Harry stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall outside the birthing chamber.
Ned, his father, sat beside him with a stony expression.
But Harry knew that the more expressionless his father appeared, the more anxiety he was hiding. The slight movement of his fingers and the restless look in his eyes told him he was nowhere near as calm as he seemed.
Harry couldn't blame him. At that moment, he too felt anxious. His mother's labor was taking far too long.
The faint sounds of groans, labored breathing, and voices urging her to push were truly driving him to his limit.
His foot tapped the floor incessantly, and a faint cry from inside the room finally made him lose all patience.
"To hell with this," Harry said before walking toward the door.
"Harry, let's wait a little longer," Ned said, frowning slightly.
Harry didn't listen and reached out to open the door, only to discover it was locked from the inside.
Feeling an inexplicable surge of panic, Harry extended his hand toward the door.
"Alohomora."
Ned froze and stared at his son in astonishment as he spoke in a language and with an accent he had never heard before.
A loud metallic click echoed as the lock sprang open.
By the time he reacted, Harry had already opened the door.
Ned took a step forward, but the door closed before he could say anything.
Even so, a strange sense of relief washed over him.
The moment he entered, Harry was immediately bombarded by voices telling him he couldn't be there, and in fact, he felt slightly dizzy the instant he saw a baby's head emerging from between his mother's legs.
But the blood covering the bed and his Occlumency immediately brought him back to reality.
Looking at the three women, his eyes couldn't help showing anger, even though he rationally knew this situation wasn't their fault.
"Enough. Keep doing your job," Harry said. His eyes shone with a hypnotic light, causing the women to freeze.
Harry quickly moved past them and slipped a hand into his coat as he walked toward his mother, pulling out a red potion.
Leaning down beside her on the bed, he looked at her gently.
"Open your mouth," Harry said softly, pain evident in his eyes as he saw the state his mother was in.
Catelyn, whose hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, looked at her son in confusion before instinctively obeying him. She immediately swallowed the bitter-tasting liquid. As it traveled down her throat, it became a wave of warmth that eased some of the pain she was feeling and seemed to renew her strength.
Holding his mother's hand, the delivery proceeded normally until the baby was finally born.
Harry buried the memories of what had happened that day deep within his mind. In the end, he could only be grateful that everything had turned out well.
The following day, everything seemed to have returned to normal, except for the new member of the family.
Neither his mother asked about the potion, nor did his father ask about the spell he had used in front of him, which made Harry feel relieved, as he still wasn't entirely sure what exactly to say.
Even so, an incredibly strong sense of trust had formed in both Ned and Catelyn toward Harry. They both fully understood that their son was something beyond ordinary men.
Harry yawned as he started a new day. At breakfast, it seemed that no one had gotten a good night's sleep because of the baby's crying.
In fact, he looked the most well-rested of them all, thanks to his magic making up for the lack of sleep.
Having decided to sleep in his tower for the next few months, he began eating while watching Arya look at Rickon with curiosity.
The little boy barely had any auburn hair, adding another redhead to the family.
It was curious that only he and Arya had ended up with black hair.
"Can I hold him?" Arya asked with a smile.
"You can't," Sansa said, looking at her.
"I wasn't asking you," Arya replied, pursing her lips.
"Not yet, sweetheart. He's still very delicate. Let's wait a few days, alright?" Catelyn said with a smile.
"Alright," Arya said, suddenly losing interest.
Harry merely smiled. Whenever it came to arguing with Arya, Sansa seemed to lose all of her usual calm demeanor.
After breakfast, Harry went to see his colt—or rather, he could no longer call him a colt. After nearly a year, he had grown considerably and was now the same size as a full-grown horse, thanks, of course, to Harry's potions.
Normally, a horse could be ridden at three years of age. Harry hoped to ride him at two.
There were still about six months to go.
As soon as Ater saw him approaching, he snorted while pawing impatiently at the ground.
"Hey, how did you sleep? I slept terribly," Harry said with a smile as he walked in and stroked his head.
Ater let out a soft snort while rubbing his head against Harry. After nearly a year of constant struggles, Harry had finally managed to tame him, and thanks to the potions and a little blood magic, he was not only stronger than an ordinary horse but also more intelligent.
A true magical bond had been established between them.
"I see they've already fed you. Go run around the castle, but remember not to trample anyone," Harry said, lightly patting his neck.
Ater snorted as if to say he wasn't stupid before galloping away in a cloud of dust.
After letting Ater out, Harry left the stables and walked toward the maester's tower. Looking up, he saw a large white ball in the window of his tower.
He couldn't help smiling as he watched the large owl sleeping. Shaking his head, he continued on his way.
Harry arrived at the maester's tower. He had already learned about all the Houses of Westeros and their histories. Now, the only thing that truly interested him was languages.
To be specific, Valyrian. Although in Westeros it was mostly used by nobles to show off, in Essos it was still widely spoken.
Not to mention that many of the books and scrolls in the library were written in Valyrian.
His progress had been remarkably fast. He had already mastered Bastard Valyrian, a language derived from the original Valyrian that emerged after the Doom of Valyria, when the few who escaped the catastrophe mixed with other peoples, creating this hybrid tongue.
