The following morning, the lords prepared to return to their own lands. They were all tired, and no doubt had matters waiting for them in their territories.
Harry simply watched them depart from the top of the tower until they disappeared beyond the horizon.
The cold breeze brushed against his face as he stood there staring into the distance.
Letting out a sigh, he cheered up when he remembered the small plot of land that had grown so well and how he still needed to show it to his father.
Heading down the stairs, he went looking for his parents. After asking around, he learned that both of them happened to be in the Lord's study.
Catelyn had several documents spread before her as she explained everything that had happened during the past months so Ned could resume control of things.
"Good morning," Harry said as he entered with a small smile.
"Good morning," Ned replied, smiling at his son.
Catelyn smiled warmly and gestured for him to come closer.
"I see you took good care of the castle while I was away," Ned said, remembering the small promise they had made. His thumb gently rubbed the ring Harry had given him.
"Hm, not only that. Mother and I have something to show you," Harry said with a chuckle, exchanging a conspiratorial glance with her.
"That's right. Vayon has been impatient about it as well," Catelyn said with a soft laugh.
Ned looked genuinely confused. His gaze shifted between the two of them, unsure what to say.
"Come on, let's not waste time," Harry said as he grabbed his father's hand and helped pull him to his feet.
Catelyn smiled as her fingers passed through Harry's hair while the three of them left the keep.
Since they were leaving the castle, Ned brought ten guards with him and carried his sword as well.
After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at the place.
It was located a few dozen yards from the wall.
A strip of land surrounded by a low stone barrier stretched before them, and vigorous crops grew across it.
Vayon had increased security after noticing how quickly and strongly the plants were growing.
Ned looked at the cultivated plot with confusion.
From this distance, it looked like wheat, but it should not have been ready for harvest yet.
Looking at the nearby fields, he saw that most of them barely had sprouts.
They looked completely different from what he was seeing here.
Even if this had been planted before he left for the war, it should not have been ready yet.
Moreover, the heads of grain looked unusually thick and carried a faint bluish tint beneath their normal brown color.
Confused, he turned to look at his wife.
Catelyn was gazing at the plants with a beautiful smile.
"Father, this is rye. A variety that's highly resistant to the cold. It can grow normally even with very little sunlight," Harry said.
To Catelyn's amusement, Ned's expression was truly worth seeing.
He remained silent for several seconds before stepping forward and running a hand across the rye, as though making sure it was real.
He had far too many questions.
"It could have been harvested three days ago, but I wanted to wait until you returned so you could see it yourself," Harry said with a smile. After all, who knew whether his father would have believed it if they had merely told him?
Fortunately, the cold climate meant there were very few insects or pests, so not only had it grown well, but even after maturing it had remained untouched.
"Let's go back and discuss this," Ned said, still somewhat stunned.
Catelyn and Harry merely smiled as they walked behind him, sharing an amused glance.
Vayon was also given permission to begin the harvest. He promised that not a single seed would be lost.
Back in Ned's study, he sat down and looked at them expectantly.
Catelyn let out a quiet laugh before beginning to recount everything that had happened since Ned had gone to war.
She explained how Harry had acquired various plants and brewed a potion.
Her eyes deepened slightly as she described how the potion seemed capable of accelerating several days of plant growth in only a few seconds.
Harry simply curled his lips at the repeated praise and the occasional glance his mother sent his way.
Ned calmed down surprisingly quickly.
In fact, he took the entire matter much more calmly than Catelyn had expected.
His gaze briefly fell upon the ring on his finger as he remembered what had happened in the heat of battle.
Letting out a breath, he looked toward his wife with a sense of relief.
She was intelligent.
Surely she suspected that magic was involved.
If she had chosen not to mention it, then she had silently accepted this part of their son.
That realization filled him with relief.
"And what are your plans now?" Ned asked, turning his attention to Harry.
The question immediately brought a broad smile to Harry's face.
With his father's support, his plans would proceed much more smoothly.
"I plan to plant the seeds again so we can produce a much larger harvest later. We should strive for good harvests every year. Once we have enough seeds, we can reward the Houses closest to us by allowing them to use our seeds as well."
"If we eliminate famine and increase the population, we'll be able to make better use of the land and improve people's lives," Harry said, a light shining in his eyes.
Ned looked at his son with a somewhat distant expression.
He saw an ambition in Harry that he himself lacked, and one that many of the old Lords Stark had lacked as well.
"Hm, you have my support. If you need anything, just tell me," Ned said with a serious nod.
"For now, I'll keep working with Vayon. We'll probably need money and workers," Harry replied.
"I'll tell him to listen to you in everything," Ned said naturally.
Harry smiled and left the matter there.
His father had only just returned home and surely wanted some rest.
So for the remainder of the day, Harry relaxed his routine and spent time with his family.
