The Draconis Saga

SilverDagger

Rating: PG13
Genres: Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/08/2004
Last Updated: 16/03/2005
Status: in_progress

Harry vanishes into oblivion, waking in another world during the war of wars. Can he become a legendary Dexzaran, and First of The Nine Dragon Riders? Can he wield this great power to save both this world and his own? HPEragon X-over. (You dont need to have read Eragon to love this fic) - H/Hr late in the story, until then, no pairing.

Chapters

1. Prologue, Seven Calling

2. Chapter 1, Portal For Two

3. Chapter 2, The Vanished

4. Chapter 3, Destiny Board

5. Chapter 4, Power And Pain

6. Chapter 5, Ashrang

7. Chapter 6, The Order of Aries

8. Chapter 7, Ra'zac Stalking

9. Author's Notice

10. Chapter 8, Eragon

11. Chapter 9, Islanzadi

1. Prologue, Seven Calling

Disclaimer: The following is an original FanFiction story. All unoriginal characters, places and ideas included in the fic are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling, Christopher Paolini, and others. All original characters, places, or ideas are mine and I would prefer to be asked permission before they are used in any works not owned by myself. All fics under the pen name of SilverDagger on Fanfiction.net and portkey.org are mine, this included. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

And now, on with the show.

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The Draconis Saga

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Prologue

Seven Calling

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An old man stood in a large room, looking down on six of his fellows in front of him. He was tall and thin, with a long grey beard stretching down from his chin to the white bone clasp of his robes, which were white in colour, as was his cloak and hair. He held in his hand a long cane, also white, and ornately carved. It was thin with runes carved into the wood from the very end, which was pointed into a needle like shape, to the top, which ended in a carving of the feathers of the four winds and a white orb resting in the very middle where they met at the base of the fixture and the beginning of the rod underneath.

His eyes were a soft blue, and they twinkled gently in his old face, looking kindly down on the six figures in front of him.

They wore ornate robes of blue satin with gold ties around their waists, and a single black rune on their left shoulders telling what they were - Sorcerers. They sat in the middle of a long room. The walls were of white marble. The ceiling and beams above their heads and the floor planks below them were made of thick sturdy planks of cedar. The carpets were of wool, thick, red and soft to the touch. Oaken shelves filled with books or other trinkets lined most of the right wall, while the one to its opposite, which faced the south west, was covered wall to wall with glass windows, which offered an impressive view of the hills and forests below them down the mountain, as well as a spectacular view of the waterfall and river which moved the water out of the northern mountains. The wall behind them led to the hall and other rooms in the building, while the one in front of him was a large fire place with a stone hearth and oaken mantel place, carved to look like one if the limbs of the tree it was taken from. In front of it, there was a wide desk, again, made of cedar and oak. On top of it lay a large tome, yellowing from age, and a small metal medallion.

“Are you ready?”

They nodded, standing up and taking out long, undecorated oaken staves. They moved into a circle in the middle of the room putting their staves together into a point just above their heads. The old mage picked up the volume and medallion from his desk and brought both back to his colleagues in the circle. He set the medallion down on the floor in the centre of the group, returned to his place in the ring and began to read aloud. The others chanted what he said along with him.

Their voices blended into one, chanting again and again.

“Nos ad se vocare de noster salvator, noster duxcis, quo quidam quis voluntas capÄ•re nobis tenus victorium! Pervenire tunis nobis! Pervenire tunis nobis! Pervenire tunis nobis!”

The amulet began to glow a faint hunter green, which grew stronger with each word of the spell. As the last word was chanted, the metal flared suddenly, and the runes engraved on it flashed. Before their eyes, the medallion abruptly vanished, leaving nothing but a slight burn mark on the red carpet before them, which was repaired by a muttered word from one of the mages.

The leader looked around at his fellows.

He sighed. “Now we wait.”

~*~

A/N: So what do you think? It's only a start, mind you, the real story starts during the first chapter, but I just had to give you all a mysterious beginning to chew on. If you have any ideas as to where this is going or you want to contribute an idea, go ahead, I'll appreciate it.

Just so you know, the incantation just spoken is in Latin, meaning the following:

We call on our Saviour, our Leader, the one who will lead us to victory. Come to us! Come to us! Come to us!

*grins* Nice, eh?

Review! Mind you, NO FLAMES! Constructive criticisms ONLY!

Oh, and Read the Quotes of the Month on my profile. You might like them.

Cheers!

SilverDagger

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2. Chapter 1, Portal For Two

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…

~*~

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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3. Chapter 2, The Vanished

Please note that the 1st chapter has been edited and replaced since you last read it. I caught a major flaw in it and corrected it. Feel free to re-read, but you don't really have to in order to continue one with this Chapter.

Thank you all again for Reviewing. I have but one full response and one short note for them, so year goes:

To the Reviewer by the name of Clairseach- First objection, I would remind you that it is my opinion, and not yours, that matters in whether or not I write a fic and how or on what I write it. And secondly, I would implore you to please GIVE AN EXAMPLE when you say I've made an editing or punctuation goof. Just telling me I made one with no proof is no help at all. As far as I know, the punctuation is perfectly fine the way it is. When you tell me I've made a mistake, TELL ME WHERE THE BLOODY MISTAKE IS!!!!!

And a short note for Maethron- I am proud to say that as far as I know, this IS the FIRST EVER ERAGON OR PART-ERAGON FIC EVER WRITTEN FOR FF.net OR Portkey.org.

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The Draconis Saga

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Chapter 2

The Vanished

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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…

--

As his hand came into contact with the strange medallion, the symbols carved on its surface suddenly glowed a deep, fluorescent blue. As they did, it let out an extremely large pulse of light. It flooded out of the metal, enveloping them both in a web of intertwined bands of energy. It seemed to slow as it reached out from its originator before coming to a stop about two feet around them. As it did, a young boy who Harry recognized as Mark Evans came running out from behind a bush.

Tristan reached out for his brother but stopped and stared in surprise as another figure ran towards them. Mad-Eye Moody came running towards them up the slope, magical eye spinning around as he did.

“Potter! What have you done now!?”

Just as he neared them and Mark was a mere foot from the ball of energy, it snapped back suddenly, and with a tremendous BANG, they had vanished.

The last thing Harry saw was Mad-Eye making a desperate swipe at them, but just as he reached for them, they disappeared, and his vision blacked out.

~*~

When the darkness finally crept back out of his mind and his eyes cracked slowly open, he found himself lying on a small oaken bed in an unfamiliar room. It was small, with limestone walls decorated with torches and various homely items adorning the walls and the lone table standing against the far wall under a grand window looking down on a long, green valley. He contemplated getting up and walking to the window, interested as to where he had ended up when that strange medallion had…taken…them somewhere.

As he pulled himself from beneath the covers of the bed, he noticed that someone had changed his clothes, as he was now adorned in a pair of what looked like deer hide pants and his boxers. His scruffy Muggle jeans and shirt were lying on a chair by the door, and his wand could be clearly seen resting on the table below the window.

He got gingerly to his feet and moved over towards the window before looking out of the window, wincing when his stiff joints were forced to move.

When he looked out of the window, he was greeted by a spectacular view of the rest of the valley he had not been able to see when lying on the bed.

Below the window, the rest of what was obviously some sort of castle stretched out for four stories below him and another three stories above him. Various towers and turrets jutted out over the roof, cutting the horizon into many jagged pieces. Below him was a cliff that dropped off under a long outside walkway, which stretched the length of the castle's inner side. The castle, like the cliff, was stretched in a long crescent. On one side of the castle were more cliffs, dropping off into some unknown abyss, which he could not see. To the other side, mountains stretched above them, forest covering the slopes. Underneath it, a wide river flowed out from some sort of tunnel or cave. As it neared the edge, it fell away over the cliffs into a large lake below. The cliffs, which were shaped in a sort of jagged half-circle, held more buildings on the other side. Below them, on the side of the lake, he could see many other small buildings or houses, some built into the cliff sides, all of which, like the castle, were built of white limestone, giving the water below them and the valley itself a sort of ethereal white glow. The lake was long, covering a good bit of the valley floor, though on its banks and in all of the other space left in the valley, houses, dirt tracks and parks littered the area.

What really drew his eye was an immense tower that dwarfed all others stretching out above the buildings on the other side of the cliffs. It was windowless, except at the top, where four large windows, devoid of glass, faced the four winds. Above them, a long wooden flag pole held a huge flag, which waved lazily above the city. It depicted a weeping willow tree on a dark green background, with two crossed red roses were superimposed onto the willow.

As he was staring out onto the valley, he heard a faint click behind him, and he whirled around, snatching up his wand as he did so and pointing it at the door, which opened. A figure was just about to enter the room when he saw Harry. He drooped the fresh cloths he had been carrying - another pair of trousers (deer hide) and a shirt (wool) - onto the floor and stared at the wand pointing directly at his face.

What really confused Harry is that the figure did not seem to be human. It was Human-like, as it had a similar bone structure, to say the least, but there was something different about the young…male creature in front of him. He was sure it had to be male because of the thin beard that surrounded its lips, though he did still have longer hair than he had seen on anyone except maybe Bill or Dumbledore. Like Bill he wore his hair in a ponytail. Yet what really confused him was that it was different, yes, but for some reason, it seemed terribly familiar.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when it spoke, confirming his gender suspicions when he heard a bass. Yes, definitely male.

“We did not expect you to recover this quickly, but Osthato will be pleased—”

Harry cut him off.

“Who are you?”

“I am the elf known as Nitora, I am the healer who was assigned to watch over you after you had arrived through the portal—”

“What portal? Where am I!?”

“That will all be explained by Osthato. He'll be anxious to speak with you. I suggest you put on this shirt—” he picked it up off the floor and handed it to Harry while putting the pants on the chair near the door “—and come with me. I'll take you to him along with your friend. He has been awake for a few hours, but was told that he would have to wait until you were awake to visit the Sage.”

Harry slowly lowered his wand before pocketing it and doing as he was bidden, putting on the woollen shirt before following Nitora out of his room. He was led down a magnificent hallway with limestone walls, scarlet rugs, oaken hardwood panelling and furniture, and cedar flooring, just as his room had been. When they turned a corner, they were faced with a pair of large, wooden double doors, which reminded him strongly of the doors leading into the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Each had a huge brass knocker set into the centre of each door which doubled as handles, not to mention that each conveyed an image of strength and power which he had only seen twice in the wizarding world, once at Hogwarts, and the other at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, with its famous warning etched into the wood.

~ Flashback ~

…Now they were facing another pair of doors, silver this time with words engraved upon them:

`Enter, stranger, but take heed,

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take but do not earn,

Will pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors,

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware,

Of finding more than treasure there…'

`Like I said, you'd be mad ter try and rob it!' said Hagrid.

~ End Flashback ~

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a slight rustling noise behind him. He whirled around for a second time and came face to face with Tristan (led by another elf), who had a questioning look on his face, and seemed to be searching desperately for some answers. Harry shrugged, as he too was just as confused, and they turned with their guides back the door. The elf who had brought Tristan threw open the doors before leaping aside and bowing to Nitaro, who walked through them, leading Harry and Tristan into the most magnificent room Harry had ever laid eyes on, and a person who would change his life, for better or for worse, forever.

---~*~---

It had taken him just over two weeks to recover from his injuries, and Angela had finally deemed him ready to leave her care, making it time for him to tell Saphira, Murtagh, and Arya about what the Sage had said in his dream, and maybe Ajihad, eventually, but he needed to get their council before hand. He trusted Ajihad - everyone here did - but he did not wish to give away his conversation with the Sage to anyone but those he trusted most.

But first, he had to find them.

He walked down the long spiralling stairs of Vol Turin slowly, thinking deeply as he went, question after question on all possible subjects buzzing through his mind. As he neared the bottom, he came face to face with some of the repair teams, still cleaning up from the damage caused to the castle and grounds after the Battle. As of now, they had re-opened many of the passages and tunnels throughout the Boer Range, and communications had been sent through to the other cities, who, thankfully, seemed to be faring well after what had happened the previous month.

He watched as the team of dwarves - the dwarves would not let anyone but themselves repair the inside of Trojenheim - raise a new crystal rose into the repaired crevice Saphira had blown open during Eragon's last fight with Durza.

They were just finishing up their work as he passed, and they raised their leather hats in salute as he went by, receiving a smile and a nod in return. He was just passing into the streaming sunlight outside the castles main entrance when he heard a disapproving voice speak to him from the deep recesses of his mind.

Where are you of to, little one?

He grinned in spite of himself. He had grown fond of her term of endearment to him.

Saphira! I've been looking for you and Arya and Murtagh. I need to talk to you all. I have something to tell you. Could you get hold of them and tell them to meet me in that clearing just behind the archery range?

Of course, little one. See you soon.

He walked slowly up the hill, looking at each of the arrangements laid out in the flower beds next to the path. He soon came out into the field set aside for the Bowmen to practice their aim and speed. The large targets were set up on the others side of the field, and they moved slowly form side to side, in an effort to make the shooting more of a challenge for the more experienced archers, while still targets littered the other end of the field for the beginners. He walked down the stone path down the centre of the range, careful to stay away from the Bowmen who were currently shooting, for fear of a stray arrow coming his way.

He made it to the others side of the field without incident and from their went up the rocky dirt path through the woods to the clearing beyond it. As he went, the trees and plants thickened, and rocky outcrops became more and more frequent. Suddenly, the trees came to and end, breaking into a large glade. The grass was thin, and wild flowers grew in small, colourful clumps every few feet, as well as a few small fruit trees that grew in a few places near the edge of the tree line.

He settled himself on one of the rocky outcroppings and looked down onto the city that was splayed out below him.

The battle that had taken place the previous week had, surprisingly, been confined mainly to the lower fields and the entrance to the city, and had not spread, for the most part, to the upper areas of the landscape, apart from where Durza had brought a group of Kull into the Hall.

Repair efforts were already under way at full steam, and landscaping, masonry, and mining crews were roaming across the grounds and city halls, repairing what had been damaged in the battle, and anything they came across that was in any way broken or in need of a sprucing up. The tunnels were already being cleaned of bodies (which were later burned) and weapons (which were either melted down for re-casting or issued to the remaining soldiers residing in the city), and the tunnels refurbished and, in some cases, destroyed and re-routed.

As he watched the activity below, he noticed a shadow moving across the landscape towards him, and looked up to see Saphira swoop down at him to land a few yards to his left.

Arya and Murtagh leapt off of her back and came to sit next to him, and, not until after Saphira had come to settle herself down on a patch of grass, did anyone speak.

“So…” Murtagh asked slowly, “What's bothering you?”

“I had a strange dream when I was recovering, and I wanted to talk with you before I did anything, if I did at all.”

Arya nodded. “What was it?”

“There was a voice… He told me that he had pushed something out of me so that I could rest, and that that was all he could do to help me as he was so far away. He said his name was Osthato Chetöwa or something. The Morning -”

Arya interrupted him hastily “The Morning Sage?”

He looked at her, bewildered. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me to go with you to Ellesméra, and that when I arrived, he would have the answers to many of my questions. I promised I would come.”

Murtagh frowned. “Ellesméra?”

Arya hesitated slightly before answering the question. “It is the Elven capital city. It lies deep within the Du Weldenvarden Forests, near the Stelarian River and on the cliffs of Aridad.”

Eragon looked past them down onto the fields and city below him for a few seconds before speaking in a slow, measured tone. “How do we get there?”

Arya opened her mouth to reply before Murtagh cut her off.

“We can't. Not yet, anyway. All of the tunnels out of the city were blocked off or booby-trapped in order to block Galbatorix's attack, and until they're cleaned out, we can't go anywhere. That should take a week or two, and by then, winter will be setting in. Even then, Saphira can't fly over the rim of the volcano. It's too high even for her. I'm afraid we won't be able to go anywhere for at least four months.”

Eragon's heart sank. He hadn't thought of that. He looked to Arya for some kind of confirmation of what Murtagh had said and she nodded silently.

He sighed. “Well, we'll just have to wait then, and go at the soonest possible time.”

Saphira, who had, so far, just been listening, spoke for the first time. How will we travel there? I can carry one person, but I'll need a guide, and then there's Murtagh…

He thought for a moment before replying. I think we should travel by horse, so that Arya can direct us. You should probably fly above us to scout and watch out for danger. I might also fly with you for a bit to practice my riding.

She nodded her agreement and he relayed the suggestion to the others. The, too, voiced a positive word for the proposal before continuing.

“What shall we do before the winter's over?” asked Murtagh.

“We'll get to that later.” He replied. “For now, I think it would do well if we went to Ajihad and ask about when we should journey for Ellesméra. He knows this area better than any other, after all. After that, we'll get to how we'll be working for the rest of the winter.”

They stood, and, with the exception of Saphira, began to walk back down the hill to the city.

---~*~---

Lord Voldemort woke from his sleep abruptly. Something had disturbed his rest. He cast his mind around, looking for something out of the ordinary. After a few minutes of thought, he found it.

Ever since he had returned to power, he had been getting strange feelings inside the far reaches of his mind…a sort of presence. He had had no idea what it had been until last year, when he had discovered that it had been Potter in his mind when the feeling had flared suddenly when he had attacked the Weasley man in his snake, Nagini.

Ever since then, he had been getting twinges of it, but he had ignored it. What had really startled him was that when he had taken his trip to the Ministry of Magic in June, he had felt a burning in his head when he was around Potter.

He had put this down to a common headache until he had returned to his hideout, when the pain instantly vanished.

He had deduced, and rightly so, that he was beginning to feel the same things that potter felt when they were near each other.

What had woken him up was that the feeling, which he had grown accustomed to, had suddenly vanished. No…that's not it, he thought, its just so dull a feeling that I don't notice it as much… It's as though he's been hidden, or masked from me somehow.

He turned over. He would have to remind himself to send some spies to the Muggle village the boy lived in, and patrol around the wards he knew existed there, to see what had happened…

---~*~---

“Welcome, friends. I have called this emergency meeting over a matter of grave importance. It concerns young Harry. It seems that he has disappeared without the slightest trace under the witness of Alastor and a young muggleborn, Mark Evans, who is due to attend Hogwarts this September as a first—”

Molly Weasley, who had been spluttering silently for the past few seconds, exploded. “WHAT!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HARRY'S DISSAPPEARED!?!? HOW COULD HE HAVE—”

Dumbledore cut her off. “My dear Molly, I can assure you that it was in no way intentional. Please calm down. If we are to get to the bottom of this quickly, we may have a chance at getting Harry back sooner than if we do not. If we are to do that, we must have quiet.”

