Dragonstone had a long history predating even the arrival of Aenar Targaryen. The arrival of House Targaryen was the one incident that stood out in the larger history of the Narrow Sea Island and much of Westeros for that matter. But that doesn't mean the island of Dragonstone was an area disengaged from the long history of Westeros. Maybe the Andals didn't think much of the island but the First Men certainly have had a history in the place as did the Valyrian Freehold before Aenar Targaryen's arrival.
Harry was looking right at that history eagerly taking in the cave arts that he found in his exploration.
The First Men runes could be seen all over the intricate cave system that tweaked his magical senses even now. When he first came into the castle of Dragonstone, he could not sense any magic in his sensory perception. It only took him a night's stay to feel the echoes from the walls of the castle. On the third day, those echoes were far more powerful and his senses were being constantly assaulted by the calls of the ancient magic lying dormant in this place.
He could see why the Dragonlords of the Valyrian Freehold were interested in the island and constructed Dragonstone castle as their outpost on the island. Like Sea Dragon Point, there was a powerful ley line on the island perfect for charging spells and the growth of magical creatures and plant life. Going by what he was feeling Harry was nearly certain the ley line was far more powerful than the one he was nursing back to full potential in Avalon. The ley line's power was so prevalent here that it was automatically awakening just by his presence. He could even feel the ancient protections weaved into the runes of the First Men were also slowly gaining magical substance. It was quite fascinating to watch all of this happening.
He foolishly thought the centre of magical power was in the North or Skane. But no. He was very much wrong to make such an assumption. There was an immense magical nexus on the island and he had a feeling that it'd only increase if he goes further east across the Narrow Sea.
As for the source of this immense magical nexus that was partially awakened, he had a feeling that it was tied intrinsically to the Dragonmont. The volcano of Dragonstone was already active when he arrived at the island fiefdom of Stannis Baratheon. It was spitting out grey smoke from its peak and once he had a closer look it was also releasing smoke from its many vents scattered across its vast rocky expanse. Even the many tunnels leading to the Volcano were fast getting warmer as time passed. The Dragonmont was getting far more activity and he was no idiot to think that all of these activities were a coincidence. No, magic was definitely involved and it was trying to communicate its will.
Harry had often found certain geographical sites project a magical will of their own. The reason why this natural will was manifesting remains unknown sans some pure speculation from a few magical scholars. Some theorized that these magical nexuses are the result of echoes left by a previous magical tribe that called these sites their home. For whatever reason, these tribes may move out of these sites but their collective consciousness leaves an imprint on the magic of the land. Pair that with an emerging ley line, the magic that permeates that particular area gains a will of its own over time. It was assumed that many magical creatures gained magic and were shaped by these localised nexuses of magic scattered across the continents.
It was only a theory but one that Harry thought there was some substance. He had seen several places of such unique magical will and nexuses in his old world. Hogwarts was one such place as the castle had gained a mind of its own going as far as locking out sketchy characters like Umbridge and Fudge from gaining control over the castle. He didn't see why the nexus of Dragonstone was not of a similar nature.
He could see why the First Men were so interested in Dragonstone. It was quite obvious.
"Do you see why this place is littered with so much painted and carved history of the First Men and the Children of the Forest?" Harry asked, turning his sights on his three Valkyrie and Nymeria.
The four girls looked at each other and shook their heads negatively.
"Before the Valyrians ever came to this place it was the abode of the First Men and the Children. This island is isolated from the mainland away from the cold gaze of the Others. This was their forge. They shaped and forged weapons made of Dragonglass and transported them to the mainland during the first Long Night." said Harry, his fingers tracing the runes carved into the grey and black stones of the tunnel leading to the core of Dragonmont.
He could feel the echoes of magic carved into these runes and their intentions. He had often wondered how the First Men backward as they were, managed to arm themselves with weapons capable of defeating the wily enemy sealed away beyond the Wall. The fact that the early First Men used Dragonglass weapons to fight the Others had rubbed him the wrong way. But Dragonstone was now making sense of those little inconsistencies. The runes in this place were used to absorb the heat from the Dragonmont and used to finely shape the Dragonglass into arrowheads, spear tips, and knives. There were even runes carved into the tunnels to pull Dragonglass ore which was working to this day as he could see the black obsidian gleaming in many parts of the tunnels.
"Oh, come on. Be serious, Harrion. You can't believe those old stories about white walkers and dead men walking to be real." Nymeria let out a derisive snort.
"Master Harrion never jokes on matters about the Others. The Others are as real as they come as are their wights." said Anya, throwing a dirty look at the daughter of Prince Oberyn.
Harry turned away from those two as they fell into an argument. Ever since he had passively begun to help Nymeria awaken her magic Anya had been a little jealous. That jealousy was transforming into a rivalry of sorts between the two. Nymeria was not exactly aware the friction emerging with Anya stemmed from the elder Valkyrie's insecurity more than anything else. If he could help it, it'd remain that way for the foreseeable future. He was still studying the unique magical signature that was in Nymeria's body. Not to mention he was not an idiot to teach Nymeria more about his magic without a failsafe. The Martells despite his close friendship with Oberyn was out for their self-interest and revenge. Entrusting them with magical power and knowledge would be the height of stupidity. He planned to create a society that accepts and celebrates magic, not one that uses magic as a prime medium for settling rivalries and grudges.
