Harry sat on his bed, shivering in the aftermath of the dementor attack. Though he was more or less sure it wasn't the cold that was making him shiver. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was the aftermath of facing two dementors in alley just beyond Privet Drive. Or maybe it was that he hadn't had a good night's sleep since the graveyard and Voldemort.

Dudley had been taken to the muggle hospital just a few hours ago and Harry had already received word that he had been expelled from Hogwarts and then told he would receive a trial. Finally, Dumbledore had sent a letter saying he wasn't to be expelled and to stay at his house.

Hedwig chirped, fluttering her wings on her perch and drawing him from his thoughts. He shivered again and then a bright flash made him shield his eyes. The flash reminded him of when he had traveled to Westeros three years ago, sent to that foreign land by Fawkes. Harry had long since become a phoenix himself, more creature than human.

"Harry?"

Harry stilled then stood up, turned around, his eyes widening when he saw Jon standing in the other corner of his room. Jon had a thick cloak around his shoulders, one with an animal pelt at the neck. "Jon? What…"

Jon blinked, looking around at the strange room before him. Harry stood in front of the bed at the other end of the room, shivering a little despite the warmth that surrounded the room. It was an odd looking set of rooms, one that held a weird looking lamp and a perch with an owl on it. The snowy owl hooted quietly then started to preen, grooming its' feathers.

"Harry? Where am I?"

"You… You're in my room," Harry spoke, more than a little wearily. He sounded off though it wasn't like they really knew each other. This was only the second time that they had seen each other. "How… Fawkes?"

"Do you mean a fox brought me here?"

Harry sighed, shook his head, shivered again. "No. I mean a phoenix. Fawkes sent me to Westeros three years ago and apparently… Did you see a fire bird right above you a few seconds before?"

"Aye, I did. Does this… Fawkes fly between our worlds? I have not seen anything like this in Westeros," Jon remarked, bringing his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "However, I haven't been to many lands south of Winterfell."

"We're not in Westeros," Harry answered, sitting down and patting the space beside him in invitation. "This is… England."

"England. What country is that?" Jon asked as he walked over to the bed and sat down next to Harry. He took a peek out of the small glass window behind them and didn't see snow or rain or any of the weather that he had left in Winterfell. "And why are you shivering?"

"I… It's a relatively long story," Harry spoke, turning to look at Jon. His green eyes were weary, haunted.

"What is that?"

Harry peered over to where Jon was pointing, at the car in the driveway at the neighbor's house. "It is how people in my world get around, how they travel. We call those things cars."

"Not horses?"

"Not horses. Not any longer anyway. We wizards don't use them though. We either fly, use the floo or use a portkey."

"A portkey?"

"An object that we spell to take us places and the floo is like… using a magical tunnel," Harry explained, shuffling closer to Jon.

Jon grinned a little. "You're just using me for my cloak."

"I might be," Harry responded, smiling a little, and closing the distance between them.

"Why is your Fawkes doing this? I'm not anyone special and you're a wizard."

Harry visibly hesitated before talking, grimacing. "Fawkes only said a few words about why. I don't really know what he meant by them though. Something about a prophecy between us. Just to add on to the prophecy that I already have too… The bird's an asshole is what he is."

Jon blinked, letting out an unexpected huff of laughter. "I did not know that phoenixes could talk."

"I didn't either."

"What did Fawkes say?"

"Something about the Song of Ice and Fire," Harry grumbled, shrugging a little and rustling the cloak that wrapped around them both. Jon was enjoying the closeness, more than able to feel Harry's extra warmth through the fabric. He knew that Robb, Bran, Rickon, and Arya didn't think twice about him being a bastard but Harry didn't even blink an eye about being close. Hadn't thought twice, not even when they had first met three years ago. "It's ridiculous, I know. And here I am, the apparent Chosen One set to bring about Voldemort's death and downfall."

"Voldemort?"

"Again, long story."

"I do not know when your phoenix… is taking me back. He will take me back, right?"

"I certainly think so. If not, I might be able to."

Jon turned to look at Harry, raising an eyebrow.