Mrs. Weasley, mollified, sat and glared at the drink she had in front of her.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore continued, “Now, since Alastor was present at the time, I will let him explain exactly what happened. After that, the floor will be open for debate.”

He sat down and turned expectantly to Mad-Eye Moody, who nodded, stood, and began to talk in his slow, gruff bass.

“'Right. Well, I was on duty this evening to watch over Potter. He went for a walk, which is normal, to an extent. The only thing that was different was that he walked out of the wards. He knows where they are, I've told him when to stop so as to keep inside them. He was walking towards the Evans' farm. He made friends with the family after his cousin kept beating up the younger child, Mark. `Don't know how… Anyway, he walked out of the wards, so I pulled my wand out, just in case, you know.

“I don't know how he did it, but he knew someone was there, and I think I may have poked my wand out of the cloak for a moment—accidentally, like—and he spots it, so he tells me to `come on out'. So I do.

“And while he knows I'm there, I thought I might give him a piece o' my mind about goin' outside the wards. So I do (and I mention that letter of yours from last week), and afterward he really surprises me by what he says. `Told me he doesn't give a shit about what you told him and that I can go tell you for all he cares and that whatever I do about it, he's still going for his walk, so he spins on his heel and off he goes.”

Dumbledore looked at Moody with vague surprise in his eyes. “It is to be expected that he would be feeling at least some animosity toward me, but I would not have expected him to say that.”

He sighed, and waved his hand wearily. “Go on.”

Moody nodded. “'K. Well, after that, I followed him of course. He met the farmer bloke…what's `is name…Andrew…Andrew Evans. Anyway, they went in for a drink, so I staked out the place under the invisibility cloak, looked for anyone out o' the ordinary. Found nothin'. Then Potter comes out an' sits on one o' the deck chairs.

“A few minutes later, the older Evans boy, …Tristan, came out, and I don't know what he said, but it must have been important, because they started to walk into the woods, and up the towpath. So I start followin' `em, right? Well, I don't know if they knew it, but the boy's younger brother, Mark, came out and started followin' `em, too. He wasn't very stealthy `bout it, but at least I could make a little noise and they'd ignore it.

“Anyway they stopped on this ridge that overlooks the village and they started talkin'. I couldn't get close enough to hear it, but who knows what it was about… Anyway, they stop talking for a bit and they watch the village for a minute, and then the really strange bits start happening…”

He paused for a moment and seemed to be mulling over what he would say next. He looked around at the room at large before peaking slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully before uttering them.

“Just after the sun is goin' down, round about, oh… twenty past nine, say, the Evans kid picks up this thing off some rock or other and shows it to Potter, right? Well, Potter reaches out his hand to take it to give it a look, I expect, and as soon as he touches the thing, everything goes to hell…”

“What on earth do you mean Alastor?”

“I mean that as soon as he touched that thing, it did something even I would never expect. When he touched that piece of metal, some runes glowed on it in bright orange and then some sort of energy field came out of it and began to expend around it, and then them. As soon as I saw it happening, I got out my wand and started to go forward, right? Well, right when I'm getting close to it, the energy field gave out this sort of pulse and enveloped the Evans boy and Potter inside it. And just as I reached out to grab them, it snapped back and gave a sound like a thunder clap, and they…well…they…vanished…”

Dumbledore, who had been listening while deep in thought, lifted his head slightly. “Alastor, what time did this happen?”

Moody gave him an incredulous look before replying, “Round about… half past nine, say… Why?”

Dumbledore looked him straight in the eye before saying, slowly, “Because something happened at twenty to nine last night which I have reason to believe has relevance to this matter, which, I fear, is of grave importance.”

---~*~---

A/N: Questions, Comments, Ideas, Problems, Reviews? Review Me!! I value all things that come my way. Don't think you won't be taken to mind if you review! Who knows, what you say might just appear in the next Chapter! Review!

PLEASE, NO FLAMES.

::::NOTE TO ALL READERS::::

I will not be updating on the week of August 29th- September 5th.

Therefore, I will be working extra hard for you to get one extra chapter out to cover the one I'll miss on the week before.

Also, the next chapter should be up (hopefully) by Monday, August 23 (Wed. the 25th at the latest).

Just a small note to all readers reading this at WWW.PORTKEY.ORG:

Please, people, when you review the fic, RATE IT. I prefer 8-10s if you don't mind…

May your quills always stay sharp!

Cheers!

The one,

The only,

SilverDagger

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4. Chapter 3, Destiny Board

Right. To put it lightly, I am fed up. I am fed to the teeth with these idiots following me around and sending me anonymous reviews (so I can't track them) and flaming me over the supposed discontinuation of SilverLocke980's FF.net story. I am posting this here to tell them all to FUCK OFF, because if the assholes had looked at the fic, maybe it would be possible to get it through their thick skulls that the fic was NEVER DISCONTINUED!!!! It's still up and being updated, so get your collective heads out of your ass and go read it!!!! Now, LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!

To everyone else, thanks for sending good reviews. To texen_witch, thanks for the note, I hadn't caught that mistake. I edited the chapter to change it back, but no one has to read the chap over because all it was was a `V' instead of a `W' on the name `Du Weldenvarden'. Thanks anyway.

And yes, I am proud to say that this is the only HP/Eragon, or Eragon/anything fic ever written for FF.net or Portkey.org.

To Maethron, thanks very much for the praise. If you want a visual, the main idea for the description came from the image in the LoTR:TFoTR movie directed by Peter Jackson, being the city of Rivendel (sp?) with additions. To anyone who is interested, the `tower with four large, open windows, one facing each of the four winds' from the previous chapter is the city's Dragon Tower, nearly identical to the one in Trojenheim (I got some questions about this).

--

`The wand choses the wizard, Mr. Potter, remember [that].'

~Mr. Olivander, Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 3

Destiny Board

--

Nitaro walked slowly into the room, Harry and Tristan following him at his heels. Standing in the far corner of the room was a old man (he couldn't have been an elf because he didn't seem to have the pointed ears).

Nitaro bowed, and as he did so, he spoke to the man.

“The visitors are here to speak with you, Sage.”

The man turned, and Harry got his first look at the man's face. He was tall, with long silvery white hair and a flowing silver beard, and blue twinkling eyes.

He knew those eyes. He had seen them so many times in the past five years at Hogwarts.

“Professor Dumbledore?” he asked tentatively.

The man smiled kindly at him. “No, my boy, I am not the one you call Dumbledore, though I do have many names. To some, I am `Osthato Chetowä', The Morning Sage. To others, I am `Togira Ikonoka', The Cripple Who Is Whole. And to many, many more, I am simply known as `Fate'. To, you, I hope to become a friend.”

He gestured to the three seats by the fire. “Please, sit down, I have many things to tell you, and I believe it may help to answer some of your questions.”

Harry nodded.

“Good,” the man said, smiling. “Now, Lets get some light, as the sun will be setting soon. Fieri.”

The many candles that sat on the book cases, the mantle, and the oaken desk burst into flame. Harry, startled, opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, waiting for the man to tell his tale.

The man smiled again. “Thank you for holding you curiosity at bay for the time being. Now…I suppose I should start…at the beginning. That would do well, wouldn't it…”

His eyes twinkled silently. “The beginning… Well, the whole story begins some 54 years ago. I had gotten my hands on an old tome, written by the race of the centaurs, dedicated entirely to recording their predictions. As their race has the gift of foresight, their predictions are taken very seriously. It was one of their predictions in the late years of the last age that caught my interest all those years ago, and since then I have tried to figure out it's meaning. The prediction is this: Freedom war with riders gone, nine come and our light shone, fought our war `till Dark was gone, on the fields of battle won, then on to war again. Afterward it gave the clues of the nine people who were destined to become the nine who would lead us top victory, as well as the time frame, `half of third age' That time is now, in the year 500 of the Third Age.

“Now, for one to understand that part of the tale, you would have top know about the history that surrounds it. Long ago in this land, a race arrived from across the seas, and they set up a civilization here. They were the elves. They came from the land called Alalea, though none but they know where this forgotten land lies.

“Now, when they arrived in this land, they found many beings living here, but only three that were sentient, the dwarves, who are the great miners of this earth; the humans, who take might in their numbers and ingenuity; and the dragons, the oldest race of all, and by far the wisest and strongest of their time, or any other for that matter.

“The elves were a proud race then, and they are now, and they have always been strong in the ways of magic. At first, they regarded the dragons, as mere animals. Dangerous ones, but still animals, and from that belief rose a deadly mistake. A decade or so after they came to this land, a brash young elf hunted down and killed a dragon, just as he would a stag. Outraged, the dragons hunted down and killed the elf in the same manner.

“Unfortunately, it did not end there, and, to abbreviate a complicated set of events, there was a long and very bloody war, which was costly to both sides. In the beginning, the elves fought only to protect and defend themselves, but, in the end, it became obvious that they would have to go to the offensive if the war was ever to end and the species stay alive at all.

“Now, this war would have gone on for far longer than the five years it did had a young elf by the name of Eragon found a dragon egg lying abandoned in the forest. No one knows how it got there, and there certainly were many theories, but I believe that the egg was left there by the dragons in the hope that the elves would do just as they did.

“The young elf found the egg, and, realizing the worth of a friendly dragon, raised it in secret, and, when it matured, traveled back and forth to the dragons and elves, arguing that a treaty should be made, so that the war could end. In the end, both sides agreed, and hence the war was over. And to make sure that the treaty was never broken, it became necessary to establish the Riders.

“The Riders were an group of Elves and Dwarves, and, eventually, Men, who where given the eggs of dragons. The raised the dragons by themselves, and when the dragon was old enough, they would begin to train it in the ways of war, and, in the end, they would ride to the far ends of the land together. Now, the dragons are very intelligent creatures, and they are both wise and powerful in the ways of magic. When the man, elf, or dwarf raised the dragon, the dragon would pass on some of its wisdom, strength, and magical ability into the one who was its partner, so to speak. It would also amplify the magical ability of the one who rode it, which it why the elves were always the strongest riders, having natural abilities of their own as well as the ones given them.

“The Riders were eventually given powers of governance, and, in the height of their power, held more power in their hands than all of the kings in Alagaësia combined.”

He paused when Harry opened his mouth to speak. “When was their downfall?”

“Well, that was just over a century ago, at the hands of a rebellious Rider called Galbatorix. He, with the help of twelve other dissatisfied Riders, overthrew the Riders and formed his own organization, the Thirteen. They took over all of the lands from the western waters to the Forests of Du Weldenvarden, the Hadarac Deserts, and the Boer Mountains, forming The Kingdom. Since Galbatorix was their leader, and is now the last of the Thirteen alive, he has been and still is the King.

“And now, we come back to the prediction made just over 540 years ago by the centaurs, with the nine people they prophesized would take up the mantles left behind by the most famous of riders. The first clue went like this: Spine walker, Ra'zac stalker, brought to Varden by forgotten Rider and son of the Red Winged One. This person is a young man of 16 years by the name of Eragon. He bears both the name and story of the Elf born over three thousand years before him. Again, he is first of the Riders.

“The second clue was for you, my boy,” he said smiling at Harry. “Imortal by a prophesy, from beyond the farthest sea, Howarts magic runs in me, hunted by a Darkened fiend, Dexzaran.”

Tristan looked up, “Does that mean—”

Osthato nodded. “Yes…the next was of you. Magical brother, friend of another, Muggle called by other, from beyond the seas.

“And then there were others. Six others who were identified through the predictions the centaurs gave us. Through magic performed by myself and others from this city, we have located and identified the remaining people, and have sent summons to them as well, this time by messenger, as all of the others dwell in the lands of Alagaësia, and therefore did not need us to send them summons via the means we gave you. I will explain why they were called and then you can ask questions, yes?”

He had said this when he sensed Harry's inquisitive look, and, when Harry nodded, he continued.

“The book the prediction came in was found in the crypt of the Elvin Rider named Forasmir. He died some 530 years ago, near the height of the Riders' power, and his tomb was discovered by accident while digging the foundations for a watchtower on the mountain above us.” He pointed up at the massive mountain that could be seen through the window behind them all. “In his tomb we found many things, some of which were obviously personal items that were put into the tomb so that he would be with his possessions for ever, but what interested us most was what was at the back: the book of centaur predictions, and, just behind it, eight eggs. Dragon's eggs.

“Now, that was over 50 years ago, and the tower has since been built, and, thanks to the Elvin King at the time, Arimas, I was able to keep the existence of the eggs a secret, and no one, with the exception of myself, the king, a few elves, and now you, know a thing about what was found in there.

“The reason that I have brought you from your world to mine, my friends; the reason I have called these nine elves, dwarves, and men here; the reason that those objects were left inside that tomb is because the two of you, as well as the other seven chosen figures from the other Alagaësian nations, are destined to become…Riders.

“Now…I know I said I would let you ask questions, but…I can tell that you both need to…have some time to…think this over, alright?”

Harry and Tristan nodded, and Osthato quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. When the Elvin guard that stood by the door gave him a questioning look, he just smiled, and gave a small word to the elf, who nodded, and the old warlock walk slowly down the hall, as he, too, was lost in thought.

---~*~---

--

Dumbledore looked him straight in the eye before saying, slowly, “Because something happened at twenty to nine last night which I have reason to believe has relevance to this matter, which, I fear, is of grave importance.”

--

Remus Lupin, who until now had been silent, rose from his chair at the back of the room. He was shaking slightly, but his voice was quite level, with only the hint of a quaver in it.

“What do you mean?”

Dumbledore gave him a long look. “I will tell you, but first, I think it high time I made some knowledge that only Mr. Potter and I knew that, I think, ties in with what I am about to tell you.” He waited for nods before continuing. “Very well. Here is the story: Nearly sixteen and a half years ago, in a room above the Hogs Head Inn, I had been having an interview for the position of Divination Teacher of Hogwarts. I had been turning to leave, after telling her that I did not think she would be suitable for the position. As I did, she did something I had not been expecting. She made a prophecy.”

He stood and walked around the room to the countertop, where he had set his Pensieve previously. He made sure that everyone was watching before prodding the surface of the silver thoughts with the tip of his wand. At once, the figure of Professor Sibyl Trelawney, draped in her many shawls, and eyes magnified to enormous sized behind her huge, round glasses, spoke.

`THE ONE WHO HAS THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE THE POWER THE DRAK LORD KNOWS NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHRE, FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DRAK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…'

He spoke slowly. “This means that the boy who would have the power to kill Voldemort would be born at the end of July just over 16 years ago, that the Dark Lord would mark him, and that the only way that the light can win, is if he kills Voldemort, for no one else can. It speaks, of course…of Harry Potter.”

He heard gasps come from around the room, and Lupin sat down heavily. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, began to sniff, getting a hug from her husband. After a moment, she spoke, anger creeping into her voice. “So this is why you always told him things he should never have known, treated him like an adult when he's only a—”

Dumbledore cut her off, but when he spoke, everyone in the room the sadness that was laced in his voice.

“He is not a child! Can't you see that, Molly? He bears more weight on his shoulders than anyone, including myself, in this room, and he does it admirably. I regret, now, that I did not tell him everything earlier, and that I did not tell him everything that was happening last year.”

Mrs. Weasley stood now, a sob racking through her as she spoke. “How c-can you s-say t-t-that, Albus? He's o-only sixteen, after all.”

“Yes, Molly he's only sixteen, but don't you think that sometimes, age doesn't always have to be the only factor in how much you can handle, how much you can cope, and how admirably you can deal with the things that come ones way in life? I should have realised it faster, and in not doing so, I tried to protect him by telling him nothing.” Anger crept into his voice, now. “It was a fools mistake, Molly. A fools. And because of it, one of our number is DEAD.”

His face softened. “Can you accept that, Molly?”

She nodded, a tear rolling silently down her cheek. “Yes. Yes. Of course, your right. Being stupid, that's all. I…I never saw it that way. Go on, tell us what you found out… Don't mind me…”

He nodded, and smiled slightly before continuing slowly. “What happened last night, I think is related to the prophecy I just showed you all. At exactly twenty minutes to nine o'clock, I was in my office, speaking to Professor Trelawney about whether or not she would like to be re-hired to the Divination job, and, in the end, we came to the decision that she would work jointly with Firenze, in the hope that the students would learn proper divination. As she was about to leave, the same thing happened. I was lucky enough to capture the memory in my Pensieve before it faded, though, so it is here with us in its entirety.”

Again, he stood and walked to the counter, pulling out his wand as he went. He hesitated for a moment at the Pensieve before taking a deep breath and prodding his wand into the silvery gossamer strands for the second time that night. Again, Sibyl Trelawney rose out of the basin, revolving slightly, her feet in the shallow pool of thoughts, he hoarse voice echoing around the tightly packed room.

`TWO MEN OF DARKENED PAST,

BOTH SCARRED BY CURSED FOR FORTUNE,

FLAME AND SHADOW KNOWN,

SEVEN MORE BROUGHT FORTH BY FATE,

ELF AND MAN,

DWARF AND SHADE,

UNITED NINE,

DRAGON LORDS OF OLD,

AGAINST THE LORD AND KING,

DARK KING AND DARK LORD,

TWO WORLDS APART, TOGETHER,

SEPARATE, YET THE SAME,

THE TIDES TURNS BLACK,

THE EARTH RUNS RED,

THE FACE OF GOOD TURNS WHITE,

THEN TIDES WILL TURN,

WITH FIRST BATTLE FOUGHT,

AS WHITE GOES BLACK, AND BLACK TURNS WHITE,

AND WAR TURNS WHITE AND RED,

THE WARS ARE WAGED,

FOR WHITE AND BLACK,

WITH NONE TO LOSE AND ALL TO GAIN,

FOR BOTH,

AND THERE ARE NINE TO WIN, AND TWO TO LOSE,

IN TWO WARS FOUGHT AS ONE,

AND VICTORY COMES TO NINE OR TWO,

BUT ONE,

BUT EITHER WAY ALL IS RULED FOR ALL TO SEE,

FROM SEA TO SEA, AND LAND ALIKE,

TWO WORLDS APART,

YET ONE,

BY WHITE, YET BLACK,

AND BLACK, YET WHITE,

ALL SCARRED,

YET JOINED AS ONE,

DEXZARAN, SVIOR,

WIZARD, MAN,

RETUNRS ON NINTH MOON OF SECOND YEAR,

AS FULL TURNS TO WANING TO NEW AND WAX…'

---~*~---

Harry sat in the room with Tristan, both of them slowly watching the sun slide lower and lower in the sky until it had vanished behind the massive mountain that soared above them to the West.

