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Harry Potter: Ice and Fire	By : Harry_Lannister Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 55391 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, or Wheel of Time, nor the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Harry Potter: Ice and Fire
- 2-Chapter 2
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Author's Note: Yay, I've finally figured out how to edit a chapter! Now, this story is a combination of Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Wheel of Time, and Lord of the Rings. Now, not all the characters from these fantastic books will appear, so don't start looking for Rand or Aragorn. This story will have some slash but it's in the background, no main Slash pairings, though Femslash will be a big part of this later. No, I'm not going to tell the pairings, that's just giving it away, so don't bother asking.

Over a hundred and ninety years had passed since that fateful Halloween night that had doomed the aged man to a life of fame, war and death. Harry James Potter, now as bald as his greatest adversary lay in a hospital at Saint Mungos. There was no family of red heads to see him off as he stared off at the ceiling in silence, the monitoring wards would alert the nurses and doctors of he needed them. At one hundred and ninety one his heart beat like it had at seventeen, though the rest of his body was crumbling quickly.

A silent tear struggled out of his long iced over green eyes, a single tear for the family he had created and that had now forgotten him. His lack of desire for fame had left him a mystery to the wizarding world, and in time Harry Potter had become a story, then a legend. Now he was force fed potions to keep him alive, too weak to tell the hospital staff to try and let him go. Arthritis ate his every joint to the point he could no longer walk, feed himself or hold a wand.

After the war the Potter family had flourished, spreading out and devouring other pureblood family lines, but Harry couldn’t name any of the newest generation. He had never seen them once. His wife had gone nearly a hundred years before, his children years later, his grandchildren after that. His great grandchildren had visited him a few times but now they had great grandchildren themselves and were probably down the hall in their own death beds.

Closing his eyes in silence, he prayed that this time, he wouldn’t wake up in the hospital bed he was trapped in. He had feared death, stumbled and shook when he went to Tom Riddle in the Forbidden Forest nearly two centuries before. The Ring was gone and the wand back in Albus Dumbledore’s grave, and the cloak was in the hands of a child he would probably never meet. After so many long years he thought he had finally grasped the meaning of the words Dumbledore had given him at the age of eleven. Death would be like going to sleep after a very long day.

Perhaps, he should have thought of it as the next great adventure.

The white void was back. Green eyes fluttered open, revealing not the ghostly white King's Cross of the night before but nothingness. The white spread out in every direction without end and no fluttering soul of the deceased Tom Riddle was there to break the silence.

"Welcome, Harry Potter, to my final curse," a woman's voice called out. Eyes the color of the killing curse flashed in every direction searching for the speaker. "Oh, don't bother looking. We've met so many times before, Harry. In the chamber with the Stone, in the Chamber of Secrets after you were bitten, when the dementors nearly sucked out your soul, I was the veil who took your godfather and the one who allowed you to return in the forest."

“Death," he whispered glancing around wildly now. "I wondered when you would finally come for me," he said quickly swallowing to clear his suddenly dry throat. "It took you long enough, I thought I would spend eternity in that damned hospital bed." He ran a hand through his messy raven hair as a sign of frustration, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the lightning shaped scar on his brow.

The sound of boots approaching had him whip around, finally spotting a figure dressed in white, blending into the background. Her hair was as white as her skin and robe, her eyes blank and void of color and emotion. "Oh, was I tardy in picking you up? Well, it’s your fault really. You became the master of the Hallows and my final curse upon them has fallen on you, Harry Potter. I cannot take you, you see. A dog bows to its master after all, but it still has teeth. You, Harry James Potter have found yourself outside of my grasp, thus unable to enter the final rest."

With wide green eyes Harry fell to his knees in shock. There was no way this could be true, was there? He would never see his family again. "Those wretched Peverells thought they would get the better of me, but now look at them, dead. And their final two most famous descendents have battled to the death, and their greatest descendent is cursed for eternity. Remember well Potter, I always win and I have no old friends."

“Bitch," he snarled as his eyes locked on the entities. Just as he had willed clothes when he had met with Dumbledore he now brought the Holly and Phoenix wand into the crossroads. The tip flared before the air rippled from the blasting hex he sent. White eyes widened in shock before the manifestation of death was sent hurling backward through the air. "Master of Death," the wizard reminded her as he climbed back to his feet. "I guessed it gave me some power in this place, and it looks like I was right."

“You dare," Death roared as it climbed back to its feet. The woman in white's face jerked and twitched before the 'flesh' began to peel away. "I am Death, boy! I am the great answer to all things! Even the stars eventually find themselves in my clutches! Entire species can be wiped away as a mere smear on the fabric of life at my command. Do not forget your place!"

