Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter or Game Of Thrones/A Song of Ice & Fire related; TV Series, Novels, Movies, etc! I know, I'm sad too. It belongs to the authors, producers, creators, and so on! I just like to play with the characters! I only claim the rights to my Original Character(s), and my personal plot bunnies that are created. Sadly, I make no money off of this. Hmph.
Hyacinthe Potter-Black
I
She was not supposed to have found the chest, that much was entirely clear.
There had been so much residual magick left behind, the cottage was practically bathed in it. Sure, the wards that the ministry had put in place to keep pesky fanatics (the ones who took their appreciation of The-Girl-Who-Lived and The-Woman-Destined-To-Conquer to an unhealthy and, frankly disturbing, level) out and away from the property boundary lines did a decent job of masking just what had been left behind sixteen years previously. It did a fairly admirable job disguising the cottage into a ruin for those who were typical, if not slightly above average witches and wizards.
Hyacinthe Potter had never been normal though, had she?
She had passed up her crack shot at 'typical' and 'average' long ago.
What kind of normal girl had two middle names, a myriad of surnames, and a handful of monikers when she was just on the cusp of seventeen years, for Morgana's sake?
No, the normal and mundane of those more fortunate around her had passed her up before she had even cried through her first breath.
She could feel the magick.
It was seeping from the cottage grounds, creeping along the faded and chipped white picket fence line. It nearly dripped from dusty, shattered windows that reflected the sparse moonlight in wavering patterns. It oozed through the cracks in the plaster, dribbled from exposed rafters, and practically bled down the staircase that she somehow found herself frozen on, hovering precariously between the rickety steps and the scuffed landing to the second floor.
How fitting.
Getting through the wards was something she did unconsciously, a bit of crimson leaking from her fingertips guaranteed her access, the Potter Family Magicks recognizing her place amongst the land.
She stared at the shadowy doorframe for what must have been eons; dry-mouthed, fists clenched, unblinking.
It was the room in which everything had changed.
Where she had gone from firstborn daughter, loved and adored, to orphaned niece, loathed and detested for that which she could not control. It was where her mother, spiraling crimson hair and gentle hazel eyes, had begged and pleaded for the life of an innocent - and where she had screamed so loudly that it had likely destroyed her vocal cords as the jet of searing, sickly green light had struck her in the chest, sapping her magick straight from her core. It was the room her father had perished while defending, his body strewn across the carpeted landing, his ravenwing black hair just as messy and askew as usual, emerald green eyes fading into a muted hue as his magick was ripped from his core, his lifesblood staining the once cream colored carpeting. It was where he had thrown that same sickly green spell at her; where it had rebounded and stolen the magick right from his own core and threw it at the wide-eyed toddler, where it collided with the right side of her forehead.
Hyacinthe Potter had gained the world-renowned curse scar then, just as the chimes rang for the third hour of morning on that Samhain night.
Funnily enough, while the rest of the wizarding world likened it to a bolt of lightning, Hyacinthe had always compared it to a lick of spitting flame from a well-cast Fiendfyre. Cutting down from where the curse had connected at her hairline, just grazing the apex of where she typically parted her silver-kissed ebony locks, it sprawled down across the right side of her forehead in three prongs. One arched over toward the smooth space between her eyebrows, cutting short of crossing the space by ending at the corner of her right eyebrow. The second was a bit more daring, the centerfold of the scar, dipping down into the silvery eyebrow itself, just a little after kissing the brow line. And the third swept off toward her temple, trailing off about halfway, the tip pointing downward.
It wasn't the only change the spell left behind.
That same glowing, pulsing, effervescent green had colored part of her right eye - bleeding into the amethyst and silver of her right iris, making the already unique color that Sirius had once said was a product of her Black Blood adoption all the more eerie and enthralling.
Like she needed yet another reminder.
Her breath caught in her throat when she finally stepped through the nursey room's splintered doorway.
The crib was mostly untouched by anything other than dust and a stray bit of leaf litter that had been blown in through the partially shattered window. The floorboards buckled in a few places, stained by scorch and something darker that the young witch refused to acknowledge. The sooty, ebony stain stretched across the flooring and licked up the far side wall, the one with the most damage, leaving a few gaping holes that gave way to a view of the side yard - the wards in place being the only thing that held the frozen precipitation out.
She found herself frozen once more, staring blankly at the once cream colored crib, her fingers lightly brushing over the depiction of a stag, grim, and wolf frolicking along the railing and border. A wretched sob tightened her throat, robbing her of the oxygen she needed to breathe.
