Chapter 6: You're a What?!
~288 AC~
"How…?" Lord Eddard Stark, known as Ned by those close to him and current Warden of the North, as well as his father in his second life, was barely able to croak out the question as he fixed his gaze on his desk whereupon laid the ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword of House Lannister, Brightroar.
Ned knew his son was extremely intelligent for his age. Maester Luwin had informed him that he'd already finished the curriculum expected for someone of his station, and that in the meantime he had been instructing Robb on any subject that happened to catch his young heir's attention.
His speech and etiquette lessons were going very well too. Robb's teacher had heaped praise upon him. He'd told him that rather than a smart child, Robb spoke like a learned adult; that his son moved and conducted himself with such grace and poise that he'd never seen in a child, and scarce seen in any adult for that matter. All that remained was for him to put his lessons into practice with other actual lords and ladies.
To accomplish such feats as a boy who'd had his fifth name day only a few moons ago was tremendous. Inconceivable to a degree, even. Ned had met many men that possessed exceptional minds and were capable of remarkable mental feats during his life. Learned men who possessed such minds that they could recall and recite pieces of text verbatim with perfect accuracy; men that could tell the sizes of armies and their make-up at a glance with profound accuracy.
It seemed his son possessed a mind sharper than even those learned men he had met and known in his life.
Coupled with his fierce independence, Ned saw these traits all as good things. It wouldn't do Robb well to keep to childish things for too long; for winter is coming.
When his son had requested to talk to him in his solar about something, it had surprised him. He'd never taken Robb to his solar before, he was simply too young. What could a boy who'd just had his fifth name day have to talk about that was so important that it should be discussed in his solar?
However, as soon as such a thought came upon Ned's mind, he dismissed it. He'd recognized long ago on some level that Robb wasn't an ordinary child by any means, so he decided he would treat his son with the dignity his intellect suggested he should be treated with, and entertained his request to discuss whatever matter he wanted to talk about in his solar.
He had been expecting Robb to ask about starting his martial training a year early.
That wasn't the case at all.
Far from it, actually.
But this, what Robb had performed and placed in front of him…it was something else entirely.
And it wasn't just seeing Brightroar itself that had sent him into a stupor; it was the manner in which the sword was presented to him.
His son had pulled a sword, Brightroar he claimed, out of a small bag; so small it should've been impossible to have stored the sword in it! Furthermore, Robb was somehow handling the weight of such a sword like it was nothing!
It was true that Valyrian steel was lighter than regular steel, but a five-year-old had no business lifting and handling such a large sword like it was a stick. If this were a normal time, Ned would've been over by his son's side to prevent him from hurting himself with that sword immediately.
But this wasn't a normal time.
Ned was having great difficulty processing what he had just witnessed. From pulling a Valyrian steel sword said to be lost to time out of a little bag that was nowhere near big enough to hold such a sword, all the while being handled by his five-year-old son who apparently now had strength comparable to a man grown, as he easily lifted Brightroar and placed it on his desk.
To be sure, Ned didn't believe in magic. He was a practical man that lived on sound logic and fundamental principles that he learned from him foster father, Jon Arryn.
Ned knew that your mind could play tricks on you sometimes, make you believe you saw and heard things that actually weren't there. He'd seen it occur in various men during the time he served as strategic commander during the Rebellion, and during the time he'd served so far as Warden of the North.
And that was what he wanted to believe was happening to him right now. That his mind was playing tricks on him.
He wanted to believe that his son had just performed some mummer's trick he'd seen at winter town.
And yet, he couldn't deny what'd he'd seen; Robb pulling Brightroar out of that little bag.
As he sat in his chair, trying to steady himself due to all the madness he'd seen just now, he took a moment to look at the sword adorning his desk. Better to steady his mind with something familiar to him to help calm down.
There was no mistaking the ripples across the dark metal. He wanted to ask his son how he was so sure it was Brightroar, but the pommel of the sword, shaped like a lions-head, coupled with the color scheme of the hilt and crossguard seemed to answer that question. He would ask Maester Luwin later for any literature about Valyrian steel swords and their descriptions, just to be sure; but his initial impression was that this was indeed Brightroar.