"As the one who holds your leash," Harry hissed back as his eyes narrowed. Holding his wand tightly he began to circle the rotting body before him. "I'm out of your reach, you just said it," he reminded it as he leaned in close to its head as he walked. "Shout and yell all you want, but you can't touch me. I can touch you though, phoenix feather wand, life and rebirth. Its very essence must pain you, and in my hand it's twice as deadly isn't it? Now, release me from this fucked up mess."

“Sorry, cant," Death mocked even as it stood ramrod straight. The boy was powerful and smarter than she had given him credit for. It damned Voldemort to Hell for training the boy to ignore ranting and raving. Frustration filled the void that would have been its heart as it quickly figured out that Harry had the upper hand.

“Fuck," he muttered immediately to the entities shock. "I spent my life being screwed by fate. I've had relatives, plenty of those with the purebloods, and a family, but I’ll never see them again." He stopped walking and stood in front of Death's rotting face, his wand trained between its eyes. "You are Death, so you must know a way I can do so. At least try and give me a new reason to keep going,” he pleaded. “You've taken mine away from me, if I continue in my world I’m damned to that bed so you'll give me a new one, or I'll find out what happens to Death when it's struck by the Killing Curse. Tell me, who will come for you?"

Nodding Death stepped back from its master and sighed deeply. Reaching up it peeled away the rotten flesh, tearing away hair muscle and tendons to reveal its skull. "Very well, Master," it spat as it turned and began to walk, leaving Harry to follow it. "If you want a reason and you can't remain on Earth, at least not the one you know. It is only because of my own curse that you are able to do this, I'll have to work with Time and the Fates to make a world that is capable of accepting you."

“You'll rewrite an entire world's history just for me," Harry asked in shock as Death led him through a door that had materialized from thin air, beyond the door was a chamber containing thousands upon millions of globes. He gazed closely at one of the globes and nearly jerked back as nine monsters with various numbers of tails seemed to loom darkly from behind the globe. Another had a messy haired man whose hair flashed from black to yellow and still another intrigued him greatly. It had magic, or something similar, but it was the vile entity that seemed to be leaking into the world causing decay and destruction everywhere that made him pull back.

"Yes we will," it answered before stopping to inspect a globe that seemed more peaceful than the others. Though the skull didn't have eyeballs in its socket the Master of Death felt the entity's gaze on him. "This world will need a hero, and the question comes if you will be the one to save it?" It held the globe up for Harry's inspection, but Harry's green eyes looked past it to Death.

“What sort of world is it, before I decide whether or not to agree? I'm tired of just rushing into things, don't tell me what will happen, I don't like spoilers, but tell me things like technology, clothes, things I would need to survive," Harry demanded.

Still holding the globe up Death smiled, if a skull could. "The world is set in what you would call the dark ages. Armor and the sword rule though they do have alchemy and magic. There are legends and myths, but you know how those usually end up better than others," it said with a chuckle. "I would suggest you take your magic, though I'll need to alter it to work in that world and you'll have to use it all over again."

"That's fine," the messy haired boy said. He felt relief at the thought of never being that damned bed again and anything else, any fate was more appealing. He knew there would be intrigue when his body was found, not that anyone would really care now anyway. "You'll explain to them why I can’t see them again," he asked as his thoughts drifted to his family that supposedly were waiting for him on the other side.

"Yes," Death answered, unable to say no to its master. "There is a boy on this world that is dying. Aerion of House Peverell, son of Lily Lannister and James Peverell. If you want, you could be called 'Arry' or whatever," Death said with a shrug. "He went where he shouldn't, idiot boy, following his Uncle to a whorehouse. He's only ten but soon he'll be gone. He was stabbed in the liver by a mugger in the streets. So… poetic," the entity said with a laugh. “You’ll be taking over his body when I collect his soul, though I’ll leave his memories for you.”

“You set it up already," Harry asked in shock, certain that something like a boy with parents named Lily and James with Peverell blood wouldn't just coincidently die now.

Nodding, Death's eye sockets darkened. "You'll take it won't you, saving what family he had from the grief of his dead soulless eyes. The body will heal and you'll live out his life, until we do this again." Harry nodded, feeling ill at the thought of taking over a child's body and enslaving it to his will. "The Peverells are gone, wiped out in a massacre, though I won't say by who, that would ruin the fun. He is the only one who survived, taken from the castle by a maid through a secret passage. He lives with his aunt Cersei and Uncle Robert, or you will. Now, hold on, this will be rough."

