I've been re-writing the past few chapters.

THIS STORY IS SLASH! If you didn't read the summary.

Chapter 4: Semel In Somnium

271 A.C, 2nd Moon, 6th Day - Highgarden, Westeros

The sound of tapping feet in the wide and ornamental corridors of Highgarden had been a common sound heard echoing throughout the week. Swords battling on the courtyard as knights attempted to win their chances in being the party escorting Hariloas Tyrell directly from the Reach to Oldtown.

That decision to simply march straight to Oldtown, rather than pulling stops at Brightwater Keep or smaller lordships along the way, was a joint choice between Olenna and Luthor.

Olenna saw the increasing tension between the Florents and their own house, deigning to not allow Harry to see their subtle tongues. She couldn't allow her son to be caught in their slithering engage, or the smaller holds of the lesser lords.

Hariloas was, however, blissfully unaware of any sort of scheming done on the other side of the castle as he locked himself in his room to practice the mystical arts and the occult. His small abode flashed with wild green and purple magic. Light seeped under the doorway and out the windows with no one to watch.

Wingardium Leviosa

Harry enchanted the small cot to rise into space with his mind, it's bedsheets dangled across and wafted from the air current of the open window.

Beautiful and soft auburn cascaded in straight lines down his back, as Harry watched his magic flow so easily across his fingertips. He had been practicing and mastering all the spells he knew with wandless magic, as the servants prepared his departure from Highgarden. Hariloas had no clue how it could take them so long to get ready for a short trip. There were no keeps between his path from Highgarden to Oldtown. It seemed as though they were preparing him to go overseas up to the old Hills of Andalos in Essos.

However, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and continued to study non-verbal spells consecutively.

Finite Incantatem.

The bed was quite high up his gothic style room with it's perched arches, and he quickly added another spell into the foray to reduce the impact.

Arresto Momentum.

Taking a small break from the simple magic session, He started gloating about the ease of living in this new world. How hard he struggled to live back in the Forest of Dean with Hermione, in comparison to this new and mysterious planet. It was a stark contrast but he couldn't exactly complain about this dissimilar world.

Mace started to finally slim down to a practical size, losing his remaining baby fat, his fifteen-year-old body losing the pudginess, and his facial features sharpening to the handsome Tyrell construct.

Harry loved him and his other two sisters. They were family that he could trust, people that were absent in his last life. At time, Harry wondered if Lily and James would have other children after him if they survived. They were all Harry could trust. The small new family which built strong bonds with Harry. Arrel, he supposed, was another honorary member of the family, and his father was soon to lose his place in Harry's heart.

Harry was thrilled to leave and explore this new world. While he wasn't actually travelling, he did get to enter the largest repertoire of knowledge on this side of Planetos. So many books to learn from, history to explore, and knowledge to spread.

Oh, dear Seven, he had so many things he wanted to share with those old scholars in the large halls of the Library. Especially concepts surrounding hygiene, physics, or finances. He had no clue how to make modern inventions, however, his previous skills in arithmancy had gained his knowledge in mathematics and physics.

After he took up the Black lordship, he was basically tutored by the unwilling goblins, on how to control his money.

They absolutely despised how he desperately came every week to the bank because he couldn't understand how to use stocks and effectively manage the declining Black household. Through this fiasco, they would finally give in and discipline him in the art of economies and finances.

It was nearly unfathomable how easily the goblins forgave his misdemeanours with the Lestrange Vault, but he didn't question their actions. They gave a whole song and dance about how thieves would pay dearly, but it might've been the massive goblin tolls from Voldemort and the end of a dictator that forced their hand in treating him with respect.

These "lessons" - more like forced attendances - were simply to allow the Goblins to make more coin from the Black family, as they had done so in the past.

Greedy little creatures.

Either way, Herbology hadn't taught him much, and he couldn't share any of the other skills he had grown up with, because they were mostly all magical skills.

Astronomy was useless with the contrasting astrology, constellations, and the strange decade-long seasons.

Ancient Runes had no place being shared with others, their limited knowledge of any sorts of magic, and the simple fact that the Elder Futhark alphabet didn't even exist. That didn't mean that he wouldn't use it personally.

