Disclaimer: I own neither Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter.

AN: The events of this chapter take place during the episode "Baelor"

The Song of Builders

By Jojobevco

Prologue I: All is Well, My Ass!

October 31, 20XX

Entrance Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hogsmeade, Scotland, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland

Head Auror Harry James Potter, Chosen Defeater of Voldemort, Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, and unbeknownst to all but a few, Master of Death, was having an unbelievably bad day. He had briefly considered calling in sick once he realized it was Halloween. A day of perpetual bad luck for him: parents murdered, troll in dungeons, Chamber of Secrets opened, Sirius invades, Goblet of Fire, etc. True to tradition, this Halloween was certainly not going to be calm and quiet.

Instead, Harry and Master Auror Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin were currently trapped inside the Hogwarts Entrance Hall, with a dragon. No one had any idea how it gotten through the doors and they really didn't have time to wonder. As the Hogwarts professors were busy moving the students away from the Great Hall where the Halloween Feast had been in full swing, Harry and Tonks were trying to delay the dragon.

They were, at best, moderately successful. Harry held a shield against the dragon fire, wand held aloft and sweat trickling down his face. His expression was one of grit and determination. Meanwhile, Tonks was firing shards of rock at the dragon, which did nothing except infuriate the beast. The Dragon breathed deep and blew fire at Tonks. She whirled, dodging, and the fire burnt the door to Filch's office to cinders.

Harry swore, "Bugger all! Screw it Tonks, I'm ending this! Shield!" A whisper in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his best friend, Hermione Granger-Weasley said, "Language!"

Tonks's shield snapped in place in front of Harry's as he released it and quietly whispered,"Deathstick."The Elder Wand shot into his left hand.

"Tonks, Drop the shield on my count! 3-2-1-Now!"

Tonks dropped her shield just as the Dragon inhaled, preparing to breathe fire. Golden lights shot out of both Harry's wands. Harry's spell met the dragon's fire, saving their lives, but at a cost. Harry's beloved holly and phoenix feather wand exploded, sending parts of molten phoenix feather flying everywhere. Harry got caught in the blast; parts of his wand embedded in his hand. The dragon was blasted back against the main doors to the school as a tidal wave of magic washed over Harry and Tonks, taking them with it and leaving cinders behind.

Prologue II: Family's End, Friendship's Beginning

282 AC

Lord's Solar

Winterfell, The North, Westeros

Eddard Stark approached the door to his father's- to his solar feeling far too young to be taking on these responsibilities. He was the second son, never intended to inherit the mantle of Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Despite the efforts of his bannermen, he felt unprepared for this. The fight he just had with his wife, Catelyn over his neph-, his son Jon had left him restless and unable to sleep. So, he found himself at the door to his solar. He opened the door, expecting a cold and dark room.

It was anything but, there was a large fire in the hearth and candlelight throughout. Ned saw everything was just as his father had left it when he left Winterfell a year ago. Books and scrolls sat on the desk the bookshelves were dusty, and a man sat in a chair near the hearth. Ned was about to call for the guards and draw his sword when he found himself pulled into the room and the door shut with a bang. He was gently deposited in the opposing chair, finding himself across from a man of age with him, with jet black hair, green eyes, and wearing a fine robe that was much too thin for the weather of the North.

"Good evening, Ned."

"Cousin Harry?"

Cousin Harry had been a regular guest of Winterfell for as long as he could remember, often there for major feasts, and more often in quiet consultation with his father, in this very solar. Cousin Harry who had given him gifts for his birthday going back to childhood. But Cousin Harry was of age with him…but never seemed to age. Ned had a spike of pain in his head before he looked at Harry with new eyes.

"It's often a hard adjustment, ascending to a Lordship. Unfortunately, in the Stark family, when the ascension is unexpected, it can be slightly uncomfortable."

"Harry, who are you, really?"

"Lord Harry of House Potter, Lord of the Lands of Always Winter and Builder of the Wall."

