AN: This is something that '917brat' thought up, having Harry reborn as the son of Gregor Clegane.

Also, I do not own either HP or GoT. JK Rowling and GRR Martin own their respective characters and worlds.

Harry watched from afar as his father mounted his horse and rode off, whipping the poor creature hard. It was 289 years after Aegon the Conqueror had made a kingdom and the ironborn were rebelling. Lord Tywin had called for his banners and the Mountain had answered the call. His uncle had also answered the call but Harry only knew of it from the raven that the Lannister's maester had sent.

He watched as his giant of a father rode off, watched as the Mountain disappeared from view, and breathed a sigh of relief. Harry turned around and saw the few servants who stayed breath a sigh of relief too. His two dogs also wagged their tails a little and barked joyously.

"C'mon, sweetling. Let's go back to your chores now," Alise murmured, reaching out to grasp Harry's shoulder. "Now that the master is out."

"Alright. Can Padfoot and Moony come too?" Harry questioned, turning up to look at his former wet nurse and now caretaker. "They won't bother us."

Alise peered down at the two dogs and nodded, reaching down to pet Padfoot. "'Course. Let's go make sure everyone else is okay. You know how your father gets."

Harry nodded, grimacing and reaching up to grap Alise's hand. Clegane Keep had no maester but Alise was as good as the servants were going to get. They walked back into the tower, with his two hounds following him.

"I don't know how you knew of Rolan's injury, Harry," Alise remarked, as they headed over to the kitchens. "Or of Marleya's moon blood not coming. I had them both leave during the night."

"I was in the kitchen's cat's body!" Harry exclaimed, tapping his temple. His magic had taken on a whole other nature when he had gotten reborn in this world. It was still as he remembered but now… "I could smell them and the babe!"

Alise blinked, paling a little. "You're a warg?"

Harry tilted his head, brushing a few strands of black hair off of his forehead. He didn't miss his lightning bolt scar even if he was only eight years old. Eight and 18 all at the same time. He had died just shy of his 18th nameday back in England and had been reborn here. "Warg?"

"A northern talent," Alise spoke, as they joined the one cook in the kitchens. "You should keep that from your father, lad."

"I've always kept secrets from my father," Harry grumbled, crossing his short arms. He knew he was rather tall for his age but that was due to having the Mountain for a father. He towered over the children of the smallfolk he had seen over the years. And his height alone marked him as son of the Mountain though he tried to hide who his father was. "Uncle Sandor listens better."

Alise's eyes narrowed in thought then shook her head. "Be that as it may… Why don't you go play with the cook's son? I will make a dinner for us."

Harry stared at her then nodded, running off towards his room in the tower. Gregor didn't leave the keep very often so it seemed like the whole keep was breathing a sigh of relief.

"A boy. You have a son, ser."

Gregor stared at the midwife, his head aching with all the noise. His wife, one of the smallfolk that he had chanced upon a year ago, was prone in bed, holding his newborn babe. He pulled out the flask of milk of the poppy that was on his belt and took a good drink, peering at the small child on his wife's chest.

The boy had a few tufts of black hair and green eyes and was quiet for a babe just born. Gregor reached out to touch the boy, letting his hand drop on the boy's small foot. His wife's breast lay just under his gloved palm and Gregor let his hand drop to curl around it through the haze of pain.

"Ser! You're hurting-"

Gregor used his other hand to draw his sword and impaled the midwife right through her loud mouth. The woman's breath gurgled with blood and then she keeled over, landing with a sloppy thump to the stone floor. Gregor sheathed his sword and turned back to the babe, curling his hand back over the boy's foot. The boy cried out, sudden and loud at the pressure Gregor was putting on his foot.

His wife looked at him with wide, fearful green eyes, but otherwise didn't comment.

"Harrold Clegane. Name him that."

Gregor withdrew, hearing the cry of a raven and walked out of the birthing room, and up to the roost of the tower.

Lord Tywin was calling his banners in preparation of picking a side in Robert's war.

Gregor Clegane was worse than Vernon Dursley but he didn't spend much time around Harry. The Mountain often times left his son alone to be raised by the servants that even dared to work in the tower. Harry took to avoiding his father and his men too, knowing how to not push his father further when he was raging or drunk. He helped the servants avoid them and helped treat their injuries when his father hurt them.

He usually tried to keep his magic from his father, choosing to use it in secrecy or not use it at all. Of course, his father had been the first one to see that Harry was a warg. When Harry had been 13 years old, his father had taken him hunting. Harry had grown wary of his father's men, none of whom were knights and all of whom spoke of the Mountain's infamous deeds in the rebellion with envy.

"No son of mine won't go hunting," Gregor said, smirking already at the thought of hunting. Mayhaps he would find another woman around to service his needs. "Come."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his father, holding in a flinch, before nodding. "Alright, father."