That evening, Vayon informed him that all the rye had been harvested and stored inside large containers within the castle.
Harry instructed him to guard it carefully and promised to inspect it the following day.
After a good night's sleep, Harry woke up in high spirits.
He washed, ate breakfast, and then headed to one of the castle's storage buildings where the harvested grain had been kept.
Examining the containers filled with seeds, Harry plunged a hand into them and watched as they slipped through his fingers.
Their bluish hue gave them an almost magical appearance, and they smelled pleasant as well.
Chuckling softly, he felt that all the effort had been worth it.
With this, they would be able to plant an area ten times larger.
Of course, with such a vast amount of land involved, Harry could not accelerate its growth with the potion.
Even so, he would have them water the seeds with a diluted version, at least to ensure that none of them were lost.
"Where do you think we should plant these?" Harry asked without looking behind him.
"If they're truly as resistant to the cold as you say, then somewhere near the river would be best. It's about thirty kilometers from Winter Town and would make irrigation much easier," Vayon said, not even considering replacing the fields already planted around the castle.
"I trust your judgment. Make sure they grow well," Harry said, choosing not to interfere further.
His job was to create opportunities for the North.
Those opportunities also had to be entrusted to capable men.
"Oh, and one more thing. Grind some of it and bake bread for lunch. I want to see how it tastes," Harry said before leaving.
"I won't disappoint you, Young Lord," Vayon replied with a respectful nod.
He knew a great change was taking shape in the North under Harry's guidance, and he considered himself fortunate to be part of it.
Harry quickly left and headed toward the maester's tower.
He was running somewhat late for his lesson.
"Harry," Luwin said with a smile as he greeted him.
"Maester Luwin," Harry replied before taking his seat.
"Shall we continue our lesson on the Houses of the North?" Luwin asked, smiling at his best student.
Teaching Harry was always something he enjoyed.
The boy was capable of holding deep conversations on a wide range of topics, and some of his questions had left even Luwin speechless.
"Yes. Today was House Bolton, wasn't it?" Harry asked, tilting his head while resting an elbow on the table.
"House Bolton is a very old and... interesting House," Maester Luwin said slowly, choosing his words with care.
"Before the Starks became Kings of the North, thousands of years ago, they had rivals. One of those rivals was House Bolton."
Harry listened attentively while forming a picture of the situation in his mind.
"They were powerful and ruthless, though ruthlessness was not necessarily considered a bad thing in those days. Even so, this House has always been known for being dishonorable, treacherous, and cruel. As their sigil suggests, they flayed their victims," Luwin said with visible discomfort.
"They called themselves the Red Kings. Their lands were vast, and they fought House Stark for a very long time."
"When the Andals arrived on the continent, they submitted to the Starks for protection, though it is known they rebelled more than once afterward," Maester Luwin explained.
"If they've rebelled more than once, why not simply wipe them out?" Harry asked, confused.
Luwin looked at him in surprise.
It was a remarkably sharp question.
"I'm afraid only the Lord Stark of that era could answer that," Luwin said, unwilling to offer his own opinion.
"There were several notable members of this House," Luwin continued as he pulled out a parchment.
Harry listened carefully to the rest of the lesson, though a thoughtful look remained on his face the entire time.
....
After his studies with Maester Luwin, Harry went looking for his father.
Unfortunately, he found him busy, so he wandered toward the library to pass the time.
The library was warm despite its immense size.
The accumulation of more than a thousand years' worth of books never failed to excite him.
Harry believed that even if he dedicated his entire life to reading them, he would never finish.
The thought filled him with regret.
Walking deeper inside, he scanned the titles along the spines while searching for something interesting.
Suddenly, his eyes stopped on a particular book.
The Testimony of Mushroom.
Confused by the ridiculous title, Harry pulled it from the shelf and began reading.
It did not take long for him to realize it was a copy of the accounts written by a court fool nearly two hundred years ago.
Within its pages, the fool described various events at court, most of them in a satirical manner.
Harry found the stories surprisingly entertaining and sat down to read more carefully.
One of the main reasons for his interest was that dragons still flew through the skies of Westeros during that period, and the fool mentioned them constantly.
The fool himself was an interesting person.
He dared to love, hate, and curse his masters openly.
Harry spent more than an hour reading.
A constant amused smile remained on his face as he enjoyed the fool's mockery of everyone he disliked.
Then his smile vanished completely.
According to Mushroom, a Targaryen prince had once come north with his dragon.
The dragon had supposedly laid a clutch of eggs deep within the crypts of Winterfell.
Harry felt his entire body itch at the idea of acquiring dragon eggs.
Even if they had turned to stone, he could still learn a great deal about the dragons of this world.
Not to mention that hot springs flowed beneath the castle, their temperatures remaining remarkably high.
Harry hesitated.
In theory, it was possible.
But there were too many gaps in the story.