Ned blinked as his world became just a little more unusual.

Harry grinned, "I'm still Cousin Harry, just a couple thousand times removed."

Chapter 1

The Baelor Contingency

298 AC

The Sept of Baelor

King's Landing, Crownlands, Westeros

The sun was high in the sky as Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King and Lord of Winterfell was dragged into the square from the black cells to the Sept of Baelor. He felt mud and dirt scrape his body and smelled the city. The city smelled only slightly better than his cell. As he glanced toward the statue of Baelor Targaryen, he saw his daughter Arya kneeling and speaking to a man with wild black hair and a faded lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Eddard breathed a sigh of relief.

Across the plaza, Harry was trying to reason with a hysterical Arya Stark, a task he did not enjoy. He took her hands in his and held them firmly, "Arya, I will take care of your father. I will rescue him and your sister, but first I need to get you to safety." He tapped a finger on Arya' head, watching as she turned invisible under a disillusionment charm and pressed a coin into her hands. "This will take you back to Winterfell. Now, say your words."

Arya took a deep breath, finally believing that Harry would take care of her family and whispered, "Winter is Coming."

The portkey left with a woosh, taking Arya to safety. Harry ran back toward the steps where Ned was speaking. Ned looked and saw him approaching, with one daughter safe and another one about to be, he could finally speak his mind in this cesspool of a city.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you, in the sight of gods and men, to tell you that I hold true to the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, and I honor that oath. However, Joffrey Baratheon is not his son. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the product of unholy congress between Cersei Lannister and her brother Jamie Lannister. He is not and should never be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Stunned silence fell. For those standing in the crowd, this was unthinkable. For those on the platform, well, their faces showed what they felt. Joffrey was shocked. Cersei looked faint. Sansa looked vaguely disgusted at Joffrey, and poor Pycelle was so far off script that all he could do was say his line. Only the Kingsguard looked nonplussed, either their professional demeanor or lack of intelligence masking what they thought.

"As we sin…so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men." Mutters from the crowd, quiet at first, became increasingly loud during Pycelle's speech. "What crimes?" the crowd wondered. "The gods are just, but Beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful. What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"

The muttering from the crowd became even louder, punctuated with occasional cries of "He's not a traitor, he's a hero!" and "Joffrey the Bastard!"

Seeing the situation collapsing, Harry rushed up the stage. On the platform, King Joffrey—who deserved neither the title nor the Baratheon name-declared rather shrilly, "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join The Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. This is her wish." His voice took on a new, contemptuous and petulant note as he continued. "My Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father. but they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"

This brought the already tense situation to a head. The crowd, enraged, began stampeding the platform where the royal family still stood. If this continued, everyone would be in danger.

Coolly, Harry reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew a small circular stone, engraved with a grouping of runes and the letters "WWW." He whispered, "Activate."

The next minute flew by in a whirl of chaos. Ned noted some small explosions, covering the entire area in thick smoke, but the rest was a blur. Harry raced up the steps behind Ser Ilyn, grabbing Ned Stark's sword Ice from his hands and slicing the man in two, He then waved his left hand, magically cutting Ned's bindings. Harry passed Ice to Ned as he reached out with the right hind, blasting back the guards restraining Sansa and summoning her towards him. She flew into his arms as he grabbed Ned's shoulder and turned on his heel.

Somewhere south of Lhazar, Essos

Harry felt the warm wind whipping around his face and opened his eyes.

"Well, this isn't Winterfell."

Ned, using Ice as a walking stick, sighed, "Obviously."

They heard sobbing in the distance and moved toward it. About a hundred feet away, they found, "Arya?"

"Father?"

Arya turned to Harry, "Cousin Harry, you said this would take me to Winterfell."

"It should have. We have been diverted." Harry paused for a moment, and looked around, eyes narrowing, "There is something in the air here. Someone is using dark magic, extremely dark magic."

