As I mentioned last chapter, I'm skipping through Harry's time at the Citadel, because it's kinda boring to write. Really sorry!

Thank you all for the wonderful reviews!

In response to the concerns about Harry's origins - it's a part of the plot, I'm not just going to reveal it in the first chapter.

Chapter 2

Winterfell

"BOY!"

He cowered further into the cupboard, encapsulating his body in the darkness.

"UP!"

The light streamed in as the door was unlocked and wrenched open. His uncle's face was blurry and Harry tried to look at him closely –

Harry yelped, jolting up and panting heavily. He tried and struggled to remember the details of the dream – surely, that had not happened in his lifetime? Had his imagination really run so rampant?

"Up, boy!" Harry turned his head so quickly he may well have snapped his neck. Robert was sitting on his own bed, smiling widely at him.

Robert looked at his expression and lost his grin. "Did I startle you?"

Harry shook his head absentmindedly, "S'ok…"

Robert frowned. "Uh, it was only an impression of Marwyn – "

"I know, I know, it's ok." Harry smiled slightly to reassure him.

Robert deflated in relief. "Your dreams…" he shook his head.

Ever since the first day at the Citadel, Harry had continually had vague dreams like these, with premises and settings which he'd never thought of before. At first, he'd dismissed them as nothing substantial, but they were becoming clearer and clearer. It was as if something was calling to him from them, something important, yet something just out of his reach.

He sighed. It was no use pondering over such things. There was nothing he could really do to try and find out where they came from.

"Oh, Marwyn is downstairs. Told me to tell you it was the, er, 'perk'." Robert shrugged as he flopped onto his back.

Harry shot up. "Finally! It's been months!"

"What's been weeks?"

"He said there was a perk to being his personal apprentice on the second day here, then didn't mention it again. I thought he'd forgotten."

"Ah, good on you." Robert replied, clearly bored.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled on his tunic. Now that he thought about it, did he have anything but tunics? Simple grey shirts? He shrugged inwardly. He'd have to buy some new clothes once he got the coin.

He strode to the door and turned back. "Meet me at breakfast?"

"Sure." was the muffled reply.

Harry began walking down the stone stairs towards the little common room at the bottom. It was not really used for socialising; that was all done in the dining hall and in between classes. The Maesters made it a point to keep you busy, so there were no 'popular' people, only exceptional ones.

Once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, he made his way to the door, outside which Marwyn would be waiting. He wrenched open the door quickly to a peculiar sight.

Marwyn was stood outside, looking very smug. He had his arms crossed and a satchel on his waist.

"Pack your clothes and money, we're going to Essos." He shot off before Harry even had a chance to step out of the door.

Harry promptly hit his head on the doorframe.

"What?"

"Pack… your… clothes. We're going… to… Essos." Marwyn drawled.

"I heard you the first time. Why?" Harry demanded. He was only just getting used to life in the Citadel.

"It's your perk!". Marwyn paused at Harry's expectant look and sighed. "The Citadel can fund one Archmaester's studies each year, and this year it's my turn. My studies are nearly always in Essos, so get ready; as my apprentice you can come too."

Harry thought it over. He had scoured the library and there was barely anything about the Higher Mysteries in there, apart from dragonlore. Besides, all of his lessons were from Marwyn, so he practically had to go.

"I guess I have to go." Harry said, frustrated.

"That you do. We're leaving at noon."

Harry turned and went back up the stairs, not bothering to close the door. Marwyn was a good teacher, but he was thoroughly unpredictable and subsequently quite frustrating. Walking in through the door to his and Robert's room, he flopped down on his bed, face-first.

"What did he want?" Robert yawned.

"I have to go with him to Essos at noon."

"Oka- wait, what? Essos?"

"The very one."

"At such short notice?"

"Yes."

"That man…" Robert trailed off. "Let's get down to breakfast."

Robert and Harry shared a friendly relationship, enough for companionship and camaraderie, but nowhere near enough for either to confide in each other. As it was, Robert would probably survive without him at the Citadel, Harry thought.

Breakfast was a quick affair, the extravagant meals of his first day here only having been replicated occasionally since then. First impressions were important, after all.

After finishing their food, they chattered idly until they got back to their room, where they flopped back on to their beds.

"Enjoy the feeling of the bed, Harry." Robert laughed, "It's the last you will get for a long…" He cut off abruptly.

Harry raised his head curiously, hearing the flapping of wings. Robert was taking a letter of the claws of a crow. Harry suddenly got a bad feeling in his gut.

"What is it?"

"A letter… from my Uncle Hallis." Harry remained silent.

"It's –" Robert choked up, dropping the letter.

