Turns out he isn't just simply in a fancy house. The room Harry is currently in is the size of the Gryffindor homeroom alone.
The family apartments or the family wing is set deep within the massive maze of a castle. The tapestries and amount of luxuries surrounding him is a little overwhelming, with all the colors and all the jewels.
Whoever his family is, they must be rich.
He'd love to see Malfoy's reaction to his new humble abode.
His new home is called Highgarden.
He finds that name appropriate when he is able to explore the castle and see its glory on full scale. The great keep is riddled with gardens and thorny shrubs that converge to form a massive congregation of mazes surrounding the entire place. As much as he wishes he could, he never hated the gardening aspect of his chores, even with the beating sun. He knows he'll find himself falling in love with all the flora that surrounds him.
It's been two weeks since his rebirth. He's not certain on the date, as his new family doesn't seem to call the new day anything.
They don't seem to go by an equivalent of the Christian calendar, but instead follow the phases of the moon to tell them when the month is over. They only document things through years not days. This world does have hours, being called an 'hours of the day' using candles to keep track of said time. His personal 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 quickly finds 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 of links draping his person stating it was safe. Harry 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, in the future he suspects Willas will become a powerful figure when he grows as the heir to Highgarden. The future paramount of the Reach, he learns later that it means his brother will rule over the land their family reigns over.
His second oldest brother is closer to his age by being only three years old to his two weeks. He is a giant compared to his older brother who seems to barely stand taller than the younger boy.
Garlan is an exuberant one, reminding him of Ron if the brash man was a small child. He knows from the few interactions he's had with his new siblings that he can see the way his brother, Garlan, is smarter than he portrays, having a serious knack for being able to manipulate 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 already loves them, despite the short time he's been with them. He can feel and tell how excited they are to have him, it causes a warm feeling to erupt every time. Especially when Garlan declares he'll become the greatest knight so he can keep his baby brother safe from all the monsters in the dark.
He turns his head upon 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 this time. Even despite his reservations against having servants he can admit it's very helpful with his lack of mobility.
The servants are so kind with how attentive they are. The young maiden, he thinks that is the proper term that his new dad called the blushing girl is currently rewinding his little baby mobile.
The flowers dangling on it being made out of jewels and metal that he knows cost more than the staff's entire wardrobe.
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 in a hushed voice. "The maiden sure has blessed our lord with you little one."
"Especially with those eyes of yours," The girl, only ten and four, stares down at the baby barely lit by the candle in her grasp. If she was just a little more aware she would have seen the intelligence behind said eyes peering back at her through the slit.
"I pray to the stranger, he doesn't take you too soon." She murmurs with a sweet smile full of kindness. One given by those who have experienced the worst and still don't let it destroy. She backs away never noticing the small babe who pulls himself up to stare at her retreating back. More specifically at the scars littering her shoulder peeking through the light fabric worn in the more humid climate of Reach.
Harry severely hopes those who caused those nasty scars on the sweet child's back are dead, because if he ever finds out who they aren't, he'll kill them personally.
After hermione was almost raped by that dirty scum bag disguised as a wolf in human form he has gotten a very 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 remembers every panicked breath she would have when waking from a nightmare.
Harry took great pleasure in personally putting down the rabid thing himself, having caught Fenrir when he was trying to flee the country having used the distraction of Voldemort's demise to escape. The alpha was in sure shocked when the famed golden boy used a nasty crucio on him. He felt it was his due.
He actually can understand why Tommy boy liked using it so much as he watched the big bad alpha wither and piss himself under the curse.
Even he didn't do that.
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 hidden aspect to him. He just always knew those precious to him wouldn't like the more unsavory part of him. The parts that would do anything to protect what he loves.
It had been easy with the Dursley's giving him great practice, forcing him to mold into a perfect chore boy. When in Hogwarts he just tweaked it 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 knows is he doesn't have to worry about anyone being scared of his darker qualities in this world. Men get their hands chopped off for stealing bread. It reminds him of England during the feudal days.
He suspects if he requested a man to be hung they would just because he's the lord's son no matter the crime, or lack thereof. Not that he'd ever condemn an innocent to death, but he isn't the kind eleven year old boy looking for friendship and more anymore. He is achingly familiar with the fact that death will always be a factor when there is war.
Too exhausted to fight his instincts he lets the gentle chiming of a lullaby lull him into unconsciousness.
Harry lets out an impatient sigh as his mother who is swelled with a new child sits next to him on a floral accented bench, while he sits on the floor, absently playing with the blocks. He uses it to keep his body occupied while he listens to the conversation over him.
The rhythmic sound of the needle being threaded as his mother uses her nimble fingers to stitch what looks like a rose in attached to a 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. He worries for the oaf, despite the obnoxiousness, Mace is still his father and Harry has slowly come to adore the man and his antics.
The two years he's had with his new family has been so shocking, being a Tyrell he is coming to learn isn't something that is forced. The family is one of love, which is rare for a noble house.
His grandmother loves Mace despite his shortcomings. It is obvious, she just uses jabs as a love language.
The old woman is sharper than Dumbledore he swears.
"Good mother, is everything alright?" The delicate voice that accompanies his mother makes him pay more attention, keeping his ear on the conversation.
He watches as Olenna raises her stern eyes and stops writing to focus on his mother, the frown lines on her face deepen as she reveals her frustrations, "It's nothing truly 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 nay 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 continues, "were you listening to me Haedrian?"
"Come here, little rose," his grandmother encourages, using the chair's ability to spin to lean down next to her desk, 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, the slurring he can't overcome yet.
He excitedly pushes himself onto his feet, flapping his arms when he loses his balance. He pushes himself out of the servants reach not wanting the pretty lady's help. He wants to show his grandmother he can do it on his own. She scoops him up with praise and a surprisingly amount of ease for her age, propping him on her lap. The softness 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, "I'm glad you and Willas aren't like your father, if only Garlan lucked out." She muses her potent breath fanning his face, but 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 pinches his nose, "Insolent 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.
"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.
His brothers arguing drags their attention towards them.
"Yeah!"
"Well, I'm gonna be better than Duncan the Tall!" He hears Garlan declare pointing toward Willas with determination as he stands with a scowl.
"Oh Yeah!" Willas scoffs.
"Well I'm gonna be better than Ser Aurthur of the Morningstar." Willas declares with just as much passion his lanky frame is only 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." She says, 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. His long face is decorated with a ferocious scowl. He spoke with a mocking tone towards 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 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. Harry was the only reason he caught the oppressing aura that the dementors push onto you.
He pushes forward despite the temptation to just end it and join his friends.
He lives and endures, pushing on.
"Harry, I hope you're happy." He whispers still not used to his younger voice despite being in this world for ten and seven years.
He hopes Harry lives a long life and finds happiness.