Green eyes blinked before strands of pure power, greater than anything Harry had felt before, shot from Death's hand. Some connected to other worlds, including the world where the black force was slowly killing it before they lanced toward him. He threw his head back and screamed in pain worse than that caused by Voldemort's torture curse. His magic ripped and shredded before it wrapped around the globe in front of him.

His 'body' was jerked forward, spiraling down toward the world the ghastly entity held in its hands. Images flashed through his mind as he felt his soul lock onto the weakening form another. He felt as though he and the other were being lashed together and pulled into one another. It felt like hours though less than a second passed before he passed out from the raw pain. High above the world Death's face sneered at its master.

“Welcome, Master, to a world of ice and fire."

Harry blinked up at a ceiling made of stone, rolling his head to the side he looked at a room filled with toys and portraits. A banner of a prancing golden lion on a scarlet background made him think he was in the Gryffindor Dorms before he remembered the events between worlds. His green eyes fell onto a another banner, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, pale white on a black banner stared out at him with the words 'Regimus Nex' blaring beneath. He knew enough latin now after attending Hogwarts to translate it; "We Rule Violent Death".

"You're awake," a woman's voice said from nearby, causing his green eyes to flutter toward a haggard old woman dressed in black. "The King and Queen will be so excited to see you've nearly recovered," she explained as he blinked in shock. The King and Queen, why would they be happy he was fine. Pain wracked his head as the body's memories flooded his mind. Uncle Robert, King of the Seven Kingdoms, and Aunt Cersei, his mother's sister.

“Shit," he muttered and turned his head back to the ceiling and closed his eyes. Death had given him a family, after all, the bloody Royal family. He had cousins, the nightmare Joffrey, who looked and acted like Draco Malfoy, the sweet Myrcella and the tiny Tommen. He even had more uncles, Jaime and Tyrion Lannistre as well as Stannis and Renly Baratheon.

“Milord shouldn't use language like that," the old hag said. Harry couldn't think of her name, she was just Old Hag. That seemed rude, but for the life of both of him he couldn't think of her actual name. "I'll alert your aunt and uncle of your awakening," she said before standing and walking quickly from the room.

Groaning the boy sat up, clutching his side as he felt a stabbing pain from the knife wound. Biting his tongue he ignored it and stood up from the feather filled mattress and moved toward the mirror in the room. Staring back at him was an almost mirror image of what he looked like back home at the age of ten. His hair was straighter, no longer sticking up in all directions and the lightning bolt scar was gone as was his need for glasses. He was thicker than he had been in at this age in his previous life, probably because he ate with the royal family and wasn’t stuck in a cupboard.

Every wound on his body, except for the apparent stab wound, was gone. Things he had become so used to over the years of his long life were now long gone making his figure hardly recognizable to himself. Licking his dry lips he stretched a shaking hand toward the image of the boy and gasped silently as his fingers met the hard glass. It was true, he was a kid again, free to move however he wanted to even play if he wanted to.

"Aerion," a new voice called said in almost a whisper. Harry's eyes looked over his shoulder in the mirror to see a blond haired woman with the air of Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway with her hand over her mouth. A finely made dress hugged her body as her green eyes, so much like those he had now, duller than his old emerald gaze, was looking at him in shock. "Gods Aerion, you had me so scared," she said as she walked forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

Harry blinked in shock, "Aunt Cersei" he whispered. His new aunt was hugging him, something Petunia Dursley would have cut her arms off to avoid. Tentatively he wrapped his arms around the woman clutching him as tears began to leak from his eyes. The feeling of familial love poured from Aerion toward the woman and it was overwhelming to the wizard. A sob broke through his lips as he clutched tightly at the blond haired woman. The thought of her reaction if they had found the boy dead made his decision that much more firm. He had outlived his own three children and didn’t wish that on anyone.

"You are never leaving my sight again," the Queen admonished him as she pulled away slightly to hold him at arms lengths. Harry was shocked to see tears flowing from the woman's eyes again. Laughter caught their attention and they looked toward a fat bearded man messy black hair crammed beneath a crown. The King was watching the two with an amused air. The queen decided to ignore him and turned back to her nephew. "We'll have a feast and tournament in honor of your return," she said as she finally released him and wiped the tears from his face. "I'm sure your grandfather wouldn't mind paying for it."

"I don't see why he would," King Robert said as he walked forward and slapped a meaty hand down on Aerion's shoulder. "He's already sent a raven saying he's coming to town, and bringing the imp with him." The King ignored the glare from his wife at the mention of her dwarf brother. Harry, now Aerion, remembered his tiny uncle. The man was funny, even if the rest of the family despised him. It would be Jaime that Aerion didn't like; the smug looks and over impressive air of a mere King's guard was disturbing, eerily reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy.

