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An idea I had to write down before it left me. My other stories will take precedence so the updates will be slow. I'll try for 1 chapter a month unless I find extra time to write.

August, 2002

Ministry of Magic

In a different world, the resurrection stone had been lost in the Forbidden Forest and the elder wand sealed in Dumbledore's tomb. This was not that world.

Harry Potter had noble intentions when gathering the three Hallows after the war. He feared that knowledge of them would be inevitably spread, and a new budding dark wizard would gain control of the Hallows. He wasn't too concerned about the resurrection stone, even though the knowledge the dead could impart could be valuable, it was not something that dark wizards wanted. The main concern for Harry was the elder wand. It already had a bloody history behind it, and leaving it in the tomb seemed like an invitation to start a new slaughter.

Whatever Harry had intended didn't truly matter in the end. A happy new life without Voldemort breathing down his neck turned into a living horror. Harry didn't notice it at the start, but the people in his life started to… change.

It was subtle at the start, a tired look here and there, small wrinkles that formed on their youthful faces, but it hit Harry like a brick at a Ministry Gala. His friends looked like they had aged twenty years compared to their old schoolmates. Harry couldn't ignore what was happening anymore. He felt exactly where their youth was going. Right into himself.

For the sake of being around the people he loved, Harry had selfishly ignored his gut feeling and had potentially taken years out of their lives.

It was immediately after that gala that Harry Potter disappeared from public view. He was still around, of course, but no matter the number of pleas his friends sent to him through the mail, Harry had always politely declined to meet.

Eventually, Harry threw away his morals in his manic desperation. He found a man that deserved to be taken out of the world and put him to use.

Harry ended up finding confirmation that any person close to him would have a slow, torturous death sentence. It had been disturbing to watch a man in his thirties turn into skin and bones within the month. Harry could only assume that the only reason his friends didn't die like the man was something to do with their magic.

There was no need to test that hypothesis, though. What difference would it make if magic slows down the eventual death? The end result would be the same. Either way, Harry had to be isolated from the world. Still, after having a taste of what true friendship and family meant, Harry couldn't do that to himself.

That's why he was currently standing in front of the veil of death. Just by standing in front of it, Harry could hear the soft whispers calling out to him, telling him that it's okay to take the step. Harry let out an amused smirk at the feeling. There really was no need to convince him.

He had been looking forward to having a family with Ginny, watching his children ride off to Hogwarts, and die a happy man after a long life. Instead, for the sake of the world around him, Harry had to take himself out at the young age of twenty-two.

With one last look at the empty chamber behind him, Harry stepped forward without hesitation.

"You lasted longer than I thought you would… Master."

Harry shuddered at the fury that was heard in the last word. He didn't know who was speaking to him, nor did he know where he was. The best way for Harry to describe it was pitch black, but that word still didn't express how wrong everything felt. It was almost as if he was just a floating collection of thoughts, having no physical body to experience any true senses. However, somehow the voice still put fear in his soul.

"Bringing the Hallows together, then keeping them together for so long was not in the plans fate had for you, Harry Potter."

Harry could do nothing but tremble as the voice mentioned the cursed items. Even now, he wondered what compelled him to take the Hallows instead of letting them rot where they laid.

"In this, you are right, Master. The Master of Death is a cursed title that no mortal can accidentally gain. I know of the being that changed your destiny, but it is not of any importance… Your existence here is bothersome, begone, and continue to your new life. Be warned, do not let those ice beasts be your downfall. It will bring you back in my presence… and I will not be pleased."

With that abrupt ending of the one-sided conversation, Harry immediately felt a soul-tearing pain. He could slowly feel the semblance of a physical body forming around him. However, the tight confines of the space Harry was in made him involuntarily kick in a panic. Harry was delighted when he felt himself moving out of the tight space and continued to wriggle until he was finally free. He opened his eyes to see a blur of light, but after the experience Harry just had, this was heaven.

