A new Harry Potter - Game of Thrones Crossover.

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Gazing down upon one of the many paved courtyards of the mountainous keep, Jon Arryn watched his sons play knights and dragons. Only one of the children was his by blood of course, though he had raised the other two for such a long time that they might as well be his own. It had surprised him and his vassals when he had married for a second time. When his first wife passed without baring an heir he feared his bloodline would die with him.

However, into his life came the passionate and free Rowena. Lovely, lovely Rowena. Strong, stubborn and with a wanderlust greater than any, she had walked into his home and heart and stayed there firmly rooted. She had only been his for three short years, but they had been the best of his admittedly long life.

Even more miraculous than the beautiful young woman falling in love with an old man like him, was the gift she bore him. Their son, Harald. He was born a healthy boy he recalled, squealing long and loud the day he was born, as if to let all the Vale hear the birth of the Heir of House Arryn.

Harry, as he came to be preferred, had only been with his mother close to two years before she had been taken from them. A fever during the winter years was a sure death sentence in the Vale, even with the expert help of a Maester. Rowena passed, and left him alone to raise his little falcon. Luckily it didn't remain so for long, his old friends Steffon and Rickard sent their sons to foster with him in the Vale, as the only other Paramount they truly trusted.

Eddard was a good boy, though he was easily led astray by the more boisterous Robert. Jon had feared Harry wouldn't react well to the change, but the boy had a maturity about him even then that surprised him constantly. Harry took to them well, treating them like favoured older brothers and toddled behind them everywhere they went.

It wasn't until Harry was four years of age however, that he truly started to notice the strange things about his child. Harry was smart. Far too smart. Maester Colemon, a very young and newly minted Maester, had told him stories from the citadel of the Gifted. Children who are born with heightened intelligence and cognitive ability. He considered this a blessing and saw to it that Harry had as much knowledge and mentorship as he could possibly want. Colemon's theory soon proved true, as the more he fed Harry's mind, the more and more the boy seemed to consume. However, it wasn't just smarts that set Harry apart from others in his eyes. The boy had a presence about him. It was if he was simply happy to be alive.

Jon knew it was foolish to think such things, for a child his age shouldn't even be aware of what life and death meant, but that was what he truly felt. His son was joyous to be alive. It was in his eyes and smile when talking to people, the way he greeted each day. The only time he'd ever seen his son melancholy was when his mother died.

"Harry! Ned, Robert! Come here boys!" He called down to them, stopping their game before it could escalate to fighting, as most boyish games tended to.

Robert was first up the stairs, the strongest and oldest of the three. Nearing his nineteenth name day, the boy was tall, muscular and handsome. A true downfall for any maiden much to Jon's chagrin. Already the boy's appetite for women was becoming legend in the Eyrie and Vale. Thick black hair and deep blue eyes, he was every part the Baratheon Lord. Jon only hoped little Lyanna could prove to be the Cassana Estermont to Roberts Steffon Baratheon, else the Kingdoms may flood with Bastards.

As usual, Eddard followed shortly up the stone steps after Robert. Tall for his age too, Eddard was the spitting image of his father with his dark hair and grey eyes. Luckily, the boy seemed to have inherited the legendary Stark honour, for he had heard no tales of bedding maidens or bastards from his subjects.

Last of course was Harry, his son. Still young, not yet six years of age, he had thick brown hair and a square jaw. However, his eyes, Harry had inherited his mother's eyes. A brighter shade of green than Jon had ever heard of. Harry put the fabled emerald eyes of the Lannister's to shame, and made them look like cheap forgeries to be knocked at a market stall.

"What is it Father?" Harry asked him in a child's high voice, panting slightly in exertion.

"I was just about to win" Robert grumbled, nudging Ned with his shoulder. Jon stared at the three until they straightened and held a respectable silence.

"A raven arrived from the capitol. There's to be a grand tournament held at Harrenhal that I thought we'd attend." He grinned as the boys lightened in excitement.

"Yes!" Harry crowed as he jumped onto Roberts back, singing the praises of Knights and Warriors. Equally exuberant, Robert grabbed the boy tightly and swung him around laughing merrily.

"When will we leave Lord Jon?" Ned, ever the respectful one asked.

"On the morrow, I've already had your things packed while you three were busy… slaying each other in battle" he said patronisingly as he smirked at the reddening boys. He walked back into the keep satisfied as he listened to the boy's clamor and shout defensively about the nature of their 'Glorious' battles involving knights and dragons.

"Harrenhal, Rob! Can you imagine? I wish to see if Harren the Dread truly haunts the broken spires, and if you can still feel the heat of dragon fire in its melted stones!" Harry cried out in joy.

Chuckling, Robert put the boy down and made to follow Lord Jon into the keep.

"Aye, you'll do all that and more I imagine. I more look forward to the fighting and the wenches than some old ghost story!" Robert boasted, earning a coy look from Ned.

