It's been a few moons since the whole ordeal at the tourney, the only reason his brother can walk, though unfortunately still with a limp. Trying to guide his magic is like trying to walk through tar.
It's like an atrophied muscle he has to rehabilitate.
Hopefully, soon his magic will start heeding his commands and come to his aid easier, and with less of a drain. Fortunately, he was able to set the bone, but unfortunately, he isn't skilled enough to properly heal the nerve which causes his brother to have to use a cane in case his leg seizes up.
He's been listening to his father complain about Oberyn Martell almost every meal, the man had taken the time to write to his older brother Willa's. This is honestly ridiculous because the prince himself shipped with a crate of his palace's herbal medical supply of ointments for muscle relaxants, which was surprising.
Everyone knows the Martells vigorously guard their family medicine, which has been cultivated for thousands of years, by their ancestors the Rhoynar, who were famous for their water magic and healing.
Entering the Tyrell personal dining room, the one they use when only feasting with close family. A smaller, more modest room. If one can say it's modest when there are tapestries that cost thousands of dragons.
Honestly, If he hadn't spent his adolescence in a castle in his first life, specifically one that has moving stairways, Harry wouldn't have been able to guide himself through the maze that is their home, saying that modestly.
The famous garden maze is truly child's play compared to the halls of its interior. It's honestly ingenious how they incorporated so many dead ends into this place, he is lucky he was able to use his magic to trace his steps and find secret passages, a simple alohomora while pointing at random places to see if it opens a passageway.
When the cupbearer pours him a drink he smiles at her, and thanks the manservant as he pulls out his chair, and pushes him towards the table. He silently sits in his seat.
He never notices the flush of pleasure and pride from the simple thanks.
It has taken a while for Harry to feel comfortable being waited on, but he can admit that it's nice to have. He also isn't naïve enough to think he could change something so ingrained like servitude, he also knows even the modern era has them.
They just had more rights.
For now, with his small body, he will settle for making sure those who work under him are content and well cared for in return.
Another factor in being kind to them is they are the heart of the keep and the ears of the walls. A servant who loves serving their lord is more loyal and loose of the lip about the gossip they hear.
Straightening his spine as his manners call for, he reaches for the cloth folded into a swan and drapes it over his legs. He turns his focus on his two youngest siblings, specifically Loras who had called for his attention.
His mother had opted to stay home with the three-year-old twins instead of going to the tourney. She was a few weeks early, and the fact that they were twins was a surprise.
He snuck into their room, drained himself dry, and made himself sick for a whole week after their birth using his magic to make sure they wouldn't perish.
It was worth it, and the smothering of his family only solidified the lengths he was willing to go to keep them safe.
Harry will push himself beyond his limits and spend as much energy to keep them safe. It helped that they were newborns which made the whole process easier and was the only reason his rash decision wasn't a fail.
The side effects are subtle and quite curious.
His sister Margaery, is so precious and adorable with her doe eyes that seem to shine a bright amber, that darkens into a mahogany when shadowed.
Her older twin and his youngest brother, he has a fierce grip when he catches your finger in his hand. The brat too is adorable with his blond locks spun of gold. Harry feels a smile pull on his face as the tiny boy babbles to him from across the table genuinely about his lessons of the day as the boy goes on about how cool of a knight he's gonna be.
He loves being in the middle and getting to experience both the joys of being an older sibling and a younger sibling at the same time is like fate has rewarded him for all his trials.
"Garlan, I think you have competition." Harry purrs watching as both of them fluff up like peacocks.
"Hah, you forget Harry, I said I will be greater than Ser Arthur, not some old geezer." This makes Loras gasp his little face flushing with a fire that makes him smile.
"Old Geezer!?" Loras scoffs in offense, his curls shifting in audacity.
"Barristan is the best! He stopped the leader of a rebellin'." The boy seems to look around in confusion as the adults all let out a chuckle from the way he fumbled over the words,
"N'uh, Arthur is!" Garlan snarks, but there is no real heat as he is too focused on his leg of meat.
Harry knows Garlan just loves teasing his siblings.
Harry included.