He went to go saddle his horse, gesturing away the servant who tried to do it for him. There weren't that many servants who stayed in their keep but he tried to protect the few who did. He pulled out a carrot and let his pony munch on it while he saddled it, mounting up and following his father out of the barn.

This time on the hunt, they were joined by Ser Amory Lorch, the man who had been rumored to have murdered Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Harry wrinkled his nose and urged his pony ahead, passing Raff the Sweetling and Chiswyck.

"What was it like to murder that girl?" Raff asked, leering at Harry and winking. Harry's stomach lurched and he guided his pony ahead further, looking out at the mountains that surrounded them. Clegane Keep was on the southern side of the mountain range that separated the westerlands from the riverlands.

"Oh, I enjoyed it," Amory replied, grinning and showing more teeth than was considered polite. "Princesses shout as much as women here do."

Harry shivered, grimacing, and turned his pony in the direction of Cornfield, the seat of House Swyft. He would be leaving in a week to become squire to Ser Addam Marbrand and he was readily looking forward to that. He wondered if he could see his uncle, Sandor, while he was there but he figured not. He knew Sandor was over in King's Landing, guarding the Queen.

He shuddered as his pony walked on, his thoughts going to the past as they left the hunt and his father's men behind. When he had been reborn here, he wondered if he had had pissed off some god or another. To be born to the Mountain, who had raped and murdered Princess Elia and killed Prince Aegon… At least… he hadn't been born a prince himself, to King Robert Baratheon.

He would not have enjoyed that. And here, he could do some good. Helping the servants when he could and healing them.

Harry was so lost in thought that his pony had left the path, taken them far from his father and his men. The sun lit up the coastal trail he was on and he could just faintly see the towering keep of Casterly Rock and Lannisport to the north. There was a slight breeze, flowing downwind and bringing the scent of the ocean to him and he inhaled deeply, enjoying it very much.

"You think you're better than us, don't you?"

His pony whickered in fright and Harry startled, gathering up the reins in tight hands, and turned around. The man gaining ground towards him was one of his father's men, one that liked to participate in a few of the rapes that Harry had heard of.

Harry urged his pony forward, in the other direction, towards a wooded, hilly area. The river that flowed a few miles away grew louder as he rode towards it. His mount listened and started into a canter then transitioned into a gallop as Harry fled the man. His magic flared within him, threatening to break out.

His pony fled, foaming at the mouth, as the the hounds behind them started to howl. Harry winced, not wanting to let loose his magic now, not when it wasn't controlled and channeled through a wand. He didn't have a wand yet but he was on the lookout for good wood.

"At least, you'll provide us with a good prize!"

Harry turned his pony around, heading around a bend and ran right into Chiswyck and Raff. One of them raised a spear and threw it right at his pony. His pony squealed in pain as the spear hit and its' hooves buckled. Harry flew off, a crumple of human and pony hitting the ground.

When he woke up next, there was someone sitting over his arse, fucking him. The intrusion felt awful and dry though he had a bad feeling about the liquid sliding down his thigh. The grunts coming from above him sounded pleased and animal.

"Fuck, you're tight."

Harry squirmed, flinching as the man hit him, spending in him at just that moment. He reached inside himself and let his magic free, power flooding out of him in a huge burst. There was a scream and then nothing as the man who had raped him died in a burst of raw magic. Harry just lay there, breathing heavily, liquid and blood running down his thighs and… He closed his eyes, feeling his stomach lurch and roil. The man's cock was still in him, separated from the rest of the remains of the body.

Harry reached out with just a little strand of magic, picturing the organ in his mind and levitating it out of him. The cock came out with a wet squick and Harry banished it with a quick thought, not even looking at it.

He took a few minutes to just stay there, slowly sitting up and sicking up what was left of the midday meal. To his right sat his dead pony. Harry sat there, staring at his dead mount before he heard a quiet bark and howl. He heard the steps of dogs right before two entered the clearing.

Harry reached down to grab the dagger in his belt, tightening his fingers around the hilt. The hounds loped over towards him and he studied them. One was a moon white with grey spots and brown eyes while the other was a shaggy black with grey eyes. The two hounds came to a stop at his dead pony, sniffing around briefly before looking over to him.

The two trotted over to him then curled at his side, flanking him. Harry sucked in a tight breath and ran a hand through the white one's fur. "Should have figured. Father's men… I should get out of the westerlands. At least, after becoming a knight."

Harry slowly stood up, testing his legs, which were steady… enough. "I'll go to Cornfield, send a raven to Lord Marbrand, see if he'll take me sooner."

He started to walk and the hounds followed, licking his legs occasionally. Harry peered down at them, his lips twitching up into a tentative grin. "You two coming with me?"

The black one whined, glanced up at him and panted, appearing to smile.

"I'll take that as a yes. You know… You look a lot like my godfather back in my first life. And your companion looks as white as the moon. I could call you Padfoot and Moony?"

The white one yipped quietly and nuzzled against him. The black one howled, the excited sound of a dog that just found his pack. Mayhaps his godfather and his surrogate godfather had followed him to Westeros, just not in human shape. Harry grinned at the thought, burying his hands in their fur.

