With the army's departure, Catelyn was left in charge of the castle's affairs.
And Harry found himself spending even more time looking after his two sisters and younger brother.
At the same time, he began making plans for the future after overhearing a casual remark.
Most likely, he would inherit the title of Lord Stark, making the North his responsibility. And remembering that his family had ruled those lands uninterrupted for more than eight thousand years, Harry decided to make it his goal to improve the territory he would one day inherit as much as he could.
The North was vast and rich in resources.
Yet it was also poor.
According to Luwin, the clearest reflection of this was the fact that despite being the largest region in Westeros, it was also the least populated.
Winter knew no mercy.
Most crops either died or produced pitiful yields, and the farther north one traveled, the worse it became.
Without food, there could be no population.
Without population, everything stagnated.
So Harry reasoned that if he could improve agriculture, he might be able to change everything.
With his knowledge of Herbology and Potions, he believed there were things he could do.
The problem was that he needed information.
And he would not find it sitting inside the castle.
Teasing Arya's little nose, Harry kissed her cheek before placing her back in her cradle. One of the maids would look after her.
Leaving the room, he crossed the courtyard and headed toward the hunters' lodge.
It was where the men who ventured into the Wolfswood worked, supplying the castle with fresh meat.
The large hut was somewhat worn, and the smell of blood and animal hides could be sensed before even stepping inside.
The crooked door opened with a creak, drawing everyone's attention.
Harry greeted them casually.
Some were resting in hammocks while others carved small trinkets.
The moment they saw him, they stood up or put aside whatever they were doing.
Harry smiled and wasted no time explaining why he had come.
He wanted them to bring him a sample of every flower and plant they found in the Wolfswood.
The hunters exchanged glances for a moment before agreeing.
After all, Harry was the future Lord of Winterfell.
A few extra plants would hardly burden them.
After thanking them and promising there would be a reward, Harry noticed they seemed considerably less bothered by the request.
Now all he could do was wait.
Returning to the Great Keep, Harry checked on his siblings, who were being looked after by Old Nan and several maids.
Old Nan was the oldest person in the castle.
No one knew how many generations of Lords of Winterfell she had lived through.
Most of her family had been lost to war.
Only her great-grandson remained at Winterfell.
Hodor.
Harry had only seen him from a distance.
He was enormous, clumsy, and quiet.
Later that night, Harry returned to his room.
Recalling the physical training exercises left behind by Godric, he began to train.
His body still could not handle much magic, which severely limited both his spells and his actions.
....
"You've been doing things behind my back lately," said Catelyn with a faint smile as she looked at her eldest son.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Harry with an innocent smile as he leaned over the desk and rested on his elbows.
Letters and documents were neatly organized across the surface.
Very different from the way his father usually kept the room.
"I've been told that you asked the hunters to bring you plants. And you cleared out the top floor of the tower without my permission," said Catelyn as she rested her forearms on the desk and leaned closer to Harry.
Despite the accusation in her words and the seriousness of her expression, there was an amused glimmer in her eyes as she looked at her son's adorable face.
"Gossips," Harry muttered while looking at his mother.
With that severe expression, she almost resembled the businesswomen he occasionally saw in magazines when he was a child.
In his previous world, she probably would have been a proud pure-blood witch with an aristocratic stare.
The image alone made his lips twitch.
"What was that?" asked Catelyn as she pinched Harry's cheek.
"I said nobody uses the tower anyway. There was nothing up there except old belongings left behind by previous Lords of Winterfell," said Harry, making a face as his cheek was stretched.
"The tower is too cold. That's why nobody uses it. And neither should you," said Catelyn as she released his cheek and gently rubbed it.
The warmth from the hot springs beneath the castle did not reach that high.
"I want to do something up there, Mother. Please," said Harry as he took her hand and looked into her eyes.
Being subjected to those green eyes, Catelyn had to admit she was weak.
Not that she had any intention of forbidding him from using the tower.
"If you catch a cold because of that tower, you won't be allowed to stay up there anymore. Understood?" said Catelyn as she squeezed his cheek again.
"Deal," said Harry with a smile.