"What?"

"Father… father's injured. Badly. Hunting accident."

"My… I'm sorry to hear that." Harry said slowly.

"It…" Robert sunk back on to his bed. "It appears you're not the only one going home."

Harry felt a tight knot in his stomach. "Coincidence. We're leaving very soon, you might as well come with us." he said, simply.

"I think I shall."

The journey to the cart was sombre and quiet. They reached it with sullen faces as the two teenagers placed their trunks in the back.

"Why's he here?" Marwyn asked, rudely.

Harry made slashing motions at his throat.

Robert turned his eyes at Marwyn for nary a second, before saying, "I will accompany you on your journey until we reach Highgarden."

"Not all the way to Kings Landing?"

"No, I will take a cart directly to Winterfell tomorrow morning."

Marwyn looked at Harry and then nodded, acquiescing. "Make yourselves comfortable, it is a three hour journey."

Harry smiled tightly, but gratefully.

Soon enough, the cart began to move. Harry, Robert and Marwyn sat in a companionable silence, despite the solemn atmosphere.

Before long, the rider in front announced that it had reached the gates of Highgarden. Robert got out without a word, but Marwyn tapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Look, Potter, I've got business to attend to in King's Landing and then Myr. You go with Mollen here to Winterfell, and meet me in the Golden Inn in Pentos a few weeks from now. Got it?" Marwyn whispered.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

"Ok. I'll need some money, though –" he paused as Marwyn pressed a small purse into his hands.

"That's more than enough for your journeys and food."

Harry nodded, getting out of the cart and running after Robert. "Robert! Robert!"

Robert turned back, with an inquisitive frown.

Harry grinned. "Got room for one more?" he said, lifting up his purse.

Robert's lips twitched up at his cheery tone, a good sign in Harry's eyes. He motioned forwards and Harry moved to catch up.

They entered the city with little fuss, the guards barely giving them a second glance, and were quite impressed by what they saw through the gates. The city was exquisitely designed and very bright, with marble buildings and vines decorated with flowers as far as the eye could see. Harry was barely fooled, however – such wealth was not created without unseen peasant houses and squalor hiding in the background.

"Do you wish to explore the city?" Robert asked.

Harry turned quickly, having nearly forgotten about his companion. "Yes, I think I will. You?"

"I… don't think so. I'll get us rooms at the… Rosewood Inn." He declared, pointing at a building within walking distance.

Harry nodded, pulling out his purse and handing Robert a few silvers.

Robert took them and began walking off, prompting Harry to do the same. Highgarden was said to be the jewel of the Reach, a beautiful land in itself with hundreds of farms providing food for the Seven main city was very nice, but he wanted to see the 'real' city, where the workers and farmers lived. He decided to turn into a large, unkempt street on his right, walking at a leisurely pace. He continued for a while – Highgarden was a large city, it seemed. He could probably handle himself in an emergency. There were some closed shops, and a large building – 'Highgarden Orphanage'. He raised his eyebrows, and curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it, he was pushing open the door.

The interior was much cleaner than the outside, and he moved in, closing the door behind him. There was a courtyard ahead of him, but the place seemed strangely deserted.

"Uh, hello?" He heard a voice to his right. Startled, he turned, body relaxing when he saw a taut old woman who was most likely the owner of the orphanage. "Who are you?" she asked, eyes narrowed, hands on hips.

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I'm an apprentice from Oldtown – I'm very sorry for intruding, curiosity got the better of me."

She clearly saw no threat in him and she deflated, "I'm sorry for that dear, the poor children, you see, and-"

She paused as Harry chuckled, raising his hand. "No matter, no matter. Might I ask, where are the orphans?"

Her demeanour changed quickly, and she said quietly, "Well, if you promise to be quiet, I can show you."

Harry raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to lead. She began to hobble towards a door, wobbling slightly, and Harry rushed to take hold of her shoulders.

"Thank you, dear, my legs aren't what they used to be!" she exclaimed, quietly tittering.

She led him to a door, and opened it cautiously. Inside was a warm, comfortable-looking room, decorated in red and gold. There were children lounging on the floor, intently watching a young girl who was reading a story soothingly and calmly.

"…and the old man was angry. Do you know what he said?" she asked, to a chorus of "No".

"He said…" and she paused, looking around at the yawning children, "He said BOO!" she exclaimed loudly, beaming mischievously as all the children yelped and jumped, then broke down in giggles.

Harry had jumped as well, hand to his heart, and began chuckling in mirth. The woman at his side held on to his shoulder in partial shock.

The girl had looked up at the deep laugh, getting up. "Enna! I didn't notice you come in!"

