The room was dark save for the golden runes blinking away like no tomorrow. Robb, Jon and Sansa were looking at the glow with wide bright eyes. Old Nan and her great-grandson Hodor watched the runes with worship in their eyes. Old Nan was even whispering a prayer to the Old Gods in the Old Tongue, the ancient language of the First Men which was fast disappearing even at the heart of First Men culture.

It was a crude language, primal even. Perhaps that's why the Old Tongue resonated well with raw magic.

Harry stayed focused on the task despite the audience. He had tried to do this discretely but Jon came across what he was doing. From Jon, Robb learned of what was happening. Unfortunately, Robb was staying with Sansa and that's how she came here. On the way Sansa let Old Nan know what was transpiring and so Old Nan came over to watch the spectacle. He had no idea how Hodor wandered in but he was sure there was a reasonable explanation.

Anyway, the runes glowing eerily on his hands were carefully crafted over the course of hours and perhaps even days if the time it took to make the ritual knife is to be counted. The ritual knife in his hands looked like it was made of pure gold. It was not pure good but it was gold all the same. It took some creative manoeuvring for him to possess that much gold but being the son of a Lord of Winterfell has its perks.

The ritual knife shined brightly as he carefully carved the runes in small circles around each of his fingers. It's a dangerous task but this remained the only way he could think of to hold greater amounts of magic within his body for the time being.

The runes were of Nordic origin just as most runic magic involved with the raw magic of the planet is concerned. The First Men runes were not suited for what he intended as the First Men rarely used to store magic in their body. The same could be said for the Children of Forest. They consecrated their hard-earned magic on Weirwood trees or the stone idols that they bury around the Heart Tree. There were some strange customs even among the Druids of this world. Sometimes, even he struggled to fathom the intricate customs Spring talks about, and he thought he had seen it all.

Anyway, Harry found an effective solution to his magic drain problem. Since it became clear that rune enforced objects can hold magic in considerable amounts in this world he decided to carve runes on his body. Not just any runes. These were runes carefully constructed over weeks of intense brainstorming designed to restrict the drain of magic from his body.

For an average wizard, three specific parts of the body are capable of releasing and absorbing magic in large quantities. Among the three the first place goes to the hands. It is well known that wrists are capable of releasing large quantities of magical energy. It's one of the reasons why wizards use wands, staffs and rings as conduits. The second place goes to the eyes followed by the legs.

Magic performed through a visual medium is often dangerous. Usually, it leads to wide-area spells that stretches the limits of a wizard. Often, this mode of magic is performed under extreme duress. Then there are the legs which are the weakest of the three in the case of wizards.

Anyway, the idea Harry was pushing through was to restrict the flow of magic from his wrists. Usually, creating blocks like these are not exactly healthy but in his case, it remained the only solution. If he is to conserve his magic and ensure he had the magic at his beck and call then this was the only way. Else, he might just become magically impotent by the time he reaches sixteen when his soul stabilizes in his body.

After carving the last piece of runes on his right pinkie finger he looked at the handiwork. All ten fingers now sported blood-red runes which looked like illegible scribbles to the untrained eye.

"Does it hurt?" asked Robb, concern shining in his eyes.

"I used a numbing charm on my hands. Someone could cut my hands off and I wouldn't feel a thing." said Harry, preparing to start the next step of the ritual missing the squeamish look on the faces of his audience.

Summoning the Elder Wand into his right hand Harry began drawing runes on the floor along with the pentagram. Rituals that involved any living beings required the use of pentagram. The five tips of the pentagram represented the basic forces of nature like Earth, Wind, Water, Fire and Lightning. It's not just about the forces of nature but also about the congruence of the feminine and masculine within oneself.

After completing the ritual circle Harry began placing six cups in specific places in the circle. Five cups were placed along a circular axis tracing a pentagon shape while the sixth was placed at the very centre of the pentagram. He filled three cups with mud, water, fire and the fourth he left it empty to signify the realm of wind or space. The fifth cup was a bit tricky but he drew the rune for power in place of lightning.

Now, only the sixth cup remained.

After dismissing the elder wand he took out the ritual knife once more. With the sharp edge pressing into the palm of his left hand, he squeezed hard letting his blood fill up the sixth cup. When the cup was half-filled with his blood Harry took the knife away from his palm.

Kneeling down Harry placed all ten of his fingers on the ground. He leaned down so that his face was hovering over the sixth cup.

"Illuminare." Harry breathed out into the cup.

The blood in the cup rippled six times and the runes lit up with a bright blue aura. There was a strong gust of wind signalling the pull of great amounts of chaotic magic. Seeing as he was performing the ritual inside one of the old chambers of the First Keep he was not so surprised. Just as Hogwarts sat on one of the Ley lines he was sure the First Keep was built over a similar one albeit not as strong as the one in Hogwarts.

The Pentagram slowly lost its blue glow in favour of taking on a golden hue. The magic suddenly rushed into his hands through his fingers lighting up the runes around his fingers. There was a blinding flash of light and then the ritual circle disappeared as did the contents of the six cups. The runes on his hand continued to glow eerily for a time before growing dimmer.

