Chapter 6

Ned's POV

Ned watched from a distance as his 9-year-old nephew, Cregan, sparred with Ser Arthur Dayne. Their practice swords clashed, the sound of metal ringing out across the training yard. Cregan's movements were swift and precise, mirroring the fluid grace of his legendary uncle.

Ser Arthur, ever the vigilant teacher, matched Cregan's intensity with a calm determination of his own. His dual-wielding technique was a sight to behold, each strike calculated and controlled.

As the two continued their training, Ned couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in his chest. Cregan had grown so much since they arrived at Winterfell, his skills honed under the guidance of Ser Arthur. And with each passing day, he showed more and more promise as a future leader of the North.

As Cregan clashed swords with Ser Arthur, the air filled with the metallic ring of their practice blades. Robb, his young face alight with excitement, called out to his cousin, "You can do it, Cregan! Show him what you're made of!"

Arya, bouncing on her toes with anticipation, chimed in, her voice ringing clear across the training yard. "Yeah, Cregan! Knock him down!"

Beside them, Rhaenys nodded eagerly, her eyes fixed on her betrothed 's every move. "You've got this, Cregan," she encouraged. "Don't hold back!"

Meanwhile, Arya's twin Sansa observed the scene with a serene expression, her gaze following the graceful arcs of Cregan's sword as he parried and thrust. "He's very skilled, isn't he?" she remarked softly, her voice carrying a note of admiration.

As Ned observed Sansa and Arya, he couldn't help but marvel at the stark differences between his twin daughters. Sansa, with her delicate features and serene demeanor, seemed to embody the epitome of ladylike grace. Her long, auburn hair cascaded in gentle waves around her shoulders, framing a face that mirrored her mother's beauty.

In contrast, Arya was a whirlwind of energy and mischief, her dark locks cropped short in defiance of traditional feminine norms. Her sharp features and expressive grey eyes hinted at a spirit too wild to be contained within the confines of courtly expectations.

Despite their differences, Ned cherished each of his daughters for the unique qualities that made them who they were. He knew that in their own ways, both Sansa and Arya would leave their mark on the world, just as their parents had before them.

Ned's gaze shifted to Prince Aegon, noticing the intensity in his young eyes as he watched the sparring match between Cregan and Ser Arthur. Despite his tender age, Aegon seemed to possess a keen sense of observation, his mind absorbing every detail of the exchange as if committing it to memory.

There was a hunger for knowledge in the prince's eyes, a thirst for understanding that belied his youth. Ned couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the boy, recognizing in him the potential for greatness that ran deep within the blood of House Targaryen.

As Aegon continued to watch with rapt attention, Ned couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing the blossoming of a future leader, a young prince destined to leave his mark on the pages of history.

Ned's thoughts turned to his sister Lyanna and her son Jaecaerys, known as Jon to those outside their trusted circle. It had been a long and arduous journey, but after eight years, he had finally garnered enough support from loyal lords to bring them home to Winterfell from their sanctuary in Greywater Watch.

However, their return would not be without its challenges. To protect Jon's identity and ensure his safety, they had concocted a story that painted him as the bastard son of Brandon Stark, making him Cregan's half-brother in the eyes of the realm. It was a necessary deception, one that weighed heavily on Ned's conscience but was vital for Jon's survival.

Ashara's reaction to the deception was mixed, to say the least. While she understood the necessity of the lie for Jon's safety, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the tarnishing of her late husband's name. Brandon Stark, known for his honor and integrity, deserved better than to be portrayed as the father of an illegitimate child. Yet, for the sake of their family's future and Jon's protection, she reluctantly accepted the need for the ruse, though it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Lyanna, too, would have to adopt a disguise to conceal her true identity. Disguised as a septa, she would move among the people unnoticed, her true nature hidden beneath the guise of piety and humility.

Though the burden of their deception weighed heavily on him, Ned knew that it was the only way to protect his family and ensure their safety in the tumultuous times that lay ahead.

Ned silently acknowledged in his mind that his ability to gain the trust and loyalty of the Northern lords was, in no small part, thanks to Cregan. The young lord's influence and leadership had earned him admiration and respect throughout the region, paving the way for Ned's own efforts to strengthen their alliance and secure the future of House Stark.

Cregan's innovative methods were a testament to his forward-thinking nature and his dedication to improving the lives of his people. Under his guidance, the North had embraced modern farming techniques, such as crop rotation and irrigation systems, which had dramatically increased crop yields and ensured food security even in harsh winters.

In addition to agricultural reforms, Cregan had introduced the production of new alcoholic beverages, such as whiskey and vodka, leveraging the abundant resources of the North to create new sources of revenue. His keen understanding of trade and economics had transformed the region's economy, opening up new markets and opportunities for prosperity.