Now he was learning what was known as High Valyrian, the original language of Valyria.
It would be useful when he traveled to Essos. He was quite interested in the so-called Free Cities, their customs, and their magic, which, according to what he had learned, was much more active than in Westeros.
Thinking about magic, he suddenly stopped in front of Maester Luwin's door.
Extending his palm, he murmured a spell before mist condensed in his hand, forming numbers.
3.2
Looking at the number, Harry gave a slight nod before waving his hand and dispersing the mist.
As he grew older and time passed, he somehow had the feeling that the ambient magic was increasing.
Because of that uncertainty, he had developed a simple spell to measure the magical density in the surrounding environment.
He had been collecting data, and although the decimal values could fluctuate within a single day, the overall range remained quite stable.
However, since last year, the ambient magic had increased by approximately 0.5.
He didn't know what was causing this increase in magic, or whether he himself had anything to do with it, but if it continued to rise, it was very likely that things would become much more eventful across the continent.
Shaking his head, Harry entered the tower for his lesson.
After two hours of studying languages with Luwin, Harry went to the library and tried to continue reading the book using the words he had just learned.
Thanks to Occlumency, his ability to remember and learn was excellent. He only had to see a word a couple of times and know its meaning to learn it.
Of course, reading and writing were one thing; he was having some trouble with the pronunciation.
After reading, he went to his study and spoke with Vayon about the grain. Another excellent harvest had come from the fields, leaving Vayon unable to stop smiling. He was always in a good mood for a few days afterward.
Hearing that the number of aurochs had nearly reached two thousand head left Harry quite satisfied. It had almost been a year now, and he had a good surplus of magical plants, so he would send another batch of potions. After that, he would let things develop naturally, just as he had with agriculture.
"Will we send grain to the noble Houses that still don't have it?" Vayon asked, looking at Harry. The more Houses cultivated the new grain, the greater the abundance would become.
That would not only be reflected in livestock. The population would increase, and naturally, so would tax revenues.
They were already preparing to begin exporting grain to the south and to Essos, although the bluish color of the grains frightened people, so they were encountering some difficulties.
Harry fell silent and thought the matter over for a while. He still felt uncomfortable giving grain to Houses he distrusted. It felt as though he were doing a favor for someone who wanted nothing more than to see him fall.
"No, let's wait a little longer," Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment.
Vayon did not question Harry's decision. In any case, the granaries were full, and the people of Winter Town were living well.
That was enough for him.
Harry had personally overseen several granaries to ensure there would be no problems, so he wasn't concerned about storing large quantities of grain.
Muttering to himself, Harry concluded that what he needed most was time and money.
The North was now rich in food, but when it came to gold dragons, it was probably the poorest region in all of Westeros.
Harry couldn't help grimacing at the thought.
There was still much to do: discover metal deposits, gather manpower, recruit blacksmiths, and continue testing the loyalty of the Houses whose allegiance remained questionable.
Sighing and scratching his head, Harry decided that discovering mineral deposits was the most practical thing he could do at the moment.
He would have to create a few more spells. To do that, he would first need to gather certain metals to calibrate the enchantment.
Looking at Vayon, Harry gave him a few orders before calling it a day.
....
That night.
The stars shone brightly above Winterfell.
Dim torches danced in the wind atop the walls, with soldiers patrolling in the distance.
Harry gazed at the scenery in confusion.
Suddenly, everything seemed to move incredibly fast. Then a mouse appeared, followed by a pair of talons that seized it with perfect precision.
The sensation of the owl's talons sinking into flesh caused Harry to jolt awake in his bed.
His mind was still somewhat confused. Looking toward the window, he saw that it was open. Remembering his dream, he couldn't help wearing a strange expression.
Something felt different. Paying closer attention, he noticed what seemed to be a thread connecting him to his owl. Almost instinctively, Harry tugged at the thread linking them.
This caused the great owl, which had been feasting on a mouse near the castle, to suddenly stop and look toward Winterfell. Without letting go of its prey, it immediately took flight and flew back to the castle.
The owl landed on the windowsill, and Harry immediately saw the dead mouse clutched in its talons—the very same mouse he had seen in his dream.
Only then did he remember the book he had read about magic.
Skinchanging.
An innate form of magic. As long as you shared a genuine emotional bond with a creature, you could see what it saw and feel what it felt. With enough practice, you could even control it as though it were your own body.
Harry assumed this ability came from his bloodline, since it was not uncommon for the Starks to possess it, or at least that was what the records claimed.
Being a wizard himself, Harry quickly understood the principles behind it.
The sensation was a little strange at first. It was as though he put the owl's consciousness to sleep so he could take over its body.
Its limbs didn't feel like his own, yet he was able to move them all the same. Even so, that unfamiliar sensation made his first attempts somewhat clumsy.
Watching the owl raise its wings and make different movements, Harry couldn't help chuckling.
Releasing the connection, Harry lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. The owl, meanwhile, looked down at the mouse in its talons in confusion, with the strange feeling that it had somehow missed something.
But seeing its master asleep, the owl silently flew back to the window and continued eating the mouse.
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