July 24, 2006…

Aberdeen, Scotland…

"Ben! Wake up! Uncle Andrew's supposed to be here today!" I can't help but groan as my little brother shakes me awake. I rub my forehead, trying to get the headache I'm feeling right now but when the sound of footsteps got closer to my room and the door was literally flung open I gave up knowing what was coming next.

"Ben! C'mon!"

"Don't wanna…" I groan gently as my brother shakes my shoulder like a bucking bull.

"Mum said you gotta though!"

"But I don't wanna!"

"Fine! Then I'll take your present!" I jerk upright at that and nearly bolt to the bathroom to get ready with Ryan's laughter chasing me down the hall. I fling the bathroom door open as fast as I can and jump in the shower, taking time to enjoy the feeling of the hot water running down my back. Uncle Andrew may have been my favorite Uncle but he wasn't due to be here for a while. He didn't come around very often but when he was, he gave the best gifts. Just like how he gave me this book called Eragon and the time before that was this book called the Ranger's Apprentice. I love fantasy and sci-fi and magic and swords! Swords are awesome! At least to my ten-year-old self they are. I smiled as I washed my hair out just in time for a banging on the door to interrupt my train of thought.

"Ben! I gotta pee! Get ouuuut!"

'God, he's so annoying!' I thought to myself as I shouted back "go to mum and dad's! I'm busy!"

"Mum's in there and Becca's using her's! Hurry up!" I sigh while reaching for my towel on the rack, drying off rather quickly while meeting my own grey eyes in the reflection. Quickly, I grabbed for my brush to get my short, dirty blonde hair under control and I pushed the door open. Stepping out of the bathroom, I nearly walked into the stick I call my little brother who had raised his hand to bang on the door one more time. He rushed in with a hilarious look of pain and concentration on his thin face, slamming the door behind him.

Wire thin and dark-haired, my brother's favorite things in the world are playing baseball and running like a demon. Back in the States, he played baseball since he was knee-high and would have kept playing but mum wanted to move back here, to Aberdeen, so she could be closer to her parents. Unfortunately for him, Mum and Dad couldn't find a league for him so he took up the next best thing; football. I liked football too, but of the American variety. I was born here, in Aberdeen, but lived most of my life in North Carolina and considered myself American at this point. Dad always said I was built like a linebacker and since I was the biggest boy on the team I believed him, so I signed up for the local team and figured out I really liked the game. I was five when I first put on pads but we moved here last year and there wasn't really anything similar to football except rugby. I always thought Rugby was dull and would rather read than play it, so, unlike my brother, I haven't taken up a sport since we moved.

A large grin split my face as a little blonde demon waddled up the stairs and tackled - read: ran into - my leg, all the while babbling about how Uncle Andrew, Aunt Jessie and her playmate Jenni were coming and how they were going to have a tea party, play with dolls, and everything else a little girl can dream of. I tried to peel my demon sister from my leg without losing my towel. Somehow, I managed to get the wiggling little rascal into my arms to settle down a bit, thankfully avoiding disaster.

"Becca," a comfortingly warm voice calls out from downstairs, "where's my little princess gone off to?" Becca squeals and buries her face into my chest trying to hide from pa.

"Oh! There you are!" The stout, cheerful man comes up the stairs with his eyes sparkling and a smile on his face, "and you've found your big brother!" The little blonde limpet smiled broadly, wriggling from my arms as she reached out for dad. He took her from my arms, spinning her around a few times making the four-year-old squeal in delight. Honestly, I couldn't help but smile even as I retreated into my room so I could, to my relief, put on clothes.

There was nothing special about the clothes or the room, I just pulled on a pair of sweats and a comfortable long sleeve T-shirt. No matter how hard the heater worked, it was always too cold here for my liking - even in the summer. I shook my head slightly before glancing down at my wrist watch, realized I still had at least forty-five minutes until Uncle Andrew showed up, and, with a small grin, moved over to my bookshelf to pluck my newest book off the shelf. The red Dragon on the cover looked back at me as I sat down at my desk and cracked open Eldest.

For the next forty-five minutes, I lost myself in a world of magic, dragons, elves, war, and so many things that let me slip from reality. At that point, I wasn't in Aberdeen, not really. I was over a battlefield on dragon back, a sword in one hand, a shield in the other with armor covering me from head to toe, the wind screaming around me as my dragon and I dove toward the traitorous rider. Right at the climax, right as the man's helmet is about to come off -

"They're here! They're here!" Ryan's yells drug me out of my concentration. With a groan, I put the book down and started down the stairs as Becca's cries of "Unca And'ew!" rang through the house. I can't help but smile at seeing my favorite Uncle with my baby sister in his arms, our matching grey eyes meet and his infectious smile stretches across his face.

