[ EU ] If George R. R. Martin wrote Harry Potter

The early morning sun had not yet peeked over the distant hilltops but Professor Snape was up looking out over the far north where the wildings were. Clad in black as befits a headmaster of the Black Watch, Snape's eyes narrowed for a moment. Something was out there, despite all the unmarred pristine snowfall at the base of the massive wall. 
 
 `` G'day Mass'tur Snape, sir'' drawled a voice. Snape glanced over at the guard keeping his watch... and sneered before he could stop himself. 
 
 `` Captain. Harry. Potter.'' He bit off each word like a piece of the toughest jerky in the middle of the coldest winter Castle Black had ever known. The boy's five-day old stubble appeared dark blue in the cold paleness of the early dawn. Firelight licked the sides of the boy's half dropping torch as he adjusted his crotch, turned and spat a phlemy gob over the wall. 
 
 Snape sneered at Guard Potter and, ready to dress him down despite the changing of the guard that was due to occur soon, turned towards him. He grabbed his broadsword, Lily, and stalked to where Potter sat, still absentmindedly scratching at his groin. Perhaps Potter had been breaking the rules down at Hogsmede. Snape expected no less of the urchin. The Watch was no place for those who abided rules very well. 
 
 `` Snape!'' roared a voice, causing him to jump a bit despite his age and experience, `` What do you think you are doing!?'' 
 
 Snape turned to the familiar voice, readying Lily just in case. The Lord of Castle Black was constantly at odds with what needed to be done, of course. Saint Potter was evidence enough of Lord Black's lack of discipline. 
 
 `` M'lord Black... you are up early.'' 
 
 `` Shut up, Snivellous!'' Black growled. Lord Black flowed forward like a snake, and Snape was totally unprepared for the move. The dagger that appeared like magic in Black's hand opened a red tunnel in his throat as Potter's cursed blade opened up a gash in his back. Again and again the blades rose and fell on him as he gasped, red froth vomiting forward and dripping in long rivers of red down the whiteness of the layers of frozen ice. 
 
 He was still alive when Hagrid, that fragrantly challenged oaf picked him up in one hand easily, his giant strength enough to easily hold him aloft and pitch him out over the wall. 
 
 `` Hooooogriiiid'' the giant bellowed, as usual, the only thing to come out of his pea brain. 
 
 The falling seemed to take forever. It was pleasant. Like flying. Pleasant thoughts of Southern days when he and Lily had danced replaced any fear or loneliness he had left. 
 
 The smile was still on his face as his still breathing body fell softly into the freshly fallen powdery snow, right at the bare feet of hundreds of them. 
 
 They had been waiting.