These changes had not gone unnoticed by the Northern lords, who admired Cregan's leadership and vision. To them, he was a beacon of hope and progress in a land accustomed to hardship and tradition. And while Ned couldn't fully comprehend the extent of Cregan's influence, he recognized the profound impact his nephew had on the future of House Stark and the North.

Ned's attention snapped back to the present as Vayon Poole's voice broke through his reverie, bringing news of the impending arrival from Greywater Watch. Straightening his posture, Ned nodded in acknowledgment, his mind quickly shifting gears to prepare for their guests' arrival.

"Thank you, Vayon," Ned replied with a sense of urgency. "Prepare the guests' chambers and ensure they receive a warm welcome upon their arrival."

With a sense of purpose, Ned set about organizing the household, his thoughts racing as he anticipated the reunion with his sister Lyanna and her son Jon. It was a moment he had long awaited, one that would finally bring his family back together under the roof of Winterfell.

—

Cregan's POV

As the spar with his Uncle Arthur came to an end, a surge of exhilaration coursed through Cregan's veins, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he lowered his practice sword. Sweat trickled down his brow, mingling with the dirt and grime of the training yard.

He glanced over at Uncle Arthur, whose expression was one of quiet satisfaction, his eyes alight with pride. Despite his youth, Cregan had proven himself a formidable opponent, holding his own against the legendary Sword of the Morning.

With a sense of accomplishment, Cregan straightened his stance, a grin spreading across his features as he wiped the sweat from his brow. The training session had been grueling, but it had also been immensely rewarding, a testament to his growing skill and prowess as a warrior.

As he caught sight of his betrothed, Rhaenys, watching from the sidelines with a proud smile, Cregan felt a surge of warmth in his chest. Her unwavering support and encouragement had been a constant source of strength throughout the spar, spurring him on to greater heights.

Turning to face Uncle Arthur once more, Cregan nodded in appreciation, his respect for the seasoned knight evident in his gaze. Though the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, Cregan knew that with Uncle Arthur's guidance and Rhaenys's steadfast companionship, he was more than ready to face whatever the future held.

As Rhaenys approached, her smile lighting up the training yard, Cregan couldn't shake the lingering weight of the memories that had plagued him since childhood. From the day he was born, there had been whispers of events and visions that did not belong to Harry Potter, but to a dark and malevolent presence—the soul shard of Voldemort.

Over the years, these memories had manifested in fleeting glimpses and haunting dreams, fragments of a past that he could not fully comprehend. It was only recently that he had begun to piece together the truth—that he had absorbed these memories when the soul shard had been destroyed, intertwining his fate with that of the Dark Lord in ways he could scarcely comprehend.

Determined to use the knowledge gleaned from these memories for good, Cregan delved deeper into the fragments of Tom Riddle's past life, seeking understanding and insight that could aid him in his quest to shape a better future. With each haunting dream and fleeting glimpse, he unearthed hidden truths and untapped potential, unlocking a reservoir of wisdom that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

No longer content to rely on sheer luck as Harry Potter had done, Cregan embraced the responsibility that came with his newfound knowledge, wielding it as a tool for change and transformation. Through diligent study and introspection, he honed his skills and sharpened his mind, drawing upon the lessons of the past to navigate the challenges of the present.

As Cregan delved deeper into the memories of Voldemort's past, he unearthed secrets that went beyond mere wizardry, tapping into a world of intrigue and deception that stretched far beyond the confines of Hogwarts. In those dark recesses of the mind, he discovered the shadowy origins of Tom Riddle, a young orphan from Wool's Orphanage in London, who had blossomed into a cunning and manipulative mastermind.

It was within these memories that Cregan found the inspiration to revolutionize the economy of the North, drawing upon the illicit trades and clandestine operations of Voldemort's youth. Learning the art of distillation and fermentation from the makeshift stills of the London underworld, he honed his skills in the craft of whiskey and vodka production, turning his newfound knowledge into a tool for change and transformation.

As Cregan embarked on his mission to transform the North, he drew upon a diverse array of knowledge and insights, including the wisdom gleaned from the pages of books read by his previous self, Harry Potter. During the tumultuous days of hunting Horcruxes with Hermione, Harry had found solace in the pages of Hermione's libraries, immersing himself in subjects ranging from magical theory to the evolution of farming practices throughout history.

It was from these books that Harry had gained a newfound appreciation for the intricacies of agriculture, learning how farming had evolved over the centuries to meet the ever-changing needs of society. Armed with this knowledge, Cregan set out to revolutionize farming in the North, leveraging modern techniques and innovations to breathe new life into the region's barren lands.