Harry sighed suddenly, and Tristan looked up at him. “What's up, Harry?”

“I was just thinking about my godfather. He…died…just last month, and I—I still think about him all the time…” He sighed again.

“Tristan smiled sadly. “I know how you feel. That's how I felt when my uncle died a few years ago. The pain…it feels like your heart's going to be ripped apart, doesn't it?”

Harry nodded.

“A word of advise—,” he said slowly, “—is to remember that no matter what, you'll see them all again one day, and that its better not to dwell on their deaths, but to dedicate your life so that you can make it better for everyone else before you leave as well. That's what my dad told me, and it was his brother, after all.”

He took something out of his pocket, which Harry then saw was Tristan's wallet. Behind some crinkled old five pound notes was an old, yellowing card with blue writing on it. He handed the card to Harry to read.

On the card was a quote and some writing, all of which Harry immediately took to heart. Above the writing were a few words penned in reading `It is better not to dwell on death, but to strive for success, for both your benefit and others, and to dedicate it all to those you loved who have passed'.

Underneath was a quote.

`Success is to laugh often and to love much, to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children, to earn the approbations of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in everything, to give one's self, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition, to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and to have sung with exaltation, to have known that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.'

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

He smiled at Tristan, giving the card back to him. “Thanks, Tristan. That really makes it all seem more bearable.”

Just as he was saying this, the doors at the end of the room opened again with a slight creak, and Osthato Chetowä, The Morning Sage, walked into the room, smiling.

“Have you decided?”

Harry thought for a moment and then spoke. “I have. If it can make the world safer, then I will do it, whatever it takes.”

Tristan nodded behind him.

“Excellent. Then I will answer all of your questions, and then, we will get…started. Go ahead.”

Harry spoke first. “Where are we. What is this place?”

“We stand in the fortress of Mal'daora, in the city of Ellesméra, the Elvin capital city. We lie in the Elvin nation of Du Weldenvarden, the Forest Land. To the south of us lies the Hadarac Deserts, to the far south, the Dwarven Kingdom in the Boer Mountains, and to the west and southwest, the Kingdom, and just below that, the Nation of Surda (a breakaway state of the Kingdom), and, finally, to the far east, out at sea, lies the Nation of Vroengard, the Isle of The Riders.”

Tristan voiced next a concern that both he and Harry had been dwelling on but not voiced. “Will we ever be able to go home again?”

The man nodded. `Yes, but the secrets of how to do that have been predominantly lost in the flow of time, except for a few obscure clues. I am sure that you will be able to find it, it is just a question of where to look. Who knows, maybe you will find it on your own while here? It is just a matter of finding the key, as we already have the gate…”

This cryptic statement did not mean anything in the slightest to either Harry or Tristan, which the man obviously found out from the nonplussed looks both of them held.

Harry asked one question that had been on his mind for a while. “Who are the other chosen people?”

“Well, as you know the young man, Eragon. Also, there are his two companions, Arya, an elf, and Murtagh, a man like yourselves. Other than them, there are two other elves, Mathias, from the city of Osilon, and Feramir, from the city of Nädindel. After that, there is a dwarf by the name of Thrän from the Dwarven stronghold of Dalgon. And lastly, there is a renegade Shade by the name of Zorac from the Dark city of Dendrathon on the continent of Kera'zonas, the land of the Urgal. Does that answer your question sufficiently?”

“It does. What do we do now?”

He smiled. “I'm glad you have asked, rather than me introducing the subject. Now, we have business to attend to in the Tomb of Ferasmir.'

They stood and stood as he beckoned them to do so and followed him out of the room. As they turned the corner into the corridor, four Elvin guards in full armour fell into step next to them on either side.

They walked for a few minutes down the corridor before turning the corner to a wide door with two candles resting in sconces above the door. Currently a candle giving off green, shimmering light was glowing above the door, and one of the guards quickly opened the door and they piled into a seemingly empty room, with a door at either side and an old elf sitting on a bench in the middle inside a small alcove. As soon as they all piled into the room and shut the door he spoke in a rather bored voice.

“Where can I take you, eh?”

“The Entrance Hall, if you don't mind,” Osthato replied.

The elf nodded sullenly and fiddled with something in front of him. Harry noticed that the doors in this room also had red and green candles above them, and as soon as the sage had spoken, the green candle over the door they had come in through extinguished itself abruptly and the red lit itself. Turning he saw the same thing happen in reverse above the opposite door. The elf looked up and spoke again.

“Right then. Entrance Hall it is. Please exit through the forward door. Have a nice evening, your lordships.”

“Thanks,” Harry said as he left.

They walked out into a long, grand hall filled with bustling elves, who, when they saw the sage, his companions, and the eight guards walking out of the elevator-like room, immediately made way for them, nodding respectfully at the sage and peering interestedly at the two young men following him. They ignored the guards completely, and the guards retuned the favour.

The moved silently to the far end of the room, where two massive oaken doors stood, their huge facade stretching up to the ceiling. The doors stood open, and they walked out into a large town square, small shops facing the hustle of the many elves going about their evening business. They followed a road that led toward the mountains that loomed above them, and, after a few blocks, came to the massive stone walls that surrounded the city. Directly in front of him was a set of steel gates, with multiple sets of huge iron deadbolts and cedar cross-bars which Harry imagined could keep out a small army by themselves. To either side of the gates was a tall watch tower, and on either side of those, Harry could see the massive walls stretching out around the upper part of the city.

As they neared the gates, the sage veered off to the left tower, coming to a stop at the door and turning to Harry, Tristan, and the eight guards who had accompanied them.

“Don't let anyone into this room until we come back out.” They nodded and spread out around the tower. The Sage beckoned Harry and Tristan to follow him into the room, and they did, shutting the door behind him.

He turned to them as they entered. “We are about to go into the Tomb to retrieve some objects that we will need for you and the others. I will not tell you what they are now, but it will be obvious what they are when you see them. I need you to follow me in and keep quiet, as I do not want everyone to know we are here, alright?”

They nodded and he turned to the floor in the middle of the room. He raised his right hand and pointed it at a section of the room where the floor boards were cut into a small square.

“Wëldos reisa!” At once the square section of floorboards rose silently into the air and deposited themselves onto the remaining floor, leaving a square, stone hole wide enough for a man to lower himself into.

Inside the hole, one could see an iron ladder held into the wall with metal pegs. Harry got onto his knees and began to lower himself into the hole, but just before he did, pulled out his wand, lit it with a muttered `Lumos' to the astounded watch of Tristan and a mildly interested look from the Sage, and then lower himself into the hole, keeping one hand on his wand and the other on the ladder.

He discovered while climbing down that there were small candle brackets every few feet, apparently to provide lighting while either descending or ascending the ladder, but they had long since been used up, and only the candle ends remained.

After a minute or so of descending into the rock of the cliffs, his feet suddenly met resistance when trying to move down, and, when he moved his wand to look down, found him correct when thinking he had come, finally, to the bottom. He stepped off the ladder and backed up to the wall to make room for the Sage and Tristan, who came to the bottom a few seconds after each other.

Osthato turned to the side, which Harry had taken to be a wall, but was actually a stout wooden door with no handle. Instead, the Sage merely pushed it with his hand and muttered something Harry did not catch, and the door swung, silently open to reveal a long corridor.

Harry shined his wand into the corridor to find a oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, `Inflamare'. A white hot ball of flame hurtled out of his wand at the lamp, lighting it at the top before bouncing down the corridor, lighting up other laps which were obviously there but he could not see. With light now shining in the area, he extinguished his wand with a soft `Nox'.

At the end of the corridor, he saw a soft blue, flickering light, and he headed towards it at a fast walk, the Sage and Tristan following him at his heels. When he got to the end of the corridor, the space widened into a wide stone room, though it was more like a cake than anything else, he turned his eyes to the source of the light, and found himself staring at the back of what was obviously the back of the waterfall he had seen from his room earlier, though the roar of the water seemed to be masked somehow.

The Sage walked around him and farther into the room, and Harry and Tristan followed him slowly, looking around themselves in wonder.

Osthato walked silently past a plinth topped with a stone casket, nodding in respect at it before turning to something that stood in the very back of the room. As Harry approached it, he saw that it was a wooden cabinet. The sage carefully opened the doors.

Inside, sitting carefully on a long strip of cushioning, were eight, large, shining eggs. Dragon Eggs.

---~*~---

A/N: Well. That's the third chapter. I know I said, I'd have it out by Mon-Wed, but I had some last minute changes to do. And, to be honest, I did have it done, all in all, last night, but I didn't have time to post it. So…Sorry.

This chapter is exactly 5300 words, which is more than the normal 4400 I usually write, so I hope the extra 900 words will make up for it.

---NOTE TO ALL READERS---

This Chapter is the last that will be posted before or during the week of August 28-Sptember 6. I have a mandatory trip I have to make and will, therefore, not be able to update until around September 14, when posting will resume weekly/bi-weekly (most likely the latter, as work returns to full-scale after the laps that takes place in mid-summer, and time is allocated, as much as I don't like it, to my work and fics go to back-burner).

Thanks for being patient, and I promise that I will update, I'll just be about every 1-2 weeks rather than every 3-4 days.

---

Cheers!

The one,

The only,

SilverDagger

-->

5. Chapter 4, Power And Pain

Right. First off, I'll thank you all for you patience. `Thank you all for your patience!!!' I am very grateful that all of you didn't complain when I said I would be a week or two until I updated. I would have updated even later than this if I hadn't had a three hour flight each way to start planning this chapter on an extra page in my notebook. So, yeah me, yeah you, etc.

You should know that I have a few important notices at the end of this chapter, and I would ask that you all read them. Thanks.

Secondly, I have a few review responses for you:

Uten- Thanks for the creative comments. I did try my best to find out and put into simple phrases the History of AlagaÃ«sia and those races living there in connection to the legacy of the Riders. As for the different brands of magic, Wandless/Staffless magic is the brand generally used in the Eragon world. The magic is channelled through a focal point (i.e. a ring, specific hand, etc.), and released when the correct words are uttered. Riders focus their magic through a tattoo on their hand which appears when the Rider first touches the Dragon as a hatchling, called the `gedwÃ«y ignasia', or `silver palm' in the Ancient Language. The Ancient language is the language used when commanding ones magic. So yes, Harry will have to learn their brand of magic, though he will still be able to use his wand. That's all I'll say here, though, as I will be explaining all this over again in the next chapter.

Texen_witch- I'm allowed a little creative licensing, aren't I? To answer your question, I am in the firm belief that Morzan was Eragon's, as well as Murtagh's, Father.

JayaMioneDurron- Normally, No, they wouldn't, but it makes the fic all the more interesting.

That's enough of that. On with Chapter 4!!!

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 4

Power And Pain

--

Harry woke the next morning to a sharp rapping on the door. He had been given a new room by the Sage the previous evening, as the room he had been in for the first few days had been a private room on the castle's Hospital Wing.

He dressed in the clothes he had been given the day before and stepped out of his room after retrieving his wand from the bed side table, shutting the door behind him. He walked carefully down the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, turned left, followed the corridor for six doors, then opened the seventh to his left.

Inside was passage with no doors or windows to show him where he was. He followed this to its end, exited the passage, and entered the large double doors that lay across the hall from the passage's exit. Inside was the now familiar library the Sage had spoken to them in the day before.

Behind the oaken desk at the end of the room sat the Sage himself, looking over an old, leather bound tomb of some kind. He looked up from the volume when he heard the door close with a soft click.

“Ahh! Good morning, my boy. You are well rested, I hope?”

“Yes, I am. Is Tristan down yet?”

“No, I'm afraid not. According to the building map—” he looked down at one of the many papers strewn across his desk, “—he is currently moving around his quarters. I expect he'll be down soon. You don't mind if I finish something I had been doing while we wait, do you?”

Harry shook his head and sat down at one of the chairs that sat by the fire, watching the city out of the windows that surrounded the room.

It took perhaps ten minutes before the door opened a second time and a tousle haired Tristan walked in, looking rather haggard and panting slightly.

“Sorry. I lost my way.”

He sat in the vacant chair beside Harry and caught his breath. The Sage stood and came to sit next to them. “It's quite all right. I lost my way many times all those years ago when I first came here. It is to be expected. I am rather surprised that Mr. Potter arrived here so fast, to be perfectly honest.

“Now, down to business. Today I will be helping you to select your egg, as well as testing you both for any particular magical ability that you may have. You will also be getting a few magical and non-magical items that will aid you in your training. After we have selected the egg that is meant for you, we will sit down for a while so I can explain what will happen afterward. It may take a while, you see.”

He stood and waved at the door. “Now, if you would come with me, the time is still ticking, and we have many things to accomplish before the night draws in upon us.”

They followed him out and around the corner in the opposite direction from the day before. Turning left into the next corridor, they came to a dead end, coming face to face with a large carving depicting three large Dragons flying in a large circle, a strange symbol in the center, and a armoured man raising a sword in the middle and just below. It was set into the wall with two large loose-torch brackets set on the wall beside it. The sage walked up close to it, grabbed one of the torches from their bracket and spoke softly to the swordsman carved into the wall.

“Argentlam intrare.”

The swordsman's eyes glowed red and the dragons moved around in their circle of carved flight three full times. The symbol glowed suddenly a violent orange, and the metallic clunks of heavy bolts could be heard behind that section of the wall. The sage placed his hand on the wall and gave a soft push. The wall moved inward on what had to be hinges, as it moved as did a door.

The Sage walked slowly into the passage beyond, lighting the torches sitting in their brackets as he went. He reached the end of the corridor and turned back to them.

“As you can see, this corridor has not been used for many, many years. This is the Rider's Wing. Inside this corridor and the other two connected above this one and the one below, you will find all of the facilities you will need in your training, as well as rooms where you will stay. This wing of the castle is separated from the rest, and the way I have showed you is the only way inside, and the only way out. Aside from these four floors of training rooms, living areas, and other facilities, we have something else I would like to show you. Come.”

He led them to the end of the corridor and to a spiral staircase. It led both down and up, and he lad them up, past another two floors and up into a tower. After a minute or so of climbing, they came out into a massive, round room. Above them, cut into the tower walls, were four wide, glassless windows, each facing into the face of one of the four winds. At their level, also built in the wall, were large openings, some smaller than the others, some bigger. Inside each cave-like opening, was a large bale of straw, some meat, and a small area where a human or elf could lie down. Set in the ceiling was a large lantern.

“This is the Dragons' Tower. This is where your Dragons, and those of your fellows will eat, sleep, and live until they are old enough to venture out on their own. That will happen at around two months of age. At the age of six months, the Dragon will begin to breath fire, and at one full year, the dragon will become an adult. While it is growing, you will learn to communicate with it, ride it, and care for it. Aside from that, you will learn how to fight in close combat, with your fists or with the sword, dagger, or knife, spear, etc.; how to fire a bow and arrow, to throw a spear, pike, etc.; how to use magic (the ancient magic, that is, not what you may be used to); how to speak and write the various languages used in AlagaÃ«sia; and to use any other powers you may have. You will be taught all of this by Elvin instructors , and you will respect them as they will respect you. Is that all understood?”

They nodded and he smiled. “Very good. Now, we will return to my office. I have many tests, I will need you to take, in order for me to get a feel for your level of magics, any powers you may have that will need to be trained. Most importantly, I will need you to take a test that will determine which of the eggs is matched to yourself.”

--*^*--

The sage saw them separately, so Harry did not know how Tristan's test had gone, but he came out smiling and clutching a forest green egg in his arms.

“He told me to tell you that you can go in now. I'm going back to the Riders' Wing for now. He said that until the dragon hatches, we'll just be doing language work.”

He waved and walked down the corridor, and Harry turned to the door and walked in. The sage was seated behind his desk, watching him as he drew closer. He waved his hand at the single chair that stood before his desk.

“Have a seat.”

Harry nodded and sat down in front of the desk, watching the Sage closely.

“I will be testing you to get a feel for your level and capability in various areas of magic. This, way, I will know what we will have to teach you besides the physical training, fighting arts, and language courses you will be required to take.

“Firstly, I wish to test for your overall level of magic. The reason for this is that when a Rider first touches their Dragon, the magic that is naturally theirs is multiplied by a factor of at least three, and then grows further as the Dragon matures. This is the reason that Elvin Riders are usually the most powerful. The are naturally born with quite a bit of magic of their own, and humans have about a third of that. Humans are all born with magic of their own, even if they cannot manage to access it. Your race, however—”

Harry cut him off. “My what? My…race? What do you mean?”

The sage smiled across the table at him. “I have watched your world through the same means as how I sent my portalisman—the medallion I sent you—to your world. It is common knowledge that the wizards in your world speak of humans as `Muggles', correct?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, that way of separating out yourselves is an acknowledgement that you are different. The Muggles, as you call them, are homo sapiens. Wizards and witches are the next step in human evolution, and since you are both living on your world at the same time, with the wizarding species growing in number and the human race diminishing slightly in proportion, you are considered another race, czaros sapiens. The only problem with this is that one or the other of your races will never cease to exist, making your races both on the same evolutionary track, but still separate and clearly defined.

“Anyway, to get back to the subject at hand, your race is gifted with both a vastly more abundant amount of magic than humans and is also able to access it at will. This means that your race stands at about the same level as the elves. I wish to test for your level of magic in order to determine the amount of power you will be at the command of in the end, as well as how far other abilities you may have may eventually progress. Do I have your permission for this?”

Harry nodded.

The Sage took large case out from a cabinet under the window behind him and placed it on the desk in front of him. He unlatched the two locks on either side of the case, pulling out a few vials filled with various multicoloured liquids, setting them in containers on the desk and explaining as he did so.

“I'm going to use these tests rather than the ones I used with your friend purely because, as I explained to you earlier, wizard's and an elf's magical signatures are nearly identical in their chemistry, so to speak, and these tests—which are meant for an elf—may very well suit you better than the tests I have for humans.

“Now…I'm going to test for a multitude of things, and I will present you with the results after the tests have been completed. Is that alright or would you like me to tell you what the tests are for before administering them?”

“Could I know what they are for now, and what the results are later?”

“Certainly.” He began to explain what each of the tests where for, pointing to each in turn as he did so. “The first one here is to determine your natural power level. These three are for the Magus talents: animagus, metamorphmagus, and chameleomagus. The others are for which egg will suit you best, your current physical strength, whether you have any hidden talents, and…this one is for whether or not you are a dexzaran.”