Having examined the sword enough, he took a moment to look at his son from across his desk. There he stood, and surprisingly enough, he looked a little sheepish, scratching the back of his head.
Well, at least Ned wasn't the only one uncomfortable in this situation.
As Robb noticed his father's eyes on him, he decided to answer the question he posed earlier. "Well, uh... I summoned it. With magic." He opted to just go for broke in this situation. The kneazle, well, sword in this case, was out of the bag. He probably could've planned the revelation of his magic better, but how much would it really matter? It was a shocking thing, his magic, no matter the circumstances he presented it in.
He figured the best he could do was start off with a great boon in the form of Brightroar. He had acquired many swords that night with his summoning charm, but he feared he might cause his father to go into a shock-induced death if he showed him a cache of Valyrian steel swords.
His father hadn't jumped up to demand he be burned at a stake, so that was a start. Against his better nature, Robb took a peek inside his father's head and saw only confusion, thankfully no fear or hatred.
He was relieved.
A big part of Robb was scared of how his parents were going to react. He loved his new parents, his new family. Robb could've gone through life without revealing his magic, but that would be akin to hiding his true-self. Witches and wizards were magical all the time, and not just when they were waving their wands. He could've been subtle with his magic, creating and building things and just obliviating and confunding his family anytime they came upon something he didn't want them to see.
But he didn't want to live like that.
He remembered a memory from long ago, in a private moment with Hermione, where she revealed that messing with her parent's memories was her greatest regret. That her relationship with them hadn't been the same after she restored their memories, no matter the arguments she had given them for why she had done so.
Robb didn't want to make the same mistake.
He wanted to believe in the better nature of his new parents, his new family; so, he decided to reveal his magic with no mind magic involved.
Even so, he had set up a back-up plan to flee before he exposed himself to his father, just in case. He would have no problems surviving by himself in this world alone now with a wand, but he would've been heartbroken for a long while.
As he took stock of the emotional state his father was in after looking in his head, he considered the situation. He was sure he could spin things in such a way that he could show his magic for what it could be, a great benefit to House Stark.
"Look, father," Robb gestured to his right palm where lay the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. It glowed, and there appeared the deathstick in hand.
"Accio quill." He intoned softly, causing the quill on his father's desk to float into his hands.
"Gods…" Ned started at the display a bit, but it was clear he was also very intrigued.
"I was able to summon Brightroar just like that. This mark…it gives me magic, knowledge of spells to do things like that. I think it's a gift, maybe from the Old Gods themselves…"
Robb knew the Old Gods explanation was a gamble. It was a religion that was fairly decentralized, and there were very few hard and fast rules. Personally, he didn't think that necessarily meant it was pro-magic.
Robb had been experimenting a bit with skinchanging, making use of Maester Luwin's ravens. He had indeed possessed the ability, but that made him wonder why it wasn't more well-known in the North. It seemed like it was an ability passed through blood, like magic; yet it hadn't been formalized and weaponized. Robb's conclusion was that it was possible that the skill itself wasn't looked at with good-eyes by everyone; and therefore magic might be looked at the same way.
It was a somewhat flimsy argument, he knew, but it made some sense to his mind.
But in truth, it didn't matter much to Robb how others viewed his magic. While he wanted to be honest with his parents, that sentiment didn't extend to everyone else. He fully intended on making heavy use of subtle mind magics when using his magic in front of people so they would only associate positive thoughts and feelings to it.
Robb was highly skilled at subtle uses of the cheering charm and other mood altering charms. It was how he had gotten so many dark wizards to talk much more than they intended to during interrogations.
"I won't lie, Robb, I'm…surprised. Shocked, truly. Magic has been dead for a long time, so they say; and in truth, until today I didn't believe it was ever alive at all. You've put that belief of mine to rest now, no doubt." Ned had quite a few questions to ask about his son's magic, but he wasn't blind. He could tell that revealing it had been a trying task for Robb.
In this case, Ned judged that restraint would work best in the long run. If Robb had revealed his magic, it was likely that he would show all he was capable of in due time as he got more comfortable.
For now, he would focus on Brightroar. The sale of such a weapon could bring a lot to the North, and it had arrived at the perfect time. Spring had just begun; a time to gather strength.