He had never been sick in either life.
"Your plants are in that sack," said Catelyn, pointing toward a leather bag nearby.
"Thanks, Mother. I'll see you at dinner," said Harry as he grabbed the sack and ran toward the tower.
Catelyn smiled faintly before returning her attention to her work.
War required logistics.
And money.
There was still plenty to do.
Coordinating caravans, managing resources, and writing letters.
Harry ran up the stairs with the sack slung over his shoulder.
He almost looked like a thief fleeing the scene of a crime.
Especially with the excited grin spreading across his face.
Reaching the top of the tower, he found a large door of wood and iron blocking access to the only room on the floor.
The climb alone discouraged most people from coming.
A perfect place for experiments.
Brewing potions remained entirely theoretical for now.
But the fact that many fruits and vegetables seemed identical to those from his previous world gave him hope that it would work.
At least for simple potions.
Truly magical brews with powerful effects were another matter entirely.
The world felt like a magical desert.
Yet if dragons had once existed, there had to be magical plants somewhere.
At the very least, he hoped to find species with similar properties.
Exhaling from the climb, Harry watched his breath condense into mist.
The door opened with a groan, and an icy gust struck his face.
Closing it behind him, he almost felt as though he had stepped into a refrigerator.
The room was surprisingly large.
The entire chamber was circular, built from stone and wood.
Six windows offered a magnificent view of the surrounding lands.
Aside from a few cabinets, tables, and chairs, the room was mostly empty.
Approaching the largest table, Harry overturned the sack and dumped its contents across the surface.
A variety of scents immediately filled the air.
The cold had preserved the plants remarkably well.
Separating them by type, he carefully arranged them across the table.
Casting the identification spell, he quickly grabbed a notebook and began recording the feedback he received.
Although repeatedly casting the spell on every single plant became tedious, he eventually finished.
Once he had gathered the information, he compared each specimen to the plants he remembered from his previous world.
In many cases, the properties matched almost perfectly.
That only strengthened his confidence that potion-making would work.
Rather than rushing into experiments, Harry simply stored the books containing his notes and resolved to ask the hunters to continue bringing him more samples.
He would also need a cauldron.
That meant drawing a design and taking it to the smith to see whether it could be made.
Humming to himself, Harry carefully stored away the plants before heading back downstairs.
....
Things gradually settled into a routine.
He looked after his siblings, attended lessons with Maester Luwin, catalogued the new plants brought by the hunters, trained his body, and finally ended each day absorbing magic from the weirwood.
This routine continued for more than a month, and everything remained relatively peaceful.
That changed when a raven arrived carrying news from the war.
The Northern army, together with several others summoned by King Baratheon, was assaulting the Iron Islands.
The outcome did not seem likely to be decided anytime soon, but the Ironborn lacked the economy needed to sustain a prolonged war.
With the royal fleet surrounding the islands, they had no reliable way to resupply themselves.
Combined with the overwhelming disparity in manpower, the war appeared to be only a matter of time.
It was also during this period that Winterfell received a visitor.
Or rather, the return of a family member.
Benjen Stark had arrived from the Wall.
A heavy black cloak still rested across his shoulders, and the scents of leather, snow, and horse seemed to follow him wherever he went. The draft from the open door carried those smells through the hall.
"I'm glad to see you. You've grown since the last time I saw you," said Benjen with a smile as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'm glad to see you safe and sound as well, Uncle," said Harry with a smile.
After all, he knew Benjen's work could be dangerous.
At that moment, Jon hurried forward, his grey eyes shining with excitement at the sight of his uncle.
"Jon! You've grown quite a bit too, lad," said Benjen with cheerful surprise as he saw Jon approach.
"Harry, let your uncle come inside and put down his things," said Catelyn as she arrived with Sansa, Arya, and Bran.
"My lady," said Benjen, offering Catelyn a polite nod.
"Benjen, it's good to see you. It's been more than a year since your last visit," said Catelyn kindly.
Sansa, Arya, and Bran greeted their uncle as well, though Bran immediately hid himself in Catelyn's arms.