That was when the magick ripped through her chest, her feet stumbling as it almost physically yanked her petite form toward a darkened corner of the room, the floorboards obviously not aligned though not nearly as misplaced or damaged as the other mismatched areas. Another wave of magick and Hyacinthe's knees gave out under the pressure, colliding with the rough floorboards without cushion, a hiss tearing from her lips when her palms scraped across the boards, splinters catching and leaving behind tiny pinpricks of blood.
"Sweet Circe!" She muttered, resting her forehead to the cool mahogany.
"Bloody hell Hya, are you alright?" Hermione's frazzled voice came from the open wall, the sound traveling from where she stood in the snow below.
The younger witch opened her mouth to answer, rocking back on her knees to sit on her ankles, when a low hum came from beneath her hands. She let out a short scream as her magick was yanked on, a tendril of pulsating opalescent power slipping through her fingertips and burying itself into the seams of the wooden boards.
With a click and a snick, the board popped loose.
An intricately carved chest waited seemingly innocently beneath, the familiar etching of the finely crafted forms depicting wolves and dragons dancing along the edges drawing her curious gaze. Her forefinger swept across the flowing script across the front, her chapped and chilled lips curling around the words.
"For she who was born both warrior and queen among dragons."
She snatched up the chest.
Hyacinthe would worry about being able to speak yet another language of the unknown later.
II.
The old coot was absolutely, positively, unendingly furious, she assumed.
It was evidenced by the purpling of his wrinkled face and the wild gesticulating he performed, the twinkle long dead in his misty eyes after she had pulled the chest from her charmed bag. Vaguely, she wondered how much more his portrait could stand, held under the silencing charms she had thrown at it. Altogether, though, she didn't rightly care. He could shred his own paint and she wouldn't flutter even a single eyelash to witness it.
Her entire life had been on massive, calculated, empire of lies.
Voldemort's joke of a ceasefire was constantly ticking down, the last minutes and seconds she possessed disappearing like sand in a sieve, and she found that she couldn't care less.
It was all a lie; Hyacinthe Potter herself was a lie, the contents of the chest proved that.
Her dual colored eyes glowed as they swept over the things she had pulled gently from within the confines, each item having obviously been carefully and lovingly nestled between wool and silk.
Cloaks came first, two of them.
One in the brilliantly blinding hues of snowy white, grey and shimmering silver while the other was the opposite, leaning toward a darkly seductive crimson and obsidian. They were clearly made by hand, hours upon hours devoted, and crafted with the finest of materials from what knowledge she had. Rich, thick fur lined the insides of the lighter colored cloak, where it simply trimmed the darker in corresponding colors. Intricate needwork and embroidery depicted a snarling, vicious looking wolf on one, trimmed with snowflakes and a pack of yapping wolf pups. The other featured the rearing form of a three-headed dragon, every tooth and claw outlined in shimmering thread and beadwork, precious gems turned into stunning decoration.
Beneath the cloaks was a collection of books that lay nestled within silky fabric, once more embroidered with a combination of both wolf and dragon, snow and flame.
It was a collection of five or six titles; two of which looked to be in depth studies of family histories, heritage, and legacies. Another looked to be a general study and history of a handful of lands that were located in the known world of Planetos, something she figured she would question at a later time. If she managed to live, that is. Another two focused on dragons, a reoccurring theme it seemed, and the last was a thick tome with that same looping scrawl that had been carved into the chest's side, Olde Valyria: Tales, Craftings, & Secrets. Hidden beneath the collection were two more volumes, each wrapped individually in gray and crimson silk respectively; one seeming to be a grimoire if she was guessing correctly, quite old and giving off a faint pulse of magick. The other was much thinner but completely filled out, she discovered, leading her to believe it was a journal of some sort.
Hyacinthe's fingers itched to snatch up the tomes, eager to pick apart their secrets and knowledge.
But it wasn't the time.
To the far right side, the chest having turned to more of a trunk after enlarging it, Hyacinthe had unearthed a few bundles of what looked to be letters. Paired with them, a small stack of scrolls. The thickest stack seemed to be exchanges between two women, a Lyanna and an Elia, along with one man, Rhaegar. Another stack seemed to be exchanged between one of the women from the first, Lyanna, and what seemed to be her brother Eddard, given that they had shared a name. There was also a stack that was comprised of letters between her parents, godfather, and Remus. And finally, there were three individual letters. Each seemed to have her name, or some form of it, scrawled across the envelope.