A tired woman's voice asked, "Maester… why is my child not making any noise?"

Harry, who still couldn't see clearly, suddenly realized that he couldn't breathe. He opened his mouth, and a small hiccupping sound was heard before an ear-splitting baby's wail poured out. As soon as Harry could breathe again, he shut his mouth in fright.

Harry was jostled into softer arms before it finally dawned on him. The blurry eyesight cleared up to reveal a stunning blonde-haired woman who looked down at Harry with love in her green eyes.

A slender hand stroked his face before the woman said, "He's… beautiful."

Harry stared in shock at the woman. This was a new mother… Harry's new mother. And Harry was a fucking baby.

286 AC

Kingslanding

"Prince Harys!" A young serving maid called out as she entered a well-decorated room.

"It's time for your bath! Would you like my help, my prince?"

A little boy with deep black hair and striking green eyes backed away slowly. He knew that his maid was only trying to do her job, but while he looked like a child, he still had the mind of a man in his twenties. Having a maid offering to wash him was highly uncomfortable… especially when said maid was only fourteen.

It's been six years since Harry, or rather, Harys had been reborn into this new world. While it was a shock initially, Harry had grown to love his new life. He had everything that Harry Potter wished he possessed and more.

Born as Harys Baratheon, the crown prince of Westeros, nothing would be denied to him… especially with Cersei as his mother. Even though Harry had noticed that she loved her golden-haired Joffrey a little more, there was still no doubt that Cersei loved her firstborn fiercely. As for his father, Robert, the less said, the better. That man was not built to be a father, and while he showed Harry a small amount of affection, the man was more concerned about which whore to fuck next.

"It's alright, Melleah. I can do it myself."

Harry felt a little sorry for the young girl that was his personal maid. His memories of living as Harry Potter still significantly impacted his way of thinking, and his maid strongly reminded him of how the Dursleys treated him. However, from the little he has seen of it, this world was not kind to the regular people, or smallfolk as they call them here.

Melleah, who was already used to the prince's independent streak, accepted Harry's response while keeping a close eye on him. The prince himself might be a kindhearted boy, but his mother was known to be vicious to anyone that harmed her two children, whether that harm was actual or imagined. She shuddered when thinking of the previous maid that was assigned to Prince Harys. Melleah hadn't been working in the Red Keep at that time, but she had heard stories of how the previous maid was punished after scratching the prince by accident. How her screams were heard from the dungeons before she was never seen again.

Melleah shuddered again, she didn't know if it was true, but it might very well be. She watched the prince finish the bath and start to get dressed. Melleah used this time to step out and order the water to be changed.

After a short while, Harry was led to the main hall for breakfast with an ever-present kingsguard following them. Watching people bow as he passed them was still odd for Harry. He still had to fight the urge to make them stop, but he had learned that they simply don't know another way of behaving. To them, the nobles were people to be feared and respected, and Harry's modern sensibilities had no place here.

That wasn't the only thing that Harry found to have no place in this world. He had learned of the previous dynasties' dragons a few years ago and was happy to know that magic existed in this world. However, when Harry tried to cast a spell, no matter how simple, it always failed. He knew that it wasn't because of his own deficiency. Harry could feel something like a bubble inside him that most people around him didn't have. He was quite sure that it was magic, but it was as if the world itself blocked him from accessing it. He hadn't given up, of course, but it was frustrating when there was no progress whatsoever after all the effort he put into it.

Harry yelped when he was lifted off the ground and found himself staring into happy green eyes. His mother, the queen Cersei Lannister, cooed at him, "What has your mind so worried, my little prince. You are far too young to have that look on your face."

Harry couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face. Maybe it was the lack of a living mother in his previous life, or it might be because Cersei's eyes looked so similar to Lily Potter's. Even with knowing all of her faults, Harry couldn't help but love his new mother.