"Ah! There he is! The man of the hour!" His deep, booming voice calls out as I finally make it down the last of the stairs to wrap him in a hug which he returns. He cocks his head and frowns slightly before bringing his hand up to the top of his head and bringing it level with his neck, "goodness me! You've grown another two inches since I've last seen you!"

"I don't think so, Uncle Andrew," I feel myself blush as a small smile graces my lips, I always liked my height but sometimes being so bloody tall for a ten-year-old's annoying!

"Ah! Well, I do" He looks up to the newcomers, "Lincoln! Alice! It's so good to see you!" He let's go of me to embrace his brother and kiss mum on the cheek, "You're raising fine ones aren't you?"

"We like to think so, Andrew," dad said quietly but raised his eyebrow at him, "and why, might I ask, is the reason behind this surprise visit?" I looked at my uncle curiously as he scratches the back of his neck, "I think that's a discussion to be had sitting down, it uh… It involves my work."

Mum turns white as dad almost sags in on himself a bit.

"So soon?"

"He turns eleven in less than two weeks, I'm surprised that-" the sound of the doorbell ringing cuts him off as he looks up at the ceiling while muttering under his breath.

"I'll get it," I say hurriedly, wanting to avoid the tension that's stirring in the living room. I reach the door and immediately look down to see a man in a sharp three-piece suit covered by something remarkably similar to a bathrobe.

"Hello! I am Filius Flitwick, here on behalf of Hogwarts school! I am looking for a Benjamin Orion Stark?" The man looks up at me with a small twinkle in his eyes.

"That's me, can I help you?" Suddenly I'm not alone anymore at the door as Uncle Andrew moves to stand beside me.

"Well, well professor! Fancy meeting you here!" I look at the broad smile on my uncle's face and the shell-shocked expression on Flitwick's and wonder just what's happening here.

"By the gods! Andrew Stark! It's good to see you again my boy! What's it been? Nearly two decades now since I saw you last!?" the small man squeaked out.

"It's good to see you too, professor. I would have come back sooner but Principle Johnson has me running roughshod over the States in the summer and teaching like mad in the fall. But I made time to see if I couldn't snatch my nephew out from underneath your illustrious institution's nose. I hate that bloody rule about halfbloods or muggleborns not already in the know only having a two week period to learn about their new place - even for old blood families. Wish the ICW would get off their collective rears and change that."

"As do I, my boy. Have you already told him?" The small professor asked much to my confusion.

"No," Uncle shakes his head, "I just got here too. Alice is entertaining the other two children and Lincoln is waiting for us in the sitting room."

"Uh, what's going on?" I ask quietly.

"You'll know soon, Ben. Professor, please come in, I believe this is going to be an interesting day indeed." Together, the three of us walked to the living room only to see dad sitting in a chair with his back to the fireplace with a couch in front of him and another chair to his side.

'Well that's not obvious is it?' I think in slight amusement as I take my seat next to dad as Uncle and professor sit side by side on the couch.

"I am Lincoln Stark, welcome to my home," dad nods to the small man perched on the sofa.

"Filius Flitwick, I am a Charms Master and professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of Scotland. Your son, Benjamin, is being offered a place in our institution, should he accept he would be a member of the class of two-thousand and thirteen," the man has a bright smile on his face as my jaw dropped.

'A school of magic? Awesome!'

"And I," Uncle Andrew starts, "I am here on behalf of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of Massachusetts. I am a master of battle and defensive magics, I currently hold the position of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," and my heart drops. Of course, it's in Massachusetts… But two schools of magic? Awesome!

"And what are the differences between your institutions?" Dad asks and suddenly we're in the middle of an hour-long sales pitch.

"That is why Ilvermorny is the better option, my old professor," I blink wearily, realizing I must have nodded off.

"Ah, I have missed these debates, my old protege," Flitwick's grin is face splitting and I find myself liking this man, "but perhaps this decision should be with your nephew?" Instantly three faces turn to mine. I meet each of their gazes and gulp in anticipation.

"Dad, what do you think about all this?"

"I think that you should do what your heart tells you is best," he smiles at me gently and nods. I take a shuddering breath and looked at the men on the couch.

"If you choose Hogwarts," Uncle said, "I won't be offended. I learned there along with Janie and graduated in ninety-one right before Potter came to the school."