“What's an chameleomagus? Or a dexzaran?”

“An chameleomagus is a being that can blend in with his or her surroundings, much like a chameleon, hence the name. A dexzaran is a human-like creature that is able to blend into the shadows, as well as walk unnoticed and unheard by other people. May I begin the tests, now?”

Harry nodded and the Sage picked up what looked like a muggle scalpel. Cleaning a patch on Harry's wrist, he slowly pushed the instrument into his arm, slowly drawing out a full needle's worth of blood. Pulling the needle out of his arm, the Sage healed the cut with a touch of his hand. Turning to the row of vials, he passed slowly over each of them, dropping a single bead of blood into each one. After doing this, he shook the vials slowly, mixing the solutions in the vials until they began to fizz.

Next, he took a small bottle, a magnifying glass, and a thin book out of the box in front of him. Inside the bottle, there was a clear, slightly greenish liquid. Inside the bottle, there was a thin dripper. This he filled, lifted out of the bottle, and selected one of the vials. Inside this, he put in three drops of the liquid. He mixed the vial again, and watched the solution change colour.

He opened the book in front of him and began to compare the solution's colour to the pictures inside the book. Finding the correct colour, he wrote something down on a spare bit of parchment before repeating everything with the other vials, noting the colour the vial turned when the chemical was dripped into it.

After he finished he turned to Harry, pulling the parchment toward him.

“Well, my boy, it seems you are even more special than I thought. According to your tests, you have a considerable collection of talents. Moderate in number and some of which are very…err…potent.”

“What do they say?” Harry asked, somewhat wary of what the Sage was about to tell him.

“According to these tests, you have a high level of natural magic, perhaps because you are a wizard, and, therefore, have a slightly higher natural magical level than I had expected. Aside from that, you are gifted with both animagi and metamorphmagi skills, you are a parcelmouth, and you do have a rather low physical strength level, but that can be remedied. You also have the skill to become a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens. Last but not least…you are a dexzaran.

“Because of all this, and especially because of the last one, you will not, I think, train with the other Riders. No…you will train in magics with myself, and in physical and battle training…I will have to find some special instructors familiar with dexzaranÄ© training…”

“But why?”

“Dexzaran are not even human or elf, or any other known sentient being ever seen before. They are cunning, cold, creatures, with the senses of some sort of ethereal human, with eyesight (and eyes) and reflexes like those of a cat, hearing like an owl's, and the ability to move unnoticed through the shadows, unheard and unseen, unless by use of a spell. But they are also very emotional beings. They care very much for their friends and loved ones, as well as their opinions. They have a habit of getting very violent very fast…”

Harry gulped. “And I'm one of them?”

The Sage smiled. “Yes, you are. It is a great gift, if it is used wisely. You are still you on the inside, my boy, no matter what you may become elsewhere. Remember that. Dexzaran are, by nature, cold and cunning, but to become dark…they are the ones who chose that path, and many of them do not. You always have the choice, my boy, of which path in life you take. That is up to you, but I have a feeling that you will never turn to the dark. Your friends mean too much to you to do that.

“In the mean time, we will have to figure out where we will administer the change…”

“The change?”

“Yes… when a child is born in our world, they are all tested to see whether or not they are a dexzaran. If they are, they are trained by special trainers on how to control their powers, but before that, the change has to be taken. This is when the boy (they are always boys, for some reason) has reached the age of 5840-5900 days of age, or 16 years - 16 years, 60 days. This is when the skills and physical features of the boy set in, and the change must be prompted by a special potion before the age of 5900 days. If this does not happen within the time limit, the child will die.” He turned to look at Harry. “How old are you?”

“16 years, 26 days.”

“Very well. We will have to administer the change tonight, just to be on the safe side. Do you mind? I must impress upon you that the change can be painful. Perhaps you would like a few days to prepare yourself…?”

Harry sighed. “No thank you. There' no time like the present.” He gave a weak smile. “I'll do it tonight.”

The Sage nodded and seemed to lose himself in thought.

Harry prompted him out of his musings with a question. “Which of the eggs will I get?”

The Sage jumped and look across the desk at him. “Oh! Right. The test—” he looked at his paper, “—determined that you would be most suited to this egg here.”

He pointed to one of the eggs on the end, a large black one. He picked in up gingerly and handed it to Harry, who took it in both arms, carefully clasping it to his chest. It grew suddenly warm and then cooled again.

The Sage, seeing his expression, smiled. “It is acknowledging you as its rightful master and companion. Go now to your rooms. I will contact you this evening at sundown to begin the change. Food will be brought to your room. Good day.”

Harry nodded and walked out of the room, holding his Dragon egg tightly in his hands. He walked back to his room slowly, thinking over what the Sage had told him.

I'm always different. Why must I always be different?

He came to his room and opened the door. Shutting it behind him, he was suddenly aware that he felt…very…tired…

He lay down on his bed and only just registered that his scar was suddenly shooting with pain before he blacked out.

---~*~---

“Crucio!”

The man in front of Voldemort fell to his knees screaming. The other Death Eaters, standing in a circle around their master and his victim, did not move to help him. He lay there, screaming for what seemed like hours before the curse lifted. He stood shakily and walked back to the circle, taking his place once more.

“You will not fail me again, will you, Rudolphus?” Voldemort paused to relish the fear his statement had in the man before him. “I told you to investigate where the boy had been taken, and you bring me nothing. You tell me his is gone, that your findings tell you that some sort of powerful magic was involved… I know all of this. Next time, you will bring me better information.”

Lestrange nodded silently.

“You will all be put to the task of finding out the boys whereabouts. I am sick of this blundering. I want him found quickly. You will not disappoint me. Dismissed.”

The Death Eaters moved off to the other parts of the building Voldemort had been using as his base of operations.

No one noticed that one of them had slipped through a door to the outside world.

----~*~---

Severus Snape stood before Albus Dumbledore a few minutes later, recounting the events of that nights' meeting.

“And you say that he knows nothing of Harry's location, aside from the fact that he is gone?”

“Yes, Headmaster. He suspects that you had something to do with the boy's disappearance, but he knows nothing.”

“Very well, Severus, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Snape nodded and left the room silently.

Dumbledore sighed and pulled two pieces of parchment towards himself. He dipped a quill into the inkpot resting in the corner of his desk and began to write.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

The other read:

Dear Miss. Granger,

It is time that I wrote to you concerning the dilemma over your friend, Mr. Potter. Exactly five days ago, Harry disappeared from his home in Surrey. I must impress upon you that his is not in Voldemort's hands and that the Dark Lord has no inclination to his whereabouts.

Normally, the Order and myself would mount a full search for Mr. Potter. However, this is not the case. The night Harry disappeared, Professor Trelawney was gifted with a prophecy which I am sure is related to Mr. Potter's predicament. The search will not be mounted because prophecy in question mentioned that he would return at `the ninth waning of the second year.' I believe this means that Mr. Potter will rejoin us on the date in question, or some time after that. The date is September 10th in what will be your seventh year.

I must impress on you the need for calm and to keep this a secret, as we wouldn't want this information to fall into the wrong hands.

All we can do is hope that Harry will come back to us in the time frame identified by the prediction made by Professor Trelawney.

Have a happy summer until your arrival back at Hogwarts on September 1st.

Yours,

Albus Dumbledore

He gave the letters to Fawks, who disappeared in a flash of flame.

---~*~---

Harry followed the four guards that had been sent to his room to retrieve him down the hall and around a corner. Down four flights of stairs and along a stone passageway, left, then right, and finally to a large cast iron door set into the wall. One of the guards lifted a steel bar off of the front of the door, unlocked three tumbler locks with keys he took from his belt, and drew back the two deadbolts at the top and bottom of the door. He pushed the door open and Harry, followed by the four guards, walked inside.

The room before him was like nothing had had ever seen before. It was massive, with great stone columns in long rows , making the room look oddly like the Chamber of Secrets, with its carved serpent columns…

But it was not only the size of the room which made it odd. It was like some sort of medieval dungeon. Iron rings were rammed into the walls about every six feet, and four long chains hung from each, every one of them ending in an iron manacle. In the center of the room was a great stone dais, a concrete wall about eight feet tall and a foot thick stood on top of it, four iron shackles hanging from short chains on the wall. The Sage and a few dark robed men stood waiting for them on the dais.

Harry mounted the dais and the guards left, closing, but not locking the steel door behind them. Harry turned and looked questioningly at the Sage.

“What's all this for?” He nodded at the wall and shackles in front of them.

“When a Dexzaran goes through their transformation, it is known to be extremely painful. The person undergoing the change is said to become very violent during the transformation if not restrained. These are the only proper restraints in the entire castle, so it was necessary to bring you down here. The measure is for all our protection.”

Harry nodded, slightly uncomfortable. “And these people?”

“They are some of the most experienced sorcerers in the kingdom. They helped in summoning you here, and their knowledge and magical help will be needed to complete the transformation safely and quickly.

“The change will have to begin exactly at midnight, which is in roughly twenty minutes. I suggest we get ready.”

He turned to the elves behind him and said something in what sounded to Harry a cross between Latin and Russian. The elves nodded and went to the shackles hanging from the wall in front of them. Each one of the four took a shackle and opened it and then turned to Harry and the Sage, waiting.

“My boy, you will have to strip down to your underclothes for the change. Your body will change slightly and you may be thrashing a bit while the change takes place, and they may rip and tear. We will also have to administer the potion to each of your limbs, your neck, and chest simultaneously to ensure that the change takes place at the same time throughout your body.”

Harry nodded and did as he was told. After he was left in just his boxers, he was directed to stand with his back to the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he felt the cold metal of the restraints grip him firmly to the way, unable to move more than an inch or to in any direction.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw one of the sorcerers coming forward with a few lengths of plastic tubing. On the end of each one was an inch long, rather sinister looking needle. He took on of them and carefully slid it into the left side of his chest, about where he would think of his heart to be. When the needle was all the way in, he stuck a piece f plaster on top of it to hold it in place. He did the same on the other side of his chest, in his abdomen, and both his arms and legs. The final needle he set on the floor in front of him. He took a sort of staff from one of the other sorcerers and waved it over the tube and needle, muttering something under his breath.

The needle and the tube with it rose slowly into the air until it reached about the same height as his head.

“Bend your head forward,” the Sage said, and he did so.

The needle travelled over his head and turned slightly. He felt a slight prick at the base of his neck, and then a sharp jab of pain. The needle was sliding slowly into his neck, into his very spine. It came to rest in the base of his skull. The sorcerer plastered the wound, sealing it to the air, and the pain began to lessen.

The elf stood back from him and gathered the tubes into a bundle. He did something with them which Harry, afraid to move his neck for fear of injury, could not see.

The Sage knelt down in front of Harry and looked up into his eyes, smiling sadly. “I know this is not going to be easy, my boy, and I know that the change will be painful and frightening. But it has to be done sooner or later before the time runs out, or you will die. May we begin?”

Harry sighed heavily, and moved his head slightly. It did not hurt. Taking courage from this, he moved his head to look up at the sorcerers and the Sage. He sighed again, squared his shoulders, and spoke.

“Yes. Do it now.”

The sorcerer standing by the plastic tubing took them all in his hand and began to hook each one up to a sort of…pump. After he had connected all eight to the contraption, he took a large glass cylinder, about the size of a muggle two litter soda bottle, turned it upside down and screwed it into the top of the pump. He flicked a small stopper out of the cylinder and the liquid inside it, a deep, fiery red liquid, began to slowly slosh out of the bottle, draining into the tubes below it.

He watched as the potion travelled slowly up the tubes until, ever so slowly, it entered the needle. He felt it moving into his blood, burning, yet cold, coursing through every inch of his veins. As the feeling reached his head, he began to feel drowsy, but he fought back the urge to sleep.

The Sage and his four companions moved into a crescent around him. The sage raised his hand and pointed it at Harry's chest. His companions did the same with their staffs. They took a deep breath, and began to speak in unison, carefully pronouncing the words, lest the incantation go wrong.

“Mihi quo potestas quae regiminus supra haec mundus adjuvare haec dexzaranei nutu vocare illius veritas formare!”

As they finished their incantation, the potion running through his veins, exploded in pain. It was agonizing. Pain beyond pain. It was if every bit of flesh on his body was being ripped from his skeleton, being burned, and sewn back together. His eyes felt like hot pokers had been forced deep into them, making his head feel ready to split open.

It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Much worse. Every muscle in his body was being cut slowly apart and then reassembled. Then the pain exploded within his very head, inside his brain. It travelled slowly down his spine, into every nerve ending he had, carrying the pain with it.

He was not aware of how he was thrashing against the wall behind him, how he was straining against his bindings.

And then, finally, it stopped. He slumped down in his restraints, twitching. He felt so tired. So…tired.

He blacked out.

--~*~---

A/N: That was the fourth chapter. It was 5,589 words. Yeah me! Now about the notes… I have them down here on my desk somewhere… Ahhh… Here they are. I'll bold it so you people might actually read it.

THIS WEEKS OH-SO-IMPORTANT NOTES:

I am soooooo sorry I didn't get this out sooner, but I haven't worked on this chapter since when I went on that trip three (or four?) weeks ago. I only just wrote all this yesterday and today. The reason for that was that I had a serious case of temporary writer's block, and I had to slap myself in order to get the old brain working again. Sorry again. The next chapter will be out a lot sooner. I promise. If it isn't out in two weeks, I ask all of you to e-mail me with threats so I get working again. Thanks.

Second note: I have just started a fanfiction.net C2 community called `The Magi Collection'. It is a collection of the best fanfics the FF.net Harry Potter Archive has to offer. The collection is small as of now, but it is growing fast. If any of you have favourite fic, e-mail me and I'll get a staff member of mine look into it to see if it's any good. If it is, then it goes on the list of `good but good enough?' fics. Then I'll read it and if it is one of the best of the best, it'll have the honour of joining the collection.

Third note: I WANT ALL OF THE READERS OF THIS FIC, BE THEY ON WWW.FANFICTION.NET OR WWW.PORTKEY.ORG TO GO TO THE FOLLOWING URL AND SUBSCRIBE TO MY C2 SERVICE. THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU! IT'S WORTH IT, TRUST ME!

Fourth note: make sure all of you do the third note.

Fifth note: That's all of my notes.

REVIEW ME!!!!

Cheers!

SilverDagger

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6. Chapter 5, Ashrang

I notice that not to many of you people subscribed, huh… Well, no matter. I'm sure you'll all do it eventually. Considering that roughly 600 people read the last chapter and only eight of you reviewed me, I suppose I should say it was a good haul that six of you signed up. Why don't any of you read my notes to you? I'll bet you five quid that the only people who actually read the notes signed up. I put them there for a reason! Read them, damn it!!!

Well, I have nothing to say to the those of you who didn't review, or the ones who did, for that matter. I did have the strangest suspicion that I know the reviewer Emma_Granger. Reminds me of a few people. Hmmm…

To anyone who wondered, the Latin text in the previous chapter translates to:

`May the powers who rule over this world help this Dexzaran become his true form!'

Just thought you might want to know.

Well, read on…

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 5

Ashrang

--

Harry woke suddenly. Looking around him, he found himself in a room, this one different again to the two he had been staying in the past four days. At the end of his bed was change of clothes. These ones were more to what he was used to. A shirt (cotton), pants (he couldn't tell). He pulled them on and then looked around for his wand. Fining that, he stuffed it into a pocket, before looking around the room.

He was suddenly struck be how clear his vision was. Even clearer than his normal glasses. Maybe they had gotten him new…

He put his hand to the bridge of his nose. No glasses. He wasn't wearing any glasses. He remembered the Sage telling him about how a dexzaran had perfect day and night vision as well as all the rest of it.

The change must have gone correctly, then. He crossed the room and looked into the mirror hanging on the wall, interested as to what he looked like with no glasses. He almost jumped back in shock by what he saw. Moving closer, he peered into the mirror at his face.

His eyes were no longer their normal look. The whites of his eyes, along with his irises, had gone black. His retina, however, had taken on the colour his irises had once been, a vivid, emerald green. What really surprised him was that they had changed shape. The retinas were no longer round, like a what they had been, but slits, like a cat's.

After he had gotten over the shock of seeing that, he looked at the rest of his face. His nose was slightly more hooked, much like Dumbledore's, and his cheek bones were more prominent. It looked like he had thinned ever so slightly. The change must have taken a lot out of him. His hair, he saw, was the same colour as it had always been, but it was slightly shorter, and more spiky rather than messy.

Harry got over his sudden spout of vanity when there was a sharp rap on the door. He turned to answer it, and was met by a Elvin guard. The Elf looked rather haggard, and told Harry to bring his things and follow. The guard led him through more halls, and eventually ended up at the Sage's office.

Harry opened the door and stepped inside. Closing the door and turning around, he was met with the unfamiliar faces of a four elves, a dwarf, and four humans. He looked hastily to the Sage for an explanation, who hastened to answer.

“These people are here to be your teachers in your various subjects of study while you are here in EllesmerÃ¡. The Elves before you are Jonas, from the city if Ilia FÃ«on, who will be helping to train you physically,” A tall blonde elf next on the end of the line waved, “Aroralin, from the city of Kirtan, who will be teaching you sword fighting,” A slightly shorter, dirty blonde elf waved this time, “Aumar, from the city of Ceris, who will be teaching you how to manage Animagi transformations; and Joran, from the city of SÃlthrim, who will be teaching you the art of the Metamorphmagi.

“The Humans are Merik, from the city of Aberon in Surda, who will be teaching you hand to hand combat; Devon, from the city of PetrÇ¿vya in Surda, who will be teaching you how to ride your Dragon; Jackob, from the city of Kuasta in the Kingdom, who will be helping to hone your Dexzarani skills; and Marx, from the city of Narda in the Kingdom, who will be teaching you how to use other weapons, such as throwing knives, daggers, darts, the bow, etc.

“The Dwarf here is Fronva, from the Dwarven city of Galfni, who has agreed to help you in the selection of your personal weapons, as well as to teach you how to care for them.

“Finally, I myself will be teaching you the arts of Occlumency, Legilimency, and general magic. When we are teaching you, you will address us as `Master'. In our free time, feel free to use our names. Do you have any questions?”

Harry nodded his head, slightly bewildered at the sudden appearance of so many teachers to be assigned just to himself. “Is there a schedule for which subjects I'll be training in? Do I start now? What about my dragon?”