The obvious choice, or rather the only real choice, was to sell it House Lannister, for several reasons. Ned had no love for Tywin Lannister, but he wasn't stupid. To try to sell a house's ancestral sword to another house was a slight beyond compare. Furthermore, no other house would try to buy it; for it would mean insulting Tywin Lannister.
Besides, Ned knew they offered the greatest potential gain. He would put his hate for the lions aside for now and act as Lord Stark first, for the benefit of his house.
Ned had an idea, though.
"For now, let's set aside this talk of magic and talk about Brightroar." Robb cheered up at that. "What do you intend to do with it?"
Robb's face took on a confused look when he heard his father's question. "Me?" He said. "I meant to give it to you and for you to do with it as you please. To sell it for coin, really."
His father couldn't mean for him to sell it, could he?
Ned had a soft smile on his face. He found some humor in the fact that he could catch his too smart son unawares still, even with his magic. "But as you said, you gained the sword with your magic. It is yours to do with it as you please. It wouldn't do for a father to take his son's things."
"You mean to have me conduct the sale?" Robb asked, somewhat shocked at the enormous responsibility he might be placed with. "I've never done any sort of business before! To go fro—"
Ned interrupted his son before he could continue, waving his hand in a placating gesture. "Peace, son. Peace. Think of it as a test." Ned continued. "You may use all the means available to you as my heir. Seek counsel from Maester Luwin. You may even seek counsel from bannermen sworn directly to House Stark. Craft a plan of action, whereupon I will review it and give my approval if it is to my satisfaction."
Robb sat in thought at his father's actions, considering the situation. It was true that he hadn't really hid his intelligence, but he'd also embraced some of the childish tendencies his body seemed to urge his mind to do. He supposed, even with that, he came across as a very precocious child.
Enough so that his father trusted him with this task.
"I understand father, I accept. I won't disappoint you." It had been a long time since Robb had done anything adult-like. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd paid a bill! The sudden onset of responsibility was jarring, but he had always thrived under pressure.
"I know you won't Robb." At Ned's statement, Robb gave a nod and stored Brightroar back in his bag, startling his father in the process, much to his amusement, and saw himself out of his solar.
Robb had much to plan.
Ned sat down in his chair, exhausted. Today had been an eventful day.
While Ned had accepted his son's explanation of the Old Gods for his source of magic on the surface, he knew it was most likely false.
Ned allowed himself a small chuckle in the privacy of his solar, Robb had underestimated his father. It was something children often did.
One of the benefits of belonging to such an ancient lineage like House Stark was the records kept by long deceased members of the house. There was an ancient tradition, one passed by word-of-mouth, for the new head of House Stark to act as a scribe and rewrite records that had been written by previous members.
If you don't remember the past, you are doomed to repeat it.
His father, Rickard Stark, had left a sealed letter for Ned informing him of the tradition and where to find previous records before he had run off after Brandon when he'd been imprisoned in Kingslanding. Leaving such information in a sealed letter was risky on his part, but Ned had understood why he did it. King Aerys's madness had been exposed to the Seven Kingdoms at the Tourney of Harrenhal. His father considered it a real possibility, however small it was, that he wouldn't make it back with Brandon.
Unfortunately, the worst came to past.
And so upon the conclusion of the war and his taking up his role as Warden of the North, Eddard Stark did his duty.
House Stark had upwards of 8000 years of history to its name, but surprisingly enough there weren't many records to rewrite. Most of them had been about mundane things that weren't relevant anymore. Instances of houses that had committed slights against House Stark, both in the North and across other kingdoms. Advice on which houses to be wary of. The history of certain wars, how they started, and how they were won or lost.
There had been other, more mystical things, too.
Accounts of magic, of members of House Stark manifesting the Warg King's fabled ability to skinchange, and their experiences with it. There had been nothing in the records that described the feats that Robb had demonstrated today, or claimed he was capable of. It was from this that Ned formed his belief that Robb's magic had nothing to do with the Old Gods.
And then there were things that Ned didn't want to believe in.
Ned knew from experience that it was very easy for information to be twisted across time and distance. Often times, information would come from the South. Someone would tell someone something, and then that person would then tell someone else; except, they would add or remove a little piece to it. By the time the information reached the North, it would be completely distorted from its original form.