"It was beautiful. Do it again!" Sansa said, clapping her hands exuberantly.

"Maybe some other time." Harry said, which made Sansa pout. "All right folks the show is over. Now, let's take our leave before Maester Luwin somehow finds all of us and proceed to make our lives difficult."

They all took their leave and Harry slept soundly that night. The next day he was in the training yard trying desperately to keep up with the gruelling training exercises. He was padded up from head to toe. On his head, there was a helmet and the stupid visor messed with his vision. He could barely see anything in front of him and he felt like he was a tortoise pawing around trying to make a move.

"Harrion stop being lazy and swing that sword." Celos Poole ordered while tapping on Harry's helmet with a wooden sword.

Harry flinched and scowled inside the helmet. He so wanted to escape this ridiculous training but outside of using the Imperius curse, he could think of no other way to escape. Using the Unforgivables were reserved for the most desperate of moments. Besides, he doubted he is holding enough magic in his body to perform an Unforgivable curse. After all, the effects of the ritual would take six days to take effect.

So, with some effort, he began swinging the wooden sword in his hand a slash to the left, a slash to the right and finally a jab straight ahead with the tip. Just doing that made him huff and he was sweating up a mountain inside all the padding.

Stolen story; please report.

"Not bad Harrion. Now, keep those legs apart. Let me see some foot movements, boy." Celos grunted.

Harry grunted but acquiesced with his trainer's orders and tried his best but as always his best was not acceptable for Celos Poole. The man had it for him for some reason.

According to Celos Poole, Harry is a lazy slob, unlike his two siblings. He didn't totally disagree with the man. He has a lackadaisical attitude to the whole weapons training program put forth by Celos. It's not cause he has any disrespect for the man. He just didn't see much advantage in using weapons when he has magic on his side. In the worst-case scenario, he could always fall back on a knife as a hand to hand combat weapon. Swinging around swords is not his cup of tea.

'Tea!' he suddenly thought.

His mind conjured up the sweet aroma of hot tea. It felt like aeons since he tasted tea.

A blow to the back of his head broke him out of his daydream.

"What are ya doing boy? When you have a weapon in your hand you focus your mind on that and nothing else. Now, do those steps, this time no mistake or I'll make you run around the courtyard in those padding."

That threat roused Harry to focus. The last thing he wanted was to get stuck in this attire more than strictly necessary. Somehow, Harry managed to drag his feet through the training session. Robb and Jon on the other hand loved these sessions. They couldn't wait to get their hands on some true steel weapons.

He shuddered thinking about two boys swinging around large steel swords. His mind went back to that fateful day in Slytherin's Chamber where he was forced to use the sword of Gryffindor against the Basilisk. It was by sheer dumb luck he survived the Basilisk not to mention not getting skewered by the sword as well. While he certainly loved making swords he was not obsessed enough to use them in combat.

Mostly cause, there was no reason for him to use one. If Harry wanted someone cut in half he could use the Sectumsempra curse. Why use a sword and take the risk of getting outsmarted by the enemy when he could cut his enemies like ribbons with a wave of his wand? At least, that's the thought running through his mind but he was careful not to share that with anyone. The last thing he needed was for people to know that he can weaponize magic in such a way that'd trounce all the conventional weaponry.

After all, the North has a good track record in dealing with those who weaponized magic in the past. Examples of the old Greenseers and the Warg King came to his mind. The Winter Kings of old slaughtered all those magic users and their male progeny. The female heirs were then married into House Stark strengthening the bloodline. He wondered if there was some hidden magical potential among his siblings.

Waddling off to the small shack close to the courtyard, Harry started the process of getting out of the bulky padding. Robb and Jon joined him a bit later as they were far too enthusiastic to beat each other with a wooden sword in the mud.

"You ran away before we could have a bout." Robb accused stepping into the shack followed by Jon.

"It's called a tactical retreat brother." Harry shot back while struggling with the padding tied around his back.

"I'll help." Jon offered, making Harry turn his back to half-brother.

"You are making that up. You are afraid I'll beat you." said Robb.

Harry detected a hint of smugness from his twin but he let it slide. Harry was more than aware Robb was a bit disappointed that he could not perform magic. Perhaps, this was Robb's way of coping with the envy rearing up.

"You're right, of course. My two brothers are so skilled with a sword and it makes me afraid." said Harry.

Being the children that they were, both Robb and Jon believed him going by their shared identical grin.

'Kids! So gullible.' Harry thought amusedly.

After shedding off their protective gear Harry, Robb and Jon stepped out of the shack. The next bit of activity on their schedule was to go play hide and seek with Sansa who should be free from her sewing lessons. Instead, they faced an irate Catelyn Stark outside the shack waiting for them with an exasperated Maester Luwin.

Just one look at the reddening face of his mother Harry knew there was trouble. She shouldn't be here and should be busy redecorating the castle in preparation for the King's arrival. So, the fact that she is out in the open especially in the courtyard means they were in big trouble.

