-Warning mentions of SA-

Turns out Harry isn't just in a fancy house, and he would pay money to see Malfoy's reaction to his new humble abode.

Highgarden, that's the name of his new home, if he hadn't lived in Hogwarts he would suspect he'd feel more intimidated at the prospect of calling such a grand castle home. The namesake isn't just for show, the giant castle is riddled with gardens and shrubs forming a massive congregation of mazes surrounding the entire place.

It's been two weeks since his… birth. He's not certain on the date as his new family doesn't seem to call the new day anything. The closest Harry can come to with a time is the strange names they have for specific times of the day.

His favorite is the hour of the wolf, striking at the darkest time of the night. Mainly because it's a connection to his teacher, Remus.

Who he hopes is at peace with his parents.

He found out that he is the youngest of three boys, his older brothers being introduced to him a few days after the strange man with a chain draping his person stated it was safe.

He never had siblings so he's curious to see how their relationship will unfold, hopefully he doesn't have another Dudley experience.

His oldest brother by seven years is a surprisingly intelligent boy, who Harry suspects will become a powerful figure when he grows as the heir to Highgarden. The future paramount of the reach, whatever that means.

All he knows is his brother will rule over the land their family reigns over, under the king of course.

His second oldest brother is closer to his age by being only three years old to his two weeks.

The toddler is an exuberant one, reminds him of Ron if the brash man was a small child.

Though from the few interactions he's had with his new siblings he can see the strategic way his brother, Garlan can be with the ease he has with manipulating the staff into catering to his wants.

Harry only knows cause he could see the smug smile as the small boy ducks his head when they bend to his demands.

He loves them, despite the short time he's been with them. He can see how excited they are to have him, it caused a warm feeling to erupt when Garlan attempted to declare he would keep his baby brother safe from all the monsters.

Hearing the door click open into his room, the size of it he finds to be obnoxious for a baby, but he's not gonna complain when he's being treated with actual decency, well he can admit it's more than just decency. The servants, and he's still getting used to having servants, are so sweet with how attentive they are.

Case in point being the sweet young maiden, If he can remember the proper term currently rewinding his little baby mobile with different kinds of flowers dangling.

The thing is able to spin for about an hour, he knows having counted out of boredom.

He turns his attention towards the small girl as she finishes with the task only to speak towards him more than to him in a hushed voice. "The maiden sure has blessed our lord with you little one, I'm not sure, but I can think you'll bring great things to the land."

"Especially with those eyes of yours," The girl only ten and four stares down at the baby barley lit by the candle in her grasp, if she was just a little colder she would have seen the intelligent eyes peering at her through the slit of his eyes.

"I pray to the stranger, he doesn't take you too soon." She murmurs with a sweet smile full of kindness only those who experience the worst and not let it destroy them are able to bestow.

Backing away she never sees the small babe who pulls himself up to stare at her retreating back, particularly at the scars littering her shoulder peeking through the fabric worn in the more humid climate that is Highgarden.

Harry severely hopes those who caused the nasty scars on the sweet child's back are dead, because if he ever finds out who they are he'll kill them.

After hermione was almost raped by that dirty scum bag disguised as a wolf in human form. He's gotten a particular hate towards those who force themselves on others. Not to say he wouldn't have stopped them before, just it's personal for him now.

He still remembers the panicked breaths she had when waking from a nightmare, despite the fact the man didn't go all the way.

He still violated her.

Harry took great pleasure in personally dispatching the feral thing himself, catching Fenrir trying to flee the country using the distraction of Voldemort's demise to escape.

The wannabe alpha sure was shocked when the famed golden boy used a nasty crucio on him, feeling it was his due understanding why Tom liked using it so much as Harry watched the big bad alpha wither under the curse.

His only regret is not using it on Bellatrix, but figured it wasn't worth the risk of being labeled the next dark lord.

Harry had always had a darker aspect to him.

He just knew his precious people wouldn't like the more unsavory part of him that would do anything to keep what's his, or protect what he loves. It had been easy with the Dursley's forcing him to mold into a perfect chore boy, he just used the same tactics to keep himself in the image that they wished, the golden boy who would be reckless in his quest to survive.

If there is one thing he can understand is he doesn't have to worry about anyone being scared of his darker qualities, seeing how feudal everything is. He bets if he requested a man to be hung they would just because he's the lord's son.

Not that he'd ever condemn an innocent to death, but he isn't naive anymore that death is alway going to be a factor when there is war.

The gentle chiming of a lullaby makes him refocus on the mobile letting the sweet sound lull him into unconsciousness.

——

Two years later…

Harry lets out an impatient sigh as his mother, swelled with a new child, sits next to him in the floral accented bench as he sits on the floor absently playing with the blocks while listening to the sound of of the needle being threaded as she uses her nimble fingers to stitch what looks like a rose in attached to ringlet holding the cloth tight..

Looking towards his two older brothers, who are getting lessons from the maester, he can't help but feel useless.

His father had left for war a little over three moons ago, and he worries for the oaf, despite the aptly naming of the man, he is still his father.

The two years he's had with his new family has been so shocking, being a Tyrell he learned isn't something that is forced. He can see that his grandmother loves his father despite his shortcomings. The old woman is sharper than Dumbledore.

