The Winter Wizard - Interlude 1 - Jon at the Wall (Patreon)

Jon Snow arrived at Castle Black as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the icy expanse of the Wall. The colossal structure loomed above him, a sheer expanse of ice and stone that seemed to stretch endlessly along the horizon. Jon had heard stories of its grandeur, but seeing it for the first time made those tales seem inadequate, its size and cold, unforgiving presence felt so much more than anything he could have expected.

He stood for a moment, his breath visible in the frigid air, trying to absorb the reality of it. The Wall was both awe-inspiring and oppressive, a reminder of the duties he had chosen to take upon himself. Its icy surface seemed to reflect not just the sun but his own uncertainties, its towering height a metaphor for the challenges he knew lay ahead.

Tyrion Lannister, riding alongside Jon, broke the silence. "Magnificent, isn’t it?" he said, his voice laced with wonder. Despite his sharp wit and habitual cynicism, even Tyrion couldn’t mask his genuine awe at the sight of the Wall. "Though I’d wager it’s less appealing when you’re shivering on top of it."

Jon nodded, his gloved hands tightening around the reins of his horse. “It’s … larger than I imagined.”

“The stories certainly do not do it justice, it truly is larger than life,” Tyrion quipped, “although looks just as cold as I’d thought it would be.” He gave Jon a pointed look. “I imagine you’ll find warmth hard to come by here, in more ways than one.”

Jon nodded although said nothing, his gaze fixed on the Wall as they approached the gates of Castle Black. The Lannister had been an unexpected companion on the journey north, and Jon had come to appreciate his quick tongue and sharp observations. Tyrion’s insights had offered some comfort during the long ride, and Jon found himself glad for his company and his presence.

Inside the grounds of Castle Black, the scene was anything but serene. Black-clad men moved with purpose, shouting commands and hauling supplies. Among them, a motley group of new recruits milled about, looking out of place in their ragged clothes and uncertain expressions. Jon recognized the nervous energy in their movements; he had felt the same unease creeping into his own chest ever since the moment he had set out from Winterfell.

The recruits were an assortment of outcasts: petty criminals, bastards, and both men and boys who had nowhere else to go. Jon’s sharp gaze took in the recruits: boys barely older than Bran and men grizzled by years of hardship. Their clothes were mismatched and ragged, and their movements spoke of desperation and inexperience.

"A fine collection of rogues and misfits," Tyrion remarked dryly, observing the recruits. "I suppose the Night’s Watch takes what it can get."

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Jon’s first few days at Castle Black were a whirlwind of new faces and harsh realities. Ser Alliser’s scornful remarks and the cold nights in the drafty barracks were nothing compared to the disillusionment Jon felt as he trained alongside the other recruits.

Among the recruits, he quickly identified several who stood out. Samwell Tarly was a soft, round boy who avoided eye contact and flinched at every sharp word. Pyp, a wiry young man with quick hands and a quicker tongue, seemed to deflect every insult with a joke. Grenn, a broad-shouldered farm boy, appeared slow-witted but strong. There were also two others: Arryk, a lean, sullen youth with a perpetual scowl, and Tomm, a boy barely older than Bran, whose trembling hands betrayed his fear.

Their first days of training were grueling. Ser Alliser Thorne, the master-at-arms, was relentless, barking insults and striking down any sign of weakness. “You call that a swing, farm boy?” he snarled at Grenn, who stumbled under the weight of a training sword. “Even the pigs you’ve been mucking could do better.”

Jon watched the exchanges, his jaw tightening with every insult. When his own turn came, he easily disarmed his opponent, a scrawny recruit who barely knew how to hold a sword. The ease of it drew sneers from the others.

“Look at him,” Arryk muttered. “Thinks he’s better than us.”

Jon’s temper flared, but he held his tongue. He had seen enough to know that showing superiority would only isolate him further.

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Over the next few days, Jon made a conscious effort to connect with the others. He started with Grenn, offering to help him adjust his grip and stance during their sparring sessions.

 “Keep your feet apart, Grenn,” Jon had advised during one of their training sessions, demonstrating the proper stance.

Grenn was wary at first, but Jon’s patience won him over.

“See?” Jon said, guiding Grenn’s hands on the hilt of the practice sword. “You’ve got the strength. You just need to use it properly.”