When he had rewritten records detailing accounts of encounters with the Others, about the Long Night, he had dismissed them based on the premise that the information had been distorted over time.
But after seeing his son's magic, Ned knew at that moment that the records he had rewritten were more accurate than he had ever wanted to believe.
Still, the Long Night had occurred almost 8000 years ago, according to the records he'd rewritten. The odds of it occurring during his lifetime or even his potential grandchildren's were slim. And yet, Ned's instincts were telling him there was a link between Robb's magic and the events in the records.
His instincts were often right.
Ned put aside such heavy thoughts for now. If there were signs, he would do what needed to be done and prepare.
His thoughts went back to the task he'd given to his too smart son. Ned knew that almost every lord across the Seven Kingdoms would have called him a fool for leaving such a task to his five-year-old son, but he disagreed.
Ned knew well that a trial by fire was when talents truly thrived. He'd seen his foster-brother Robert's savant like ability to wage war bloom during the Rebellion. Robb's intellect and drive would rot if he kept him constrained. It was best to let his son move freely while he could still supervise him and keep him from making blunders he couldn't recover from.
The other reason Ned had given his son this task was because he wanted to keep him grounded. While it was good that Robb wanted to help the North prosper, if he just gave the sword to Ned to sell and garner coin and favors from a potential buyer, he would lose sight of what was important—the people he was trying to help.
In Ned's opinion, it was never a good thing to view others in a detached manner that came down to seeing them in simple numbers. He wanted Robb to feel the weight of his decisions, and see the improvement they would bring with his own eyes.
And while his son didn't mention it, Ned was sharp enough to make the logical inference that if he could acquire Brightroar with his magic, there was probably nothing stopping him from summoning other Valyrian steel swords like he had done with the quill. He hoped that his son wouldn't reduce it all to a mere numbers game, selling off Valyrian steel swords and using the money to improve things without really looking at the people he was helping.
Still, Ned was looking forward to the changes Robb would bring to the North.
Robb had been surprised at his father's decision. He had been expecting to simply give him the sword and let him take care of everything.
Robb wasn't a stranger to managing large sums of money, he had been wealthy as Harry Potter. However, though he knew how to manage wealth, he didn't know much about how to create new wealth.
He grimaced at the memories of how such a thing came to be. After breaking into Gringotts Wizarding Bank during the Second Wizarding War, Robb and the goblins had had a terrible relationship.
In truth, "terrible" was overselling it.
It was gods awful.
Robb had really wished that he'd listened to Professor Binns more when he droned on about the Goblin Rebellions. Perhaps if he had, he wouldn't have been so surprised at their viciousness, their relentless tenacity.
They had tried to rob him of all his wealth after the break-in incident. What this resulted in was an intense legal battle with the goblins. Robb had come dangerously close to sparking a fourth Goblin Rebellion.
It was ridiculous, the way the goblins had tried to break him mentally as they tallied the damages caused by his break-in.
They had thought Robb would just give in and let them take however much they wanted, but they didn't—couldn't, really, comprehend how stubborn he could be. Robb fought tooth and nail for every galleon, demanding invoices and receipts for all the damages they claimed he'd caused.
He hadn't let them charge a single knut more than was owed.
After the legal battle was over, Robb had threatened to move his assets to the gnomes in Switzerland. Normally the goblins wouldn't allow such nonsense, but as Harry Potter, he had been the public's most beloved figure.
They wouldn't have been able to stop him if he had wanted to do such a thing. No doubt the public would've followed their hero in his actions, attempting to move their assets as well.
The goblins had realized their error and sought to remedy their relationship with him, offering him a favor from the Goblin Nation to be used at any time of his choosing if he kept his assets at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He'd ended up accepting their offer, of course.
He hadn't used the favor in his life as Harry Potter, and they were probably relieved at the thought that they would never have to fulfill it since Harry Potter had died.
But as Robb knew, Harry Potter wasn't dead, not really.
Therefore, he wouldn't let a thing like unused favors come to past! Once he acquired the resurrection stone, the goblins would be reminded of just how stubborn he could be once more.
He would cash in his favor, even if he had to do it across time and space!
Robb took a deep breath and brought his occlumency skills to the fore, calming down. He lamented his tendency to go on mental tirades when thoughts of goblins came up.