Through diligent study and practical application, Cregan introduced farming methods that maximized crop yields and minimized waste, transforming the North into a fertile and bountiful land. From crop rotation to irrigation systems, he implemented a range of techniques that had been refined and perfected over centuries of agricultural advancement, ensuring that the people of the North would never again suffer the hardships of famine and scarcity.

And as the fields bloomed with abundance and the people rejoiced in their newfound prosperity, Cregan knew that he had fulfilled his destiny, using the knowledge of his past life to shape a brighter future for himself and all those who called the North their home.

Armed with Voldemort's extensive knowledge of wards, a skill the Dark Lord had honed during his numerous break-ins and Death Eater attacks on heavily warded homes, Cregan decided to use this knowledge for the protection and betterment of his new home and family.

Cregan meticulously placed modified wards along the Northern coastline. These wards were designed to be subtle yet powerful, diverting anyone with the intention to spy on or harm his family and loved ones. Those with malevolent intent would find themselves suddenly reminded of other pressing matters, compelling them to turn around immediately and abandon their plans. This clever manipulation ensured that the North remained secure from prying eyes and potential threats.

Furthermore, Cregan extended these protections to Winterfell itself. He layered the ancient fortress with a series of intricate and powerful wards, each designed to shield its inhabitants from harm and to detect any ill-intent. These wards not only provided physical protection but also created a sense of security and peace within the castle walls.

Cregan, during his last visit to Greywater Watch, had also taken precautions to ensure the safety of his Aunt Lyanna and cousin Jon. He had crafted small wolf-head necklaces as gifts for them. Unbeknownst to anyone, these necklaces were charmed with powerful magic Harry had learned from a book in Hermione's library.

The charms on the necklaces made it so that anyone who wasn't in on their true identities would be unable to remember how they looked when not in their presence. It was a subtle but effective way to protect their identities, ensuring that even if they were seen, their true appearances would remain a mystery. This enchantment provided an additional layer of security, allowing Lyanna and Jon to move more freely without the constant fear of being recognized.

Cregan's efforts to protect his family and fortify Winterfell were a testament to his determination and resourcefulness. He was using every bit of knowledge and magic at his disposal to create a safe and prosperous environment for those he loved. As he reflected on these accomplishments, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment and purpose, knowing that his actions were paving the way for a better future for the North.

All of this, though, could only be accomplished when Cregan received the Elder Wand at age five, as promised by Death. He had found it by his bedside on his fifth nameday, a symbol of immense power and responsibility. With the wand in his possession, Cregan's magical abilities had soared to new heights, enabling him to weave intricate spells and enchantments that bolstered the North's defenses and prosperity.

The Elder Wand had become an extension of his will, a tool through which he could manifest the knowledge and skills he had accumulated over two lifetimes. It was with the aid of this legendary artifact that Cregan had been able to implement modern farming techniques, create potent wards, and introduce new industries to the North. Each of these endeavors was underpinned by the Elder Wand's unmatched power, allowing him to achieve feats that would have been impossible for an ordinary wizard or lord.

As he sheathed his practice swords, Cregan felt a deep sense of fulfillment. He was no longer just a boy with a tragic past; he was a leader, a protector, and a beacon of hope for the North. Rhaenys reached him, her eyes filled with admiration. "You were amazing out there, Cregan," she said, her voice warm and sincere.

"Thank you, Rhaenys," Cregan replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "It means a lot coming from you."

Together, they walked back towards the cheering children, their future intertwined with the promise of a better North, a place where Cregan's knowledge and determination would continue to pave the way for peace and prosperity.

—

General POV

As the members of the Stark family, along with their wards Elia and Aegon, gathered in the courtyard of Winterfell to welcome the guests arriving from Greywater Watch, there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air. Ser Arthur Dayne stood protectively beside Elia and Aegon, his watchful eyes scanning the horizon.

Cregan, as the young Lord of Winterfell, stood at the center of the gathering, his posture radiating a quiet authority. His striking violet eyes, inherited from his mother, Ashara Dayne, gave him an otherworldly presence. On his left stood his betrothed, Rhaenys Targaryen, her expression a mixture of curiosity and excitement. To his right was his mother, Ashara Dayne, whose serene demeanor masked the inner turmoil she felt at the impending reunion with Lyanna Stark.

Over the years, others had been brought in on the secret. Benjen Stark, Ned's younger brother, and Catelyn Stark, Ned's wife, had been trusted with the truth. Their children—Robb, Arya, and Sansa—were all present, their young faces reflecting varying degrees of understanding and anticipation.

