Thanks to all of you for your reviews (except Muhahahaha, who is a biased scumbag). The reason I say what is in the perenthesis is this: I was recently in a very spirited argument with FF.Net author SilverLocke980, which I almost won with the help of Beelzebub and some well played manipulative arguments on both our parts. Due to a well played remark by SL980, I have, invariably, come off the worse, seeing as how he mobilized 40 or so other people to give me opinionated, scathing, and, in places, frighteningly rude e-mails. Muhahahaha wont shut up about it and I would remind him that the argument was between me and SL980 and had nothing to do with him and would he please keep his overly large and highly gay nose out of other peoples business.
To everyone else, Thanks for your reviews. I'm glad so many people like the fic, and I would be pleased if you all recommended it to others, so that I can get a better feel for how this fic is doing on a chapter-to-chapter basis.
And now, I give you Chapter 1! (Earlier than I would have done, but you all asked for it, so here it is.)
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The Draconis Saga
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Chapter 1
Portal For Two
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Far away, in a land and dimension apart, a young man woke from slumber with a jolt. He pulled away the covers of his bed and walked over to the window and looked out. It was still early morning…the sky was grey and blotched with cloud and the ground was covered in fresh dew. The sun was only just rising over the Surrey horizon, casting shadows here and there and laying soft golden shafts of light across the ground, houses and low garden walls. The grass glistened slightly as the dew began to evaporate, and the flowers began to open.
He sat on the sill of his window and watched as the sun slowly rose farther and farther over the low hills of Surrey, the sky turning slowly from a previous dull grey to purple, pink, and red before the sun was fully over the horizon.
As the light got stronger, the residents of Privet Drive gave the first signs of being awake. The woman who lived across the road from the Dursleys parted the curtains and opened the window. The man who lived the left turned on a light, and a man who lived down the road walked out of his house and opened the door of his car before driving away.
He got up from the sill of his window as he heard the grunts of his uncle getting out of bed in the room next door. Walking over to his wardrobe in the corner of the room, he opened the door and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Looking back at him was a tall, thin boy with brilliant green eyes and jet black hair. He had grown another few inches since he had come back from Hogwarts, making him a steady 6'2", rivalling Ron's 6'5". He was still thin, having not been given all that much food from the Dursleys, who had been acting more civil to him but still held out that he might starve to death. Their hopes had been in vain, however, as they did not know about the fixed flow of food he had been receiving from the Weasleys, who had gamely been sending small parcels of food every couple days or so. Other than that, he was just the same as always.
So, for that matter, were his days at Privet Drive. He had been sending regular letters to Remus as he had been asked, but still he only got titbits out of his return letters, and that in itself was a rare thing. He had been getting more and more fed up with the order every day. They still kept him mostly in the dark, and had not yet referred to the time of his removal from the Dursleys, which had made it even worse.
At least the mail from Ron and Hermione had been more helpful. Hermione had written in his birthday card that `…Ron and I are in the same place as last year and are eagerly waiting for Dumbledore to say when you can come and stay, but he hasn't said anything yet…' . At least she and Ron had been helpful as well as supportive.
He sighed and pulled on a clean pair of cloths before leaving his room and moving off downstairs.
When he arrived in the kitchen, the Dursleys were already sitting down at the table. Uncle Vernon was eating a grapefruit half and reading the morning paper, The Times, and Aunt Petunia was reading her favourite weekly magazine, The Weekly Inquisitor, and Dudley was pigging out on his breakfast in a way that would make even Ron look away in disgust while watching his morning dose of childrens cartoons.
Vernon looked up as he entered the room, before giving him a venomous look and going back to his paper. He had done this every day for most of the summer vacation. Every time Harry walked into a room, he would give him a look that clearly told him that even though he feared Moody's threats from that day at Kings Cross, he was still going to do everything in his power to make Harry miserable.
He sat down and picked out some food from the various dishes on the table before eating quickly and then heading outside.
During the past two weeks, he had been given the task of tidying the Dursley's back garden, which, it is needless to say, was unimaginably disordered, due mainly, it seemed, to his Aunt Petunia's abysmal gardening skills. He did not want to redo the back garden, but it gave him something to do besides dwelling on Sirius's death, as well as the fact that Vernon had hinted that he might give Harry a few pounds if he had, by the end, `performed the job without any faults'. He neither needed nor wanted the money, but he thought that perhaps it would come in useful sometime in the future. He doubted it, but that, as they said, was that.