Certainly, he would extort some forms of magic for his own benefit, not that Magic themselves would care about their lover using them like that.

He should've just accepted going into Slytherin.

Cushions were strewn every which wall onto the walls and floor. With a silent mending charm, the messy cushions placed themselves back in prim order.

One small pendant with a gold rose above peridot leaves, lay in the crevice of his slim neck and collarbones.

A sign of his eternal love for his new family, and his noble upbringing in this socio-economically disproportionate world. A world where, while slavery existed on another side of the world, the peasantry were still treated like horse-shite along a road. Healthy for the green grass, but overall unsightly to those walking alongside it.

A knock on his oaken door was the only warning he had to get dressed in the pair of clothing laid on his bed during breakfast.

It was a viridian cloak over a pair of loose black trouser-suspenders and an ostentatious white frilly fitting blouse. He looked everything like a southern noble, and while others might've looked rich and gaudy in the outfit, he seemed to pull it off with unnatural cuteness.

A flippant wave of his blood-red hair across the side of the cloak and a final gaze that scoured the room for forgotten pieces.

Courtyard of Highgarden

Fuck, he was about to cry.

He came into the world five years before, and he was already leaving the only family he'll truly know. When the servants were packing for the trip, or when he was planning on how to take over the Citadel, he never paid attention to the fact that he was most likely never to come back.

That placed a sullen mood over the entire party.

It was a bit funny and strange, the cracking faces his family were trying to withhold. They all were holding back tears.

His mother was, for a son that was leaving, most likely never to be seen again. A brother, for another brother who couldn't be found in the library with his curious eyes. His two sisters, for a child that was ever so sweet. The only family that didn't seem to cry at all, was his tall, overbearing but still dim, Father. How cold a man could be to an innocent son, was a large question that plagued Hariloas. Harry gave a calm goodbye to him, and he seemed to smile? Only for a split second, and Harry was a bit thrown back. Was it a hallucination?

He loved them so much.

Making his final goodbyes to his mother and Mace, and after that noble farewell to Father, Harry entered the plain black carriage moving out of the wrought iron gates.

He had been preparing for nearly the entire week for his first large, magical feat in this new world. It was a simple, actually quite complex as he used wandless casting, barrier spell.

Fianto Duri - Protego Maxima - Repello Inimicum

Used consecutively, the charms would bind onto the small runestones he placed along the borders of Highgarden, and erect a large magical barrier protecting the castle from evil or invading forces.

Originally the spells would create a magical barrier that would stop anything from entering the area's protected, but by wandless casting, he could infuse his will into the protections and change their duty just slightly.

As a shimmer formed a dome around the ancient fortress, it settled and sheened away into complete invisibility.

No invading army would be able to enter past the walls, repelled and made to be slightly distracted away from attacking the fortress.

They were strong ancient protections that only Harry would be able to disable, not that he would even want to.

A butterfly and a hurricane, Westeros' history could only change from here.

In a carriage, moving along the Rose Road, to Oldtown, Harry felt finally ready to venture and leave the little nest that was Highgarden.

271 A.C, 2nd Moon, 20th Day - Oldtown, Westeros

A long but uneventful trip moved him across the green grasslands, yellow wheat farms, and rainbow flower fields until he finally reached the destination that was Oldtown.

The small carriage shook on the cobblestone road.

The first thing that was visible from the distance was the massive tower of the house of Hightower, reaching high into the sky. Deep into the clouds and tilting ever so slightly.

What a strong magical feat and Harry knew that it could only be magic, to construct such a formidable fortress. White marble and a wide torch-fire alight on its roof.

As the massive brass gates came into view, Harry silently began planning his entry into the Citadel.

They had already received notice of his arrival and seemed to greet him with a small entourage, led by a massive white gelded horse and a lithe man in leather sitting above.

He supposed that might've been the city guard captain, considering that the lord of Hightower would never wear that atrocious clothing of animal carcass.

He would enter straight into the Citadel, instead of greeting the Hightowers. Another decision of Olenna. Perhaps his journey of being a eunuch was at tit's beginning. Of course, while they would never cut off any part of him, it was a sentence that carried through life.