"Boy's" their mother chides before Loras can go on a yelling spree. While she certainly doesn't have their grandmother's command, she is still their mother, and they respect her.
She truly does love them even if she's a little too passive for his taste. He has come to find women like his Grandmother are a rarity, the backwater misogyny of the world must not help.
"Yes, mother," they all intone.
Harry meets Willas's gaze as he looks up from his plate as they placate their mother.
He gives his solemn brother a smile feeling brighter when he returns it with a smaller one. His oldest brother hasn't taken to the fact that his future as a knight isn't possible, for now, if Harry has anything to say.
He will heal that leg fully, mark his words.
Letting his physical age control him he childishly ignores his father's inquiries, he knows it's impolite and not solving anything but still.
His father fruitlessly tries to get his attention but he sniffs and bites his food with dignity.
Willas doesn't seem to hold any hard feelings for their father, so he feels he has to bear the anger for the injustice on his behalf. He noticed how people tend to ignore whatever his father does even if it's not the best thing for them. While his Grandmother has the final say on a lot of things, his father still holds the true power and can do what he wants.
The tourney just is the first time he's put his child in danger for recognition amongst lesser lords.
Harry wonders if it's because he has a more modern mindset that he's not willing to just shrug off their father's whims.
Hell, even their grandmother, despite her prowess, can succumb to Mace's stupidity.
That's not to say she isn't upset with the man, but will tend to shrug it off as another stupid boy thing, her words.
"Haedrian, your lord and father is speaking, it's quite rude to ignore him." His mother's voice is soft and chiding like her son hadn't been potentially paralyzed from the neck down or worse. Not wanting to hurt his mother with his angered gaze he keeps his eyes on his food, only to snap his gaze up with anger as his father stands up with a huff.
"Boy!" That word.
That fucking word.
It would have made him flinch in the past, but he doesn't let the past haunt him in the daytime.
His finger twitches under the table, if anything he gets angrier...
"What!?" He almost winces at his volume but stays firm.
"Haedrian!" Their mother admonished clutching her jeweled neck in surprise, while Harry is mischievous he's never truly had a tantrum like the one he is making at the present.
The consequences of holding it in come forth as his father continues to blame everyone else for his stupidity, it truly has reached its boiling point.
"How could you!?" He asks, screaming all the pent-up. It just explodes out with an aggressive glare, one full of loathing.
He wishes to stand and throw a tantrum but all he does is look into their father's eyes. Mace is staring at him like he's seeing someone in a new light
"What do you mean?" Mace asks, clearly confused, which only makes him even more angry.
A draft picks up as his magic spikes in retaliation.
"Harry, it's okay," Willas says softly cupping his clenched fist.
Only Harry flares up with astonishment.
"No, it's not!" Harry growls, finally standing up from his seat at the same time candles around them flicker from his frustrations.
He takes a deep breath and slows his heart rate before asking his father.
"Why did you allow Willy to get hurt?" He finally says feeling like the child he is as his voice breaks. He feels tears forming in his eyes as he stares at the man who is his father, the man isn't as great as Harry had thought.
The realization that having parents doesn't make everything perfect is a hard one to swallow, for his orphan mind.
Mace was always accepting and so fun, but he's starting to see just how dangerous a fool with power is.
"He could have died!"
"And it's all your fault!" Not bothering to wipe the tear that falls or acknowledge the arm of Garlan as he attempts to tug him down.
"Now, Haedrian." His mother tries in vain.
"I didn't hurt him, it was that damned Prince," Mace states making Harry stare in befuddlement.
"Only because you forced him-"
"Haedrian." Harry is interrupted by Olenna.
"Enough." her voice resonates as they both fall into silence.
The whole household watches with bated breath as Harry turns to the true matriarch of the family, "Haedrian," she repeats his name.
He keeps her gaze as he struggles to hold his tongue not wanting to face the wrath of his grandmother. "I think you need to retire early."
Seeing that he's about to open his mouth she speaks more firmly.
"Choose your battles," is all she says, but it seems to work. Harry closes his eyes as he realizes she's telling him it's pointless, as he can't change the mind of a fool.