While his personal war with the goblins had taught him how to manage and pay close attention to his wealth, he'd learned nothing at all about how to create wealth. He had let the goblins take care of it for him.
It was a simple thing. They invested his money and took a percentage from the gains that were made. Robb had only paid attention to his gains, not the process that went into it. It was true that as head auror he delegated resources, but the crossover with creating wealth wasn't much, he wagered.
And while Robb was a little nervous about this task his father had given him, he was also excited. Not even as Harry Potter had he handled such a large transaction. This experience would be something fresh for him.
He'd had a lot of free time during the day lately since completing his curriculum with Maester Luwin. At night was when he made use of his magic. Since he'd been strengthening his body with magic, he needed a little bit less sleep. He didn't want to ruin his growth period, though, so he paced himself.
Robb contemplated how to fulfill the task given to him by his father. He knew that economics was one of Maester Luwin's strongest disciplines, and that he had also forged an electrum link indicating some experience in logistics.
He'd already decided that he'd be selling Brightroar to House Lannister, but the question was what to ask for?
Robb knew for certain that one goal he wanted to eventually accomplish was turning winter town into a full-blown city. While he had grown used to Westeros to a degree, he still had dreams of his old life, of how culturally rich and full of life and entertainment Wizarding Britain had been.
He wanted to bring that here to winter town, in some form. To truly make it the heart of the North, along with Winterfell.
There was the security problem to consider that it would cause, though. A large winter town would mean Winterfell would need to strengthen security, but Robb could solve that problem with wards.
Though Winterfell had had new structures added to it over time, most of it had stood for so long and soaked in so much ambient magic, Robb didn't doubt he could etch some very powerful wards into it, solving any potential security problems making winter town into winter city would cause. He decided to draw up some plans on potential warding schemes tonight.
As long as the security concern was taken care of, Robb could work to increase winter town's population freely.
One way he planned to do this was by adding conveniences and luxuries that weren't available anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms. Simple things that would make living easier for the smallfolk, as well as making winter town an attractive option to stay in during spring and summer.
That would also mean bringing work to winter town, which he had an idea of how to do.
To his regret, he couldn't do anything about bringing plumbing to winter town or creating the types of roads he wanted just yet. While Winterfell had plumbing, he lacked the knowledge of how to create such a system himself.
While it was true that Robb could magic away quite a few of his problems, he didn't want a system centered solely around him and his magic. He could potentially create a complex array of spells to act as a plumbing system, but then he would have to do the upkeep for winter town and any other place where it was implemented. He could even conjure stone, but what of when the roads required repair? Better to have a quarry prepared than be called upon anytime someone needed stone.
Then there was all the skill training experience his smallfolk could gain to consider.
Robb would be surgical in his implementation of magic, thinking carefully about the long-term ramifications of when he made use of it. He knew for sure that he'd be using it in land reclamation, demolition, and debris removal at the very least; there was only pain involved in such work for all involved.
Robb knew at some point he would be plundering the ruins of Valyria for their knowledge of civil engineering and any remaining artifacts, and that he'd be doing it soon.
One of his greatest feats of magic that he'd completed in his previous life was replicating Tom's unassisted flight. He had annoyed Snape's painting to death over it, and he had eventually given in and gave a hint just to be rid of him. Robb smirked at the memory; he probably didn't think a "dunderhead" could replicate it with a little hint, but he had. When he had accomplished it, he liked to go around claiming he was the best quidditch player without a broom; Krum and Ron didn't appreciate his claim.
Robb had been making use of his nights to fly around and map the North, searching for untapped natural resources and putting down magical anchors that allowed him to apparate across further distances. He'd been slowly charting his way east; he had always planned to make his way to the ruins of Valyria once he acquired his magic in full.
Robb felt a headache coming on from all his planning. From the sale of Brightroar, to the planning of a possible city, and even raiding Valyria; he had a lot to do. But he found it all very exciting and fresh.
Beyond just an opportunity to fulfill his previous life regrets, Robb saw this second life of his as a way to enjoy new experiences.
And enjoy them he would.
A/N:
Robb is a busy boy.
Next chapter, we see some of his plans come to fruition.