Anyway, the point was moot considering the nature of Nymeria's magic was somewhat different from what he had so far found from other natives. Anya was like him, capable of forming spells but not to the fullest extent. Her true skill lies in elemental spells, especially fire. Adela was a gifted student when it comes to runes although she was still in the process of learning to charge the runes because her personal magic was mostly depleted for the kind of work advanced runes demand. Kyla on the other hand more adept at sensing magic than the other two Valkyrie. Her magical reserves were lying dormant and he was nearly positive it'll ignite once he nursed the ley line in Avalon to emerge from its dormant state. In fact, all three of his Valkyrie would get a significant boost once they spend a significant amount of time in Avalon saturated with the raw magic of the land.
"Your people believe in stupid stories meant to scare children. Turns out the Northern Mountains are inhabited by children." Nymeria mocked.
"You'd say that you ignorant Andal." Anya snarled. "Foreigners like you can never understand the deep history of this land."
"Who're you calling an Andal? I'm a Rhoynar you stupid girl." Nymeria growled.
"Enough you two. Anya, take your sisters and map out the runes of this tunnel. Adela, I want you to copy as many runic scripts as you can. Kyla will be sensing out more scripts that are hidden in the tunnel." Harry assigned the three Valkyrie with jobs that'd keep them engaged while he led Nymeria away from the tunnel.
"You do not let go of a chance to pick a fight with them, will you?" Harry asked tiredly, walking back to the castle away from the Dragonmont.
"They are idiots believing in fanciful tales. Don't tell me you also believe in those silly stories Harrion? If you do, I'd be feeling like an idiot to think of you as the smartest boy I ever know." Nymeria grouched, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder letting it dance as she strode away with purposeful long strides.
"I always keep an open mind. If you hadn't seen the airship with your own eyes, would you have believed the rumours about a Northern boy that can make flying ships?" Harry asked, making Nymeria pause coming to a halt.
"Okay." Nymeria slowly nodded, gathering her thoughts.
Harry could see the struggle that was brewing behind Nymeria's eyes.
"But that's different." said Nymeria, turning away from him and continuing her long strides into the castle, giving Harry an eyeful of her sensually swaying hips and shapely derriere.
'Is she doing that on purpose?' Harry wondered.
He wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. From what he had seen so far, Nymeria was very open about her sexuality and flaunts her charm around to her advantage. The Dornish people while predominantly Andals identify more with their Rhoynar roots. Even their inheritance laws were framed around the cultural traits of the Rhoynar civilization. Harry was quite eager to visit Dorne when he was fully grown. The place sounds quite lovely for a vacation.
'Oh, I'm so looking forward to growing up.'
XXXXXXX
"Is it really necessary for this unholy sound to heal the babe?" Maester Cressan asked, directing a disapproving frown toward Nymeria.
Harry suppressed his amusement as Nymeria continued her best to annoy the Maester and Stannis Baratheon with the flute he gifted. He did not gift the flute out of some misplaced notion that Nym had some extraordinary talent with the musical instrument. Rather the flute was a cleverly disguised magical instrument littered with secret runes inside that was keeping tabs on her shifting magical aura. There were also some carefully applied listening charms as well to keep tabs on the Martells for good measure. Not to mention there was a tracking charm as well that was connected to his power ring.
"I'm sure there is a reason for the flute that is beyond the normal understanding of the Maesters. Please do keep your prejudices confined to your thoughts Maester Cressen." Archmaester Marwyn admonished the maester of Dragonstone who noisily huffed making his displeasure known.
Harry could hear the grinding of teeth that was the characteristic tell-tale sign of an annoyed Stannis Baratheon. He suspected the second Baratheon brother was going to suffer tooth loss far early at this rate. That reminded Harry of looking into some potions for tooth care, skin care, and hair care.
"Music has a magic of its own. All dark magic is fuelled by malevolent emotions and intentions. The cure is to weaken the malevolent will that binds the curse of the greyscale to weaken its hold on the child." said Harry.
He was not blowing smoke with that excuse. Music could be a powerful tool in healing the effects of dark curses if it was suitably powered by magic. But Nuym's flute music was just a test on his part. He had been trying out many subtle ways to get a reaction out of Nym's dormant magic. So far, all his attempts have failed. He had thought the famed water magic of the Rhoynar might manifest in Nymeria. Keeping that in mind, he had subtly used Nymeria near potions to see whether her presence shows any significant effects on the tonics he prepared. Nothing much happened and he had tested her against some of the magical ingredients he collected from Skane which also ended in disappointment. He was hoping the flute would shed some light on the magic coursing through Nymeria.
Sweeping those thoughts away to the far corner of his mind, he focused on the task at hand. There was no doubt that the Greyscale affliction was in any way a normal infectious disease. It most certainly had its roots in dark magic. His three days of study further revealed there was sacrificial magic used on the curse. The malevolent will infused in the curse he was sensing even now all but confirmed there was some sort of ritualistic sacrifice fuelling the curse.