One from her parents, one from Sirius, and one from Eddard Stark.
Her uncle...
She shook off the thought, eyes flicking toward the last few treasures newly unearthed.
Beneath all the parchment and book bindings there was a wooden box, more detailed and intricate carving, though it was much thinner than the chest itself. Within it rested a sword, quite similar to the Sword of Gryffindor if she thought about it, though the obsidian detailing and pulsating crimson jewel set it apart as its own. Another similar box lay beneath that one, a bit longer than the first and just as thin, leading her to believe another sword lay hidden within. Two more smaller chests made up the bottom of the trunk, one containing a fair amount of jewels and two circlets, of all things.
The other... well, the other held dragon eggs.
Petrified or not, Hyacinthe would not be forgetting the sight of a dragon egg any time soon after her first year. Or after fourth year. Or after breaking a dragon free from the goblin run bank and healing it to the best of her abilities before she watched it fly into the horizon.
Dragon eggs.
Gifted to her, by her uncle.
Eddard Stark.
The second eldest son of the House Stark, and older brother of Lyanna Stark, a wild winter rose who helped tear a kingdom apart.
Her mother.
Hiraeth: Story Information
The Reason: I have too many ideas in my head and my imagination needs an outlet. I've been on a total HP/GOT Crossover kick lately and thought I might try my hand. Who knows how it will go. Maybe I'll actually be able to finish this one! And what's another first chapter in a long line of first chapters lol.
Pairing: Fem!Harry Potter/Robb Stark, Fem!Harry Potter/Aegon Targaryen - Sixth, Possible Robb Stark/Fem!Harry Potter/Aegon Targaryen - Sixth
Casting: Hyacinthe Iolanthe Potter-Black/Visenya of House Targaryen, Second of Her Name; See Cover Photo. Aegon of House Targaryen; Jarred Blakiston. Robb of House Stark; Richard Madden. Eddard of House Stark; Sean Bean. Lyanna of House Stark; Adelaide Kane. Rhaegar of House Targaryen; Charlie Hunnam. Elia of House Martell; Sibylla Deen. Sirius Orion Black; Ben Barnes. James Charlus Potter; Aaron Taylor Johnson. Lily Potter nee' Evans; Sophie Skelton. *(Updated As Needed)
Canon: Some aspects of canon will be followed here from both fandoms, obviously. Plenty of events, family trees, magickal terms, etc. I will be pulling in more information from other sources as well. And I'm adding in characters. Bringing in other characters early, letting some live and others die...it's going to be wild.
Creative Licensing: Above you'll see a list of who I picture for each of the cast characters and it will be updated as the story goes along, and each new character is introduced. You do not have to picture the same as I do, this is just a visual aide for myself, and others! I'm also going to be changing some major events, and as of now, the Long Night is TBD on rather it will feature. War is already crazy enough. This is also very much a Targaryen/Stark inclined story, so if you're more inclined toward other Houses, this might not be your fave! But it might... *winks*
Recs: Love HP/Game Of Thrones Crossovers? Check out the stories written by AlwaysEatTheRude21 and GoWithTheFlo20 for amazingg crossover stories! I adore them, and you will too!
Beta: Unfilled at this time. I'm unsure on rather or not I'll be taking a Beta for this story. I don't currently have someone that fits the bill, but the HP World is such a huge undertaking, especially when I'm flipping the script. Add the world of GOT and war into it... send help.
Warnings: Mature Themes/Situations, Violence/Fighting, Some Graphic Materials, Some Blood/Gore, Character Death (Minor/Major), Murder/Assault - NO Rape, Magickal Abilities/Powers, Magickal Creature Abilities/Powers, Societal Issues, Blood Purity/Blood Purity Tensions, Pureblood Customs, Time Travel/World Travel AU!, Targaryen Restoration, Stark Preservation/Restoration, Incest/Taboo Relationships, Traditional Ceremonies/Rituals, Mythical Creatures, Supernatural Creatures, Mythology/Lore/Legend/Religion, Rituals/Magick, Some Drug/Alcohol Usage, Language/Cursing, Emotional Stress/Strain, Sexual Situations/Themes, AU!/OOC Elements, Ethical Issues, War/Fear, Manipulation/Mind Control, Magickal Manipulation/Control, Strained Familial Relations/Relationships, Blackmail/Intimidation, Neglect/Abuse (Mentions), etc.