As for why Cersei had called him Harry instead of Harys? Harry had made sure that whenever he pronounced his name, it was always 'Harry' instead of 'Harys.' The people around Harry had initially tried to correct that supposed mistake, but it eventually stuck around as a nickname. At least to family members.

"It's nothing, mother. I was thinking about what I should eat."

Cersei laughed and poked his nose, "You are a prince! Have anything you want."

Their little moment was broken by a bellow of rage at the other end of the table. They both looked to see Robert in the motion of punching Joffrey, who was stupidly standing there with a smile. A sharp crack was heard when Robert's fist connected, and Joffrey went down like a sack of bricks.

After a brief moment of disbelief from Cersei and Harry, they yelled in shock before running towards the raging king.

"You killed him! You killed my son!" Cersei shrieked as she cradled an unresponsive Joffrey.

Robert, who was still fuming, roared, "Good! I don't want this boy to live! The little shithead cut open a pregnant cat!"

The red haze that covered Harry's vision slowly receded from what his father shouted. He looked at Joffrey again and noticed his brother's blood-covered hands along with something small and deformed that had fallen to the floor next to him. Harry tasted bile when he realized that they were unborn kittens.

While his parents raged at each other, Harry looked at Joffrey in a different light. His little brother was always a little strange, but there was never a sign of this kind of cruelty. Then again, Harry wasn't that close to Joffrey, so maybe he had missed the warnings.

294 AC

Kingslanding

"Make sure to let everyone know not to disturb me," Harry ordered while sitting at his desk.

His long-time maid replied sweetly, "Of course, my prince. Is there anything else you need from me?"

Harry didn't bother looking up as he declined, "That's all, Melleah."

After she left the room, Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. This had been a problem for over a year now, ever since he prevented his father from pulling Melleah into his chambers. His long-time maid had somehow taken this as Harry saying that he wanted her to himself… she couldn't be more off the mark.

Harry simply didn't have the time or focus to pay attention to anything other than getting his magic back. Sure, he did his obligated tasks as the crown prince. Harry listened to the lectures given by the Maester, he sat in quite often at the small council, and he even practiced the sword, albeit reluctantly. But the rest of the time Harry possessed was spent deep in the books or in his room experimenting on how to get his magic to work.

In the fourteen years he had been in this world, Harry hadn't been able to make a feather move. Not even a slight twitch to let him know that he was on the right track. The oddest part was that Harry could feel magic more clearly than ever. That strange bubble Harry could feel inside himself? Harry felt it even more clearly now, and he discovered that other people had something similar inside them. Harry was initially happy to find more magic users that existed around him, but when he studied their 'bubble' more closely, Harry found it to be far different than his.

His was growing larger every year while the others were shriveling into nonexistence. Harry grew curious and noted down the relative age of all the people he noticed with magic, and he found them to be all on the younger side. There was almost nobody that had a hint of magic in adulthood. It had frightened Harry to the point that he religiously kept trying to connect to the bubble inside him. Even though Harry had no success with casting a spell, his magic stayed healthy and growing. He considered that a win.

Harry decided to settle down and do his daily ritual of trying to move the feather. Not even five minutes in, a knock on the door interrupted him.

Harry sighed and said, "Come in."

The door opened a crack, and a blonde-haired girl popped her head in. Harry smiled, seeing the nervousness in his little sister's face, and beckoned her in.

With a small voice, she asked, "Could you help me find a kitty? I asked Joff, but he just said mean things to me."

Harry's expression darkened as he remembered the time Joffrey cut open a cat's belly. It was for the best that he didn't help Myrcella. Harry was certain that his younger brother would have scarred the young girl.

He got up from his desk and said, "Of course, where did you last see the cat?"

Myrcella's face lit up with a smile as she babbled about the old cat that hisses at her and lived in the cellars below. Harry chuckled and ruffled the blonde tresses of his little sister and said, "Tell me who really found the cat, Cella. Was it you? Or Tommen?"