Channelling more magical power into the Elder Wand, Harry began chanting in Parseltongue. He could feel the natural magic of the Dragonmont surging as he began chanting in the serpent tongue. For whatever reason, this world was far more attuned to serpent tongue than even his home world which was a fascinating tidbit of information. He knew Parseltongue could be understood by the Children of the Forest.
Wisps of silver light blinked into existence at the tip of his wand and proceeded to sink into the Greyscale-infected skin of the babe sleeping soundly in the crib. At first, nothing happened, forcing Harry to chant for minutes uttering long scripts of healing spells in Parseltongue. After five minutes passed the Greyscale began to sizzle and let out black smoke.
He quickly nodded in Anya's direction signalling his trusted Valkyrie to bring a small glass flask to his side. Harry began earnestly directing the parting black smoke into the glass jar. The runes painted all around the glass jar and the charms he bound to the glass kept the black smoke sealed inside the jar. The dark magic was somewhat weakened once it was untethered from the flesh of the child peacefully sleeping in the crib.
'Thank Merlin for sleeping and numbing charms.' Harry thought, as he drained the dark magic from the child.
It was a delicate work to drain dark magic, especially from a young baby which has barely holding any magic in its body. If the child was awake it'd have cried till its throat hurt.
Harry patiently kept chanting for a long time until finally, the black smoke stopped coming from the infected skin.
"The difficult part is over. The dark magic that was infecting your daughter is sealed away in this jar, Lord Stannis." Harry said, sealing the glass jar shut with a conjured fluid silver that coalesced around the mouth of the jar.
"But the skin remains afflicted…" Archmaester Marwyn trailed off looking at the scaled skin of the babe.
"I know." Harry nodded at the man before looking at Adela.
Adela fished out a small vial of golden liquid from her pouch before pouring a small drop on the infected skin of the child. The liquid burned away the infected skin before their eyes and at the same time, new unblemished skin regrew. In a matter of two minutes, the daughter of Stannis Baratheon looked like any other ordinary child except for the larger ears which was a family trait from the child's mother's side.
"Lord Stannis, your daughter is cured of Greyscale. It's safe to say she'll never even know she was afflicted by the curse unless someone explains it to her in the future. I guarantee that the infection will not rear up again. Your daughter will need no further medication or procedures going forward." said Harry.
He could see the Lord of Dragonstone was moved by his words. Stannis Baratheon was a man who showed a cold exterior to everyone but he was nonetheless a man influenced by emotions. Harry could see the emotional turmoil that was warring within the Lord of Dragonstone.
While Stannis Baratheon struggled to maintain a calm facade, his wife on the other hand was another matter.
"Oh, bless you. Bless you and your family. A thousand blessings to you." Selyse Baratheon cried, pulling Harry into a hug.
Harry patted her back trying to calm the hysterical woman down.
"There there…my lady." Harry attempted to console the crying woman.
"How can we ever repay you for saving our daughter?" Selyse asked, once she regained her bearings.
"My lady wife speaks true. Ask anything of me Harrion Stark and if it is within my power, I shall see it done." said Stannis, standing by his wife's side his face softening a tad.
"I seek no payment or hold any wishes for curing your daughter, Lord Stannis. The Old Gods gave me the gift of magic to heal and restore the world of their design. Dark curses like this Greyscale have tainted this world. It is my duty to cleanse these blemishes so that the age of magic the Old Gods wills is manifested in the world." said Harry.
Now, here Harry was blowing so much smoke. But he had an agenda for leading with that cringy dialogue. Having seen the magical potential of the island of Dragonstone he wanted access to the Dragonmont. He had barely even scratched the surface when it comes to mapping out the Dragonmont. Going by the information his trusted Valkyrie had gathered from the runes this place was just a goldmine when it comes to studying more of the magic of the Dawn Age. He was not willing to let that opportunity slip by nor was he willing to let the Dragonmont lie dormant. He wanted to see the full potential of the Dragonmont unleashed not just to satisfy his curiosity but also to hatch the dragon eggs in his custody. He had tried the normal way of giving magical fire and infusing magic into the two dragon eggs, but the eggs remained unresponsive.
'I suspect the eggs need exposure to a suitably large magical source for a conducive environment to hatch safely. Otherwise, the eggs might deliver a stunted hatchling or remain petrified.' Harry thought.
It was a theory but one that he strongly believed in. Therefore, he needed the Baratheons of Dragonstone to be welcoming of his presence.
"Tell me, Lord Harrion. Tell me more about the Old Gods. Tell me more so that I may pray properly for the mercy they have shown to my daughter." Selyse Baratheon begged him on her knees.
'It's funny that I thought of all religions as the root of all evil. But now I realize that religion is only as evil as the people that follows allows it to be.' Harry thought, looking into the eager and zealous eyes of Selyse Baratheon.
Harry eyed the Baratheon couple. When he looked at Stannis and Selyse Baratheon he only saw two new converts for the Old Gods and his ticket to accelerate the emergence of magic in Westeros.