“I will be forming a schedule for you soon. I will take some time during the coming week to formulate it for you, as we will be waiting about four weeks before beginning. In the mean time, you will be waiting for your dragon to hatch, and your Masters will be using the time to prepare themselves for their tasks. The hatchling should break out of its egg within the week, and you will have to care for it for about a week until it is old enough to stay by itself during the day. After that , we will leave you for two weeks to bond with it, to learn to communicate with it. I would also say that that time could also be used to arrange your thoughts, as you and your friend, unlike the rest of your future comrades, have come from another world, and are, therefore, more separated from those you hold dear. As well as that, you yourself have…other…things on your mind, I dare say…”

Harry nodded, thinking back to what had been running through his mind the past few days. Sirius. He did not feel guilty anymore. He no longer felt it was his fault that his godfather was now dead. The card Tristan had shown him had taken the guilt away from him. But he still grieved. He no longer felt that it was all his fault, that the death of both Sirius and Cedric had been his doing, but that did not change the fact that he had lost a friend and a beloved godfather.

---~*~---

I had been six days since he was introduced to his Masters. He had been put up in a small hut near the edge of the forest. He spent his days inside, watching his egg and reading some books that the Sage had given him to prepare for his upcoming training.

He had taken quite a bit of time in thinking about what had happened to him the past few years, and in the end, while eating dinner the previous day, he had come to a decision: No longer would he stand by while other people were hurt in his name. No longer would he let others control his life. No longer would he stand alone. No longer would he be weak. He would not rest until the evils of his world were dispelled into oblivion.

---~*~---

On the tenth day, the egg hatched. He had woken up to the sound of birds twittering outside his window, and, after he had gotten dressed, he had gone to make himself some breakfast. When passing the egg, which he had made as comfortable as he could in some spare pillows and blankets, he notice that the egg was moving slightly, and, while he watched, he saw a chip of the egg crack off and fall to the ground beside it.

Forgetting breakfast, he sat down next to it and watched it with baited breath, anticipation coursing through his veins.

Slowly, ever so slowly, chips began to fall away from the egg, and then, larger and larger pieces, until there was a large hole in the top of the egg. From the center of the egg, a long, low trill came from something on the inside, and he saw a leathery area of the Dragon moving around slightly. The Dragon gave a bit of a grunt and the egg split down the sides. The Dragon flopped out of it and stood, looking around through wide eyes.

It was jet black and strong looking. Sharp ridges stood in a line down his back and into his tail, at the end of which stood two spikes lethal looking, and needle sharp. Its eyes where a deep, golden amber, slitted, like his own now where. It looked around at him slowly, stretching its wings out in a long growl. It flapped its spiked tail around lazily, looking at him with its mouth slightly open.

He pulled a hand out from his pockets and stretched it out in front of him leaving it hanging inches from its sharp, cruel mouth. It raised its head to his hand and sniffed it gently before slowly moving its head so that its forehead lay just under his hand. Slowly, it moved its head closer to his finger tip before…it touched.

He let out a yelp and the Dragon flinched. He pulled his hand away from the Dragon and cradled it in his other arm. The Dragon withdrew its head, and he noticed that a jagged, silver lightening bolt had appeared on the Dragon's scaly skin above its left eye.

He stared down at his throbbing hand and on it, too, there was a mark that had not been there a few seconds earlier. A shining silver symbol, which slightly resembled a Soviet hammer and sickle, except that none of the lines where curved. As he watched it, the throbbing lessened slowly, before disappearing completely, leaving nothing but a vague tingling.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before looking up at the Dragon again. He met its eyes and immediately looked away again. A flash of low noise had gone through the deep recesses of his consciousness. It was a dim murmuring, like when hearing the noise of a dozen people talking from the next room.

---~*~---

It took three days until the voices in his head began to make sense. They had been getting louder and louder throughout the past two days, particularly when he was in the same room. On the third day, the noises in his unconsciousness changed slowly from vague growling sounds into disjointed, slurred English, and by the morning of the fourth day, the background noises had faded completely.

He would speak to the Dragon for hours on end, and though it could not answer, it would sometimes give a small word of comfort, as well as sending him calming feelings.

The Dragon had been growing at an astonishing pace, doubling in size in three days. It had also been eating everything in site. Harry had fed it on raw stakes for the first few days, but was not required to feed it himself for too long. As soon as it was large enough to go outside, he had built a small hidey hole at the mouth of a small cave in the trees behind the cabin, and from then on, the Dragon had lived outside, hunting for its own food (it caught an average of one large cow once a day). Harry did not know where the cows came from, and dearly hoped they were not randomly disappearing from some poor farmers paddock, but no one had come to see him about it, so he did not worry long.

Slowly, the Dragon's speech became clearer and no longer disjointed. Harry found that he could speak to the Dragon through his mind as well; that it wasn't just a one way thing. He had come to this startling conclusion on the morning of the twentieth day he had spent in the cabin. He had been thinking to himself what he would name the Dragon, as, he thought, he (Harry had long since found out that the Dragon was male) had to have a name, didn't he? He dug out a book that the Sage had said he might find useful. It contained names, which Harry had found odd, not knowing what he would find it useful for, but that was now obvious. He had been thinking loudly to himself what he would name the Dragon, when the voice in the back of his mind suddenly spoke up.

A name, eh? It's about time!

He was caught off guard and gave a small start before realising who was talking to him. Wondering how the Dragon had known what he was thinking, he tried to send a message to the Dragon. Concentrating hard, he thought, Yes. Today, we will find a name for you.

He was rewarded by a squeal from the other end of the property (the Dragon had been looking for something to eat in the forest.

OW!!! Not so loud, damn it! Just direct the thought to me and I'll hear it, ok? Honestly…

Names quite forgotten, he had spent the rest of the day practising speaking with the Dragon through his mind, and only remembered the book of names when the Dragon gave an indignant snort while eating its evening meat and asking what he had done with it.

He hurriedly retrieved it and began to test names with it.

“Jura?”

No.

“Galzra? HÃrador? Briam? Ohen? Beroan? Roslarb?”

No. No. No. Definitely not. Sounds like a Horse. Nope. No, none of them.

“Saphira?”

What do you take me for??? That's a female name! NO!

He rattled off many others, and was careful not to go into any female names. Finally, he got it.

“Sowaroc?”

NO!

“Hmmmm… Ashrang?”

Silence.

Well… That's definitely better… Very well! Ashrang, I am! Now. What about you?

Harry gave it a puzzled look. I'm Harry, of course.

You misunderstand me. I meant that from what you have told me, that is your name from your world. In this world, you have told me, the names seem strange to you. Don't you think that while you are here, you should take on another name, maybe your True Name?

“My True Name?”

Yes…your True Name.

“What, do you mean by my True name?”

Ashrang folded his wings smugly behind his back and looked into the fire. Your True Name is not the name you are given at birth, but the name that your very soul would answer to. It is the name that the Magic residing inside your body calls itself. Simply, it is You. It is who you are at the deepest and most secret level.

“How do I find out what my True Name is?”

Any Elf can tell you, or, if you wish, I can, but only if you let me into your mind.

Harry sat down in front of Ashrang and looked the Dragon straight in the eye. Slitted eye met slitted eye. Harry smiled. I trust you. I will let you in.

Ashrang bowed his head. Then in I will go.

The room around him went dark, and then vanished. He could see nothing except himself and Ashrang. All around them, images flashed. Colours danced across his consciousness. He felt a probe moving slowly through his thoughts, his memories, his closest held secrets.

I have found it. You are a powerful being. You are a Dexzaran, and possess the powers of a Warlock already. You have ambition, knowledge, common sense, power, discipline, and above all, a pure heart. You are a true Rider, Astyan.

The probe retracted from his mind and the world around them came back to them. A bird twittered outside a window. The sun shined through at them, casting long shadows about the room. The greens and blues of the outside world came back to them. The wind rustled through the leaves of a tall maple tree. Harry turned back to Ashrang.

“Is that my name? My True Name?”

The Dragon lowered its head slowly. It is.

“What does it mean?”

It means…Warrior.

---~*~---

Eragon walked slowly down the hall at Farthen DÃ»r. He was off to speak with Ajihad, and he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, even though the King was on speaking terms with him. He wanted to know what he could do while he was here, or if there was some obscure way of getting to EllesmerÃ¡ without waiting for the winter to pass.

He nodded to one of the Royal guards, who threw open the door behind him.

He walked slowly into the King's chambers and sat down in front of the King's desk, who looked up expectantly. The first time he had been in here, he had thought it odd that a king should sit behind a desk, but he had later found out that it was something of a tradition between these kings to try and have the most normal looking rooms while putting in them the most abnormal of objects (the contest was so far against a king that had ruled during the last century who had put a royal set of jewels inside a chest of drawers with his undergarments).

“I wanted to know, sir, how long it will take us to get to EllesmerÃ¡ once the winter is out, or if there were another way to get out where we could bypass the snows and get there faster.”

The King looked at him strangely, which he expected had to do with how he had just said all of this in one breath and very fast.

“The only other way to get you out faster would have been to use the tunnels out of the city, but they where destroyed by the Urgal attack and haven't been repaired yet. You'd still have had to wait at Galfni until the winter is over there anyway. And it's a longer journey to EllesmerÃ¡ from there anyway. I think it would be best if you waited the winter out here. Besides, we could always use another hand.”

Eragon nodded and stood. “What should I do while I'm waiting out the winter, sir?”

“I don't know what needs to be done, really. I have been wondering if we should prepare better defences, though, as Galbatorix is not, I should think, going to give up after just one failed attack. Perhaps you could help with that?”

Eragon nodded and walked back out through the door, intent on telling Arya and Murtagh about what the king had said.

---~*~---

Hermione looked up as a sharp rapping sound was heard from the kitchen window. Fawks sat benignly on the window, looking in at her with his head to one side. She quickly stood and made to let the Phoenix inside, where he flew over and alighted on the table, and bent over to eat some of her bacon (they where in the middle of breakfast).

Her parents gawked at Fawks for a moment before asking quietly what it was.

“It's a Phoenix. His name is Fawks. He's Professor Dumbledore's bird.”

She untied the message from his leg and unrolled the scroll slowly, reading through it fast.

She put the scroll down slowly and let out a small sob. Running out of the room to cries of `What's wrong, dear?' from her parents, she ran into her room and flopped down on her bed, crying.

42 miles away and 12 minutes later, in the Weasley household, Ron unrolled a scroll from Dumbledore's Phoenix as well. He sighed, and, refusing food, went up to his room to think.

---~*~---

Harry walked slowly into the room that had been designated for his personal classes. Inside was Jonas, the Master who would be training physically. Jonas smiled at him and then began to instruct him in hat to wear during their lessons and what they would be doing in his classes.

The way it had been organized, he would be practicing this class as well as sword fighting, hand to hand combat, and dragon riding for the first three months twice as much as he would otherwise. For the next three months, he would practice Animagi and Metamorphmagi, his Dexzarani Skills, and his classes with the Sage. In the last week, he would be taking trails to see that he had learned everything perfectly, as well as taking his time to learn from Fronva, the Dwarf, on the care of his personal weapons, as well as selecting them.

He began to train.

---~^*^~---

A/N: Helloooooooo Readers! Ok. First thing's first: I'm just gonna say sorry for not making this longer. This happened to be one of the slow points in the plot, and I just wanted to get everything across. That's why it's on the short side (roughly 3500 words). I was going to try and make it a standard sized chapter (5.5 - 6 K words), but I just didn't get there.

Hope you can forgive me.

Secondly, I took about 2 Â½ weeks to get this out, and next time, I should get it out faster, I know. I'll do my best, but I need about a week to plan the next chapter. After that, it takes me about a week to write it (sometimes more if I don't know how to phrase it). About 2 weeks total (I'll try and go fast, I promise).

Also, I want everyone who actually reads my Author's Notes to review me, even if you do it anonymously and tell me all the questions you have about the fic. If they are about certain things that have happened, or about loose ends in the plot, they'll be answered in the actual writing of the story. If they're about plot or things just in general, I'll try and get back to you or it'll be answered at the beginning of the next chapter or in the story itself as well. (Does all that make sense???)

On second thought, just ask me any question you have which has to do with the fic.

Constructive criticism, ideas, or other comments are welcomed. Flames just piss me off (unless they have a valid point), so don't do that.

Also, would you people PLEASE put an e-mail address where I can contact you if you are giving an anonymous review. That way, I can get back to you. Signed reviewers: you can too if you want, but I can just get your address off of your profile, so no matter.

Right. That's it, I think.

Cheers!

SilverDagger

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7. Chapter 6, The Order of Aries

Hello, everyone. I got it out faster! Yeah! That should make the twenty of you who complained about it happy. Happy now? Cause you should be.

Well. I've had my rant. Oh. Some of you wanted to know what the URL is for my FF.net C2 community. Here's a link for you: http://www.fanfiction.net/c2/1959/0/1/. There you go then.

Now, as some of you know, anyone who asked serious questions got their reply via e-mail, mainly because I had too much to say in answer to the questions to put here. It would have been enough for a whole new chapter.

Also, when you review, PLEASE put in an e-mail address. I've said it before, but obviously some of you didn't see it.

One last thing: I promised one of the reviewers that I'd give you all all the hints to finding out when Harry will be returning to his own world. I have a little contest for all of you:

If you can figure out the exact date of Harry's disappearance from and arrival back to his world—that means month, day, and year—and put it into a review to me, I will give you a full answer to ANY question about this fic that you ask me. Also, only the first person to get it right will get their question answered. I doubt any of you will find it. It requires cunning and logic as well as the four clues I'll give you. The clues will be at the end of the chapter.

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 6

The Order of Aries

--

Harry stood up slowly, his muscles aching from the effort he was putting into his Training. That he was tired was an understatement. At the end of every day, he would fall into slumber almost immediately after lying down. This was definitely a plus from the nightmares he had been going through for the past years.

Just under three months had passed since he had first walked into his first class with Jonas, and since then he had progressed considerably since the first time he had walked into the long training hall with Aroralin, his Swords Master. Today would be his last lesson before beginning the Magic part of his training, and he was eager to begin.

“Very good, Astyan. You certainly have mastered the art. I would never have thought you would have progressed so quickly, but you done so more than admirably. Needless to say your Dexzarani skills are serving you well even when they have not been honed.”

This was true. Harry had found that during the two weeks after his Training began, more and more subtle changes had been set in motion. The greatest change he had experienced was in height. He was no longer the short, slightly stunted looking fifteen-year-old looking up at everyone from 5'1”. He had grown incredibly fast, leaping up to 6'2” in a matter of days, reaching just about the same height as his Masters, and perhaps even a bit taller than his piers.

He lifted the heavy training sword without obvious effort, twirling it in his right hand and waiting for his Master to make his move. His physical training classes with Jonas had done him a world of good as well. He was no longer skinny and weak, and, through a combination of lots of food (the Elvin cooks were certainly very good) and rigorous hours in Jonas's gym and the fields outside the castle (certainly vigorous), he had now progressed into what Jonas had considered to be `peak fitness'. He was now muscular, strong and agile. At first, he could barely lift a sword. Now, he hefted the blade with ease. He had his suspicions that his progress was due mainly to his being a Dexzaran, as he was sure he would not have done nearly so well had he still been human.

It had helped his classes with Merik as well. At first, he had been what he considered utterly hopeless at the hand-to-hand combat techniques that Merik was trying to teach him (Merik had agreed). Now, after his work in his other two subjects, he was now doing very well at it, winning almost every fight he had been put through. There were two reasons for this. The first, of course, was his increased strength and height. The second, which he had found very useful, was an augmented agility. He could dodge almost anything that came his way, almost as if he were seeing it in slow motion and then moving out of its way. Except for the fact that he wasn't. He just seemed to know where the blow would land, and moved out of its way.

The only thing that he found slightly disturbing was his teeth. They were all completely normal except that there shape had subtly changed. They were ever so slightly more pointed, and, even though they did not look it, were much sharper to the touch. It reminded him slightly of the vampires they had studied in Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic classes, and he felt no desire whatsoever to be associated with Dark creatures.

He parried the first blow expertly, then attacked. They seemed to perform an intricate dace, their swords moving through the air at lightening speed, the only hint of their presence being the slight glint of the sun glinting on the practice blades and the soft humming as the sharp steel instrument cut its way through the air.

Finally seeing an opening, he slashed expertly at Aroralin's unguarded shoulder, then switching direction in mid swipe and knocking the sword out of his Master's hands. He brought his own blade around and rested it on the trainer's neck.

He smirked. “I win again.”

The Master sighed. “I think you have learnt just about as much as you will from me, Astyan. You have mastered this art well. I am very proud of your accomplishments.”

Harry bowed. “Thank you, Master. I'm pleased you feel I've mastered the subject. I have worked very hard for this.”

“I know you have. Yes, I know very well that you have. You've been doing very well in the other First stage classes as well, I'm told. Your Masters think very highly of you, you know. Now, I think we are finally done, don't you? Come. Let us go down to the kitchens and find a drink, shall we?”

Harry smiled and nodded, hanging up the two swords of the wall with all of the others and following the elf out of the door.

It was high praise to be told by an elf that he had mastered the art of sword fighting. They were considered by the other races of Alagaësia, he had been told, to be the greatest of swords masters. No one could beat a Elf at the art unless he were a Rider, and he had to be a pretty good one even for them. Aroralin was a Master at the art. Even other elves could not beat him.

---~*~---

After having an exceptionally good snack from the kitchens, it was time for him to go and get ready. Today, he was to be going into his first classes with his other Masters. He had been waiting for this for a long time. He was going to learn the powerful brand of Magics that the people of this world used. No wands, only the raw power that came from within you. Added to that, he was finally going to be taught the Magi arts that he had wanted to for the past year, some even longer. Aside from that, he would be learning to manage the talents that had been developing in him ever since he had undergone the change. Legilimency and Occlumency were last on his list, but he thought that if he put enough effort into them, he could master them quickly. They would come in useful, he had decided, in the fight against Voldemort and the Dark Lord of this world, Galbatorix. It would be imperative that he be able to lie in the presence of his enemies, and extract information from their minds.

He walked slowly through the halls up to the Riders' Wing. He had been given a new room up here the first day he had come up to classes, and Ashrang had been living in the Dragons' Tower with all of the others of his kind.

The other Riders had been arriving in ones and twos for the past two weeks until there were five more inhabitants of the Wing, and had joined the classes with the himself and Tristan. Harry had found them generally outgoing and had gotten along with them well.