If he has any credibility on that opinion.

"Good mother, is everything alright?" The delicate voice that accompanies his mother makes him stop before coming on with his pretense of playing, keeping his ear on the conversation.

Olenna's stern eyes flick up as she stops her writing to focus on his mother, the frown lines on her face deepen as she reveals her frustrations.

"It's nothing, dear, your oaf of a husband has stated he's been successful in his siege of Storm's End, unfortunately someone had been able to smuggle onions of all things into the castle so the siege will most likely hold out for another fortnight or more," she speaks more to herself than his mother.

"I see, so he's not gonna be back in time for the babe?" He lets his eyes close slowly as his innocent mother focuses on that more than the fact that this needless war is being further prolonged.

"If you weren't my sons wife," he can hear the exasperation in his grandmother's voice as she goes on to placate his mother, who is vastly different from his past life's mother, Lily.

Who was said to be one of the brightest.

Lets just say his parents are two peas in a pod.

"That stupid Prince, all he had to do was gather the lords, but no he goes and runs off with that Pup trying to be a wolf." He lets out a snort at the words of his grandmother, always fond of her wit.

"Oh," he hears mirth in his grandmother as she says, "were you listening to me Haedrian?"

"Come here, little rose," his grandmother encourages, using the chair's ability to spin to lean down, holding out her frail hands. Glancing at his mother he sees the soft spoken woman has distracted herself with her needlework.

"Gh'ma," he gurgles, allowing the slurring that he can't overcome just yet to bleed out as he excitedly pushes himself onto his feet, flapping his arms as he loses his balance. He pushes himself out of the servants reach not wanting the pretty lady's help.

Wanting to show his grandmother he can do it on his own.

She scoops him up with a surprisingly amount of ease for her age, propping him on her lap the soft feel of the fabric of her dress and headwrap brushing against his head as it dangles onto her bosom. Tilting his head up he is greeted with a toothless smile mimicking his own two toothed one.

"Boy, I'm glad you and Willas aren't like your father, if only Garlan lucked out." She muses her potent breath fanning his face as he ignores it in favor of savoring the affection he was deprived of.

"Bah!" He says smacking his hand onto her chest in defense of his brother.

His grandmother gently flicks his nose, "Insolant brat, I don't love Garlan any less little one," she speaks always as if he can understand her, it's probably the only reason he's not gone insane. Having someone not a baby talk to him like everyone else does.

" I just wish for him to have a head when he is grown because this world isn't kind to idiots. Especially kind ambitious idiots." She says with a wistful tone.

"Yeah! Well, I'm gonna be better than Duncan the Tall!" He hears his brother Garlan declare pointing toward Willas with determination as he stands with a scowl.

"Oh Yeah!"

"Well I'm gonna be better than Ser Aurthur of the MorningStar." Willas declares with just as much passion his lanky frame slightly taller than Garlan.

"Boy's, not in my room, go outside if you want to be hooligans." Olenna interrupts the stuttering fool that is their maester who was failing to attempt to dissolve the situation.

"But-"

"Ser Grant, please escort my two roudy grandchildren to a more appropriate place to be loud, as you can see our dear lady of the house is currently taking a nap." Making Harry turn to look at his mother who had fallen asleep on the bench she had been sitting in.

"Yes, my lady, Little lords this way please," the aforementioned Knight gently guides the two out of the room leaving Harry alone with his grandmother.

His sleeping mother was not forgotten.

"Now, how about we come up with a letter to Lord Tywin, I'm curious to see why the big bad Lion hasn't helped his best friend and king in this dire time." Olenna muses, resituating him on her hip while calling a servant for some fresh parchment paper.

——-

"A Stark must always be in Winterfell," the young boy mutters with a ferocious scowl, his tone mocking his brother who stated that as he left him to babysit his new wife and soon to be child.

Laying in his room he glares up at his stone ceiling imagining his brother's face. He understands why, but feels useless just standing here while they fight for revenge.

He's tired, and angry.

He thought he was through with dealing with this, finding out his brother had been strangled on his own trying to save their father from being burnt alive, it made him think back to the time from before.

Chasing after the stupid rat instead of making sure his godson was safe.

He regrets a lot of things, but he will most regret not letting Harry know he sees him as Harry and not just a replacement for James.

He wished he had been in the right mindset then to express how much Harry had kept him sane in the prison. Harry was the only reason he caught the oppressing aura that the dementors push onto you.

Harry had and still is his reason to live.

Seeing the anguish on Harry's face as he fell through the veil still makes his heart ache.

He pushes forward despite the temptation to just end it and join his friends, knowing Harry would hate it if he just gave up.

He lives and endures, pushing on for his godson.

"Harry, I hope you're happy." He whispers still not used to his younger voice despite being in this world for ten and two years.

He hopes Harry lived a long life.

A/n:

So, I'm sorry there's nothing really productive in this chapter.

I'm making Harry a little more darker in that he's more willing to push his morals aside to protect what's his.

And we get a glimpse of Sirius.

Think of this as a filler, if you will.

I'm probably going to skip to the start of the plot, in a hopefully cohesive way, but I can go through his childhood more in-depth if you'd prefer?

Will Harry use his more Slytherin side to prepare or do his usual brash Gryffindor self.