Overall, the day was totally uneventful. Today, he had been given the task of remodelling the largest flower bed, and, after weeding and trimming the plants that grew there, he had moved some of them around as well as putting others in with the originals (Aunt Petunia had picked up a sizable amount of new plants, flowers, and bushes at the local Nursery, and had delegated the task of putting those plants in as wells as Vernon's tidying work). Afterward, he watered the bed and put in fertilizer before standing back to admire his handiwork.
He went in, and, having eaten nothing since breakfast, went upstairs to eat some of the food from one of Mrs. Weasley's food packages. After eating ravenously four sandwiches, a packet of crisps, and two bottles of ginger beer, he went downstairs again to have Vernon inspect the work. It was deemed satisfactory, and he was given the sum of £5.00, which hardly seemd enough, but again, that was that.
While the Dursleys sat down to dinner (roast lamb, Hungarian potatoes, and various kinds of salad (all of which was denied to Harry, as the `freak' wasn't `allowed good food')), he decided to leave the house for a walk. He often went for one in the evenings, though this one was rather earlier than normal, and people were still out of their houses, but that was to be expected, he thought, as it was, by his watch, only seven thirty in the evening (Hermione had sent him the new watch for his birthday. It was a Steinhausen, she had been proud to say, and he had worn it since then).
He walked out of the front garden and began to walk down the road towards the wood that lay beyond a few farm fields to the south of the village. He walked past a couple of kids and their mother who were heading down the road to the village. As he went past them, the kids looked up at him fearfully and their mother hurried them along faster while glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
He sighed. Everyone in the village still thought of him as a criminal, all because of Vernon's lies and hate. If they knew the real me, maybe they would stop…or would they be just as afraid of magic as Vernon and shun me even further?
He went through the village, over the little bridge over the stream, and onto the dirt track that lead to the farms and into the forest. Just as he stepped onto the track, he sensed something…watching him. Every time he left the house to take a walk he had felt the same thing, and he knew it was just an Order Member following him around, no doubt on Dumbledore's orders, but this was different…this was stronger. Instead of the normal prickling everyone feels when they're being watched, this was stronger, much stronger. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he spun around, tense and ready to move on a moments notice.
He slowly turned, squinting, so he could scan the area around him, searching for the…thing…that he knew was there. Just as he had almost completed a half turn, facing the way he had come, he saw a slight flicker of silver, and he knew immediately that it was and invisibility cloak, and a piece of wood…
He slowly relaxed, but still stood ready to run; staring at the place he had seen it for a moment before opening his mouth and speaking to the place he had seen it.
"You can come on out, Moody."
He heard a low sigh from a place just to the left of where he was looking before there was a shimmer of silver and Alastor Moody appeared out of thin air in front of him.
"Your getting good, Potter," he growled, frowning.
"I've had practice."
"Well now that you know I'm here, you can tell me what you're doing this far out of the wards."
"I'm going for a walk, thank you very much," he said, glaring at Moody. "What's it to you?"
"Albus wants you to stay within the village limits, you know what he told you in his letter last week."
He had read the letter, of course, but he had not taken the slightest bit of notice as to what it had said. It had merely been another bit of useless chidings and drivel that he been given by the Order, so he had thrown it away. You know why you must stay within the wards, Harry, and I do not want to hear of you straying outside them.
"I don't care what Dumbledore's said to me. I refuse to be taken as a child. Now, I'm going for a walk, so you can either go now and tell Dumbledore to treat me like an adult, or you can follow me as much as you want and then go and tell Dumbledore. Whatever you do, I'm still going for my walk."
He turned on his heel and began to walk farther up the path to the top of the farm. As he neared the first field, he saw a combine harvester loping slowly towards him through the field, pulling in the golden stalks of wheat and spitting the seeds out of a pipe protruding out of the side into a lorry that was following slightly behind the harvester. A bird of some kind flew over head, banking off to the left and flying out of sight over the village.
A thin man, grey and balding slightly, was sitting in the harvesters cab, moving the two joy sticks on either side of him, watching the neat rows of grain going into the intakes underneath him, careful not to miss a single stalk.
As Harry neared him, he looked up and smiled. Waving, he switched off the machine before turning the seat around to left, opening the cab door, and climbing out.