The woman only waved her off. "It's alright Margy dear, my heart's getting weaker as I grow old."

The girl smiled sweetly. Now that Harry noticed, she was very pretty.

"And who's this dashing young man at your side, Enna? Is there something you need to tell me?" Harry felt heat rising to his cheeks.

"Oh! Oh, no, I'm far too old for that. Merely another visitor." Enna laughed wheezily. "Are you going now?"

The girl nodded, "Yes, father will most likely be expecting me." She turned to Harry, who raised an eyebrow. "Will you accompany me?"

Harry replied. "It would hardly be appropriate. What's your name?" His words were hardly honey-coated enough for the noble he expected she was, but he didn't really care.

The girl took it in stride, lowering her head. "Margaery, daughter of Mace Tyrell, the lord of Highgarden. May I have the pleasure of knowing yours?"

"Harry Potter. Shall we go?" Enna had long since moved on, and they left in peace. Walking through the streets on the way to the keep, they struck up a conversation.

"I am curious," Harry asked. "Why would you want me to accompany you from nary a glance?"

Margaery giggled prettily, and Harry felt a blush rising again. "Some say I have a good sense of character. So, Ser Harry, tell me about yourself."

"Maybe you do." He gave a small smile. "There's… not a lot to say about myself, really. I'm only out here to accompany my teacher on his travels. So, what is a highborn girl such as yourself doing in an orphanage?"

"Why, are highborn girls forbidden to go to orphanages?"

"I can't imagine that many would want to, that is all."

"Perhaps many wouldn't, but I like to think I'm different."

"And what does a… different highborn girl do, then?"

"Play, Ser Harry, only play."

They walked in companionable silence for a while, until she piped up. "I'd like to be queen someday."

Harry was not very surprised. "Would you? Hmm…"

"You don't sound very convinced. Why?"

"It, erm…"

"Go on, speak." She implored.

"I'd say you're not the only girl who wishes to be queen."

"Oh, but Ser Harry, I will be queen one day."

Harry eyed her curiously. She seemed remarkably certain.

"Well, what do you think?"

"Think of what?"

"Of me being queen?"

He paused in his step and gave her a once-over. "You, er, you could certainly look like a queen."

She beamed brightly and said teasingly, "And you could certainly look like a king."

Harry raised his eyebrow at the clumsy come-on. "I'm looking to be a Maester, my lady, not a king."

"I wouldn't have put you down as a Maester at first sight." She said, looking at him as they walked.

"And why not?"

"Well, you are quite handsome, it has to be said."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, you flatter me so." He responded somewhat sarcastically, yet smiling.

"Sarcasm is unbecoming, Ser Harry." She scolded lightly, setting her sights forward.

"I apologise profusely, my lady." He grinned. They had reached the entrance to the keep and the guards were looking at them.

"I suppose this is goodbye." He said.

"Are you in Highgarden for long?" she inquired, somewhat hopefully. Harry raised his brow. Did this girl really wish to get to know someone who she'd met only a few minutes before? He frowned inwardly. There was something… something odd about this girl. He didn't know what, but there was something that he was missing. He shrugged. It was probably not of much importance.

"Only until tomorrow, then I am off to Winterfell."

She nodded, not asking any questions. "I hope we see each other again, some time."

"I hope we do too." They stood there awkwardly, shuffling their feet and looking down, before Harry looked up at the setting sun.

"I best be going now."

Margaery deflated and she nodded, "Goodbye." She turned and left without another glance.

He stared at her back, confused. Had he done something? He shook his head and began walking down the street to the Rosewood Inn. It was no use bothering over it; in a few weeks' time he'd be thousands of leagues away.

"Didn't you ever wonder where your dad learnt it all?"

"Learn what?"

"You're a wizard, Harry."

"I'm a… what?"

"A wiz –" The scene blanked out.

Harry shot up. Another one of those dreams. But… he knew he was a wizard. Why would anyone, no less a huge brown blob in a dream, need to tell him he was one? Then again, he had to admit that he'd not been utilising his gift as much as he probably should have been recently. He could have transported himself to Winterfell given enough rest, but his heart was not in it. He sighed, and laid his head down. They would be in Winterfell soon, and by the Old he'd need his energy there.

A few days of travelling on horseback has done little to improve Robert's mood, despite Harry's attempts at joviality.

After a particularly tiring day of travels, the distant town of Winterfell came into view, and they both sagged in relief. Half an hour of slow trotting and idle chatter brought them to the gates, and the guards nodded at Robert, clearly recognising him.

They pointed at Harry questioningly. "Who's your companion?"

"Harry Potter, another apprentice from the Citadel."