"Lucky you," Flitwick muttered under his breath,

"Too true, the boy was a magnet for trouble wasn't he?"

"Aye, and he still is. He was an Auror for a short time but was recently let go due to... Shall we say, disciplinary infractions? Currently, he's the temporary DADA professor."

"Damn… I might stand a chance against Potter one on one, but it'd be a close thing. He's unorthodox and fast but, as far as I know, he doesn't know that many spells due to his crusade against anything 'dark,' as Dumbledore would have called it," Uncle actually used air quotes and rolled his eyes at the end.

"True, true," the little man agreed with Uncle with a small smirk on his face, "I still can crush the 'man-who-conquered' in a duel any day," the tiny professor puffs out his chest with a large grin.

"I think," I say hesitantly as the two professor's faces snap over to me, "I think that I'd like to go to Hogwarts…"

"Excellent!" Flitwick squeaked.

"Damn," Uncle said but the broad grin on his face contrasts with his statement, "I thought I had you, bud!"

"Not quite, Uncle!" I say with a matching smile.

"Oh, how exciting this is! Would you like to retrieve your supplies today?" Flitwick asked me while looking between me and dad.

"Today would be best, yes. Brother?" The two share a significant glance and Uncle nods to dad.

"It's there."

"Excellent, then we go immediately!" Dad smiles slightly and stands up with Flitwick and Uncle Andrew leaving me floundering.

"Uh… Where are we going?" I ask quietly.

"Charing Cross," Dad answered.

"London?" I asked with wide eyes.

"Yes, my boy, and if you take this," Flitwick takes a length of wood from his sleeve and a magazine from the table and whispers, "Portus," making one of mum's magazine's flash blue, "we will be there in the blink of an eye," he smiles genially.

I look at him, dubiously remembering what happened to Saphira's egg when it was teleported into the Spine. A massive flash of fire and giant explosion, ring any bells? But it was teleportation! Hesitantly, I reached out for the magazine already being held by Flitwick, Uncle, and dad, taking hold of it gingerly.

"Whatever you do," Uncle looks me in the eye, "do not let go."

I nod and Flitwick says, "ready then? Activate." Immediately, the most uncomfortable sensation of being hooked behind the navel and being reeled in while not being able to let go of the magazine grabs me like a vise but before I can think about it the ride's over. My feet slam into the ground followed by knees in the next beat.

"That was awful!" It looks like dad agrees with me but Uncle Andrew and Flitwick just chuckle.

"If you think that's bad then you should wait until your first-time side along apparating," Uncle Andrew shivers visibly right along with Flitwick.

'What could possibly be so bad that it makes two fully grown wizards uncomfortable?' They don't give me time to think about it as I'm dragged out of the pub they dragged me into and over to a wall that Uncle tapped with his own stick, I almost stop in my tracks. 'They're magicians, magicians use wands. I'm an idiot.'

I almost jumped at the sound of grinding stone, "welcome to Diagon Alley!" Uncle Andrew said with a flourish toward the archway where the stone wall once stood. With dad's hand on my shoulder, we stepped through the arch into the most confusing circus of a marketplace similar yet very different to Burrow Market that mum adores - every time we came to London we had to visit just for that reason. But, instead of food vendors and coffee shops, this place is lined with the strangest shops I could possibly think of with, 'and I can't believe I'm even thinking this,' wand shops, grocery shops labeled apothecaries (whatever that means), an owl shop that made me blink like the merchandise inside, and… Was that a broom shop? I shook my head wondering if wizards are always going to be as daft as I think they are today.

"The first stop on our way," Uncle Andrew says cheerfully, "is Gringotts bank!"

"Yes, my relatives are going to be such a joy," Flitwick says with a roll of his eyes.

"What do you mean by that professor?" I asked as quietly as I could while still being heard.

Flitwick just winked at me as a giant marble building came into view. I felt my jaw drop at the sight of the massive Corinthian-esque building that looked half-melted.

"Welcome to Gringotts, my boy," the half-goblin said happily, pulling me out of my stupor. I just nodded and started walking again as Uncle Andrew and Dad chuckled.

We started up the stairs to the bank and toward a bronze door where a goblin armed with a sword on his hip and a spear in his hand stood guard, the goblin bowed slightly before saluting Flitwick with his spear. The tiny professor returned the salute by bringing his fist to his chest and stepping through the bronze door to reveal another silver door.

"Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Theif, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there."

"Oh…" I say gingerly.