Harry studied him before holding out a hand. A ball of flame appeared on Harry's open palm and Jon stared. The crackling of the embers in Harry's open palm were the only noise in the room for a few minutes. The glow of the fire lit up the room and then Harry closed his fingers over the fire, extinguishing it.

"I presume that that is not something normal wizards can do."

"No. It's because I spend a whole lot of time in the infirmary. Fawkes decided to do something about it," Harry replied quietly. "I'm becoming a phoenix. Ah well. It's me. Anything new with you?"

"Not really. I am still a bastard," Jon responded, watching as the owl hooted again, flew over to the bed and landed next to Harry. "I am thinking about joining the Night's Watch. Even bastards can rise to a high position there. In Winterfell, I wouldn't inherit anything, not even captain of the guards or master at arms."

"Night's Watch? What is that?"

"The Night's Watch is an order of men who guard the realm from threats in the north," Jon said.

Harry watched as Jon's eyes lit up as he spoke. "Threats? What kind of threats?"

"The Watch has castles all along the Wall and they guard against wildling raids," Jon explained. "I would take the black and guard the realm right alongside other great men, nobles and knights."

"Wildlings?"

"Free folk who live beyond the Wall. They do not have lords or ladies. They just do as they please."

Harry nodded. "Are there many wildling raids? This stone wall sounds-"

"It's not made of stone."

Harry blinked, trying to imagine a wall not made of stone or concrete and failing. "Then what's it made out of?"

"Snow and ice. People say that it was special warding against the magic from the Land of Always Winter though the Others, the White Walkers, haven't been seen in thousands of years."

"Okay, what are white walkers? They sound creepy."

Jon's lips twitched up into a small grin, thinking of the stories from the Age of Heroes. "White Walkers. Old Nan likes to tell my half brother Bran stories of them for night time tales. They are thought to be people made of ice, with blue skin and icy blue eyes. They wield ice swords that break all other swords."

"That… I would not want to face any White Walker. They sound scarier than dementors."

"Dementors?"

Harry sighed. "They're creatures of my world, the magical world. They're cloaked in black and they hover in the air, sucking your soul out and making you remember your worst memory. Wherever they go, cold follows."

Jon shivered, tightening his cloak about the both of them. "Sounds terrible."

"I just fought off two of them a few hours ago. Thankfully, a professor taught me how."

"That's why you were shivering when I arrived."

"Yes."

"How'd you fight them?"

"There's a spell, one that brings a patronus to chase them off," Harry answered. "I would cast it again to show you but I'm already in trouble for casting it around my cousin."

Jon raised an eyebrow, a silent question in his grey eyes.

"We're not supposed to do magic around non magic folk," Harry said, grimacing, yawning a little. The fight had taken a lot of energy out of him and the walk back carrying Dudley had taken even more. "There's a lot of rules for us. Granted, I suppose I understand them."

"There are a lot of rules in my land. Rules for lords and ladies, rules for knights and smallfolk. Rules for bastards," Jon spoke, sighing.

"You should change that," Harry commented, sliding out from under Jon's cloak when he heard the sound of a car driving up.

Jon stared at him then shook his head. "It's not that easy. Bastards aren't well thought of in most places."

"It can't be worse than living in a cupboard for your childhood."

"What."

"You should go. Fawkes!"

A flash of light proceeded Fawkes appearing in the room, peering at the both of them then hovering over Jon.

"Harry, what did you mean by that?"

"It's not a big deal. Go! I don't want my aunt and uncle to see you."

Jon frowned, his eyes narrowing.

Harry stiffened, rolled his eyes. "Not like that, Jon. They don't like me on the best of occasions. Having a guest over would push their buttons even more tonight."

"You'll be okay?"

"I will. I have my ways. I think my friends will come get me."

Jon stared at him then nodded up at Fawkes. Harry watched as both Jon and Fawkes disappeared in another flash of light at the last minute. The car outside parked in the driveway and he could hear his relatives. They were grumbling about having a nephew who was weird and strange and awful.

Harry shrugged and lay down in his bed, thinking about what the future and his trial would bring.