"My sister wouldn't happen to be one of those wenches, would she?" Ned quipped with a raised brow. Robert reddened and huffed as Harry cackled in the background.

"Oh Lyanna! I will make you the best of Husbands! I hunt like a beast and bed anything that walks!" Harry sung as he raised a hand to his forehead and play fainted, "Oh Robert, you're so manly and strong! Take me now!" he swooned, giggling before taking off down the corridor.

"That's it, come here you brat!" Robert yelled as he charged after the escaping boy.

"That's my sister Harry!" a disturbed Ned cried and followed them.

Out of breath from running and laughing so hard, Harry evaded the older boys successfully and made it to his rooms. Still smiling widely in excitement, he walked to his desk and stared at the large and detailed map of Westeros, quickly locating Harrenhal in the middle of the Riverland's. Some questioned why a boy would need such a detailed map, but Harry truly did need it. It served as a reminder. That this was another world. Another life. If ever he doubted himself, and questioned his reality, he would gaze at the proof, a map filled with continents and landmasses so jarringly different to Earths that there left little doubt.

Nearly six years he had been in Westeros living as Harald Arryn. Six years since he woke up, wet and disorientated, crying out into the warm embrace of what he now knew to of been his mother. He was shocked of course in the beginning, who wouldn't have been. One moment he was having a vague and half-forgotten conversation with his Headmaster, the next he was surrounded by starlight on all sides as his consciousness faded to inky black.

Of what he could remember, this was supposedly his next great adventure. He had mortally crippled Voldemort by willingly walking to his death, severing the last of Voldemorts Horcruxes from the world. Dumbledore assured him that Voldemort was weak enough now that his friends and loved ones could defeat him on their own. It was time now for Harry to move forward.

He'd agreed, thinking he'd go to the same place as his parents and loved ones. Which explained why he was so confused. It took him a little while, but he finally concluded that it was a rebirth like Parvati Patil always talked about in Divination class. That his actions in his previous life set him up for his next one. Though he had no idea why he still possessed the memories of Harry Potter. They were muted, and he was forgetting more and more the longer he lived as Harald Arryn, which scared him quite a bit. Harry feared one day he will have forgotten being Harry Potter completely, and that was not something he desired.

In terms of rebirth however, the rest Harry couldn't complain about. He was born to a very affluent family, essentially Royalty, and had a very loving father and mother. He was distraught to once again lose a maternal parent when Rowena died, having come to love her fiercely during the two years she guided him unknowingly through his emotions. She was the only mother he knew, as Lily died when he was around the same age the first time, however he possessed none of his self-awareness that time. The other great boon was something that pleased Harry beyond measure.

He had magic.

It was muted and changed, but it was still there under his skin, liquid and sparking all at the same time. When he had first realised he still possessed his magic, he had tried calling out a spell with his untrained tongue. He failed, miserably. Giving up vocalised magic as a lost cause, he had tried non-vocal, wandless magic. He knew very little about it, other than it often displays in children his age as accidental magic. That too failed.

It wasn't until he was four years old and his father started him on lessons that he theorised what had happened. And wasn't that unique, Harry Potter, theorising magical theory. His magic, had stained his soul completely… somehow. In this new life, he possessed magic, but it had changed much like the world he was now a part of. People around him claimed he was a genius, and he had to agree. His mind felt so clear and sharp. He could memorise knowledge so easily now and work out problems quicker than ever. If he was honest, his first thought upon realising his increased intelligence was that it was little wonder Hermione was so arrogant in academics when this was what she had to work with.

But it wasn't just his mind that was enhanced. His body was always bursting with energy and as fit as it could be at his young age. Whilst he had not started combat training yet due to his age, father promised he would on his seventh birthday, the master-at-arms, a Norvosi Blademaster named Rand remarked that he had first grade eye hand coordination and reaction speed. He would apparently be a very renowned sword fighter, should he wish.

And even that wasn't all! So many little things that he was either blind, ignorant and dismissive to started to make sense to him. When near the falcons in the aviary, he could hear whispers, almost like warbling speech. He assumed it was the wind howling through the cracked walls but now he was sure he had heard the voices of the falcons.

Increased mental proficiency, heightened physical attributes and the ability to hear animals. And that was only what he knew of for sure. Magic had not abandoned him, it had just given itself to him in a different form. A more passive form. He was very glad of this.

Grinning to himself he moved to the far wall of his antechamber where his bags had been left to be taken on the morrow. They were filled with his finest blue and white coats, in the colours of his House, and several books he wished to read along the way.

"Young lord?" a smiling maid called as she entered his rooms. "Your father has asked you to come down to dinner" she finished with a curtsy.

"Wonderful, I'm famished!" he beamed at her and she reciprocated in kind.

Walking into the dining hall he sought out his foster-brothers only to see them flirting with the prettier maids. Sighing and rolling his eyes in an undignified manner, he went to join his father and the other visiting lords at the high table. Tomorrow they would leave for Harrenhal, and all the wonders it holds.