"It's a nice day we are having. Warm sun and all."

Harry's misguided attempt at diffusing the tension backfired spectacularly. His mother fished out a piece of black cloth on which a yellow Pentagram was stitched and shoved it to his face.

"Why is your sister obsessed with this and why is she saying this is the symbol of the Old Gods? While you are at it explain to me what in the name of gods Old and New made you carve on your flesh with a knife?"

Harry stared at Catelyn gobsmacked before turning to his two siblings for support. To his surprise, they were nowhere to be seen.

"Traitors!" he muttered.

The door closed firmly on his back and Harry let out a sigh. He was back in his room and this time there was double the guards standing outside his door. His mother was not taking any chances and was intent on seeing that he serve out his punishment term.

'Good thing I had the presence of mind to sneak in some books from the library. It's going to be a long week.' Harry thought before jumping into the bed with a book from his secret collection.

XXXXXXX

Tywin Lannister went through the reports in his solar written by his kin in Lannisport. The extent of damage the Greyjoys have dealt them was truly massive. He didn't worry about the gold lost cause he was going to wring that out of those thieving Ironborn for everything they took with interest.

No. Rather he was worried about the precarious position he found himself in owing to the lack of a Lannister fleet. One night his family possessed the strongest fleet in the Sunset Sea after the Redwynes and the next morning they didn't. Even if he has the gold to build the fleet back he lacked the expert hands to do so. The Greyjoys were thorough in their attack. It's one of the reasons why he put a twenty thousand gold dragons bounty on Euron Greyjoy's head. Sadly, the youngest of Greyjoy brothers were nowhere to be found.

'No matter. The Kraken will eventually find himself between the Lion's jaws.' he thought.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts.

"Come in." said Tywin before going back to reviewing the reports and cataloguing possible remedies he thought the ports should take.

"My Lord Lannister, a message from your brother Lord Gerion." said Maester Creylen, placing the sealed parchment on his table.

"Anything else?" he asked without looking up from his work.

"The preparations for the Tourney and the victory celebrations are coming along well, my lord. But..." Creylen hesitated.

"But what?"

"Shall I send invites to Dorne?"

That gave Tywin pause and look up at Maester Creylen.

"Send out the invites. Let them decide whether they participate or not." said Tywin.

"Of course, my lord." Maester Creylen bowed before taking his leave.

Once he was alone Tywin took Gerion's message into his hands. Breaking the seal he read through the contents of the parchment. By the end of it, he was of two minds regarding the contents of the letter. King Robert in his infinite wisdom has decided to travel straight to Winterfell instead of accepting his invitation for the tourney. Thankfully, he was prepared and had yet to send out the specific date to any lords. But, it still left a sour impression in his mind that his good-son thought to spurn him.

On the other hand, Gerion has chosen to travel to Winterfell with Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark. Apparently, the King has commissioned a Valyrian Steel warhammer from his dearest friend. This interested him very much and Gerion's presence will gain him some good information about this Harrion Stark. If Eddard Stark's son was indeed capable of forging Valyrian Steel then he'd have the boy make one for his family to replace their long lost ancestral sword Brightroar.

Perhaps, it'd be in his interest to have Harrion Stark as a part of his family. He could even offer the boy a lordship in the Westerlands with a Lannister bride. He was sure either of Stafford's daughters would be a suitable match for the Stark boy.

Or maybe, his daughter would be having a girl this time around. After all, Cersei was with child. He'd have never thought to give away a princess' hand to a second son but if the Stark boy can make Valyrian Steel then it remained imperative to tie the boy close to the family by any means. Even Robert would love to tie the Stark and Baratheon bloodlines together.

But, those were plans for the future. There are a great many enemies he could see on the horizon. Robert remained blind to them and was hunting the Targaryen siblings when those resources could be better spent on the enemies close to home. The Reach and Dorne were dangerous foes. Unlike any other time in the past, the Tyrells enjoyed an iron grip over the Reach lords thanks to carefully manoeuvring themselves after the Blackfyre Rebellions and marrying into their regional rivals. The Hightowers and Redwynes were now kin with the Tyrells. Only the Florents remained estranged with the Wardens of the South.

It remains to be seen whether House Florent would prove to be useful in undermining House Tyrell. He was not blind to those ambitious up-jumped servants and their schemes with Renly. They were for the moment worming their way into Robert's good graces through the youngest Baratheon. Tywin was keeping a watch and for the moment the Tyrells were content with sending expensive gifts and what not to the young lord of Storm's End.

The real threat however was from the Martells. They were silent, too silent in his opinion. There was something brewing in the sands of Dorne and he'd be there to foil their plans. They crossed him one time with betrothing Elia Martell to Rhaegar. He paid them back for that insult and if they persist in crossing his path again he'd teach them a valuable lesson.

Lions are the kings of the forest. His blood will sit on the Iron Throne thereby forging a dynasty that shall last for ages. Anything that threatens this legacy of his will be culled from the Seven Kingdoms.