How could the Lord of Winterfell at the time have allowed a dragon into the crypts?
Could an adult dragon even fit through the entrance?
From everything he had heard, dragons were enormous once fully grown.
Shaking his head, he dismissed the idea as nonsense.
He was not about to dig through the tombs of his ancestors based solely on the words of a fool.
Besides, he had no doubt that the Lord Stark of that era had likely been made aware of the story as well.
Perhaps he had searched for the eggs himself.
Or perhaps he had chosen to respect the resting place of his ancestors.
In either case, this was not the time to find out.
Closing the book, Harry sighed.
Too many tales.
Returning it to its place on the shelf, he headed off to see whether his father was finally free.
Arriving at his father's study, Harry was fortunate enough to find him alone this time.
The two of them had not had a chance to speak privately since Ned returned from the war, and Harry was curious whether they had gained any interesting spoils.
"Father, are you busy?" Harry asked with a smile, resting his forearms on the desk.
"A little, but tell me, what do you need?" Ned replied, his expression softening at the sight of his son.
"I wanted to talk to you about a few things," Harry said before taking a seat.
"First, I was curious about what we gained from the war," Harry said, looking at his father.
Ned set aside what he had been working on and folded his hands together as he regarded his curious son.
"If you're talking about spoils, we gained nothing," Ned answered simply.
"Though if we're talking about gaining something, there is one thing. A responsibility. Balon Greyjoy's heir was brought to Winterfell as both a hostage and a ward," Ned said, frowning slightly, uncomfortable with having such an unstable element inside his castle.
"He's ten years old, and from now on he'll be living here. He's a bit rebellious and foul-mouthed, so try to be patient with him," Ned said with a sigh.
He had not introduced him to the family yet. For now, Rodrik was explaining how things worked in the North.
Harry frowned deeply, almost ignoring the part about his father taking on a ward.
"What do you mean we gained nothing?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"Well, the Iron Islands are poor. There are no mines, treasures, or grain worth mentioning. Even if there were, the war was fought to suppress a rebellion, not to conquer them. Looting them would only encourage future retaliation," Ned explained calmly.
"And what about the king? Shouldn't he reward the North?" Harry asked.
"We are his vassals. Obedience is only natural," Ned replied.
Harry stared at his father with disbelief.
For a moment, he almost wanted to curse and ask why he had rebelled against the Targaryens then.
"Never mind. I didn't come here to talk about that," Harry said, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
There was nothing to gain from arguing with his father.
He was not Lord Stark yet.
When he became Lord Stark, he would do things his own way.
Harry remained silent for a moment before looking carefully at his father.
There was something that had not sat right with him for a long time.
His father was good to Jon, but whenever he looked at him... it wasn't the same way he looked at Harry or his other children.
Still, if that were the only thing, he would never have dared confront his father.
"I want to talk about Jon," Harry said.
Immediately, he noticed the subtle reactions from his father.
Ned seemed to become defensive at once.
Harry could have read his father's surface thoughts. With a single glance, he might have learned everything.
But he didn't.
There had to be limits to the use of magic. Not everything should be under one's control.
At the very least, his family would never be touched by his Legilimency.
"What about Jon?" Ned asked, maintaining an appearance of calm.
"He's not your son," Harry said.
The tiny reactions from his father were enough to confirm that something significant surrounded Jon's birth.
The brief tremor in his eyes.
The subtle shift in his posture.
It was all too obvious.
If Ned did not know how close Harry was to Jon, he might have misunderstood the statement.
But he knew Harry treated Jon as a brother and had often clashed with Catelyn in order to keep him close.
"I don't believe you ever betrayed my mother. I've always admired how much you value your word. I think you're keeping Jon's birth a secret because you gave your word to someone else as well," Harry said with a sigh.
His father's word was worth more than gold.
It was proven by the way he seemed willing to obey Robert without expecting anything in return simply because Robert was his king, the man he had sworn to serve.
Ned's expression became noticeably conflicted.
He felt sadness and frustration over having to keep the secret, but his features hardened as he remembered the consequences of revealing it.
"I'm not as perfect as you think," Ned said with a strained smile.
"I've studied the records of the war. The places you stayed, the roads you traveled... things just don't quite add up. Unless Jon wasn't your son, but someone else's," Harry said, watching his father's fist tighten for a brief moment.
"If he were Uncle Brandon's son, there'd be no reason to hide it. I've heard stories about my uncle... it wouldn't be surprising."
"But if he were Lyanna's son—"
"Enough," Ned said quietly, frowning at his son.
"I see. I understand. That's a rather dangerous secret. Who knows how Robert would react?" Harry said, accepting it as fact.
"Jon is my son," Ned said firmly.
"He may be someone's son, but not yours. I've confirmed that much," Harry replied, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he fixed his father with an incredibly confident look.
Ned's confidence wavered when he met those bright green eyes.