"Why did that pull us here?"

Harry continued looking around as he carefully explained, "There is not a lot of magic left in the world, Ned. Something like this throws everything off balance."

Ned asked, "So what do we do?"

"We find the source, and we stop it." Harry slowly turned around, feeling his way toward a faint darkness in the air. "That way." The bedraggled family marched off behind Harry, hot wind blowing in their faces.

A short hike later, they arrived at the edge of what appeared to be a dwindling Dothraki camp. A large group was slowly moving off, away from a smaller group that seemed to be staying. They crouched down and looked around. Several small tents surrounded a great tent that seemed to have black wisps of…something…flying around it. None of them liked the look of the black wisps. They seemed foul in a way none of them could explain.

Harry hmphed, "Well if I had to guess, it's the tent in the center. Stay here, I'll handle this." He couldn't very well leave his companions unprepared and alone, however. A few basic preparations were in order. He conjured some basic camp supplies and pulled some jerky and water out of a bottomless moleskin pouch, passing it to Ned and the others. Harry strode purposefully toward the tent in his full magical regalia. Behind him, the Invisibility Cloak billowed in the wind. The Resurrection Stone glinted on his left hand and the Elder Wand rested in his right. He walked through the world with a bearing few people could match. As he approached the group, people looked over curiously, warriors grabbed their weapons, and Ser Jorah Mormont approached him.

"Ser Jorah!"

"Lord Harry!" Mormont stepped forward and bowed.

Clasping arms with Ser Jorah, Harry snapped, "Report, Ser Jorah."

"Three days ago, the Khalasar attacked Lhazar, a country of mostly sheep and goat herders. Khal Drogo was injured in a disagreement with one of his warriors. Daenerys Targaryen enlisted the services of a Lhazareen Godswife to treat Drogo's wounds, but the wounds became infected. Daenerys was afraid to lose Drogo and authorized the Godswife to use Blood Magic to save him. Just before you got here, she went into labor. The midwives refused to deliver the child due to the 'curse' she had. She's with the Godswife."

Harry thought on the decisions of Danerys Targaryens were clearly written on his unimpressed face. He sighed and pinched his nose "So, our little Khalessi decided to hire a woman from a town her husband just sacked to treat his wounds? Is she an idiot?"

Ser Jorah answered diplomatically, "It appears that she placed too much faith in the Godswife."

He sighed aloud, "And then you left a pregnant woman with her. Why didn't you try to contact me?"

"I tried," Jorah held up the mirror, "But I was unable to reach you."

Harry took the mirror and examined it for a moment before returning it to Jorah, "Hmm. Possibly the same interference that brought me here."

Harry gripped Ser Jorah's shoulder for a moment and walked off into the central Dothraki tent. As he did, he felt the oppression of death and dark magic around him, leeching the happiness from his spirit. He pointed his wand and exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!" A white stag drove forward, driving the dead from the tent. Mirri Maz Durr, the Godswife, looked over in shock. "Who are you?" she asked, awed.

Harry smirked evilly, "I am the Master of Death. Stupefy!" The Dark 'witch' fell to the ground. Examining Khal Drogo, Harry discovered his soul had been removed. It was something like the Dementor's Kiss. There was nothing Harry could do; it was too late for Drogo. Harry then turned to Daenerys Targaryen. There was an aura of dark magic covering her womb, twisting the child within into something horrible. There was truly little time for the child. First, though, he had to speak with this special kind of fool. Mouth set into a grim line, he walked up and touched his forehead to hers.

Harry found himself, oddly, in the tent again. However, there were no dark spirits here. There wasn't any furniture even, just himself and a naked Daenerys. Harry quickly imagined a regal set of robes for himself and chuckled, "For most, when they come here, their first thought is to call for clothes."

"Who are you?"