The only unpleasant thing that came to mind when he thought of his piers was the Shade's reaction to him when they met, ten days prior.

~*~ Flashback ~*~

He could feel something around him that was not usually there, that was the only way to describe it. He did not know what it was, but he had the sense that something strange was afoot. Shrugging, he bent down over the table again, trying to finish his work.

Just as he was copying down a few facts from a book he had found in the wing's Library, the doors to the Main Living Quarters opened with a bang and Harry looked up from his task (`Discuss the proper method of and state your strategies for disposing a band of Urgal numbering 27') to see two new Riders entering into the room.

He stood up and walked over to them, stretching out his hand as he did so.

“Hello. I take it you are new arrivals to our ranks, so to speak?”

The Elf nodded. “Aye, that we are. And who might you be?”

“I am called Astyan. What may I call you two?”

The Elf smiled and stuck out a hand, which Harry shook. “I am known as Mathias, and I am from the city of Osilon.”

The Shade who stood next to Mathias bent his head forward slightly in respect before speaking. “I am called Zorac. I come from the city of Dândrathon. I am honoured to meet you.”

After introducing themselves to each other, it seemed that the two new arrivals were anxious to get up to their rooms. Harry led them up to their private rooms by way of the staircase, and he was just about to leave when he had pointed out which room was theirs when Zorac caught hold of his arm.

“I wish to ask you a question, if you do not mind.”

Harry nodded.

“I wish to know if what I suspect is true is true.”

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. “And that would be?”

“You are a Demon, like me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not human. You are a Shadow Master. You are what they call a Dexzaran.”

Harry was silent for a moment. “I am. But why do you call me a Demon?”

“You are not human, you are a Demon. Your Magic is tainted by the Darkness, just as mine is, but you still follow the Light. I am a Shade, a Dark Mage, if you will. You are a Dexzaran, a Shadow Master. Your mind is masked by shadows, your person cloaked in darkness. It cannot be seen, but didn't you fell my presence even before you saw me?”

Harry thought for a second before answering. “I did.”

The Shade smiled. “Then I am right after all. I thought you were one. Perhaps now I have a friend. A Demon who is not Dark, just as I am. It was good to meet you, Astyan, Shadow Master. Now, I have many things to attend to, as I'm sure you do as well. I'll see you later, yes?”

Harry smiled. Maybe Zorac was right. Here was a friend in a strange world. “Of course.”

The Shade nodded and hurried into his room, shutting the door behind him. Harry turned and headed downstairs again.

~*-*~

Zorac had become a true friend. The two demons would practice for hours on end, endlessly trying to perfect their skills they had learned in the classes that the Sage had arranged for them (Osthato had felt that as both of them were demons, they would work well together in the same classes). Zorac had even allowed Harry to meet his Dragon, another Black Male by the name of Ozarac, about a half times smaller in size so far, than Ashrang. Ozarac, Zorac had told him, had hatched just under four weeks prior, and was thus about a two and a half months younger than Ashrang, though he was, from what Harry could gather, was just as wise as Harry's Dragon, despite his age.

Consequently, Ashrang, it seemed, had been getting to know his tower mates, and had also become friends with Ozarac, whom he had found quite agreeable. Harry had spoken with him about the other Dragons on one of his days off (a Saturday the previous week).

~*~FLASHBACK~*~

Harry walked slowly up the winding staircase to the Dragons' Tower with a large Venison, which he planned to give Ashrang. He had just opened the door to the large room, when an amused voice came to him from the dark recesses of his mind.

About time. I was beginning to wonder when you would come for a visit. I take it you were busy with your tasks, or were you just being unfriendly?

Busy. I brought you a venison. He handed the red meat to the Dragon, who sank his fangs into the raw, red steak.

My thanks. All the Elves give us is beef besides what we hunt, and the deer have been scarce lately… Harry watched as the Dragon finished the meat before retreating to the back of his den and bringing out a moose carcass to munch on as he talked. Stringy stuff, moose. Have you met the other Dragons here? They are younger than myself, but good conversation comes every once in a while. Besides, you'll have to work with them during the war. You might as well introduce yourself now. How about it?

Harry nodded absently. I might as well.

Ashrang set the mangled carcass down with a thump and pointed his head at each hole in the wall in turn, speaking their inhabitants names as he did so.

In there is your Human friend's Dragon. He's a green male named Rohan. He doesn't talk much. In there is Lasra, Mathias' steed. He's a midnight coloured male. Cheerful sort, talks too much, unlike the other one. The third there is Ozarac, your friend Zorac's Dragon. He's a good one to talk to. Black, like me. Here, you can introduce yourself. Oy! Ozarac!

A smaller Black dragon poked his head out of the den directly across from Ashrang. Yawning, he looked around blearily until he found the source of the summons.

Oh. Ashrang, what did you want? I was asleep.

It was strange to hear a Dragon laugh. It was a sort of grating screech.

My Master is here. He would like to meet you.

Ozarac turned his head to look at Harry. It bowed it's head slightly.

I am honoured, young Shadow Master. What, pray tell, would you be known as?

Harry bowed back to the Dragon, though not so much as to take his eyes off the dangerous creature in front of him.

I am known as Astyan, Ozarac. I am a friend of your Master's. I am pleased to meet you.

The Dragon nodded and yawned again.

Well, Astyan, maybe it would do well if I returned to my sleep. Good day to you.

~*-*~

Harry was currently waiting for the Animagi Master, Aumar, to open the training hall to him. It appeared that he was still teaching Mathias.

When the doors did finally open, Harry acknowledged Mathias with a curt nod before entering the room. This hall was smaller than the ones he had been used to the past few months. At the far end was a small platform. The rest of the room was furnished with padded mats and a few tables and chairs. A desk stood at the other end, and in this Aumar was sitting, waiting for him to enter.

He motioned for Harry to sit. When he had done so, he spoke in a careful, measured voice. His tones were soft, and his piercing gaze seemed to combine to make him very hard not to listen to.

“Astyan. You have come to me to learn the art of Animagi. I must warn you before we begin that if you are expecting glamorous and magnificent creatures in your subconscious, you may be sorely mistaken. The animal inside you is not always what you think of it to be. The animal chooses itself, not you. Is that clear?”

Harry nodded and the elf continued.

“Good. Now, we are not going to do anything today besides discuss the theory behind the Animagi transformation and then determine your form. That in itself will take most of the afternoon. Tomorrow, you'll begin to learn how to change small characteristics of your body at will. You will need to know how to do that before you begin to attempt to Transform. I understand you're being taught the metamorphmagi skills by Joran. What you learn with him and with me should help tie in with each other. Now. Are you ready to begin?”

Harry nodded.

“Very well. To the theory, then. The skill to be an animagus requires little more than pure will power, and an understanding and acceptance of both ones magical bounds and what their inner animals are. Every person has their own inner animals. They take forms in your magic and influence your character, from the way you act or talk to what you deepest desires entail. One time that they take visible forms is when a person takes an animagus form. I say `an' because it is possible for certain persons to have multiple forms. This phenomenon usually takes place when the person in question is either very powerful magically, or when they themselves represent more than one animal at the deepest level, such as when the person can act like an aggressive wolf at one moment, and a kind hearted and gentle kitten the next.

“To transform, the individual needs to have a complete acceptance of their inner animal, and from that, who they really are as an individual at their most secret and personal level. If, for example, the persons animagus form is that of a snake when they view themselves otherwise and will not accept it, but try to force the change into a form that they do not belong in, nothing will happen. Until the person accepts that they are truly an snake, they will never be able to transform.

“They also need to be aware of their magical boundaries. If they believe themselves either too weak to perform the transformation adequately or too strong to really have to give any effort, they will not be able to change. More importantly than knowing what power you posses is to have a power over ones own mind. You have to be able to try and test yourself; to try something that you say is logically impossible. If you are convinced that what you are attempting to do is beyond either your bounds of magical talent or simply un-doable, you will, again, be unable to change.”

He stopped for a moment and seemed to collect his thoughts before continuing.

“Now, we have to determine your form before anything else happens, don't we?”

He got up and bustled around the cabinets he had set up at the far wall behind the platform, pulling things out of them and talking as he did so.

“One easy way we can determine your form or forms is by use of a simple potion. I'm going to show you how to make it today and then you'll have to try your hand at it. The reason for that is that there are a number of requirements that must be met if the potion is to work. There are five of them. The first and foremost is that the potion must be made by you. It is a personal brew, you see. It only works with the person who's hand made it. The second is that it must be prepared under the new moon which is…” He walked back to his desk and checked the calendar on it. “Tomorrow night. Convenient. The third is that one of the ingredients is a single drop of your blood, which must be shed by a silver knife at midnight under the moon. Fourth is that it must be drunk right when it is fully prepared. There is a ten minute window from when the potion is finished to when it goes poisonous. And fifth, the blood must be added right at the end. All of it adds up so that pretty much only you can prepare it and it has a set timeframe just so you can't not be fully committed to getting it finished.”

He set the ingredients he had pulled out of the cabinets on his desk and fished an empty cauldron from a drawer behind him. He set this up and pushed all the ingredients around it so that they were facing Harry.

“Right. Now, Astyan, I am going to make you prepare this as a practice yourself. I'll instruct you on how to do it. After that, you will be doing another with my help if you need it and then a third by yourself. If that one is done perfectly, then you can keep that for finishing tomorrow night. If it isn't you'll keep mixing more until it is. Tomorrow night, we'll take what you've made today up to the Dragons' Tower and add the blood under the moon. Before you take it, I'll tell you what will happen. Then, you'll drink it and see what your form or forms are. Understood?”

Harry nodded mutely.

“Good. Now. Take that pile of Lýcariön scales and cut 14 grams worth into thin slices…”

---~*~---

Eragon stepped out of the dark tunnel and into the fading sunlight. Murtagh and Arya came out soon after he did, each leading their horse behind them. They were standing on a rocky ledge that jutted out from the face of the mountain behind them. The steep slopes stood fell out below them. To their left, a winding path made its way down from where they stood to the valley floor. In the distance, they could see the Dwarven fortress of Tarnag. Beside it, stood the great Lake Âz Orenös. It stretched almost as far as the eye could see in al directions. On the horizon, though, they could see the dark out line of the mountains on the other side of the valley.

Eragon turned to Arya.

“How long is it until we reach Tarnag?”

“About a day form where we are now. I think it would be wise if we set up camp on the lake shore below us and set out for the city at dawn. Do you agree?”

Eragon sighed and nodded.

Murtagh, who had been standing behind him, gave a sigh of his own, but his was one of relief. “Good. My very bones are weary. Its about time we got something to eat and a rest. Where's Saphira, Eragon?”

Eragon turned, suddenly puzzled himself. “I don't know. I'll call for her.”

Saphira! Where are you? We've reached the other side of the tunnel. He sent her an image of where they were.

The reply came soon, along with a chuckle. I've been wondering where you all wandered off to. I am at the lake shore, in the trees just below you. I have found meat for us all. She sent him picture of her location as well as of a large deer carcass she had managed to capture.

Eragon looked up. “She's waiting for us in the trees by the shore. I suppose we should start our way down.

They nodded and began to walk down the steep path down the mountain side. When they arrived in the trees, they found Saphira feasting on the deer. You snooze, you loose. It was very odd to hear a Dragon laughing. It was a sort of cross between a screech and a grating noise.

Eragon scowled and walked off into the forest to cut some wood for a fire.

---~*~---

Hermione Granger walked slowly down the stairs from her dormitory shortly after seven o'clock. Waving to mark Evans, one of the new first years, she moved off to the portrait hole. Muttering a low, `evening' to the Fat Lady, she turned and began to walk slowly down the seventh floor corridor. Soon, she had arrived at the tapestry of Barnibus the Barmy. On the other side of the hall stood the door to the Room of Requirement. She stood in front of it, resting her hand on the door knob for over a minute before she even thought to open it and walk inside.

There were so many memories here, and all of them had to do with the friend who was not here. They all had to do with Harry. When she had gotten the letter from Professor Dumbledore over the summer, she had cried for a long time. She had cried for a long time, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why. The only reason that she could think of was that she was disappointed that one of her best friends, if not her best friend period (she and Ron had never really got along all the time), was not going to be at school for a long time. That had scared her a lot. Deep down, she knew that the reason for her happiness at Hogwarts was her friends. She had never had any before coming to Hogwarts, and now one of them was gone, and she did not know for how long.

Dumbledore had assured her that Harry would be coming back, but she could not hold back her fears that maybe, just maybe, he would never return…

She shook her head forcefully and opened the door in front of her. Of course, she thought, sighing. The room was empty. But, then again, it was only a quarter to eight. The meeting was scheduled for 8 o'clock sharp, and it seemed as though the only person to try and be early was herself. She sat down on one of the spare armchairs and looked around the room silently. The room was just as it had been the year before, but with one or two minor changes. The walls were still lined with the many bookshelves covered in defence texts and various anti-dark arts nick-knacks. The floor was still covered in the soft rug and about fifty small cushions as well as some fluffy arm chairs. A clock on the wall showed that the time was ten minutes to eight, and a calendar with moving pictures of many duelling wizards and quotes from Alastor Moody's Guide to Self-Protection showed that the day was the 17th of December.

In the corner, though, was something new. A long Duelling Platform, like the one that had been used in the Duelling Club in second year, but smaller stood by itself off to one side. Hermione had thought that it might be good to have. The only other difference was that there was no longer any sign holding all of the member's names They wouldn't be making that mistake again.

She was brought out of her thoughts when there was a loud creak as the door knob turned and the door opened. Lavender Brown stood in the doorway, looking sheepish.

Hermione smiled. “Hey, Lav. Early?”

Lavender nodded and came in, closing the door behind her. “Yes and no. Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“I wanted to ask how you're doing and all.”

Hermione gave her an incredulous look. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” She looked slightly abashed. “I wanted to know how you're doing with Harry not being here.”

Hermione went a bit red and her voice went very high. “Fine! Why wouldn't I be fine!??”

Lavender gave her a very hard look. “Hermione, remember when you told me in second year that Hogwarts was the best thing that had ever happened to you?”

Hermione gave a nod.

“Good. Well, remember that that same time you told me that because of Harry and Ron, you had friends here, and that you were so Harry about it. And about how you liked Ron, but you didn't think he would have come if it hadn't been for Harry?”

Hermione nodded again.

“Well… It's just that…The rest of us have all noticed how you've been acting lately. You miss him, don't you?”

Hermione nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, the door banged open and the rest of the DA flooded in.

Hermione turned back to Lavender and smiled. “I do. I miss him a lot. But thanks for talking top me, Lav.”

Lavender smiled back. “Any time, Herms. Any time.”

It took just over ten minutes for everyone to settle down and get quiet. Ron and Hermione stood at the front of the room and looked around at the rest of their friends and piers. Ron nodded slightly to Hermione who stepped forward slightly and the crowded room hushed to on another before looking over to her expectantly.

“Well…hi everyone! Welcome back, I guess. Now, I know that this year we don't have any tyrannical Defence teachers…” A few people laughed and Hermione thought back to the Welcoming Feast at the beginning of the year when the real Alastor Moody had been announced as the year's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. “But what I do know is that this year, the War is going to draw even closer, maybe even break out, and we need to be able to do more than resist. We need to fight.”

A cheer rose from the members in the room. Hermione looked heartened, and she spoke more confidently afterward.

“Exactly. We need to be able to fight, and to win. That's why, this year, Ron and I decided to restart the DA, but this year there are going to be a few changes. This year, we're going to start recruiting the rest of the school to the club. Maybe even get it going publicly, if Dumbledore approves, that is. Any student from fourth year or above who you think should be admitted to the DA should be brought to the next meeting. That brings me to the next thing. Harry's not here this year. I don't know why and I don't know where he is, but when he left, he had the Master Galleon with him. That means that we won't be able to call meetings that way any more. Now, I can make the new things for us, but I wanted to know what you guys wanted to have fore them. I thought maybe we could all field suggestions and then vote on it?”

The room immediately started chattering amongst themselves. A person sitting in the far back raised their hand and the room fell silent again, waiting for the person to speak. It turned out to be Jake Felding, one of Luna Lovegood's Ravenclaw piers.

“Could we have a sort of ring or medallion?”

More chattering.

Hermione held up a hand for silence. “Ok. That's a good start. Are there any other suggestions for what it should be before we decide on a design?”

No one spoke.

“Ok, then. Let's put it to the vote. Those of us who want a medallion?”

A few hands went up into the air. Hermione counted them silently and then wrote them down on a spare bit of parchment.

“Right… Now, raise your hand if you want a ring?”

More hands went up and Hermione counted them before writing that down as well.

“Ok, it comes out as medallions- 12 votes to rings- 19 votes. Rings it is, then. What do we want on them, then?”

A few people cheered and one or two let out a groan, but everyone began talking about what they wanted on the rings. Hermione gave them about five minutes while chatting with Ron and Lavender about what hey would want on them before standing up again and calling for silence.

“Alright, then. Tell me what you'd want on them.”

They spent ten or so minutes fielding different suggestions, shooting down impractical ideas (Ron wanted a solid gold ring for no other reason than that it was gold), and complimenting the few actual good brainwaves (Padma Patil suggested silver, which among other good things, had magically protective qualities in it). After another ten minutes of voting and re-voting and victories and losses for all concerned, it was decided. The ring would be made of silver. It would be plain except for on the very top, which would have a wider gold bit on which would be the letters of DA written in copper. It had been an issue about where to get the precious metals, when Ginny put forward the practical solution of just melting down a few galleons, sickles, and knuts. It was then decided that each member should donate the required amount of money for their own rings.

The rest if the time was spent talking about many other meaningless things ranging from what their classes had been like so far to what they were going to give Dobby for Christmas. It was decided that the classes were good and that Dobby should get a pair of orange overalls for his Christmas present.

At 10:00, Hermione called for silence.

“Ok, people. People. PEOPLE!” The last few persons talking quickly shut up and looked at her. “Good. Now. It's 10:00 and curfew for all of us in fifth to sixth year is in half an hour. Seventh years in one hour. I suggest we all get back to our common rooms. Anyone from Gryffindor in sixth and seventh year, could you all stay for a bit longer? Me and Ron have a suggestion we all wanted to run past you all. Oh! Luna, you too.”

About two thirds of the room got up slowly and trooped out of the door, leaving everyone else sitting in their cushions looking rather awkward. Hermione beckoned them closer and they all stood and crowded around her.