His thumb unconsciously rubbed the ring on his finger once more.
"This secret is hurting Mother and Jon. At the very least, you should tell Mother. Jon is suffering because of how she's treating him," Harry said seriously.
Ned suppressed a sigh.
It was difficult to reconcile those words with a boy barely older than eight.
"I'll tell Mother myself," Harry said, losing some patience when it seemed his father intended to pretend nothing was wrong.
Ned rubbed his forehead.
The headache was beginning to form.
His son truly did not fear him in the slightest.
"It's not as simple as you think," Ned said.
"Then at least pay attention to what's happening. Jon won't grow up healthy if this continues," Harry replied.
For several seconds, Ned remained silent.
He stared into Harry's green eyes.
His son's gaze never wavered.
It seemed to tell him that he would never give up.
Part of him wanted to ask what an eight-year-old knew about growing up healthy.
Instead, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"Fine. I'll speak to your mother later. But not a word of this to anyone," Ned said sternly.
"Fine. But you just admitted it," Harry replied with a grin.
Ned shot him an irritated look, causing Harry to leave the solar with a quiet laugh.
Once alone, Ned could not help reflecting on Harry's words.
Perhaps he was not fully honoring the promise he had made to Lyanna.
First, he would observe Jon.
He wanted to know whether Harry's concerns were truly justified.
Looking at the time and realizing it was nearly lunch, Ned went to find Theon before bringing him to the dining hall.
Contrary to what he had expected, the boy did not seem uncomfortable with his situation.
He carried himself with confidence.
Ned did not know whether Balon had assured him that no one here would dare harm him, but he carried himself as though he were the heir to Winterfell.
Shaking his head, Ned entered the dining hall.
Much of the family was already there.
Without much preamble, Ned introduced Theon Greyjoy as his ward.
He did not mention that the boy was a hostage.
Nor that he was the son of a rebel.
As his ward, Theon was seated at the same table as the rest of the family.
Harry immediately began asking him questions about the Iron Islands.
Perhaps because Harry was the heir to Winterfell, Theon answered every one of them.
The boy also seemed familiar with the members of House Stark.
It was hardly a secret, and perhaps Balon had provided him with the information so he could adapt more easily.
Not paying further attention to the conversation, Ned looked toward his wife.
While Catelyn did not seem pleased by the castle's newest resident, neither did she appear particularly displeased.
It was then that the word bastard reached his ears.
For a brief moment, the table fell silent.
Ned's attention snapped toward the source.
Jon had lowered his gaze slightly.
Watching him more closely than ever before, Ned noticed his hand tightening around his utensils until his knuckles turned white.
Jon did not even seem to have the courage to defend himself.
Or to answer back.
Ned could not help but think of Lyanna.
She probably would have punched Theon already.
His gaze drifted for a moment.
Harry had been right.
He was not taking proper care of Jon.
Before Ned could say anything, Harry's voice rang across the table with surprising force.
"I'll let it pass since it's your first time, but if you ever call my brother that again, I'll remind you why you're in this house."
Harry looked directly at Theon.
His green eyes seemed to shine with a certainty that left no room for argument.
Theon tried to hold his gaze.
Yet visibly intimidated, he awkwardly nodded before lowering his eyes to his plate.
He did not know what was wrong with him.
But those green eyes frightened him more than speaking with his father ever had.
For a moment, the entire dining hall fell silent.
Guards and servants alike were seeing a different side of Harry for the first time.
He always seemed cheerful.
Always smiling.
Always treating everyone kindly.
Seeing that commanding side of him created a striking contrast.
It reminded everyone present exactly who would one day become their lord.
Rodrik let out a grunt to keep himself from laughing.
For a moment, he thought he could see the figure of a great lord inside the body of an eight-year-old boy.
It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he disliked that little Ironborn brat.
Ned noticed Harry glance toward him.
It was as though he was reminding him of their earlier conversation.
Ned answered with a slight nod.
He had promised to observe.
Yet a single incident had been enough to convince him.
His sister would never have wanted her son to live like this.
Suddenly, the smell of freshly baked bread eased the tension hanging over the room.
"Oh! It's here. Come on, try the bread made from the new seeds," Harry said with a smile, gesturing for a maid to cut and distribute it, setting the unpleasant moment aside.
Everyone's interest was immediately piqued.
The small conflict seemed to fade into the background.
The crisp sound of the bread echoed through the hall as people took their first bites.
"It's delicious," Catelyn said with pleasant surprise.
Ned merely grunted in approval and continued eating.
His mind did not seem entirely present.
Harry sampled the bread as well.
It was indeed somewhat different from wheat, but in his opinion it was quite delicious.
The people of the North would surely like it.
To begin with, they were not particularly demanding when it came to food.
This was only the beginning.
One day, every table in the North would have this bread upon it.