"Indeed," Flitwick says somberly but he doesn't slow down as he pushes the door open to admit us into a room with about a hundred goblins settled behind a long counter while counting gold and gems as a row of about thirty tellers sit at counters talking to the almost literal horde of wizards standing in lines. Flitwick immediately moves to stand in the longest line much to mine and dad's surprise but Uncle Andrew joins the line as quickly as he can with Flitwick. I looked up at dad but moved to join Uncle Andrew and Professor Flitwick anyway. Shockingly, we barely stopped walking once we joined the line and, within five minutes, we were at the front of the line to stand in front of a Goblin teller.

"Filius, what can Gringotts do for you today?" The goblin asked.

"Bronzer, I am here to escort the Misters Stark to their vaults," the goblin raised his eyebrow as Uncle Andrew stepped forward with a small silver key in his hand, handing it to the teller that the Goblin accepted readily. After a quick inspection, he obviously found it up to snuff.

The Goblin snarled something into one of his lapel pins, just under ten seconds later a young Goblin came strolling up to the counter and had a conversation in what has to be the most guttural language I've ever heard. The Goblin turned around without warning and gave a short bow.

"My name is Ironwrought, please follow me."

The Goblin didn't give us a second to even think about it as we dashed to stay behind him toward a line of carts with the Goblin gesturing toward the largest cart. I swallowed nervously but followed Uncle Andrew and Professor Flitwick into the cart with dad and Ironwrought not terribly far behind.

"You might want to hold on," Flitwick says between gritted teeth as the cart rattles underneath us, that's the only warning we had. The cart took off like a ballistic missile into the mouth of the inky blackness that's the cave ahead of us. For the next five minutes, we were treated to a ride that even the people who built the coasters in Sandusky, Ohio, and Jackson, New Jersey would kill to even experience this kind of ride. I thought I was going to fly out of the cart until we were launched through a waterfall that stung like needles of ice. Flitwick muttered something about Thief's Downfall from what I could catch through the blistering winds of the caverns but what mattered to me was the fact that my rear was now firmly stuck to the metal seat.

The ride felt like it was going to go on and on forever but, thank everything holy, that it didn't. The cart came to a crashing halt outside of a silver door with a black wolf bearing his fangs from the front of the door, his bronze eyes staring back at us.

"Key," Ironwrought asked with an extended hand, Uncle Andrew placed his silver key in the Goblin's hand. Ironwrought walked over to the door leaving me a bit confused, where's the keyhole? Well… Apparently there wasn't one.

Ironwrought placed the key in between the wolf's teeth and I watched in fascination as the great wolf's jaws closed around the key and the door sprang open without a sound.

Together with Uncle Andrew step out of the cart, I turn and look at dad who just shakes his head with a small, sad smile.
"I can't go in, son. You're the heir of House Stark, I'm a simple squib. Go with your Uncle, he'll show you what you need," he shoes me on. With a final glance to dad, Uncle Andrew and I walked into the vault. We were greeted with the sight of a warehouse sized area with well-organized piles of Gold, Silver, and Bronze on the left-hand side of the vault as books, portraits, and armor on the right. But taking up the back wall are rows and rows of swords, spears, shields, knives, bows and arrows, axes, morningstars, lances, and many, many more. But the crown jewel of the armory is a beautifully forged sword underneath a grey shield with a silhouette of a howling wolf on its face and a pair of daggers crossed underneath the wolf's shoulder.

The material the daggers are made from are strange, yet simple, silver that almost glowed in the torchlight of the vault. The blades were about eight inches long, unornamented and double-edged, they look perfectly balanced to throw, stab, or slash… I think they're called baselards, saw one in London tower when mum and dad took us. The handles of the knives look like they're horn but there's only one way to find out. I reach out to take the blades, one and each hand to inspect them closer.

"Bone," I flinch as my fingers are millimeters away from the blades. Turning around, I saw Uncle Andrew looking at the sword and shield as well, "that's what the handles of those are made of. We don't know how long they've been in the family but, just like that sword and shield, they were owned by a Stark lost to history - the first Stark. For centuries we carried those into battle but then the dark times came," a shadow flits over Uncle's face before he went on. "The Starks were once the pinnacle of what the Houses wished they could be, only surpassed in wealth and prestige by the Blacks, and then the Peverells, and then came the Sacred Twenty-Eight nonsense that put pureblood families on a pedestal and House Stark was forgotten. For six hundred years, there hasn't been a Stark with magic. Until I was born, a second son of the family head. And then our prayers were answered when you were born," a smile crosses his face as he looks at the blades that I could only stare at in awe. "Some houses have a fancy ring to indicate headship, others would have something silly like a diadem, but the Starks? We had a sword and shield with a pair of daggers all so incredibly well made that the Goblins have coveted for centuries."