"Alright then."

After that incident Harry grew up knowing to avoid his father and his father's men most of the time. Harry had known to not tell his father about it, knowing that either Gregor wouldn't care or would punish him. He knew some of the women that lived in the town under the keep had been raped and had looked to Lord Clegane, Gregor's father, and hadn't lived very much longer after that.

Whenever Gregor was around, he used the servants' tunnels or stairs to avoid him. Harry went out hunting or out to visit the smallfolk, who knew him well and appreciated his visits. Every one of the smallfolk knew what he could do and that he could heal them and help them find food, help them avoid the Mountain's men.

Harry had just turned ten and eight when Gregor Clegane got called to Casterly Rock. He had eavesdropped on his father when he received the raven, hearing Gregor mutter something about the riverlands and his liege lord's son getting kidnapped.

Lord Tywin Lannister was apparently calling on the Mountain to rape, pillage and burn the riverlands in retaliation. Lady Catelyn Stark had kidnapped Tyrion so the westerlands would take revenge on the lady's homeland. Harry grimaced at the news, knowing what kind of pillaging his father would do. He had met Tyrion once, during his squire years. Those months had been rather eventful for him and he had tried to avoid his father during that time.

"Did you hear? The Mountain's son is with child!"

"What kind of a boy gets pregnant? Is he some kind of changeling? A child of the forest?"

Harry wrinkled his nose as he urged his horse past a blacksmith in King's Landing. Of course, he was closer to the children of the forest than most people thought. His wet nurse had said he was a warg and he had occasionally entered Padfoot's mind. He had accidentally traveled into Padfoot's mind, the black dog that had taken a liking to him. Moony had looked at him funny all that week.

Ser Addam Marbrand, his knightmaster, had thought to visit Lord Tywin, and they had gone first through the city. He had enjoyed learning from the heir to Ashemark and Addam was certainly a man he'd follow but perhaps…

"Harry, are you sure you want to come with me? You could have stayed outside the city," Addam remarked as they rode past a few sell swords. "In Lannisport."

"I've always wanted to see the Rock," Harry answered, sighing. "Besides, these are all late rumors. I already… I drank moon tea a month ago."

Addam looked at him, raised an eyebrow. "You certainly do not have to come with me to meet Lord Tywin. I do not-"

"I'll wait in the hall."

Addam nodded, already knowing some of what Harry wasn't saying. He knew of Harry's disgust towards the warden of the west and his dealings with the Targaryen princess and children.

Addam walked off, taking a set of stairs to Tywin's separate audience chamber. Harry walked around the great hall of Casterly Rock, looking at the tapestries and various decorations. It was empty but for him and a few Lannister guards for several minutes before Harry was interrupted in his thoughts.

"You'd be the one that was with child a month ago. You're the Mountain's boy."

Harry froze before settling his shoulders and turning around, peering at the young man in front of him. The famous Tyrion Lannister, dwarf of Casterly Rock and son of Tywin. "And you're Tywin's son. We're a pair, aren't we?"

Tyrion's eyes narrowed as he looked Harry over, his mismatched green and black eyes lit with curiosity. "The Dwarf of Casterly Rock and the Mountain's son. How did you get with child anyway? No one knows how you did it."

"It wasn't my idea of a good time," Harry remarked idly, staring at Tyrion and subtly marking a rune in mid-air behind him. He had learned, throughout the past year or so, that with training, making runes was the most he could do with his unchanneled magic. Healing runes and runes of hiding… That was it. He'd need to find the makings of wand soon.

Tyrion snorted. "For women it usually is."

"If you count rape a good time then yes."

Tyrion blinked, peering closer at Harry. "So it was true."

"Of course, I would be more than happy to settle down and have children with someone I loved," Harry explained, shrugging. "It wasn't a one time thing, getting pregnant, and my father..."

"Your father is the Mountain," Tyrion finished, glancing up to the audience chamber door, where his father was. "I would imagine he's as good a father as he is a lover."

Harry blinked and then broke out into strangled laughter. "I cannot unsee that now. Thanks for that."

Tyrion grinned. "You are welcome."

Harry nodded, looking to a few of the Lannister guards behind them then back to Tyrion. "I would imagine we have something in common then."

"Bad fathers," Tyrion said, sighing, his lips twitching up into a slightly wider grin. "Yes, we have that in common."

Moony and Padfoot barked excitedly, watching as Harry saddled his horse. He strapped his blade to it, the shining rubies of the hilt making him smile at the many memories that it brought, and added a pack of food and a sleeping roll. His father had rode out a week ago and Harry was going after him. Or at least… Harry figured he would follow after his father discreetly, clean up what he could and help the smallfolk in whatever was coming.

Harry swung up into the saddle and urged his horse out of the stable, waving goodbye to the few servants, and trotted off. His two hounds followed, loping next to the horse.