Cersei nodded, having already known about the raven before looking at her nephew. "Grandfather Tywin will be here soon, but for now you get back in that bed," she demanded as she stood back to her full height and placed a hand on his back to guide him to the bed. Harry silently muttered about people like Madam Pomfrey as he allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. "I sent the hag home for the day, I'll bring Tommen in here and sit with you," she said with a smile.

“Stop coddling him, woman,” Robert grunted as the queen led the boy back to the bed. “He’s old enough to learn to swing a sword, and I’ll see to that he does,” the king said. “An attack like that won’t go unpunished either. Someone stabbed a family member under the King’s roof, punishable by losing a hand,” he explained with a nod. “Though, I should make it his head and be done with it. One less mouth to feed when winter finally comes.”

‘One less mouth to feed,’ Harry/Aerion thought in shock as he was tucked back into the bed. Was that all death meant in this world? He would need to go over Aerion’s memories when he had some time to himself. As the queen stood his hand twitched to reach for her, to keep her with him. His eyes narrowed at the movement. Was it something left from Aerion or did he not want this kinder version of his aunt to leave him? He was a hundred and ninety one years old, what did he care if she left? Part of him knew that was a lie. Even when he came of age and had a wife and children of his own, he had still wished to know a parent’s love.

He had only known Sirius for two years, not really a great amount of time compared to his long life, and even Remus was gone before the war was over. Molly and Arthur were great, but they had been his in-laws, not parents. The closest he had come was to Dumbledore as a grandfather, but even that relationship had been dangling on a string after the tumultuous end to his fifth year at Hogwarts. But this woman, this Aunt Cersei held no special meaning to him at all, so why did he want her to stay?

He watched the King and Queen leave the room and sighed as he snuggled deeper into the blankets. He shut his eyes and forced himself to begin reviewing the more important information of this new world. The Wall came first apparently Aerion was fascinated with it. A human made construct of almost solid ice that separated the Seven Kingdoms from the wilds of the North. Rumors of all sorts of things beyond the Wall filled most with dread, but Harry looked at it in stride. Giants and direwolves, not that damn complicated, he had dealt with them before.

The whisper of Others was fascinating though. Gone for thousands of years, said to not exist anymore, like Dragons (‘Why are there always dragons,’ he thought bitterly), the Others were impossible to track because they left no prints in the snow. They were said to have a range of dark and mysterious powers that Aerion hadn’t known because he was too young. But, if there was something Harry knew, it was that legends and stories had a horrible way of coming true.

His uncle, the King, ruled over seven kingdoms which were over seen by lords. The man had over taken the kingdoms, when Aerion’s uncle Jaime had killed the Mad King. How often had Harry wondered if he should have done the same after Voldemort’s death? Even when he had ‘passed on’ purebloods were still fucking everything up. But the king was also a drunk who loved whores more than his own wife, something Harry really didn’t like about the man.

The Night’s Watch, the names of Lords and the small council filled in after. Then there was the Lannisters, Slytherins under Gryffindor’s banner. They were sneaky, cunning, ambitious would poison any who got in their way. Aerion was half Lannister and Harry had almost been placed in Slytherin, though he had never quite flexed his ambition beyond staying alive. He would need to do that now, only instead of reacting he would need to think strategy; something Ron had been good at, not him.

“Aerion, are you awake,” the queen’s voice asked from nearby, making him jump. Turning his head he smiled at the blond who returned it. Gently she lowered herself onto the bed next to him, placing his giggling two year old cousin, Tommen down between them. “Good,” she said with a smile as she reached toward the boy’s nightstand and lifted the books there into her lap. “What will it be? The Legend of the One Ring, the Dragon’s Prophesy, or the Tales of Beetle the Bard,” she asked innocently.

Beside her, the young boy gulped. They were here. The Hallows, that miserable asshole had brought them to this world with him. For one moment, one brief moment, he wondered if the curse would pass on from him to another Master of Death if they were found, but quickly pushed the thought away. He would find them and unite them again.

Damn his saving people thing.

He wanted to tear his own hair out as he sat at a table in with books spread open around him. His uncle, Tyrion, sighed as he watched him struggle through the important matters of being a lord. Land Deeds, vassals, farms and towns were difficult enough to manage for a full grown man, and the child before him was sinking beneath paperwork. "Come now, young nephew, it cannot be that difficult," the dwarf reprimanded halfheartedly, knowing full well it was that difficult.