As the small party from Greywater Watch approached, the tension in the courtyard was palpable. Ned stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the familiar figures drawing nearer. Lyanna Stark, disguised as a septa, and Jon, their identities cloaked in secrecy, rode alongside Howland Reed and a small escort.

Ned's heart swelled with a mix of relief and apprehension. It had taken years of careful planning and unwavering resolve to bring his sister and nephew home. The deception required to ensure Jon's safety weighed heavily on him, but he knew it was necessary. The story they had crafted—that Jon was the bastard son of Brandon Stark—was a small price to pay for his life.

The courtyard fell silent as Lyanna and Jon dismounted. Lyanna's disguise was convincing, her plain robes and humble demeanor befitting that of a septa. Jon, however, couldn't hide the Stark features that marked him as Brandon's son—tall and lean with Stark grey eyes.

Cregan stepped forward to greet them, his young face serious. "Welcome to Winterfell," he said, his voice steady. "We are honored to have you here."

Lyanna's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked at her brother, her gaze then shifting to Cregan. "It's good to be home," she replied softly, her voice thick with emotion.

Jon, standing beside his mother, looked around with wide eyes, taking in the vast courtyard and the imposing walls of Winterfell. He had heard stories of this place, but seeing it in person was a different experience altogether.

Ned stepped forward and embraced his sister, his voice low and filled with emotion. "Welcome home, Lyanna," he whispered. "We've missed you."

Lyanna returned the embrace, her grip firm. "And I have missed all of you," she replied, her voice cracking slightly. "It's good to be back where I belong."

As Ned released her, Benjen stepped forward, his usually stoic expression softened by the sight of his sister. "Lyanna," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's been too long."

Lyanna turned to Benjen, her eyes brimming with tears. "Benjen," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I've missed you, little brother."

Benjen hugged her tightly, his own eyes misting. "It's good to have you back, Lyanna. Winterfell hasn't been the same without you."

Jon watched the reunion with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, feeling the weight of the moment even at his young age. He glanced at Cregan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Cregan stepped forward, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, offering silent support.

Ned, his heart full, looked at his family gathered around him. "Let's go inside," he said, his voice carrying a note of hope and relief. "We have much to catch up on and many stories to share."

Ashara, standing beside Cregan, stepped forward to greet Lyanna, a warm smile on her face. "Welcome, Lyanna. It's been too long."

Lyanna nodded, her eyes glistening. "Thank you, Ashara. It's good to see you."

Catelyn Stark approached with a warm smile. "Welcome, Lyanna. Winterfell is whole again with you here."

Lyanna returned the smile, her eyes misting over. "Thank you, Catelyn. It's good to be home."

Robb and Jon exchanged shy, curious glances, both unsure of what to say in the presence of this long-lost family member. Robb stepped forward first, his expression polite and welcoming. "Welcome to Winterfell, Aunt Lyanna," he said, his voice steady despite his nerves.

Jon, emboldened by Robb's words, followed suit. "It's nice to meet you," he said quietly, his gaze flickering to Cregan for reassurance.

The twins, Arya and Sansa, stood together, their contrasting natures evident even in this moment. Arya's eyes were wide with excitement, eager to learn more about her adventurous aunt. "Are you really a wolf-blood?" she asked, her voice brimming with curiosity.

Sansa, ever the lady, watched with quiet admiration. She stepped forward with a graceful curtsey. "Welcome, Aunt Lyanna," she said softly, her manners impeccable. "We've heard so much about you."

Lyanna's heart swelled at the sight of her nieces and nephews. "Thank you, all of you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so happy to be here, with my family."

As her gaze shifted, Lyanna's eyes found Elia Martell standing nearby with Ser Arthur Dayne. Elia, her sister wife and the woman she loved, looked back at her with a mixture of relief and affection. The years had been hard, but the bond they shared had only grown stronger in their time apart.

Elia stepped forward, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Lyanna," she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lyanna closed the distance between them and enveloped Elia in a warm embrace. "Elia," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I've missed you so much."

Elia held her tightly, the years of worry and longing melting away in that moment. "And I you, my love," she replied softly. "We're together again, and that's all that matters."

The gathered family watched this tender reunion with varying degrees of understanding and acceptance. For Cregan, this was another piece of the puzzle falling into place, another step toward a future where they could all live openly and honestly.

Cregan exchanged a knowing glance with his mother, Ashara, and then looked over at Ned, who nodded in silent approval. This was a new beginning for their family, one that embraced all its complexities and the love that bound them together.

As the sun set over Winterfell, casting a warm glow over the castle and its inhabitants, Cregan felt a profound sense of hope for the days to come.

---

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