Pushing his chair in he turns with a bowing slightly towards both his parents, "It seems I'm not feeling well Mother," he bows his head before her.
"Father, excuse me." That is all he says and then dismisses himself. He ignores the gaze of his family as he makes his way towards his room.
The clanking of the armory lets him know a sworn knight has taken it upon himself to escort him. As he leaves he catches the ends of his fathers ranting.
"-at Hightower, it may do him some good." This is all he catches as he storms past the silent guards by the archway. Blocking the foolish man's voice he storms down the hall leading towards the family's sleeping wing.
He never would have expected that by morning he'd be informed that his grandfather had requested to ward one of his grandchildren and Harry was the 'lucky' pick to be shipped off.
Docking Oldtown.
The seat of Hightower gleamed high into the sky even from this distance, a league if his estimates are correct. Her white stone clashes in an eternal war against the rough waves of the sea, the waters trying to climb the blue sky. The sea gleams beneath him as the ship makes its way to the dock.
He can see the flame at the top of the Tower gleaming despite the bright midday sun. Taking a deep inhale and smiling as the salty breeze invades his senses, he closes his eyes and lets the faint sounds of the city reach his ears.
The last time he had seen the ocean was on his last visit to Dobby's resting place; he could just hear the wayward Elf as he praises Harry for something so simple as treating him as a person.
"Only a few more miles Lad," the voice of his uncle Garth meets his ear. The image behind his eyes fades as the dorky elf seems to wave goodbye in his mind.
Blinking his open eyes he lets his vision adjust to the bright sun before turning to look at his uncle, who has the unfortunate moniker, Garth the Gross. Having the unfortunate timing of throwing up in front of one of the ladies during his courting days, the poor man has been haunted by the incident ever since.
"Aye…" he says taking in the obnoxious amount of ships stationed as they dedock and export their foreign goods.
Reaching into his tunic Harry lets his fingers curl around the necklace holding a miniaturized mirror.
The tiny mirror necklace that he keeps tucked into his person is identical to the ones his other siblings have, not including the two youngest, at least until they are older and able to keep it a secret.
He without any hesitation put Willas in charge of determining when Margery and Loras were ready to be let in on the secret.
Trusting his judgment above most.
The necklace on his person and the ones he made for his siblings. It had taken him months to finalize it, and fortunately, he had a whole month of travel since Garth wanted to take the scenic route.
The jewelry he had made, is charmed with a monitoring spell, along with a sticky charm so no one, but the wearer can take the jewelry off. He also took inspiration from Hermione using the Protean Charm to allow them to relay messages through the white beads that will scrawl a letter, there are twelve on each bracelet. He had to tweak the spell to allow them to relay messages since the original was one-way.
Harry hasn't created a safe house for them yet, as he isn't old enough to venture on his own, but once he is. He'll have a portkey for every one of his family and then ward the land of his safe house to the ninths.
"-Okay?"
"You've been staring at the tower for some time." His uncle says, bringing him back to reality. He shakes his head letting his necklace fall back on his chest and gives his Uncle a recurring smile.
The older man is said to be the same age as Barristan the Bold. There is a healthy flush to his uncle's aged face as the heat of the sun causes him to sweat. His silver-spattered hair is tied into a low ponytail resting on a Tyrell green tunic with gold roses decorated on the arms and waist.
Harry thought it was funny how the houses tended to dress in their house colors and would shy away from any color from a 'rival house'.
However, he finds a lot of Westerosi customs strange.
"I'm fine uncle, just nervous," he pauses, "Grandfather had personally requested me, I'm not sure why?" He has an inkling though, given the rumors of his Aunt Malora otherwise known as The Mad Maid.
"I'm not privy to that knowledge either, young one," his Great-Uncle starts ", but I do know that he was very taken with you at your birth, he had to be chided by his daughter to hand you over after several hours."
"Still…" Harry mutters, wondering if this is just another person to has high expectations of him, only to be let down when he doesn't hold up.
The whole boy who lived is still a sore subject.
He just hopes there isn't another prophecy.
At least this one isn't about him…