“Ok. I wanted to run something by just you lot and not the others. Here's the deal: All of you have been far more active than any of the others in the war. Everyone in Gryffindor has been there for those of us who were in the Department of Mysteries and for Harry, especially everyone from the sixth year's boys dorm. And Luna came with us to the battle last June. I think we're the ones who are most active in the war from the school, and I think we should take a more active role in things. That's why I think we should form a sort of group so we can do more to help with the Order of the Phoenix. We could research stuff and do other things, or we could just have a more intensive training than the rest of the DA. What do you think?”

Luna spoke up in her usual dreamy voice. “How about we train as hard as we can for the time being and then take a more active role later. Maybe we could even get hold of some of the former students, like Fred and George.”

Ron nodded his head. “That's what I told her. And Oliver, and Alicia, and everyone else.”

“So we're all agreed that we want to do more by way of making a group of our own?”

Everyone in the room nodded.

“When would we meet, then?”

“How about after every DA meeting for another hour?” asked Seamus.

Hermione looked rather worried. “But what about the curfew?”

Katie smiled. “Oh come on, Hermione! I bet if you just asked Dumbledore to have permission to be out later in the name of your old defence group, he'd agree. Besides, us seventh years don't have to worry about that.”

Hermione sighed. “Fine. Besides that what do we want to be called?”

Ron's hand shot up and he looked rather sheepish.

“Yes, Ron?”

“How about `The Order of' something, like Dumbledore's one?”

There was a loud mutter of agreement among the twenty or so people. Hermione smiled. “Ok. But, `The Order of' what?”

Luna spoke up dreamily from the back. “How about Aries? Aries was the roman god of War. It fits, doesn't it?”

“Everyone agree?”

Nods from all around.

“Ok,” Ron said. “And what about our own ring-things?”

It was decided that other rings should be made for the members of the new Order. Made of platinum and with OA on the top instead of DA and silver.

With that, the new members of the Order of Aries walked out through the door to the Room of Requirement and back to their common rooms.

---~*~---

A/N: Ok. The ending was kind of cheesy, but it was the only way I could get it all across without it being too drawn out and boring. Tell me what you think, ok? This instalment in the story was kind of on tender hooks. I didn't really know whether or not it would be good. I think it is, in the end, but I still want to know what you think.

Next, I want to apologise for the long wait on this chapter. I've been almost a month, and that's practically unforgivable on a fic. I've had a bit of a sporadic case of writer's block the past few weeks, but I finally got to it these past four days. I'll try better next time, I promise.

Also, I've been getting a lot of reviews lately concerning the fact that I have named a dwarf to a Rider. People have been citing the passage in Eragon that says that a Dwarf has never been a Rider before. That is quite right. All I'm saying is that it says `never before', not `is incapable of'. There's a first time for everything, people.

Now, here are your four clues to the little contest type thing I gave at the beginning of the fic:

1. Harry left for Alagaësia two weeks after his 16th birthday.

2. Harry's' parents were killed on October 31, 1981.

3. 7th year ends in June, 1998

4. The last few lines of the prophecy state that he will return on the ninth new moon of the second year.

Have fun!

Cheers!

SilverDagger

Last Modified -> [Tuesday, November 9, 2004]

Words In This Chapter -> [6,540]

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8. Chapter 7, Ra'zac Stalking

KittenRebecca - Good try. You got the first date right, but second was a bit off. You got the tenth new moon instead of the ninth. Even then, you were a day off. The tenth new moon of the second year from the first date you gave, (which was correct), was April 26, 1998. Good work, though. You were the only person to attempt it so far.

Shawnpickett - Thanks for catching that. The reason I did that is that the name Aries was also used by the Romans from time to time. The two names were perfectly interchangeable, and, quite frankly, `Aries' sounds better.

Athenakitty - Nope, sorry. Harry will not be getting back to Hogwarts any time soon. This fic has a time frame of about 2-3 years. So far, we've been through about 5 months worth. No long chats with Hermione and Ron for a long time, and Harry is only doing well with the potion because his Animagi Master, Ceris, actually wants Harry to succeed.

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 7

Ra'zac Stalking

--

Harry walked slowly up the spiral staircase of the Dragons' Tower. In his hands, he carried a box full of the various potions ingredients that he would need for tonight. In his belt, he carried a long, shining, silver dagger. It glittered in its sheath in the moonlight that filtered in through the windows, sending sparkling bands of light into the rest of the staircase.

He came up around the last curve in the tower, moved up the last step to the short landing that stretched to the door leading to the parapet outside. He put the box under one arm, opened the door, and stepped outside in to the cold night air. It was mid December, and the sky was clear, but almost completely dark. The stars stood out like small, luminous, white beads in the midnight blue, velvet sky. That was the only light out here. There was no moon. Only the stars and the faint glow that came up from the city below him. It was late, and the valley below him was almost completely dark and quiet. The only noise left was the roar of the waterfall in between the cliffs.

He blinked and concentrated slightly. Instantly, his eye colour changed to a brighter, lime green. Night vision. He looked around him, inspecting what he had not been able to see with his normal eyesight. He had learned this handy little trick from Jakob, his formerly human Master whose job was to teach him how to control his Dexzarani skills.

~*~Flashback~*~

This morning, he would be having his first class with Jakob. He walked slowly down the hallway to the Master's rooms, wondering what would be in store for him in the days new class. Rounding a corner, he entered a small room, quite like his Animagi and Metamorphmagi classrooms, but with out the wooden platform.

The room was empty. He walked inside and sat down in the soft, red armchair in front of the desk. He was just beginning to wonder when his teacher would arrive when he heard a swish of disturbed air behind him. He turned to look at the door and could of sworn he saw a shadowy ripple move across the room.

He was about to decide that it must have been nothing when the door suddenly slammed shut in front of him. He moved to get up, but he never got that far. A voice suddenly spoke behind him, almost scaring him out of his wits.

“Did you miss me?”

He whirled around to face the desk. Behind it, there was a man about two inches shorter than himself. He was dressed completely in black, except for the silver clasp on his cloak and the buckle on his belt.

Harry gaped at him. “How did you do that?”

Jakob smiled. “How, you say, did I do that? Well, that's quite simple. I am a Dexzaran, like yourself. We are a rare species, aren't we?”

Harry did not answer.

“Well, no matter. My point is that we wield extraordinary power, Astyan. We have increased control over magic. We are faster. We are stronger. We are smarter. We can do things no human or wizard could ever hope to accomplish through sheer will power, and we have many traits and talents which help us become the most dangerous sentient species in the world.”

Harry did not say anything, so Jakob continued.

“I am here, Astyan, to teach you how to control your powers. You have already dealt with speed and strength in your first three months here. Magics are not to be taught by me, but old Osthato, and knowledge can only be gained through study and experience, neither of which have any place in this class. That leaves me to teach you how to control your many skills. Any questions so far?”

“Yes. What, exactly, are our `many skills'. No one's told me as of yet.”

Jakob smirked. “We do have many skills, Astyan. Hmmm…you ask me to list them. Well, our eyes can be changed at will to detect either less or more light, or to see other kinds of light. Infrared, for instance, or night vision. We can also walk unnoticed and unheard unless by one of us or a spell. As well as that, we can, in rare occurrences, control an element of nature to some degree or other. Aside from that, there are the other increased traits that I already mentioned, which, I should add, also includes an increased sense of hearing. Does that suffice?”

Harry nodded.

“Good. Today, we will begin to learn the basics of the vision changes. Now, we will start with the easiest, which is night vision…”

~*~ End Flashback ~*~

He was brought out of his thoughts as the door banged open behind him, announcing the arrival of two people, one whom he had expected and one who he had not. Aumar and Mathias came out onto the parapet. Mathias, too, held a container full of potions ingredients in his arms.

Harry looked over at them and smirked as Mathias jumped back in surprise at Harry's eyes, whose pupils were still glowing a radioactive green. Harry blinked, and his vision returned to normal. Mathias eyed him warily and then set down his container. He joined Harry in sitting on the ledge around the parapet, and they looked at Aumar expectantly.

He gave them a completely blank look. “Well, get to it. You know what to do.”

They set up their cauldrons and began to prepare their ingredients one the rough wooden chopping boards they had brought with them. One pint of water, three centilitres of snake venom, 14g of diced Lýcariön scales, 6mg of powdered dragon bone, three werewolf hairs, 2g of dried bat droppings, four cat claws, 16 chopped parrot feathers, and 8ml of essence of Kryono later, the potion was almost done. All that was needed was a drop of their blood.

Harry pulled the silver dagger out of his belt and held it over his hand, waiting for the clouds to clear and for the toll of midnight to come. Mathias finished his potion as well and sat, waiting, just as he did. Aumar stood behind them, he, too, watching and waiting.

As if on cue, the great bells in one of the castles towers began to toll out the call of midnight. On stroke, then two. On the third, the clouds moved away from the new moon, though they could not see it. As it did, the area over their potions began to glow a deep, navy blue. The non-existent moonlight showed as black rays of light, refracting off of the tendrils of steam now issuing from the cauldrons.

Harry put his hand over the cauldron in front of him and made a small cut with the dagger in his palm. Immediately, blood began to spill from the veins under the skin. He cupped it in his hand and slowly dripped a bead of crimson blood into the concoction that was swirling below him. It sizzled and the potion began to swirl faster.

The second drop fell in. The potion began to slow, now. Sparks flew out of the top of the cauldron in small spurts.

The third drop fell as though caught in time. Ever so slowly, if fell through the space between his hand and the simmering liquid of the potion. It shimmered and spun as it fell. Then, everything seemed to speed up again. The glimmering bead of blood impacted, sending little ripples through the now calm, but acid green, fluid below him. In the steam above it, the black light of the full moon still shimmered.

He took a small vial out of his box of supplies and filled in to the brim. Glancing at Aumar for a second, he moved the potion to his mouth before tipping the contents back into his mouth.

He turned to the Animagi Master.

“Now what?”

“Now, we wait. It could be a matter of seconds, or it could be one of minutes. It is different, you see, from person to person. It will appear within the hour, though.” He turned to the elf sitting beside Harry. “Have you drunk yours, Mathias?”

He nodded.

Aumar sighed. “Good…,” he said absently. “Good…”

They waited, and waited, and waited. Soon twenty minutes had passed since they had taken their potions, and still nothing had happened. Harry watched the last people save themselves turn out their lights in the city below them. He blinked his eyes again, and the pupils in his eyes changed colour again. He scanned the city below him using his night vision. He watched as the guards at the city gates changed posts.

Suddenly something flickered through the darkness on the other side of the gates. He focused on it, and the environment around it brightened. It was an Elf. He rode a dark horse, and wore dark clothes, but the shape of his ears were a dead give away.

The guards at the gates spoke to him for a few moments before the bolts were drawn back and the gate opened. The elf rode in and disappeared below them at the entrance to the fortress. He was contemplating who the person might have been when he was brought violently out of his thoughts at a loud gagging sound coming from behind him.

He spun around and found himself watching Mathias, who was doubled up and kneeling on the ground, choking. He gave a loud yelp and cried out in pain before fainting onto the cold stone floor. Mist of all colours was seeping slowly out of his skin. It met in the air before him and solidified suddenly, leaving a three dimensional picture in front of them.

It was a large black bear. Sleek black fur covered its large body. Its eyes were a golden yellow, and its muzzle was a deep brown. Sharp teeth stood out in two curved arcs in its large jaw. Harry had just begun to admire what an amazing creature was before him when the beast dissolved into nothingness.

A few seconds after the mist vanished, Mathias stirred and opened his eyes. He let out a groan and rolled over onto his back. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up at them.

“What happened to me?”

Aumar helped him up. “Your form came upon you, but you tried to block it out. Tell me, what did you see?”

Mathias took a deep breath and steadied himself. “I was a bear. I was moving through the forest. I could feel everything around me. Which way the wind was blowing. How the ground felt under my paws. Everything. And I could see it all perfectly. The greens of the trees and the carpet of brown leaves on the forest floor. It was so vivid…” He trailed off.

Aumar smiled down at him. “Good for you. I'll need you to remember exactly what it was like in your vision. Tomorrow, I'll begin to teach you how to transform parts of your body. After another few weeks, I think you should probably be ready to attempt a full transformation. Now. Go down to your quarters and get some sleep.”

Mathias nodded.

Aumar turned to Harry. “It naver takes more than half an hour, Astyan. It should be any minute now…”

And then, he felt it. It was like his blood had been chilled. The sensation ran through his veins, making him shiver. The cold pressed on his lungs throat, making him ant to choke and cough. He looked up at Aumar for some sign of instruction.

Aumar turned to face him. “Don't resist.”

Slightly apprehensively, he relaxed and took a few deep breaths. The cold sensation lessened, but it was replaced by a prickling sensations all over his skin. It was as though someone were prodding him with blunt needles.

He was overcome with a sense of drowsiness for a few seconds, but he fought it off. He wanted to be awake when it came. As suddenly as it had been brought on, the sense of great tiredness washed off of him. In its place was a sharp, terrible pain. It lasted only for a second or so, but when it ended, he was aware of a sensation of being sprayed by water. Some sort of gas seemed to be seeping from his skin, and with it came a feeling of being deflated like a balloon.

He was not aware that he had fallen unconscious.

He was running full tilt through a forest. The fir trees rose on either side of the sloping mountain path he was following. The dirt under his paws was soft and brown, the product of the many leaves that had fallen to the ground the previous autumn.

The snow had been cleared away from the path, leaving large white mounds on either side of the track. All the better. No one could see him in the snow.

A cold blast of wind met him in the face, bringing the sent of his prey. It would not be long now. No one could escape him. They were all brought down eventually.

The path levelled out in front of him. The ground under him slowly thinned to a hard rocky ledge. He stopped at the edge and looked down. There was a river below him. Large boulders stood like lily pads in the frozen waters. He threw his head back and sniffed.

The sent was stronger now. He searched around him, looking for a clue. There. A bush on the other side of the bush was swaying. He could feel which way the wind was blowing with his whiskers. But it was the wrong way for the wind.

He leapt nimbly down the boulders to the river side. He stopped, sitting down for a moment, searching for the best way to cross. His white fur blew around a bit in the wind. His amber eyes trailed quickly over the area before him and calculated the easiest way across.

He crouched for a moment before leaping onto a large log that had been trapped between a few of the boulders. It was wet, and he sunk his claws into the wood to insure he didn't slip off. He wouldn't like that. No cat would. He moved off to the other end of the log. At least that got him half way across. Now it was just a matter of frog hopping the boulders in the river until he got across.

After a moment of jumping, he arrived at the other side of the river. He sniffed again and moved off through the trees at a brisk pace. He perked up his ears and heard the laboured breathing of his prey. He sped up.

The sounds of running increased ahead of him. His prey knew he was on to him. He sped up.

Just ahead, he picked out the robes of his prey in the distance. The space between them was closing rapidly. The man, hearing his approach, slowed and then turned around to face him.

He slowed as well and slunk up to face the man in front of him. He could not see the man's face, but he knew who it was.

The man spoke, the fear evident in his voice with every word.

“Please, my Lord! Please. They tricked me! Please, Lord Astyan!”

He crouched and gave out a loud growl, displaying his many razor sharp teeth. His eyes narrowed. He moved closer to his enemy.

“Please! Give me another chance! I'll never fail you agai—”

He never finished his sentence. The Snow Leopard leapt onto him, knocking him to the ground. It sunk its teeth into the flesh of the man's neck, severing the spinal cord and the carotid artery.

The man never felt a thing.

He transformed back into a man. The fur became armour; the paws became arms and legs. He stood straighter, bringing his cloak around him and putting up his hood. His emerald green, slitted eyes glowed under the hood.

He had never like traitors.

The vision dissolved. He stirred, opening his eyes quickly and getting to his feet. Aumar sat beside him. He had obviously been waiting for his student to wake.

“Did you have the vision?”

Harry nodded. “Was it real?”

“It may have been, but then again, it may not. The visions sometimes show things that have been, things that are, and sometimes, things that have not yet come to pass. Tell, me, do you remember what animal you were?”

“Yes, Master. A Snow Leopard.”

“It is the same as the image that came out of you, then. Good. Now, I think we are done for tonight. Go to bed, Astyan. You have other classes tomorrow. I will see you three days from now. You must remember the vision. You must remember what it was like. We will begin to train in your transformation then. Good night.”

---~*~---

They stayed in the fortress of Tarnag for two days, restocking their supplies as well as taking more than they had before, as they would not be arriving in any cities for a while. They left for Hedarth, which lay on the Edda and Âz Ragni rivers on the third day, and they had expected to arrive there in just under two weeks travelling.

It was the sixth day, and they were ahead of schedule. They had passed the area where the Âz Ragni forked into two smaller rivers the day before. Eragon flew high above Arya and Murtagh, who rode the two horses.

Eragon and Saphira swooped low over their two companions on the ground.

“How long until sundown, Arya?” Eragon yelled down to them.

She looked to the western horizon, which was glimmering in the orange light of the slowly setting sun. The peaks of the mountains seemed to shine in the reflection of the blinding orange and red hues.

“I'd give it about an hour, Eragon. We should come in sight of the other side of the bend in about that time. We'll stop then. You should be able to see it up there about twenty minutes before we do. Warn us when you can.”

Eragon nodded and Saphira beat her wings until they had risen to a normal flying hight. He scanned the horizon carefully, looking for the glimmer that the other side of the river they were following would present. The River went into a massive U-bend, and they had crossed the river earlier that day. They would camp out when they sighted the other side of the u-bend.

It was Saphira who caught sight of it first. Her Dragon's eyes found the glint of the water before any of theirs did. She sent a message down to Arya and Murtagh, who slowed, ready to begin to set up a camp for the night as soon as the sun went down.

They arrived in Hedarth on their tenth day of travelling. Being four days ahead of schedule, they gave themselves two days rest before restocking their supplies and continuing. Their next destination would be Ceris, a small Elvin village on the edge of the forest and near the river Edda and not far from the banks of Lake Eldor. Following the river from Hedarth, they determined that it should take them roughly six days to get there.

They were pleasantly surprised when a mariner, who fished in the Edda, offered to take them most of the way there, which would cut down their time on foot by about half. They agreed, and with a fee of a few gold coins, the man set a time for them to arrive at the docks the next day. Saphira, who the town did not know about, decided to fly above them.

They arrived at the docks at dawn the next day. The glow on the horizon was just turning faint tinges of orange when the boarded the boat, a wonderful 20ft ketch that the man said he had helped build when he was a boy.

“It was me father's ye see. Me an' a few old scallywag friends o' me father built it when I was only round about nine.” He grinned, his face wrinkling in his old smile, revealing crooked and yellowing teeth.