Grenn’s awkward smile was a small victory. “Thanks, Jon.”

With Pyp, the connection was more natural. Pyp’s humor lightened the oppressive atmosphere of Castle Black, and Jon found himself laughing despite the tension. When Pyp confided that he had been caught stealing to feed his family, Jon listened without judgment, offering words of understanding.

Samwell was the hardest to reach. On his first day, Sam had been knocked to the ground during sparring and had refused to get back up, earning Thorne’s derision. “Fat and useless,” Thorne spat. “You’ll freeze to death before the first snowfall.”

After training, Jon found Sam sitting alone in the corner of the mess hall, staring into a bowl of gruel. “You all right?” Jon asked, sitting down beside him.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t belong here,” he whispered. “I’m not like you.”

Jon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re strong. Brave. A fighter. I’m … none of those things.”

Jon considered this. “You’re here, aren’t you? That takes courage.”

Sam’s eyes glistened, but he didn’t respond. Jon decided to stay with him until the hall emptied, offering quiet companionship.

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When Ser Alliser paired Sam with Rast, a particularly cruel recruit, for a sparring match, Jon intervened. “This isn’t a fight; it’s a slaughter,” Jon had said, stepping between them. “Pick on someone your own size, Rast.” Rast had sneered but backed down, and Jon helped Sam to his feet.

“Thank you,” Sam had muttered, his voice trembling. “I’m not much of a ...”

“We’ve had this chat, Sam. But you’ll learn, everyone starts somewhere” Jon said firmly. “And if not, you’ll find something else at the Wall that you were meant for.”

Tyrion watched the interaction with a raised eyebrow. Later, over a shared meal, he commented, “You have a peculiar habit of rescuing the weak, Jon Snow. It’s admirable, if a bit naive. The Wall seems to be no place for mercy.”

“Someone has to stand up for them,” Jon replied evenly. Tyrion’s words stayed with him, though, leaving him to ponder the balance between kindness and survival in such a harsh environment.

As Jon’s relationships with Sam, Pyp, and Grenn grew, he noticed changes in them. Grenn’s confidence improved, and he began holding his own in sparring matches. Pyp’s jokes became less pointed, less defensive, as he found a sense of belonging. Even Sam began to stand a little straighter, though he still avoided Thorne’s gaze and had come nowhere near the point of winning a practice fight.

Despite the bonds he was forming, Jon couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong. The more that the others adapted, the more Jon felt his own isolation deepen. He had spent his life striving to prove himself, first as a member of the Stark family and now as a member of the Night’s Watch. Yet here, among these men, he couldn’t get Harry’s words out of his mind and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong.

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One evening, as they gathered around the fire, Tyrion joined them, his presence immediately commanding attention. “So, how does it feel to be the bastion of hope for the misfits of Castle Black, Jon Snow?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Jon shrugged. “Someone has to show them the way.”

“Spoken like a true leader,” Tyrion said, raising his cup in mock salute. “Though I wonder if you’ve thought about what that makes you. A guide among the blind? Or are you hiding just as everyone else here seems to be?”

Late one night, after the fires had died down and the barracks were quiet, Jon found himself sitting with Sam outside the armory. The stars were bright against the inky sky, and the Wall loomed in the distance, its icy surface glinting faintly.

“Why did you come here, Jon?” Sam asked hesitantly. “You don’t seem like the others.”

Jon stared at the ground, his thoughts churning. “I wanted to find a place where I could be something more than a bastard,” he said finally. “A place where I could prove myself.”

Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I just wanted to be somewhere my father couldn’t reach me,” he admitted. “But now that I’m here, I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“You can,” Jon said firmly. “It won’t be easy, but you’ll find your place here.”

“And you?” Sam asked. “Have you found your place?”

Jon didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the Wall, its shadow a constant reminder of the vow he had yet to take. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Not yet.”

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The next morning dawned gray and cold, the sun veiled behind thick clouds that loomed low over Castle Black. Jon Snow stood in the courtyard, practicing his swordsmanship against an invisible foe. Each swing and parry was sharper than the last, a physical outlet for the thoughts churning in his mind. His muscles ached, but it was a welcome distraction from the gnawing sense of unease that had taken root deep within him.