She looked down at her feet and fidgeted, telling Harry all he needed to know. He laughed, "If you want to hide it for some reason, forget I ever asked. Come, let's go find this cat."

Myrcella smiled brightly and grabbed Harry's hand to lead him to the last spot she saw the animal.

Out of his youngest two siblings, Tommen was the one that was obsessed with cats, but Harry also knew that Joffrey constantly made fun of that fact. It made his youngest brother feel like he had to hide the fact that he liked them. Harry always felt guilty that he didn't do more to shield his younger siblings from Joffrey's cruelty, but he had a limited amount of time to spare. Luckily, the kingsguard would stop any physical harm from happening.

"Here! I saw it down there, but it's really dark, so I got scared."

Harry looked down into the cellar that Myrcella pointed into. From what he could remember, Harry didn't think that he had ever visited this place before. That wasn't too much of a surprise, though. Harry never had the time to just explore the castle.

"Well, I'm here now," Harry said while pulling his little sister closer, "A dark room won't stop me from helping my precious sister."

Harry grabbed the lamp that was lighting the hall and walked down the steps with a giggling Myrcella. They gingerly walked down the cracked steps and found themselves in a cavernous room. Harry could barely see a few feet in front of him from the weak light, so it wouldn't be easy to find the cat.

Myrcella's giggle had stopped halfway down the steps, and she was now clinging to him in fear. After a minute of fruitless searching, she stammered, "H-Harry? I-It's okay not to find it. Let's go back."

Harry had been lost in the feeling of having an adventure again. It had been years and years of tedious tasks and thankless efforts of trying to use magic, but it felt like he was back at Hogwarts getting into trouble.

He looked down at his scared six-year-old sister and sighed in disappointment. It wouldn't be right to traumatize her just to have a feeling of nostalgia.

Before Harry could say that they would leave, Myrcella let out a shrill scream full of terror. Harry's muscles tensed into fight mode as he pulled his sister behind him and turned to where she was looking, and froze in shock.

In front of him was a skull. Not just any skull, but one of a dragon. A dragon that must have been bigger than the Hungarian Horntail that Harry had faced in the Tri-Wizard tournament.

He absentmindedly reassured Myrcella that it was nothing that could hurt her and walked up to it. He had read plenty of stories of the Targaryen dragons, but he didn't realize that there were bones of those very same dragons beneath the castle. Harry looked at the massive skull and sighed in disappointment. It's foolish to wish that the dragons were still alive, but that was exactly what Harry was thinking. After all, no normal animal could possibly breathe fire. The dragons had to have been magic, something that Harry was sorely missing right now.

He brought up a hand to touch the skull of the long-dead dragon and flinched when he felt the sheer unadulterated hatred that struck at his very soul. Harry gasped in fear when he felt the dead dragon somehow pull at the 'bubble' inside him. It was trying to burst it open and destroy the little hope Harry had to regain his magic. He grunted and strained to get away, but unfortunately, the dead dragon succeeded in its goal.

Harry fell to the ground in soul-wrenching pain as he opened his mouth to scream silently. He distantly felt his sister hugging his fallen body and crying for help as he took some time to finally come to terms with his new reality.

Harry could no longer feel any bubble inside him. His magic was taken away. Harry gritted his teeth and glared at the skull in anger, wishing for it to be destroyed. To both Harry's and Myrcella's shock, the skull in front of them suddenly started crumbling and cracking until all that was left was bone dust.

Myrcella dived into Harry's chest and trembled in fear, but Harry was barely aware of her actions right now. He looked down at his hand and held it out to cast a banishing charm. To Harry's amazement, wisps of bone dust were pushed away from the pile. It was barely anything, but it was something.

Myrcella was startled by the loud cackling laughter that Harry let out. A burst of uncontrollable laughter full of relief and gratitude at having his magic back.

With a timid voice, she asked, "Brother? Are you alright?"

Harry looked down at Myrcella with his green eyes almost glowing, "Never better, little sister. Never better."