I frown and stare at the sword, "Wait… if they're so special then why don't you have them?"

Uncle Andrew smiles softly, "because I'm the second son of Nathaniel Stark. But you," he pokes me in the chest gently, "are the heir of Stark, the eldest son of the first line, making you only true heir and future Lord of our House. You are the only one who not only has the gift but can wield that sword as well. Speaking of…" he took the knives from the shield and handed them to me, "these are what mark the heir of our House. By all rights and laws of House Stark, they're yours. Take them," Carefully, I took the blades and gave them a small twirl as if I had been doing it all my life. They're light and perfectly balanced, more importantly, though, is the fact that the blades don't feel like they're going to fall out of my hands.

"Finally," he smiles broadly at me before looking back at the sword and shield. "One day those will be yours too, lad. When you graduate Hogwarts, come back for Winter's Bane. Do you understand?" I could only nod as I looked up at the sword and finally figured out what it was, a hand and a half sword.

"Awesome…" I whisper as Uncle Andrew's hand comes down on my shoulder.

"Indeed," he said before perking up, "come on, shall we get what we actually came for?" A smirk danced across his face as I nodded in agreement and looked for the daggers' sheathes. Shockingly there are no sheathes but the weight of the daggers fall away from my hands pulling a yelp from me as I look down to my hands only to see a pair of silver bracelets clasped with bone on my wrists.

"Wha- how - why… Uncle?" my eyes turn to the man who nods approvingly.

"It's one of the most impressive pieces of magic I have ever seen but don't ask me how it works or why though. I'm a combat master, not an enchanter. Though, I believe that Jessica may be able to explain it a bit better," he chews on the inside of his cheek as I nod, Aunt Jessie was always good at explaining things, "but we can talk about that later, what you need to know is that if you think about the daggers they'll appear in your hands and if you want to put them away touch them to the bone clasps."

I nod and grin as we turn to the piles of gold, "what you need to know," Uncle Andrew starts, "is that the gold pieces are called galleons, the silver are sickles, and the bronze pieces are knuts. There are seventeen sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to one sickle, it doesn't make sense but I guarantee that's why the Goblins did it," Uncle rolls his eyes before tossing me a small leather bag. I raise my eye quizzically until I see uncle shoveling stacks of gold, silver, and bronze into his purse. I copy his actions trying not to take too much but knowing I'm going to need a good bit of money.

It took twenty minutes for us to finish our business at Gringotts and to make it back to Diagon proper, now it was time to strategize.

"Mr. Stark, would you and the young Mr. Stark go collect the young man's wardrobe while the middle Mr. Stark and I go collect the young Mr. Stark's books, potion ingredients, and other supplies," Professor Flitwick squeaked.

"We may want to wait on the books, professor," Uncle laughed heartily, "my nephew loves them almost as much as you do, old friend," he smiles broadly.

"Ah!" Flitwick exclaims, "another Stark for Ravenclaw then?" he grins broadly.

"Hah!" Uncle Andrew smiles even brighter, "if he's not in Ravenclaw I'll eat my boot! He belongs with the Eagles more than I ever did."

"He really does," dad said with a grin, "my checkbook definitely can attest to that," I flush at that.

"And he has a bit of a penchant for violence. Sometimes I think he's part Goblin but then I remember our House's name," Uncle grinned as professor Flitwick looks at me curiously.

"Violence you say?" Flitwick raises his eyebrow.

"I have a few years of Krav Maga and a few more of American football," I said quietly, "I wanted to play for Georgia when I was old enough but that's not going to happen now," I kicked the pavement - cobblestones? - in annoyance.

"Ben-" Dad tries to start but I cut him off with a whisper.

"Not now, Dad," he grimaces but nods, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence Uncle Andrew claps his hand.

"Well then! Ollivander's would be a good place to start for you two wouldn't it?"

"No, not anymore, Andrew," Professor Flitwick cringed. "Garrick died in ninety-nine and his son, Garret, took over until he died just last year. Now, Garrick's grandson runs the business. Garland isn't half the wandcrafter Garrick was but thankfully there are still a handful of the truly magnificent Ollivander wands left. But I do know of a new wandmaker who does excellent work," he waves us down the alley, "first we'll need to get your robes and wardrobe out of the way."

"Where is this wandmaker, Professor?"