He hadn’t seen Benjen Stark much since arriving at the Wall, but his uncle found him now, watching silently as Jon practiced. When Jon finally lowered his blade, Benjen approached with a small, knowing smile.

“Jon,” Benjen said, his voice steady and calm. “Walk with me.”

Jon sheathed his sword and fell into step beside his uncle as they crossed the courtyard. The men around them were busy with their tasks, paying the pair little mind. Benjen led him toward the base of the Wall, where the icy chill seemed to seep into the very air.

“What’s on your mind, Uncle?” Jon asked when the silence grew too heavy.

Benjen glanced at him sidelong. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said. “You’re carrying something, Jon. I saw it before we left Winterfell, and I see it even more clearly now. You look even more isolated here than you did there.”

Jon bristled, instinctively shaking his head. “I’m fine.”

Benjen stopped walking, turning to face Jon with a raised brow. “I’m not blind, lad,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “And I’m not here to pry, but you’re fooling no one if you think you’re fine. Out with it.”

Jon hesitated, his jaw tightening. He wanted to deny it again, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “I just ... I thought I’d find my place here,” he admitted. “I thought it would be easier to fit in. But I feel ... I don’t know, like I don’t belong here any more than I did in Winterfell. Maybe even less.”

Benjen listened silently, his expression thoughtful. When Jon finished, his uncle surprised him by chuckling.

“Is that all?” Benjen asked, clapping Jon lightly on the shoulder. “If that’s your biggest worry, you’ve got nothing to fret over.”

Jon frowned, confused. “How is that nothing? It feels like everything.”

Benjen smiled faintly. “Because most men at the Wall don’t fit in, especially not at first,” he said. “This isn’t a place only for the well-adjusted or the content. Most of those who are here are ones who’ve been cast out or sent away. Feeling out of place here isn’t unusual—it’s expected.”

Jon looked away, his brow furrowed. “But what if it’s more than that?” he asked softly. “What if ... what if this isn’t where I’m supposed to be? Like there’s somewhere else I need to be? What if I should have stayed at Winterfell?”

Benjen’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Then that’s something you need to think long and hard about,” he said. “Because once you say your oath, Jon, that’s it. There’s no turning back. You’ll be bound to the Night’s Watch for life.”

The weight of his uncle’s words settled heavily on Jon’s chest. “I chose to come here,” he said, his voice quiet. “Doesn’t that mean I’m already committed?”

Benjen shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “That’s the thing about a voluntary choice—it gives you a unique freedom. You haven’t sworn your oath, Jon. You’re not a brother of the Watch yet. And unlike many of the men here, deciding to leaving now wouldn’t cost you life or limb. You still have a choice.”

Jon stopped walking, staring at the ground. “If I left,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “wouldn’t that make me a coward?”

Benjen turned to face him fully, his gaze steady and piercing. “I’d never call anyone a coward for deciding to go back to their family and protect them,” he said firmly. “And if anyone else made that comment to you, I imagine you’d be able to best just about any of them with a blade and prove their opinion worthless. But what matters isn’t their opinion. It’s yours. Only your opinion of yourself matters, Jon.”

Jon managed a faint smile at that, but it quickly faded. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.”

Benjen nodded, his expression softening. “It’s a hard decision you’ve got in front of you,” he said. “I can honestly admit I do not envy you. But it’s one only you can make. I’m leaving on a ranging mission soon, and by the time I return, your decision will have been made. You’ll either have said your words or chosen another path.”

Jon looked up at him, a question in his eyes.

Benjen smiled faintly. “The Wall isn’t going anywhere,” he said. “It’ll still be here tomorrow, and for years to come. If you leave to explore the world or spend time with your family, and you still come to the conclusion that the Wall is where you’re meant to be, we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Jon let out a shaky breath, the weight of his uncle’s words settling over him. He nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

Benjen’s smile widened, and he clapped Jon on the shoulder again. “Good,” he said. “You better because this is the type of decision where making the wrong one is impossible to walk back from.”

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The days following Jon’s conversation with Benjen were marked by a gnawing sense of uncertainty. He replayed his uncle’s words in his mind, the seriousness of the decision he faced pressing down on him. And then Tyrion Lannister’s parting remarks before leaving Castle Black added another layer to his turmoil.