“I feel as if my head is going to explode, uncle," Aerion complained as he continued to flip through the books and journals and then back at the stack of letters brought by ravens. "According to these numbers the region around Starfall has enough food stored to last a winter if it were to reach that far south," he said with certainty. "However, the people there hate us for the Rebellion and the Peverells taking control from House Dayne, so they'll be of little support for King's Landing."

“True," Tyrion said with a grin at his nephew who was starting to put things together. "Now, about the militia your father had to put in place to keep the people of Blackmont and Hellholt from turning against Starfall?"

The raven haired boy's green eyes flashed as he looked through several letters and began to tap his finger on the table in an odd way of keeping track of the numbers. "Fifty thousand men ready to move, though that's if they decide to fight for us," he said. "It's entirely possible I'll one day see my place of birth from the lovely view of the pike they stab my head on, put there by my own men."

Tyrion looked at his nephew, wondering why the boy was so focused on his people's feelings. Hardly anyone with Lannister blood cared for the smallfolk. It was probably James Peverell's doing he decided. The man was a saint, a very rich saint, which was why Tywin had agreed to marry his red haired daughter to the other lord. James had called Lily the red rose among dandelions, something that had infuriated their father. Tyrion slightly winced though at the thought of his sister.

>"That will be all for today," he told Aerion who looked up in shock. "Since your grandfather has decided to forestall a tournament at this time, the King has decided to go hunting. So you and I will be heading to the gates to see him and his little band off," the dwarf explained. Hopping off his seat he waved for Aerion to follow him.

Dressed in a scarlet short coat with tails that touched his knees even if the front tapered back at the waist with thick gold bands which hid the seams, Aerion followed. A deep red shirt fit him beneath the coat and black pants were tucked into knee high boots with gold colored armor plated around the shins and calves. Harry thought the hardest thing to get used to was the empty scabbard that kept slapping his thigh as he walked.

While the castle was mostly devoid of life, the streets were bulging with merchants and buyers seething like the nearby sea in a hard rain. Eyes followed them as they moved through the crowds, most envious of the orphan living in the castle like a member of the royal family. Others simply stared at Tyrion as though they had never seen a dwarf before. 'They probably haven't' the young boy thought.

Aerion stalled at the sight of a woman with dark hair begging for food or money near the street. A small child was bundled up and held to her chest as she pitifully held her hand out to the people who passed. "Hold on uncle," he called out, causing his uncle and the several men they walked with to stop and look back at him. Reaching into his coat pocket he withdrew three silver stags and walked to the woman. The nearby people stopped and stared as the queen's nephew walked toward the beggar and placed the coins in her hand. "There, get you and your baby some food, and a place to sleep tonight," he said with a half smile.

The woman dropped her bundle revealing a slaughtered piglet as her hand grasped his wrist in an iron grasp. "The Seals that hold back the night shall weaken, and in the heart of winter shall winter's heart be born, amid the wailings of lamentation and the gnashing of teeth, for winter's heart shall ride a black horse, and the name of it is Death," she nearly screamed out in a ragged voice.

Aerion wrenched his hand free of the woman and stepped back in shock. His green eyes locked onto jade blue for just a moment before the woman cried out in pain. The black haired boy's eyes fell onto the woman's side where a sword was lodged into her ribs and crimson blood spilled down her ragged dress. Following the sword he looked up into the face of one of the King's Guard, sneering down at the strange woman.

“With his coming are the dread fires born again," the woman continued despite blood beginning to pour from her mouth. "The hills burn and the land turns sere. The tides of men run out, and the hours dwindle," she gasped out before screaming as the guard tore his sword from her side. "The Wall is pierced, and the Veil of parting raised. Storms rumble beyond the horizon, and the fires of heaven purge the earth." Sputtering and gasping, she clawed at the air to reach the boy again. "There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death," she finally finished before collapsing to the ground twitching and spilling blood.

"Aerion," Tyrion asked as he turned his eyes at the sight of the woman's death to his ten year old nephew. The boy was simply staring at the woman in disgust and shock. "Aerion, listen to me. It does nothing to listen to the mad's ramblings. She spoke of nothing, do you understand."

The boy's head swiveled and turned to the dwarf who gasped. His eyes were shining with tears as he gazed at his uncle in sadness. "It was a prophecy, uncle. I know it was," he said sadly before wiping his eyes. "But, that is for later, we have to see the King off. Come on," he whispered as he started up the street again.

'Another prophecy and another dead body in my wake,' he thought as he struggled not to choke on his tears.
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Harry Potter: Ice and Fire