AN: I do not own either HP or GoT. They belong to JK Rowling and GRR Martin, respectively.

This is going to be Harry/Sansa. I'm super excited for this fic so I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!

Harry glanced at the small town in front of him, the moon shining down on it. With the Vale behind him and the Trident to the south, he would enjoy a small stay in Castle Darry for at least a day. He knew his horse would enjoy one, as they had been on the kingsroad for several days. Harry urged his horse ahead, weaving around a wagon filled with supplies headed towards the capital and stopping at an inn. The only inn in the town but he wasn't picky.

He stopped outside the town, within a few minutes walk of the local inn, and set up his tent within a clearing. When he had come to this world a year ago, he had spelled his tent to more reflect the level of technology the local people had. So the stove and the chimney vanished. So did the shower and the sink and everything else that was more modern. If he chose to return them, it would just take a flick of his wand and another spell.

He added a stall for a horse, which was easier said than done but he did. The stall had a few spells around it to keep the smells to a minimum but it allowed him to keep out of view of the locals. It allowed him to travel anywhere without needing a stable or needing a sturdy tree to tie a horse up. He also had a supply of horse feed, tack, water next to the stall.

He led his mare into the stall, made sure she was settled, and walked into the inn, ordering dinner and sitting down. Harry looked around the inn, noting the various other people in the inn. Some people who were in tables opposite him glanced at the sword strapped to his back, seeing the rubied hilt. He could see greed in their eyes and snorted.

He was pretty sure that he had cleaned the sword of its basilisk venom but he hadn't been too hard on it. The innkeeper brought over dinner and Harry dug into the meat pie, enjoying the flavor of it.

He ate and listened to the gossip that flowed around the inn, the various talk of the war that was going now. There was King Robb Stark, King in the North. The Stark king was in Riverrun now though Harry had seen the ghosts that had come to him from the Westerlands. He figured that Robb's armies were on the move, raiding the east coast. Harry would have loved to see Grey Wind up close; the direwolves did seem beautiful and awesome at the same time. But he had wanted to stay out of any battles, choosing instead to stay out of it.

There was King Joffrey Baratheon on the Iron Throne though Harry had heard the rumors. Joffrey wasn't a Baratheon any more than Harry was a Malfoy. The ghosts that had appeared around him a few days ago said that self-proclaimed King Stannis was on the move to attack King's Landing.

There was apparently also King Balon Greyjoy. Balon though… The north was being overrun with the ironborn. Someone in the inn was talking of the north, of how the ironborn had taken Torrhen's Square and Deepwood Motte. Some whispered word of Moat Cailin, of how it was taken a few days ago. One man whispered that King Robb Stark should be called the King Who Lost the North.

Harry sighed, finished his dinner, and thanked the innkeeper and his wife, and stepped out. He glanced out at the street, at the keep that lay behind walls. He slowly meandered through the town, looking wistfully at a couple with their children as he passed them. He was about to go back to his horse and set up his tent when he heard a ghostly bark.

He glanced beyond the keep, to the north side of the street. There was a kennel somewhere in the keep but nowhere near where he had heard the bark. Harry raised an eyebrow, thinking his ears had betrayed him when he heard the same ghostly, eerie, but friendly bark again. He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and lightly curled his fingers around the elder wand in his pocket. The cloak was in his other pocket and the stone was in his pack. The three things had taken to following him around after he had come to Westeros.

With his fingers around the elder wand, he saw ghosts. One ghost in particular caught his eye. It was clearly a wolf, not a dog, but a wolf that was somewhat bigger than a normal wolf. A wolf that was lying down, ghostly blue coat blowing in the slight evening breeze. Harry's eyes widened as he ambled over to the ghostly wolf's side, kneeling down to take a look.

The wolf had a cut on its throat, likely the way it died. The wolf had yellow eyes, unlike every other ghost that Harry had seen. Maybe there was something… special about the wolf, letting it keep its color in the afterlife. But… The wolf whined low in its throat, nudging its nose into his hand. Harry grinned a little, stroked its ears.

"Hey, girl," Harry spoke, looking again into its' eyes.

The ghostly wolf whined again, sadly, and further nudged its head into his fingers.

Harry sighed. "I can't… Well, maybe I can. Come on."

He stood up and walked back through the town, the ghostly wolf at his heels. When he had first started to see ghosts, he had expected everyone else back in England to see them too. He hadn't expected everyone to start thinking he was crazy, another second year, another 'hearing voices' thing. Then one night he had met Death. Death was a rather weird fellow, in that it didn't have a gender nor an actual body, but it had explained everything.

It took him half an hour to make it back to his tent, conjuring a tree stump to sit on as the ghostly wolf sat on its' haunches in front of him. He pulled out the elder wand from his pocket, the resurrection stone from another pocket and summoned the invisibility cloak from his belongings in the tent. The ghostly wolf yipped eagerly in front of him, its' ears perked up and its' tail wagging.

"I don't know what you expect me to do," Harry whispered, a little bemused. "But I'll try something. You're a direwolf, aren't you?"

The ghost wolf blinked its' yellow eyes, going quiet only to perch its' head on his lap. He smiled, stroking the ghostly fur. It really didn't feel like fur though, more like petting a cloud, an eerie cloud. Harry stared at it then placed his hand on its' head, calling on the magic that allowed him to see ghosts, the magic that had apparently brought the hallows to him even in this world, then willed it to move into the ghostly direwolf.

Wild magic flowed around the clearing, the trees moved in the mysterious wind that started. Clouds moved under the moon, hiding the light for just a moment. His eyes fluttered closed as his magic called to the wild magic in the land beneath him, to the magic in the air. His heart sped up, feeling the land quiver a little. Something within the direwolf called out to something in the north, something that looked like wolf fur, something like a body.

In the Crag, Grey Wind began to howl, spooking the Westerlings as they bustled about their small castle. Lady Jeyne Westerling's eyes widened as she nursed the King in the North, Robb Stark, taking care of the arrow wound in his shoulder. His direwolf was staring out the window, to the west, looking like it was awaiting something and began to howl, eager and joyful.

Beyond the Wall, as Bran Stark, Meera Reed, Jojen Reed and Hodor started off, Summer let loose a loud and apprehensive howl. Bran raised an eyebrow from where he was on Hodor's back, exchanging a look with Meera and Jojen.

Nymeria, running with her new found wolf pack, howled to her pack mates, looking west. She remembered her other packmates, her other family, remembered the one that had gone. Her sister who had died early. Her sister who was not too far away now. Her sister who was alive.

Ghost blinked, stopped where he was loping in front of Jon, and turned around. He peered to Jon then south, to where his packmates were. To where the one that was lost was returning.

Shaggydog growled, making Osha and Rickon stop as they traveled west to the port city of White Harbor. The black direwolf threw up his head and howled, loud and wild.

Harry opened his eyes when he felt a tongue start to clean him, licking his face like it wanted to wake him up. "Alright, alright, I'm up."

He laughed as he pushed the wolf away, his eyes widening as he saw the direwolf in front of him. The not-a-ghost anymore direwolf. The flesh and blood and fur direwolf. Harry peered into its- her- yellow eyes and poked her left front paw in experiment. The she-wolf nipped his shoulder in play, as if saying you are not hallucinating. You humans are so funny.

"What the hell."

The she-wolf sat down on her haunches, threw up her head to the moon and howled, joined in by her packmates all around Westeros.

A few nights later, in King's Landing, in the Red Keep, Sansa Stark had a wolf dream.