us," Molly announced, pointing a quarter of a mile away. A softly glowing light, suspended fifty feet in the air, began flashing rapidly, before disappearing completely and leaving a farmhouse behind.
"Ivy says we're in a different world, different universe," Kincaid announced. "She still knows everything she did before, but her mind is absorbing everything from this place too. She needs to lie down and recover."
"This way," Charity directed, leading Kincaid, with Ivy in his arms, Mouse, and Maggie into the house where, most likely, the rest of the kids were secure.
"What just happened?"
It was the question on everyone's mind, one everyone desperately wanted answered.
Universe 93,569,185
Lord Stannis Baratheon was not a superstitious man. That isn't to say he wasn't a cautious man, but rather it took his cues from his senses and not fables. Stories could be exaggerated to make the impossible possible. His eyes could not.
When a strange man suddenly appears in his closed throne room with a pop, in the middle of a meeting with his councilors, it was time to reassess his beliefs on what was impossible.
Well-made black cloak, war-worn face, eyes that had seen his fair share of horrors, this man was dangerous even though he didn't carry a sword or any other weapon besides a small stick.
Stannis raised his hand to stop his guard from advancing. He wasn't certain they would prevail against the newcomer. He didn't stop his archers from nocking arrows, though.
"You have my attention," Lord Stannis announced with more calm than he felt. Magic was all he could think of, and magic, if real and not a trick, was dangerous. In the back of his mind, he began sorting through the stories his old wet-nurse told him when he was a boy.
"I am Lord Sirius Black, envoy for the House of Hogwarts. Through no fault of our own, three weeks ago our castle had recently spontaneously relocated to a nearby island to yours, and I've heard it is causing some issue with you and the leaders of your kingdom. I've been sent to make sure there are no hard feelings, and to make sure there won't be any unfortunate incidents from any potential misunderstandings, among other things."
The Lord Black seemed sincere, but the twinkle in his eye as he gave his rehearsed speech made Stannis think he was dealing with a juvenile trickster and not a trained diplomat. It was like he was dealing with a clone of his brother, though he sincerely hoped he was wrong in his assessment. Stannis honored his brother, but knew he was a petty fool.
"You are correct in that the castle's unexpected appearance has caused concern. I was under the impression Lord Valayrian attempted communications with the castle without success. I myself sent men to investigate, and they had no success."
"Yeah, we needed some time to . . . assess our new situation before contacting the local leaders. We've got someone else talking with Old Monty now, but from what I've been told you are more important, being the King's brother and all."
"You wish access to the Iron Throne, then?" Stannis inquired. He'd played the game long enough to not trust the word of an unknown competitor.
"Not really, at least not this decade. We know he's headed north right now, but what I'm really here for, besides pleasantries, is a business opportunity for you. We wish to mine your island, for something called dragonglass. Are you familiar with it?"
"Obsidian, volcanic rock, dragonglass, yes, I am aware of it. Why do you wish to mine it?"
The demeanor of Lord Black of House Hogwarts from playful to deadly serious.
"Because Winter is Coming, and an army of undead with it. Dragonglass is one of the only things to kill them, the White Walkers, and the wights those abominations create. You probably don't believe me, but our people believe a prophecy that there is a great war coming, between the living and the dead. You can tell your brother and everyone else that House Hogwarts aims to prepare for that war, and no other. In less than a decade, the dead will march on the great wall with hundreds of thousands, and either everyone is there to stop them, or they will breech it, killing all of Westeros in the process. Winter is Coming, and the Long Night is returning."
"You can't be seriously suggesting an army of the dead is coming?"
"I am serious," the mysterious Lord smirked at the unintentional pun. "But I don't expect you to believe me and our seers. There won't be any proof of it for years to come, but by then it'll be too late to prepare. None of us expect you to believe us, and we don't need you to believe us. What we will do, however, is pay you for the rights to mine the dragonglass beneath this island. We can pay in magic, coin, services, information, or other means. Are you willing to negotiate?"
Stannis Baratheon had no doubt that in his entire life, through wars, rebellions, children, and lordship, he'd never make another decision that was as important as this one. Dragonglass, as a weapon, was useless. Any armored fighter wouldn't even feel the brittle substance shatter against a steel breastplate. Dragonglass had no value in war, only as a status symbol or a ceremonial weapon. He wondered what this Lord Black was truly after.
He gestured to the nearby table and chairs.
"Would you like a glass of wine, Lord Black?"