After a hot meal and a bath, Benjen looked considerably more relaxed.
He shared stories with the young Starks by the fireplace before Catelyn eventually sent them all to bed with a smile.
Everyone returned to their rooms.
Everyone except Benjen.
Carrying a leather sack with him, he made his way toward Harry's chamber.
After knocking on the door, Harry opened it and raised an eyebrow slightly upon finding his uncle standing outside.
"Harry, I brought you a gift," said Benjen with a smile as he lifted the sack.
Harry chuckled softly before stepping aside to let him enter.
"I heard you've been collecting all sorts of strange plants. These came from beyond the Wall. Many are rare, and some are even said to be magical," said Benjen as he handed the sack over.
Harry took it immediately, his eyes lighting up.
His fingers fidgeted impatiently with the mouth of the bag before he looked back up at his uncle.
His expression softened.
"Thank you, Uncle. This is really important to me," said Harry sincerely.
With only a few words—most likely from his mother—his uncle had immediately gone out of his way to help him.
Even if everyone else probably thought this was nothing more than a child's hobby.
"Come on, lad, don't get sentimental. We're family," said Benjen, dismissing the thanks with a wave.
Harry let out a quiet laugh, feeling a slight sting in his eyes.
Was this what had been denied to him in his previous life?
"I'll be staying for about a month. I can't remain any longer than that. I have duties at the Wall. Still, I'll help protect the castle while my brother is away," said Benjen with a smile.
"With a great ranger of the Night's Watch here, I already feel safer," said Harry jokingly.
Benjen smiled and ruffled Harry's hair before saying goodnight and heading off to sleep.
He had been riding for days and was exhausted.
Harry watched the door close before turning his attention back to the sack.
It was old and stained with bits of dirt here and there.
Yet the faint magical presence emanating from it was unmistakable.
It seemed he would definitely have to travel beyond the Wall one day.
Pressing his lips together, he hesitated only briefly before opening it.
Inside were all kinds of plants he had never seen before.
Letting out a sigh, Harry knew there was no chance he would be going to bed anytime soon.
Throwing on a coat, he left his room and hurried up the stairs.
The moment he entered the tower chamber, every candle burst into flame with a casual gesture of his hand.
Approaching the largest table, he carefully removed each plant and arranged them in neat rows.
Murmuring the spell, he began identifying their properties.
Receiving the results, he quickly compared them to plants from his previous world and discovered that several shared remarkably similar characteristics.
Others, however, possessed completely unknown properties.
Delighted, Harry quickly recorded everything in his notebook before storing the plants in a special drawer designed to preserve them.
After putting away the books and extinguishing the candles, he locked the room with a simple charm.
Yawning, Harry descended the stairs toward his chamber.
His body was nearly drained of magic, so he lay down in bed and focused on absorbing the meager magical energy lingering in the air.
A warm current flowed through his body, filling him with comfort.
At some point, he drifted off to sleep.
....
The following day, Harry visited the smithy to see whether his cauldron was finally ready.
He had provided detailed sketches and specific instructions, which was the reason it had taken two full weeks to complete.
The smith's name was Mikken.
From everything Harry had heard, he was the most skilled craftsman in the castle.
The delicately crafted cauldron sitting before him certainly supported that reputation.
"Regarding the cost of materials and labor..." said Mikken, clearing his throat and seeming somewhat hesitant.
"You don't seriously think I don't know you're a gossip, do you?" said Harry with a roll of his eyes.
"Just add it to the castle's expenses."
His mother had already asked him why he needed a pot with legs.
Mikken looked somewhat embarrassed, but eventually nodded and assured him it would be taken care of.
"Do you need me to call someone to help you carry it?" asked Mikken as he looked at his young lord.
Harry shook his head, hugged the cauldron against his chest, and hurried back toward his laboratory.
With almost everything prepared, he now had to decide where to begin.
The question was:
What did he need most right now?
Seeds capable of surviving the North's merciless frosts.
And a testing field.
The problem was that, even as the heir to Winterfell, he did not believe for a moment that his parents would allow him to do whatever he pleased.
It seemed he would first have to prove his worth.