"Knockturn," is all Flitwick says to make Uncle Andrew stop in his tracks.

"Knockturn?" he whispers gravely, "no, I won't bring my nephew down into that hellhole Filius!" he almost hisses to the professor. Flitwick looked around quickly before drawing his wand and whispered Muffliato.

"Andrew Benjamin Stark, I know you haven't been in this country in fifteen years but know this - Knockturn Alley was nearly purged in the last blood war. It is a refuge for dark magic, it's true, but you," he points at Uncle Andrew with a short finger, "I thought you knew better, I taught you better! Of all people, you should know the difference between the Dark and the Black?" Andrew flinches away while me and dad gape at the dressing down that Flitwick just gave Uncle Andrew. With a flick of his wand, the charm falls and the short professor leads us into a shop labeled Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.

Two hours. Two hours of being measured and stabbed and dragged around by a lady with a Vendetta against my lack of an entire wizarding wardrobe.

"Why on Earth do I need, what'd she call them? Dress robes?" I asked incredulously.

"That would ruin the surprise!" Flitwick chirped happily as I shrugged my new cloak over my shoulders, "alright, gentlemen, shall we go get your wand, Mr. Stark?"

"Already have one." Uncle Andrew said.

"Can't use one," Dad said with a grin.

"Yes!" I was almost jumping up and down.

Flitwick blinked at the three grinning Stark men, "Mr. Benjamin Stark that is," a small smile graced his face while I grinned just as broadly, "alright then, hoods up gentlemen. We must be off." Flitwick's smile disappears, "and Ben," his hand reaches up to take my shoulder, "stay close to your father and closer still to your Uncle."

Our eyes lock and the gentle professor is gone, replaced with a man who won't take no for an answer. I nod with a "yessir."

"Good lad, good lad indeed," a small smile slips across his face, "and now? We shall be off."

Together we walk toward an alley off the side of the main path. With dad's hand on my shoulder, we made our way through the dingy alley. I had to force myself to not cringe away from some of the more horrible looking things as the professor led us deeper into the alley. After a few minutes and at least three jumpscares, that shall never be spoken of again, we finally reached a small - and surprisingly clean - shop that's sign read:

Haw and Thorne - Custom Wand Makers, est. 2000.

I cocked my eyebrow at the sign but Flitwick didn't hesitate as he pushed open the door and beckoned us inside. After a hesitant glance back up at dad, who nodded for me to follow the tiny man, I stepped through the door.

"Good afternoon, Professor!" a soft voice carried through the store as dad and Uncle Andrew walked in.

"Miss Haw! And how are you this fine day?" the professor answered with a brilliant smile.

"Professor, please," the voice called out as a woman about my height appeared from behind a shelf, though I almost couldn't make out her face through the veritable veil of curly, chestnut hair. "I haven't been in Hogwarts in years, call me Teresa, please."

"Ah, miss Haw, let an old man set in his ways do as he will," the professor smirked as Miss Haw rolled her eyes.

"Oh hush you. So what can I do for an 'old man,' today?"

"Well nothing for the old, you might say unless you count it as a favor. This young man, Mr. Stark, is in need of his very first wand!"

"Oh don't torture the boy, Filius," another voice cracked like a whip through the shop, "I don't see Garrick's ghost around here and his grandkid's the reason we have any business at all!" A blonde coated in sawdust with a leather apron and bandanna wrapped around her forehead, a grin splitting her face as she looked me up and down.

"Oi! You'll scare the poor boy off, Helen!"

"By the grin on his face, I doubt I'm scaring him," the slender blonde said as she turned back to me with a grin, reaching her hand out. "Helen Thorne, Hogwarts '05 and Slytherin House - unlike Ter there, I'm a recent graduate."

"You make it sound like I'm old, Hel," Miss Haw rolled pouted. "I graduated in '03, but I guess since I was there with Potter I'm old."

"I uh… I'm Ben Stark," I said as I shook her hand nervously, not sure what to think of Teresa's little spiel. "I'm not sure what house I'll be in but Uncle Andrew said something about Ravenclaw?"

"As good a house as any! So you need a wand for a proper Ravenclaw? Alright then, let's see what we can find!" Helen said excitedly as Teresa moved to stand in front of me wielding a tape measure.