It was a bit sad that the same couldn't be said about the horse, with its own castration.

It wasn't that essential for him to have the freedom to have a woman in his bed, men could be just as erotic for him. It was a bit gross for him to think of sex now when he was 5 years of age, but he had the mind of a 55-year old.

He did have some interesting views during the trip, however. After his own bath times, in his own small tub, the knights would bathe in a nearby river.

And it would slightly remiss of him if he didn't take a mischievous peek at them. They were hunky men, that was for sure, to say the least. However, his views were more for anatomical comparison between the wizards of his old world, and the knights of this new one.

They were simply much fitter than wizards in general. While he chose not to look down further their bodies, their thick abdominal muscles, triceps, and biceps were all on full display.

The only other person that Harry had seen with such great detail, was Adrian Pucey when he was fucking Harry against the wall in an abandoned part of the Quidditch locker rooms.

At times, Harry would still think of his cock and strong muscles as he pushed up Harry against the ceramic walls, with his legs around Adrian's hips, and deep thrusts bringing him to euphoria. Adrian's groans and Harry's whines would fill the small showers as he dirtied the latter until they were both hot and breathless.

He was the only man Harry ever laid with before and after his marriage with Ginny, and one of the only handsome men in Hogwarts.

Out of all the inbred Noble scions, Adrian seemed to have hit an ancestral jackpot. However, by Harry's own seventh year, they would be on opposing sides of the war. A stray cutting curse on his back sent by one Hestia Jones, felled him as he hurled a killing curse to Colin Creevey.

He didn't even know how much he actually cared about Adrian until he saw him fall in the Great Hall. They never agreed with either's beliefs, but it didn't matter under all the lust and dirty acts when they were both still minors. Adrian was only two years older than he was, and Harry's fifth-year was stressful for both of them. It's so easy to lose the people around you.

He lost his train of thought again.

Right, wizards v.s. knights. The purebloods suffered from extreme physical and magical defects as the incestuous marriages affected the gene pool. Most wizards already endured bad fitness as they lacked exercise and commanded magic to do most of their bidding. These knights, though, were trained from a young age to stay healthy and strong and it showed.

Another interruption to his thoughts came as magic flared up as Harry passed a small ancient barrier. Old occult most likely set by the builders of Oldtown. Brandon the Builder had a special place in his heart. He must've been a powerful sorcerer to have built such magnificent cities and keeps.

The wonderful shower of magic fell on his body like powdered sugar on classic doughnuts.

His research in the Citadel would definitely begin with research into the Stark Family. Followed most likely with the famous obsidian candles and the last magic tomes. There was the slight problem of the crazy or eccentric Archmaester, Marwyn.

Hariloas was not ready to divulge his interest in magic to others, lest they peer into his room at night, or concern themselves with his affairs. Imagine, a Tyrell son entering into the fields of witchcraft and sorcery.

Along with the many charms and spells he had learned, as well as the magic runes around Highgarden, he also had knowledge of illusions. While the disillusionment spell was useful, forming fake realities for the world was much more powerful, and useful in distracting enemies from the sound of running feet or the slight rustle of clothing.

Back in the Citadel, however, many acolytes had to worry about chamber duties. While the full-fledged maesters were given many thorough jobs in rewriting, archiving, research, and being sent out to lordly households, acolytes had to do the more revolting tasks. They had to deal with research patient feces and cleaning.

Harry, only due to his hierarchical rank, would be exempt from these tasks. Instead, he focused on his own personal studying, test-taking, and chain-forming.

The carriage entered into the courtyard of the Citadel. A round beauty, nearly resembling the Hagia Sophia, with a single round coliseum-like wall instead of four spires. All of the city was embellished in white marble. This was another sign of the Reach's vast wealth.

At times he was proud of them for their wealth and hard work until he remembered the tax and import of wheat to the Vale and North at avaricious prices.

This time, his dream would be to find love, but one that he would make come true again. There would be a different path he would be forced to take, considering his future work, but it would come true.

He stepped out onto the greying cobblestone, free of muck and shite for kilometres. These people, after all, had standards to uphold.