This was Andrew Evans. He had met him in the village market a few days after he had come back from his fifth year. He had invited Harry to drop around whenever he wished, as well as talking to him about the Dursleys, Dudley in particular. He had told Harry (much to his surprise) that he was Mark Evans' father, and he had wanted to know about why Dudley had beaten up his son the previous summer. Apparently, he had talked about it with the Dursleys after term had started, so he hadn't been there, but that the Dursleys had flatly denied it even though young Mark had been completely certain that it was Dudley, brushing it off that `he must have fallen down a hill or something and hit his head on something…our Dudley would never have done such a thing', etc.
He had asked Harry about this because he knew that Harry lived with the Dursleys, and he was sure that Dudley had done it. Harry had said that Dudley had done it, but that his Aunt and Uncle were `too damn stupid to see what that idiotic git of a son is actually doing'. He had also said that he was sorry about what his cousin had done, as well as saying that he hoped Mark was alright. Mr. Evans had said that Mark had healed up after a few weeks, and that they had given up on trying to prove that Dudley had done it, but that they just wanted clarification.
He walked forward and shook hands with Mr. Evans, smiling as Mr. Evans beamed and clasped his hand tightly. A farmers' grip.
He turned after shaking Harry's hand and motioned his son to come forward.
"Harry, this is my eldest son, Tristan. He helps me with most of the farm work as Mark is only eleven, and too young to do much."
He walked forward, shaking the boys hand as well. He was tall, just an inch under Harry, with blond hair and soft blue eyes. Well built, he looked the part of a farmer.
Mr. Evans watched them shake hands before turning to Harry.
"Tristan here has just turned fifteen. About the same age as you, isn't it?"
"Yes, I had my sixteenth birthday just last week."
"Well as you're here, and the fact I'd rather like a break, myself, would you like to come in for a drink? You can meet my wife and Mark, as well. How about it?"
He accepted with a grin and followed them back to the harvester, where he hitched a ride on its side as they trundled back to the cottage near the woods down the road. They parked the farm vehicles just outside the large wooden barn that stood a few yards from the house before turning to go into the house.
At the first glance, it was just another farm house, but when he saw it for himself, he was strongly reminded of the Weasleys house. It was large, with three levels, and it had the same homely and welcoming feeling that the Burrow gave off in such copious amounts. Hospitable was really the only way to describe it. Friendly.
As they entered the house, he heard a child's voice saying something in the kitchen to a person that was obviously his mother. He could only pick out a few words from the conversation, but they were words that he found, with a large jolt, all too familiar. "Got a letter…Professor… from Hogwarts…Wizardry…Books… in London… Ministry…" What really got him was the last word… "Magic…"
He took a deep breath before entering the room, where he saw a young boy with his mother standing in the corner of the room, by the fire. A yellowed letter sat on the table, its envelope resting beside it on the heavy oaken surface. He sat down at the table and looked down at it, and another jolt went through him. The script was in… emerald green ink, and there was a broken red wax seal on the envelope!
Before he could get a better look at it, the boys' mother snatched it away quickly, putting it on the mantel over the fire. She then turned to her husband with a frown after looking Harry over.
"I thought you were going to be in the fields all day, but I see you have a friend with you." She turned to Harry, smiling. "You are the infamous Harry Potter from up at the village, yes?"
Mr. Evans grinned.
"Yes, the infamous fugitive is here for a drink."
They sat down and Mrs. Evans pulled out a bottle of cider before pouring a glass for everyone except Mark, who sipped a coke (A/N: To those who don't know, British Cider is a mild alcoholic drink much like Beer). They sat and talked for while before Mrs. Evans turned to him with an apologetic smile on her face.
"I am sorry, Harry, but I must speak with the rest of the family about something for a few minutes. Would you mind going out onto the porch while we talk about it?"
He nodded and smiled, having a shrewd suspicion of what they were talking about. He stood and walked slowly out of the room and outside. When he went out onto the porch, he was surprised to see that the sun was just beginning to set.
He sat down in one of the large deck chairs and watched the Horizon as the sky slowly became pinker and pinker. After a few minutes, Mr. Evans eldest son, Tristan, came outside slowly. Harry heard him sigh slowly before coming over to him.
He sighed again when he came to Harry.
"Would you like to come for a walk? I have something I want to talk to you about."