"Hmm... Tricky," Teresa hummed as the tape took seemingly random measurements. "Hel, get me the Blackthorn on Thunderbird, Aspen on Phoenix, Cypress on Unicorn, and… hmm…" she squinted at me and pulled on a pair of glasses, "yes… that'll do nicely. Get me the Bloodwood on Shortsnout too!" I heard Helen bustling around and occasionally caught flashes as she rummaged through the shop. A few minutes later and she reappeared with four boxes that were placed on the counter in front of me as the tape measure whizzed into Miss Haw's hand.

"Alright, kid," Helen said with a grin, "let's see what we've got!" She took the lid off one of the ones in the middle and I jerked away as I felt like the thing was screaming at me.

"Not that one!" I said instantly, pointing at it as Helen grinned maniacally.

"Cypress on Unicorn, she said! The wood is known for having suicidal owners but, as it's paired with powdered unicorn horn (one of the strongest healing potion ingredients in the world) I hope the two cancel out the worst in each other. Though, Ter, to this day, I still don't know why in the name of Merlin you made the damn thing with diametrically opposed materials!"

"You never met Lovegood, did you?"

"Only in passing…"

"We were in the same house for a year and it was what her wand was made of."

"That explains a lot more about her and even more about why that wand should have never been made."

"Wait, Lovegood? As in Xenophilius Lovegood? The nutcase behind the Quibbler?" Uncle Andrew cut into the conversation. Filius politely coughed into his hand getting everyone in the shop to look at him.

"His daughter, Mr. Stark. I am afraid Xeno passed just after the second Blood War. His injuries were simply too severe for even St. Mungos to heal properly… Though what those mongrels called Death Eaters did to that poor girl is nothing short of unforgivable," a look of pure fury crossed Flitwick's face as the two women in the shop looked equally incensed. "They held her for weeks to months."

"Did they die screaming?" Dad asked with fire burning in his eyes. I whirled around to stare at him and could only feel my jaw on the floor.

"Some, yes, others were spared. Lucius Malfoy only served a five-year term for his crimes because he 'betrayed,' Lord Voldemort," Filius spat, "truly, he ran with his tail between his legs from the battle of Hogwarts with his wife and son. Ten Death Eaters died by my hand that day and yet the rest still live."

"Where are they?" Uncle Andrew growled heatedly.

"Azkaban," Miss Haw sneered, "former Auror Potter sent them there himself but it's not the hell it used to be ever since the Minister put the Dementors to the Sword. I'm not sure how they killed them but rumor has it the DOM did it."

"It would have had to have been them. Can you picture Shacklebolt and Potter getting their hands even a little dirty with dark magic? They were both Dumbledore's men through and through." Helen said with something I couldn't quite pick up on.

"I think we're getting off track, yes?" Filius said to the room, getting everyone's attention once again. Everybody nodded slowly until I finally realized I had a set of eyes on me, two very female sets of eyes - and they were ready to catch their prey.

"Well then, to business," Miss Haw said with glittering eyes, pushing the other middle box to me. She opened it and revealed a beautiful, jet black wand. "Go ahead, I don't think this one bites," she said with a grin. I glanced up at her, swallowed nervously, and picked up the wand. For a few seconds nothing happened until I held the wand up and it felt light lightning torched down my arm as a flash of light and a clap of thunder blinded and deafened me for a split second.

"..pe! That's not the one!" I heard after the ringing in my ears stopped and I noticed that the wand was in Miss Haw's hand.

"Actually, he could probably keep it as a backup now if he wanted," Helen said with a conspiratory grin. "Ever since the Ministry lifted the pesky 'two or more wands,' ban they had for ages." Miss Haw tapped her chin, nodded, and slid the box off to the side. She opened the next box and handed me a white wand, I took and nothing happened. At all.

"Nothing? Not even a spark?" Helen asked as she looked at the wand in surprise. "Interesting… Try the Shortsnout." Miss Haw nodded, took the white wand back, and handed me a blood-red wand that gave off a few weak, black sparks when I held it.

"Well, while it wasn't as violent as the Thunderbird, it's miles better than the Phoenix. Hel, could you go get me the…" For what seemed like hours we went through a whole slew of wands. Purple, red, white, grey, and so many different colors of wood of different lengths passed over the counter but not a single one of them did what the two ladies wanted them to do - apparently. I was just about to give up when another box was laid on the counter, Miss Haw said it was Kingwood on Horntail, whatever that meant. I stiffened as I reached for the Thunderbird wand with my left hand, as my right went for the Horntail wand. The rich, purple-brown wand almost jumped into my hand as a second flash of light crashed through the store but there wasn't a clap of thunder this time, there was the sound of a Hawk's call and what could have only been a dragon's roar.