In a city of knowledge and trade, they would need to maintain beauty and elegance.

As the guards travelling with him, swept off their horses, they walked behind him with his large trunks of clothing. The maesters only wore grey, however, Hariloas refused to wear the disgusting colour, reminding him too much of the elephant-skin Stonewall High Uniform. As such, Hariloas only brought white clothing, it was a more muted shade, that was permitted Many loose-fitted black trousers, and many white blouses.

All made to just slightly pass around the Citadels uniform standards. While they were sticklers for the grey, the white and black would be slightly accepted as he was a main-branch member of House Tyrell.

A small acolyte welcomed him into the building to get registered with the maester-receptionist, and would later guide him to his quarters.

Hariloas skipped across the soft purple-black velvet fabric, upon the chiselled slabs of grey stone. He was still a child of 5 years, so I would be asinine of him to walk like a lord.

The maester looked down from his desk and paperwork and promptly looked back to find any mention of an arrival. Upon his desk was the note of an arriving acolyte. One Hariloas Tyrell.

The maester stood up suddenly and almost toppled-over the chair, knocking down the wax candles and slamming his hipbones against the oak desk.

A bit pitiful and Harry almost sympathized with the man's pain. He was certainly a bit of a clutz at times as well.

"I apologize for my lacking efforts in welcoming you, milord. You made such long distances in such a short time." The maester seemed thoroughly slapped. It was true, however, that the speed at which most travelling occurs in the Reach was snail-like. The nobles were often fat and lazy, more troubled with their entertainment and feasts than making good efforts to move or create. The lack of innovation in this world was staggering. It was a mix between the dark-ages and the Renaissance in Europe.

Oh well, he had no power to change the ingrained system as he was no first son. However, he would make sure that the nobles he served would not become unhealthy and piggish.

"It's no problem, my good sir. There were not many obstacles on our journey. You seem immersed in those documents. A hard-working man I see." It would do good for him to slightly flatter the maester if only to make a good impression. Hariloas had masks to uphold after all, but they might not suit him very well.

The maester quickly informed an archmaester of his arrival and the acolyte guiding him took him and his men to Hariloas' chambers.

It was a small ten-by-ten-metre room, with a cot, a desk, a chair and a few candles. The windows were large and round, but cloudy. A fine carpet was the only distinguishing feature in the room. As a noble, they no doubt gave him one of the larger rooms but expected him to bring his own furnishings.

The guards set up his clothes and then briskly left. They understood their purpose well enough. Don't be seen, and don't act out. They would immediately leave back for the Highgarden, now that their duty was done.

After changing into one of his loose fitted pants and the white shirts, he trekked the long way, back to the reception area with the acolyte.

In front of the maester, was now a simple parchment form.

"This is a course list, you will fill your chosen subjects down, and then hand it to me. I will then promptly notify the corresponding archmaesters of your course list.

On the sheet were about a dozen different areas of learning he could enter. However, Hariloas chose the ones he felt would be the best for him in the long run. His hair slightly fell forwards clouding his eyes, and he needed to brush it back behind his ear. He loved his long hair, but perhaps it would be good to trim it. He felt the spilt ends and definitely promised a good shear of the bottom.

He chose to attempt receiving chains in Steel - Construction, Silver - Medicine, Lead - Poison, Iron - Warcraft, Gold - Accounting, Copper - History, and Brass - Philosophy. Seven courses, seven Horcruxes, and the Faith of the Seven. God's be, he was surrounded by that number.

What could he expect in this world, and his last? Seven was a magical number.

He didn't care, at this point, he just wanted to sleep. The carriage was not a very easy place to rest. Later, with more energy, he would begin his programs and read the massive library.

And he would fall asleep, with great ease.

But plots were hatching from behind the bookshelves. Perhaps his life after the Citadel, wouldn't be as promising as he hoped.

Dreams of green fire and the tolling bells of a Sept would come not too far in the future, but he was still in his adolescence. When he awoke the next morning, he would need to take his vows as an acolyte. The maesters were already preparing the general induction ceremony for next week.

All the while, he was blissfully unaware of what the future held, while he thought of the vast repertoire of books, once upon a dream

Semel In Somnium.