"That is a wonderful question, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Your Name, Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea. Or, as I would call you, Daenerys the Fool. How much of an idiot do you have to be to trust someone whose town you were in the middle of sacking to save the man in charge of sacking it? This witch manipulated you, poisoned your husband, killed his horse, and is currently killing your 'stallion whomightmount the world.'"

"She iswhat!?" Rage colored Daenerys's voice.

Harry continued, ignoring the question, "As for who I am, I am Harry Potter, Master of Death and your only hope. The Dark Witch has stolen your husband's soul; He is now less than even a wight. However, I can still save your child."

Daenerys looked at him suspiciously, "And how do I know you are telling the truth?"

"We are inside your mind. This is, essentially, your show. Search within yourself; you will find the truth." He composed himself to wait. It would take her a minute to believe him.

Daenerys closed her eyes and felt her son's pain tearing through him. She whispered, "It's true." Then she turned to Harry, "Can you save him?" Her eyes pleaded with him, full of a mother's love for her only child.

Harry could and would. However, a second thought crossed his mind. In his many years in this world, he had seen generations of backstabbing rulers, more than a few of them carrying this woman's name. Maegor, The Dance, and Aerys, her own father. Leaving Targaryens to their own devices had caused just as much pain as progress over three centuries, it was time to reign them in, "I can and I will, but in return, I expect the absolute and unquestioning loyalty of you and your line. Do you agree?"

Daenerys weighed the options. She was basically trading her own life for the possibility of her son's. With her husband dead and son dying, she would be nothing anyway. She could feel her dreams slipping from her grip. She looked Harry in the eye and saw, somehow, a good man. "Yes. Save my son." With her words, a cord flew from her heart to Harry's.

Harry smiled and said, "It is done." He then vanished from Daenerys's mind, entering the waking world. Harry held out his hands: Elder Wand in his right and Resurrection Stone on his left. He started forcing the magic out of Daenerys, filtering out the dark magic through the Resurrection Stone and firing the light magic back into her. As he did, his Cloak of Invisibility started glowing white.

Despite years of experience, Harry had never quite figured out how the whole 'Master of Death' thing worked. Unfortunately, there was no textbook for the role. However, during his years in this world, he had discovered a masterful control over the raw magic used here. He was like a sculptor, chiseling marble to his image. It was amazing and terrifying.

After a few minutes, the process was complete. The tent, previously holding the darkest of spirits, now almost sang with joy. Harry called out, "Ser Jorah."

Ser Jorah entered, "Yes, Lord Harry?"

"Call for the midwives, tell them the 'curse' has been broken." Ser Jorah gave a short bow before leaving. Harry then turned back to Daenerys. Sitting next to her and taking her hand, he tried to ease the pain she was feeling. A few moments later Ser Jorah returned with the midwife and two handmaidens. While they tried to ask Harry to leave, Daenerys insisted that he stay.

Harry consented and pulled out his wand to send a Patronus message to the Starks.

Meanwhile, hidden in the hills, the Starks were watching. Things seemed to calm down. Suddenly, they saw an ethereal stag galloping toward them. The stag stopped and opened its mouth. Lord Harry's voice spoke from the stag. "The situation has been dealt with; however, I will still be needed here. Ned, as you have probably concluded by now, this is indeed the camp of Daenerys Targaryen. Therefore, do not approach the camp or kill Ser Jorah Mormont. He works for me." The stag slowly melted away.

Sansa and Arya were shocked and confused. This was the first time they had seen magic like this done by Cousin Harry. They also wondered why Harry was helping their mortal enemy. Ned, on the other hand, was furious at the fact that Harry was working with a known slaver. He rolled on his back, doing his best to get comfortable as night fell. All of them hoped Harry knew what he was doing.

Across the Narrow Sea in Winterfell, the Wildling Osha, gazed out toward the west as she stood guard at the window of the Acting Lord of Winterfell, Bran Stark. Osha, better known as Tonks was worried. "Where are you, Harry?" She tried to keep her mind on other things, but this one thought summed up her worries.

AN: Please Review.