Harry followed him down the porch steps and into the woods that lay behind the house. Tristan led to him towards a wide path that led into the woods and up a steep hill. Just as they were going to enter the forest, he heard a bang, as though of a door closing. He turned around and peered at the house behind them, but saw nothing. Shrugging, he turned again and followed Tristan into the woods.
They had been walking for a few minutes when Tristan finally spoke to him.
"You're one of them, aren't you?"
He stopped, surprised, "One of what?"
"Them. The people who sent my brother that letter."
Harry's eyes narrowed.
"Who?" he asked suspiciously.
"The magic folk."
Harry paused before answering. "What would make you think that?"
Tristan looked at the long pocket on the right leg of Harry's jeans, his eyes narrowed, suspicious but fearful.
"You carry one of those things. The letter said they were called wands. You're a wizard."
Harry began to walk again. Tristan followed him, curious. They walked for a bit before Harry finally spoke.
"Mark will be attending Hogwarts, then?"
Tristan nodded dumbly.
"I am a wizard. I've attended Hogwarts for over five years. Why do you want to know?"
Tristan sighed, staring at his feet.
"I wanted to ask you to keep an eye on my brother. My parents are going to let him go, and he needs someone to look after him while he's there."
Harry smiled and nodded, and Tristan looked relieved.
By now, they had climbed to the tip of the hill, and a craggy point of rock jutted out over the side of a rocky cliff. The trees thinned when they neared it, and they sat down on the point. The sun was just sinking below the horizon, casting a variety of colour across the valley below them. The village of Little Whinging was spread out below them, the houses dotted on the hills around them.
They watched as the sun slid lower and lower in the sky until it vanished beneath the hills. The beautiful colours in the sky began to fade slowly before diminishing faster and faster to a cold midnight blue.
As the colours of the sunset began to fade into the canvas of night, Harry stood, ready to return to the Evans house before walking back to Number Four for the night. Tristan seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he, too, stood, yawning slightly. He was just clambering down from his perch on one of the rocks just above the one that Harry had been using.
Just as Tristan was about to jump down onto the ground, he stopped and knelt over, picking something up from the ground. He stood up and jumped down, coming over to where Harry stood waiting. He held out his hand and showed the object to him.
Tristan held it in his hand as Harry studied it, looking interested himself. What he had in his hand was a medallion made of an unfamiliar metal. It was octagonal in shape, with eight symbols inlaid into the edge, one for each side. The odd thing was that the medallion was glowing a translucent, emerald green. It seemed to pulse slightly, giving off its power in short bursts, lighting up Tristan's hand every few seconds in its faint glow.
Harry tentatively put out his hand and touched the metal, intent on picking it out of Tristan's hand for a closer inspection, but as he did, five things happened in quick succession that would change Harry Potter's life for ever, leading him to a path in life that would one day become legend…
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PLEASE READ, AS TODAYS NOTES CONTAIN IMPORTANT INFO CONCERNING ALL READERS
A/N: And so the first chapter ends! This is the fic I have most enjoyed writing so far, and this chapter in itself took months to plan and write, so I hope you all liked it. To all you people who have never read Eragon, but like the fic, I'll do my best to explain it throughout the fic so as not to leave you in the dark, but you could just read the book to save me the trouble…
To those of you who asked, yes, Eragon and everyone else from the Inheritance Trilogy books will begin to appear in Chapter 2, and everyone else from Harry Potter in Chapters 2/3-5.
Review, but constructive criticisms only, please. Flames are just so depressing.
If you have any stuff you want to say to me (ideas for the fic, notifications on whether I made a huge editing slip-up, small criticisms, things you think could be changed, etc.), please include it in the review, as I would be happy to hear it as long as it isn't insulting…
Only important reviews or questions will be answered at the end of each chapter. To everyone else, I'll just say a polite `Thank You' and then send you on your way, but I would like you to review just so I know you're reading.
Just a few important notes for all of you:
THIS FIC WILL BE UPDATED ROUGHLY EVERY ONE-to-TWO WEEKS. THIS IS DUE TO THE AMOUNT OF TIME THIS FIC TAKES FOR EVERY CHAPTER (Its very complex and needs tweaking every sentence or so. If you look carefully, you'll see hints on how this fic is going to happen. By Chapter 5, you'll have an overview right under your nose.)…
Cheers!
SilverDagger
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