When the light had disappeared and my ears stopped ringing, I felt… Incredible. Powerful, even. I looked down at my hands, almost idly noting that the wand in my left hand was gone, examining the wand in my right hand in awe.

"What the bloody hell just happened!?" Teresa cried as Helen looked at the wand in my wand in shock.

"Ben, may I?" She asked quietly. I nodded slowly, my head buzzing as she gently pulled the wand from my fingers.

"Incredible…" she whispered, running her practiced fingers over the smooth wood.

"Helen?" Teresa asked nervously, as Helen rolled the wand over in her fingers all while whispering things over and over. She looked up slowly with excitement and awe obvious in her grey-green eyes.

"Tery, you won't believe this…" she said as she handed over the wand to the other wide-eyed wandmaker.

"Bloody hell," Teresa gasped.

"What has happened?" Flitwick asked but the two women ignored their old professor as they examined the wand critically.

"A perfect vergence of wood and core? I thought that was impossible, Tery."

"So did I, Hel! I've never seen two woods wrapped around each other so perfectly! I don't think even old man Olivander could have done something like this!"

"And the cores?"

"Are perfectly merged… The best way I could describe it is that this is a Horntail's feather or a Thunderbird's heartstring or vice versa wrapped around each other, there's no difference between them now!" I may have been standing there a bit shell shocked, but honestly, I'd have to have been blind to have missed Uncle Andrew's and Professor Flitwick's reactions.

"Uh," I stuttered, snapping the two from their discussion, "what's that mean for me?"

"That means that you just performed one of the most incredible feats of magic in history, kid," Helen said with a grin, "Horntail heartstring and Thunderbird feather on a combination of Blackthorn and Kingwood at thirteen and three quarters inches. And just because you made a miracle wand, the price is fifty percent off!"

"He's basically buying two wands, Miss Thorne," Flitwick pointed out amusedly.

"And that's why he's getting fifty percent off, prof!" Teresa said with a grin, "That'll be seven galleons."

"And praying we don't see you again until you're seventeen," Helen said with a grin. I just shook my head as dad paid the ladies.

"Thanks for your help!" I said as I took the miracle wand and went to put it in my pocket only to have "NO!" shouted at me from four different voices. I flinched violently but looked up at dad who was just as surprised as I was.

"Here," Helen said as she reached under the counter and took a small leather bracer out from underneath it. "This is a wand holster, strap it to your right arm and carry your wand there. Never keep a wand in your pocket, do you understand me?"

"Ye-yes ma'am," I said nervously as I slipped the bracer on, watching as it automatically adjusted to fit me.

"Good lad, now put your wand up and be off with you," Helen said with a grin. "I'm sure you've other places to be than a dingy old wand shop." I could only smile wanly as I put my wand away and follow dad and Uncle Andrew out the door.

AN: Thanks for reading! Some themes in this you may recognize if you've read Fire's Tempest though the forging aspect and High Fantasy are going to be on full blast. Unlike Fire's Tempest, this character - Benjamin Orion Stark, an OC I created just for this story and he, along with his fellow OCs, are the only things I own from either JK Rowling's works and G.R.R. Martin's (Standard disclaimer: I receive neither payment or credit for the Canon Works and own nothing more than my OC's) - will be transferring to Westeros very soon. In fact, I expect to spend a chapter or less on each year at Hogwarts for this character as without the Potter shenanigans it's going to be a very boring seven years to read about.

This fic is a 'Game of Thrones,' and 'Harry Potter,' X-Over but I have shifted somethings that happened in the timeline past 1997 - specifically relating to the epilogue and Second Blood War. What happened to one character in particular during the events of Deathly Hallows was never talked about but, knowing the brutality of the Death Eaters and this character being of the fairer sex, I believe we all know what may have happened to her - as terrible as it may be. War is hell, war against terrorists is even worse. JK either never considered that or didn't want to write anything pertaining to the more gruesome bits that likely happened - this is GOT X-Over with themes from ASOIAF, I refuse to shy away from the gritty reality that G.R.R. Martin portrays. That being said, this work is rated T for now but I fully expect it will have to be rated M at a later date. Further, I will not be giving the graphic details of those kinds of scenes. Torture and Rape will not be written in detail and if they are portrayed at all it will be in terms of an observer trying to either stop what is happening or witnessing the aftermath. So to the younger and more sensitive members of the audience, I ask you to please bear in mind that not only have you been told but that you have been given more than an advanced warning - flames in my reviews/inbox will be ignored. Thanks again and please leave your thoughts, questions, comments, and concerns in the review box!