The guard nodded again, and opened the gate for them. "Come, Harry, we must meet my uncle, Hallis."

"Where will he be?"

"The courtyard or the guard's hall, we shall see on the way."

They dismounted their horses at the stables, and took off towards the direction of the courtyard. The courtyard was mostly deserted, except for a boy hitting a training dummy with his wooden practice sword.

"Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard son." Robert muttered to Harry, whose eyes widened in recognition. "Let us ask him."

"You know him personally?"

"We're acquainted. Jon!" Robert called out.

The boy in question, barely fourteen years of age, turned towards them. "Robert. Sorry about your father – I hear that he's recovering."

Robert smiled in relief. "That's great to hear. Do you know where my uncle is?"

"Hallis? Uh, meeting with my father I believe. They'll be no longer than an hour, I'd say. Join me for some training until then?"

"Sure, why not. You coming, Harry?"

Harry was still feeling a bit tired, so he declined lightly. "No, sorry, I'm feeling tired. I think I'll explore the grounds."

"Ok, meet me here in an hour then."

Harry nodded and walked off in no particular direction. He supposed the Godswood would be a good place to go – there was only a sept to be found in Oldtown, after all.

Before he could get there, however, he was thrown off his feet by a little cannonball of a girl, who stood up and brushed herself off apologetically in the blink of an eye. Harry, reeling from the shock, pulled himself up and coughed.

"You might want to watch where you're running next time."

"It's not my fault, it's the cat's!"

"What cat?"

"That one!" she pointed at an innocent looking feline a few metres away.

"Why are you chasing it, the poor thing?" Harry grinned.

"Poor thing?! It's a monster, that's what it is!"

Harry laughed. "Where's the Godswood?"

"Through there." she pointed to a set of doors, still very much focusing on the cat.

After meeting with Hallis, it became clear that it was better to stay in Winterfell whilst Robert's father was being treated. He had a large chance of survival, but nothing was set in stone, so it was better to keep others away whilst the treatment was administered. As such, they each got unused rooms in the Guards' quarters for the next few nights.

They, in fact, had arrived at a rather coincidental time. It appeared that the King was to arrive a couple of days after – Harry didn't know what to think of the the man. Tales of his drunkenness and lechery were spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms; he almost felt sorry for his wife, Cersei Baratheon, daughter of Tywin.

He'd spent a long time in the Godswood, thinking about his future. He didn't want to be a Maester, not anymore. He wanted to go to Essos if only because it was much more mystical than Westeros, where the most magical thing was the Wall. But… still, Westeros had a charm of its own, and he would definitely return after his travels with Marwyn.

The wind around him picked up, as if it were listening to him. He couldn't lie, he felt his magic clearly in here, and this whole place was infused in it. He sat by the pool in peace, the wind slowly picking up leaves and circling him in a somewhat reassuring manner. Yes, this place certainly was magical.

"How are you finding the Woods?" Harry looked up at the voice, and scrambled to his feet.

"Lord Stark -"

"No need to be alarmed, let us not disturb the peace."

Harry nodded affirmatively. "They're very relaxing."

"Indeed. I've found myself here many a-time while under stress. I must say, I do not recognise you, Ser..."

"Harry. Harry Potter, my Lord."

"Potter?"

"Sworn to the Umbers, my Lord."

"Hm. I can't recall... Maybe it has slipped my mind."

"We have long since fallen from prominence."

"What brings you to Winterfell?"

"One of my friend's - friend from the Citadel - father's has been injured, and I'm accompanying him up North. His name is, um, Thom, Thom Mollen."

"Ah, yes, brother of one of my guards. The Wolfswood is known for its dangers, however, so I can't say I'm surprised."

"Indeed not. Are you ready for the King's visit?"

"Ready?" Lord Stark laughed. "We have enough food to feed a city right now!"

Harry chuckled. "Ah, stories of the King's appetite are told far and wide. What of the Queen?" He knew there was no love lost between the Lannisters and the Starks, even if the King was wed to one.

"She's bore him two sons and a daughter, there is little to complain about." Huh. Either Stark didn't mind her or he kept his feelings hidden well.

"Thank you for talking, my Lord. I must be on my way, though."

"Of course, of course. It's not often I see other people in the Godswood."

Harry inclined his head and walked away. The man had been remarkably easy to talk to, a trait not found in many. The Starks were known for their honour, honesty and integrity... the world could do with more people like them.

The leaves followed him to the door, much to Ned's curiosity.

And there we have it! The King is coming, and the children will get their direwolves next chapter.

Now, what about poor Bran…? *evil laugh*

Thank you for reading, the action will pick up soon!