“Your demeanor suits the Wall,” Tyrion had said with a smirk, his sharp eyes boring into Jon’s. “Stoic, determined, full of purpose … cold. But that doesn’t mean this is the only life for you, Snow. Even as a bastard, better things could lie in store. If you let them.”

Jon didn’t know what Tyrion meant by “better things.” He couldn’t imagine a world beyond duty. Yet, he couldn’t shake the thought that he might be binding himself to something before understanding what he truly wanted and unfortunately as the days went by he began to worry that part of what he wanted was to be there for his family.

The realization haunted him, leaving him restless as the day of his vows approached. Two days before he was to speak the sacred words, Jon made up his mind to seek clarity in the only way he knew how: solitude under the ancient branches of a weirwood tree.

That evening, he approached Lord Commander Jeor Mormont in his quarters. The room was dimly lit, cluttered with maps, reports, and a large raven perched on a stand. The bird cawed as Jon stepped in, but Mormont didn’t look up from his papers.

“What is it, Snow?” Mormont grumbled, scratching a note onto a sheet of parchment.

“I need to ask a favor, my lord,” Jon began hesitantly.

Mormont’s head tilted slightly, and he set his quill down. “A favor? From me? This should be good.”

Jon hesitated, then spoke. “I’ve been struggling with my decision to join the Watch. I need time to think—to make sure it’s the right choice.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Mormont asked, his voice gruff.

“I’d like to go beyond the Wall to the weirwood trees,” Jon said, his words coming out in a rush. “That’s where I do my best thinking. I started going to them in Winterfell. It helped then, and it might help now.”

Mormont stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You want to go beyond the Wall—into the wilds, where wildlings could slit your throat—just to think?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Mormont shook his head, his expression a mix of incredulity and annoyance. “That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. There are plenty of men here who don’t think at all, and they seem to manage fine. Find some quiet corner in Castle Black and think there, gods know there are few who use those spaces to think.”

Jon didn’t waver. “If I take the oath, I’ll be saying it under the weirwood tree anyway. I wouldn’t risk anyone else, my lord. I just need to go alone, for part of the day.”

Mormont leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that,” he said after a long silence. “Fine. Go in the morning. But you’ll take no supplies or men. If you want to freeze your arse off thinking, that’s your business. Don’t make it mine.”

Relief washed over Jon, and he nodded. “Thank you, Lord Commander.”

As he left the commander’s chambers, Jon felt a sense of purpose returning. The uncertainty still lingered, but he had a plan, a chance to sort through his thoughts.

Kind Regards,

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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it’s the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.

Story Note 1 – And alas a little interlude chapter on what Jon Snow will be up to (will be a small three chapter arc). While I have a plan for Jon in the future, had posted a poll for anyone who supports my work as to how Jon would get to that point. So thanks to everyone who voted and I hope you enjoy this small little Jon arc. I certainly had fun writing it! Let me know how it was received!

Story Note 2 – Hope you all enjoyed the chapter part of why this chapter was done separately was because Harry was obviously not included but also, and I think more importantly, for the sake that these chapters will include several date skips that will overlap with what is happening with Harry. SO rather than write a several chapters comprised of both Harry/Jon events that will take place over several chapters though it more appropriate and concise to put them all together.

Story Note 3 – Yay for Tyrion and Benjen’s advise which compound onto Harry’s words about the Starks actually feeling he was part of their pack. These are important things that I felt could have been said in canon but ended up not being said which obviously made Jon’s decision to join the Night’s Watch less difficult. As for specifics I think I pushed back Benjen’s departure for his ranging and Tyrion’s departure from the wall might have been slightly affected but I don’t think the book was incredibly precise on when those events happened and felt that moving them around slightly, if indeed that was the case, that could have been explained away as simply a matter of a person's choice that day.

Story Note 4 – Any guesses on what is going to happen to Jon Snow? Or what his decision will be?

Story Note 5 – I hope that everyone who is enjoying Harry’s journey through Westeros (specifically since he just arrived in King’s :anding) is not worried. His adventures shall soon resume. These chapters are merely setting up the world and laying the foundation for some of what is to come that will directly and indirectly affect the world and Harry specifically. As a teaser the next set of interlude chapters will involve a certain individual across the sea. Any guesses?

A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.

Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own any part of the Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter universes That includes but is not limited to the characters, locations, … Who knew.