They packed their things aboard and the old mariner untied the lines from the dock and pushed off with a long wooden pole. After they had gone out into deeper water, he conscripted Murtagh and Eragon into helping him with the rigging.

By the time the sun had risen far enough over the hills to bathe the landscape in golden early-morning sunlight, they were well under way.

The river was huge. It stretched for at least a mile or two from side to side, and it stretched off into the distance in front and behind them, the blue waters winding in and out of the hills and forests and fields. They learned from Arya that it was the biggest river the Kingdom, even though this area of territory was largely untouched by Galbatorix and his minions.

Around mid-day, they ate a small meal of meat, cheese, and bread as well as some fresh water. The old fisherman let out his long nets after he had eaten before returning aft to the wheel, where he chatted with Murtagh, who seemed to have taken a deep interest in the life of sea-faring.

Before long, the rhythmic rocking of the boat had sent everyone except the old fisherman into slumber.

They disembarked at dawn the next day. They had arrived at the two-thirds-of-the-way point late the previous evening, and the fisherman, who had later introduced himself as `Tenebrus, good sir!', had very generously invited them to sleep on his boat for the night, as he would be setting off in the morning anyway, and there was `no sense at all in setting up a camp when you've got a perfectly good floating one right here!'. Eragon also suspected that the old mariner had wanted to have further conversation with Murtagh.

The next morning, they unloaded their things and gave the old man a few pieces of gold for his trouble, which he politely refused but took anyway. As soon as the old ketch disappeared into the distance heading back for Hedarth, they put their things back into order and called Saphira down.

They set off into the shimmering desert horizon, careful to stay near the river.

They slowly disappeared into the distance.

So they are bound for Elvin Country… Interesting… Master will like to know…

A figure wearing a sand coloured cloak stood, brushing the grains of dirt off of his clothes. It pushed back its hood, revealing a face like that off a human, but only discoloured. He had no mouth, but a cruel, sharp beak.

He brought a long arm out from the folds of his cloak and muttered a word in the Ancient Language. He snapped his clawed fingers. Long tendrils of grey magic shot out from his hand, engulfing him in the writhing, almost living strands. With a loud crack, he vanished.

---~*~---

In Urû'baen, the capital city of the Kingdom, another crack was heard.

Galbatorix looked down from his high window in the Palace, watching the cloaked figure enter the palace gates.

Sooo… My Ra'zac have finally found something…

He chuckled quietly.

The King had found them.

---~*~---

A/N: Well, there's the seventh chapter. Please give feed back… yaddah, yaddah, the usual. Sorry about the wait, but I was having a bit of trouble planning this chapter and then a bit of writers' block when actually writing it…

The next one should be up sooner and around 5K words. This chapter was roughly 4200. Expect the next chapter around Christmas. I'll make an extra effort to get out two, maybe three (if I can wing it) 5K chapters out in the Christmas Season. My little present to you all, as I know it's infuriating most of you that I can't make regular and convenient updates…

Anyway, review, review, review. Put in questions, comments, anything that has to do with the fic and is actually constructive…

May thine quills stay sharp and your mind just so!

Cheers!

SilverDagger

[Last updated - Sunday, December 05, 2004]

[Words in this chapter - 4,240]

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9. Author's Notice

Author's Notice

Well. The past few days have been stressful, no doubt about it. I've had work and little play, and not enough time to write.

But that's beside the point, and It just sounds like excuses. Here's the deal:

During the weeks since my last update, I've been editing my plot lines, writing down lists of open threads that will need to be closed, and re-reading Eragon for any threads I can find in there that I can put into Saga. After that came the planning stages.

As I have explained to some of you beforehand, I am going through a massive planning stage for Saga. I had the prologue and the first five or so chapters planned out completely, and the sixth and seventh were written spur of the moment, but it all fit in in the end. For the next chapters, though, I don't have a fully detailed plan. For the past few weeks, I've been constructing that. For the War in Alagaësia, I have been creating maps and troop movement charts, as well as troop ratios and Battle formations. I've been planning all fo this for both the land war, and the one which will occur on the sea and coast. I've been planning out how the Trials in Ellesméra will turn out, how the Elvin cities are going to be protected during the Empire's fast approaching Invasion of Du Weldenvarden. I've been taking time on chosing names for leaders and generals on both sides, developing personalities for them as well. Also, I've been trying to decide what the eventual sides will be made up of, who will sign a treaty with who, who will be crushed in the political fallout of some, etc.

All in all, I've had a huge amount of work put on me for developing only half of Saga's entire Plot.

Bear with me here.

Besides that, Chapter 8, Eragon, is about halfway done, and should be out soon.

Now: This Author's not will be deleted when the next chapter comes out, and an Author Alert email, whether from FF.net or PK.org will not be sent to you, as it doesn't when a chapter slot is replaced with new content.

Therefore: I need an E-mail address from all of you so I can let you all know that the new chapter is out. Please leave it in a review!

With that, I wish you all a belated Happy New Year, and a plea to let me finish my work!

Regards,

SilverDagger

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10. Chapter 8, Eragon

I just wanted to thank all of you for giving me time to finish the huge mound of work on my plate, so to speak. Have patience! I have no intention of letting this fic fall on the wayside. I will be sending around periodic Newsletters about the fic's progress. If you see an E-mail with the subject being `TDS - NewsLetter', then that's what it'll be. If you want to be added to the newsletter, put your e-mail address and author/reader pen name in a review.

Also: KittenRebecca has guessed correctly in my little contest. Thus, the contest is now closed. The dates were August 14, 1996 and March 28, 1998. Congrats. Meanwhile, the rest of you can chew on that new information as well as any other such info you might dig up in this chapter.

Remember to dig well. There are quite a few clues in this chapter, though you may never find them…

I don't think I have anything else to say, so on with the show!

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 8

Eragon

--

Harry took the pebble from the shelf in his quarters, flinging it high into the air and caught it deftly as it fell back through the air. He grabbed the large book from the table in the living room of his quarters and sat down in the rocking chair next to the window.

Looking out, he watched the sun begin to sink from the sky, turning the clouds and sky pink and golden, and casting long shadows across the ground of the Elvin fortress. As the sun sank slowly lower, the light glared off of the water fall and through the window, casting deep orange shadows around the room.

Opening the large tome, he began to read. As he did so, he muttered a few soft words. The silver mark on his hand glowed faintly and the pebble rose quickly out of his hands and began to move around the room as he moved his hand.

The book he held was the Lai'gÄ©ra, or the Language. Inside was the book of the Elvin Ancient Language. It was aid to be the first language, once spoken by all creatures, but it had been lost to time. Now, only the elves still spoke the tong, but it had other uses. It was the language of magic. Real magic. All one had to do, the Sage had explained to him, was focus you magic to a single point in our body, speak the words of magic, and release it, and it would do your bidding.

He flicked up another stone into his right hand.

“Stenr reisa!”

The second stone rose quickly into the evening air, joining the first and moving around in the ceiling.

The new type of magic intrigued him. He had told the Sage about the ways of magic he was used to and demonstrated with the wand he still carried with him at all times, and the old wise man had questioned him extensively about the magical theory of his world. He did not know much of what the old Sage had asked him to explain, but their discussion had revealed some paths of interest to him.

He was interested to find out whether he could use his brand of magic without a wand. To test his theory, he had tried a few spells while using the same methods he was being taught to focus his magic in the manner used by the elves.

He had tried and failed. He could summon up magic without much thought, but he could not direct it with the incantations used for his wand, as he could using the Ancient Language. He had his suspicions, though. He suspected greatly that the incantations used with a wand were meant to use the magic inside both the caster and his or her wand core. He'd laid the matter to rest afterward, resigning to learn the methods of magic used in this world as soon as he could.

He had been having trouble learning to speak the Ancient Language, which he put down mostly to having to learn a strange language that was foreign even to his own world. He had practice, though. Like all elves, the Royal Guards manning the castle spoke both the Ancient Language and English, which was known here as the Common Tong, and the Sage's instructions were to practice the language whenever possible.

As the light faded from the horizon outside of the window, he closed the book with a sigh, setting it down on the table in front of his chair.

He moved off to his door, walking out into the hallway and moving off to the Dining halls for dinner while muttering words and phrases under his breath.

He was just entering the halls, which were filled this evening with chattering elves enjoying a idle meal, when he felt the now familiar brush of Ashrang's mind against his own.

What is it?

He heard a mental chuckle in recesses of his consciousness. Nothing important, my boy… You haven't ridden with me at all, or even had a conversation… The other Dragons are comforting, but I become lonely…

He sighed, sending reassuring thoughts to his faithful companion. I know how you feel. I get lonely too, sometimes… Take heart, though. As soon as my control over magics is perfected in another month or so and I'm armed with my own weapons, then the future is ours to determine. The nine of us will be free to go about waging this war with the Empire with the other Elves and the Varden. After that, we will go home again…

Ashrang seemed satisfied with this, and withdrew from his mind without another word.

Harry sighed again and pulled a dish of food toward him. He went over the magical words in his mind again, to make sure that his ever growing knowledge of them did not fade away just as soon as he had learned them.

He ate silently before putting down his fork in exasperation and walking quickly out of the room. As soon as he exited the hall he leapt into the air and transformed. The transformation was slower than Sirius had ever done it, but he was getting better. Every time he changed, it went just a bit faster and took less thought.

He ran through the building, his sleek, white, leopard's body moving silent and fast. He soon reached the Dragon's Tower. He padded slowly up the step spiral staircase, which,. After a minute or so of constant climbing, finally levelled out.

He pushed open the door with his nose and padded softly into the vast cavern of a room. The huge holes around the walls containing the Dragons stood full except for three.

I wonder when the last of us will arrive, he pondered, closing the door behind him with a click and loping over to Ashrang's quarters.

As he approached, the Black Dragon lifted his head and stared down at his companion with interest.

Well, this is certainly a first… Come to talk as a beast instead of a man?

Harry walked over to the Dragon, lying down next to him and resting against Ashrang's black scales. It's easier to sort things out as an animal. It's easier to think.

He rested his head on his paws and let out a low growl of frustration. I feel lost here. I know little of this world or its people. I will fight against the Empire, but what after that? Will I ever go home, my friend?

Ashrang sent him calming thoughts along with a sigh. It cannot be helped, little one. You will learn in time how this world works. After this, if the prophecy is true, we will go back to your world again, but it will not be the same. You have changed too much over the last four and a half months to ever have things the same again. After that, though, nothing is certain.

Harry let out another growl.

Let it be for now. We will think things out as we go along.

Harry gave a slight grunt of feline acknowledgement. I miss them all, though. The problem is that I like it better here…

With that though, he closed his eyes and fell into slumber.

---~*~---

The King sat in his throne room, listening to the report of one of his commanders. He was interrupted, though, as an armoured soldier ran into the room bearing a scroll.

Galbatorix lifted his head to watch the soldier as he entered. His short, salt-and-pepper-grey hair blowing slightly in the wind let in through the door by the messenger. His cold, black eyes crackled with powerful lightening, and his wrinkled skin tensed in anticipation of what he was about to hear.

“We have received word from the Ra'zac, Your Majesty. They say they are camped in the forests of Du Weldenvarden, just north of the area where the renegade, Eragon, was said to have been last seen by our spies. They also bring good news, my Lord.”

He waited, but the messenger did not continue. “Well,” he snapped with barely controlled malice. “What is it!?”

“They send word that they have spotted elves in the Forests. Your suspicions were correct. What are your orders?”

The King put his fingers together and thought slowly, weighing the possibilities.

“Tell the Ra'zac and their 50 soldiers to move into the woods and capture the Rider, the Dragon, and his two companions . Impress upon them the need for the utmost secrecy. They must not be found.” He paused for a second before continuing. “Mobilize the First and Third Divisions and direct them to make for Cuenon and await further orders.”

They soldier nodded and bowed his way out, leaving the king and his commander alone. Galbatorix waved his general out and was left to think.

And so it begins, doesn't it Shruken?

The King had a response that only he could hear. A cold, mirthless, draconic laugh. Yes it does, Master, yes it does…

---~*~---

Eragon walked slowly through the Forest, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of trouble. Saphira padded behind him, Arya and Murtagh following at the rear and leading their horses.

The Forests of Du Weldenvarden stretched in all directions. The deep green canopy dimmed the light, leaving soft rays of sunlight to illuminate the forest floor. Brightly lit clearings were dotted here and there, and craggy outcroppings of rock stood like grey monoliths every few hundred yards. Dried leaves, sticks and moss covered the forest floor, making it hard to travel on. They avoided the roads, as Arya had said it would raise too many questions from whomever they met on the tracks.

They had arrived in Ceris the day before, and Eragon and Murtagh had waited outside in the forest while Arya went in to purchase more supplies and to send a message on to EllesmÃ©ra. They set had set out North that morning in the direction of the Gaena River. From there, they would travel up the river to Lake Ardwen and SÃlthrim. The going was slow, but with Arya as their guide, they found the paths and landmarks they needed to know they travelled in the correct direction.

The Forests of Du Weldenvarden were, for the most part, dark and mysterious. Creatures of unknown size stirred everywhere, punctuating the silence with rustles and cracks every few seconds. The great trees, some as wide as a small house, stood like lone soldiers in the soft light shining down from above them.

“They are as old as the forest itself. They have stood here for as long as any elf can remember,” Arya had said. “They have been here since the time of my Race's arrival in AlagaÃ«sia more than 6,000 years ago.”

The trail was rough but traversable. They walked slowly through the trees at a steady pace, stopping at times to practice the sword, to hunt for food, and to eat or sleep. Eragon was constantly aware of how the terrain stayed the same, but the elevation seemed to rise steadily the entire time.

They had made good time, though. By the end of the day, they had reached a small mountain which Arya said was roughly half way to the Gaena. As they climbed, they searched for a convenient place to camp for the night.

Just as the sun had sunk completely under the horizon, they came across a large cave set deep into the side of the mountain and behind a mask of large bushes. The cave was large but dead. The stalactites and stalagmites that had once grown from the floor and ceilings of the underground rooms in bygone days grew no more. The faÃ§ade of the cave had not changed in centuries.

Then did not set up tents inside the cave, but put down their bed roles on the sandy floors of the cave. As the light began to fade from the sky, they lit a fire in the cave mouth and Murtagh prepared some food. Arya stood just outside the cave mouth, scanning the area around them in search of any danger.

Dinner was served quickly. Afterward, the three took turns sparring with each other while one took watch. Saphira, while muttering about the strangeness of the humans and elves she minded, decided to go hunting, and she sprung into the air and was gone.

When it was decided that it was time for them to sleep in preparation of the next leg of their journey to EllesmÃ©ra, Arya volunteered to take the first watch. She stood just outside the cave, watching and listening only half-heartedly, dwelling as she did so on what would happen when they reached the Elvin capitol.

The wind rushed through the forest in small gusts from the west, revealing no scent. The glow of the fire lit up the immediate area around them, yielding no dark form. Except…

The glint of an feral eye winked suddenly out of the gloom, catching her attention. She fixed her sight on it but it had vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. She stood as still as she could, slowing her breathing, becoming just another shadow in the forest.

The trees rustled in the wind. A twig snapped somewhere in the woods behind her and a shadow moved quickly in front of her.

She closed her eyes and focused, bringing her magic into her grasp.

“Qia eis propare,” she muttered, releasing the magic.

She sensed it rush out into the forest around her, invisible tendrils of magic forming a web some one hundred feet wide. The tendrils writhed and twisted, searching inside the web for any creature which might lie there. They rushed back to her soon enough, revealing a mental picture of the area around them.

She gasped in spite of herself. Fifty of Galbatorix's soldiers and the Ra'zac surrounded them. How did I not see them? She backed slowly into the cave, making it look as if she did not s=know if their presence. The Ra'zac could not sense magic, she thought, which was a relief. They would not know that they had been discovered.

Why are they waiting?, she thought. Why do they not attack? She cast her mind about for any possible reason for the delay.

Saphira.

That was it. They waited for the Dragon to return so that they could catch the four of them at once and not have to take a chance if Eragon called her.

She had reached her two companions and she shook each of them until they woke. She pushed a hand over each of their mouths so they could not speak and contacted the two of them with her mind. It cost magical strength, but she had to risk it. It took some effort, but she got through.

We are surrounded. Draw your weapons and be ready to fight. They cannot see you in here. Eragon, you must call Saphira.

They nodded and pulled their weapons from their packs.

Eragon cast his mind about for Saphira and found her flying not too far from them.

Saphira!, he yelled with his mind. You must come to us! We are being attacked!

He sensed her grim acknowledgement and he focused now on the task at hand. He did not know how they could win this. The three of them were no match for fifty of the King's soldiers and the Ra'zac. Saphira would turn the odds, but not if she did not turn up in time.

They positioned themselves inside the mouth of the cave and waited.

Snow began to fall as the time passed slowly by them, coating the side of the mountain in a white sheen. The light of the full moon occasionally broke through the storm clouds, making the ground sparkle.

Silence weighed down on them. Silence…listening to silence. Not a things stirred in the trees. No single sound broke upon their straining ears. Both groups of fighters knew that the other knew they waited, but still, nothing happened. They waited for Saphira. The King's troops would not attack until she came, and the three travellers could do nothing until she arrived to help them.

And then she came.

The sound of her wings was muffled in the cold night air. She slid between the clouds until she was behind the position they thought the Ra'zac would take, a cold blue wraith in the winter sky, and then dived.

Chaos was let loose. The Ra'zac and twenty of the King's troops were occupied with Saphira, who was fighting madly with them all, all sanity forgotten as she let loose tooth, claw, and fire. The rest of the troops stormed the cave. Steel clashed on steel, but Eragon could already see that he battle would be lost.

There were just too many of them. Whenever Saphira turned on way to attack a soldier, the others would come close, jabbing her with their weapons and climbing onto her back. The Ra'zac were dodging around her, throwing their chains over her back, and she was having trouble stopping it. Already they had thrown over three of the six they needed to secure her. Just as they had the first time, they drove the ends of the chains into the ground, pinning her beneath them. Her head was still up and about, but that too was soon immobilized. All she had left was her fire, and she dispatched four soldiers simultaneously with a well placed blast, but the Ra'zac were too quick for her. They fitted a huge muzzle over her mouth, and she fought no more.

Things were going steadily down hill with Eragon, Murtagh and Arya. They had evened the odds a bit, dispatching twenty of their thirty attackers soon enough, but after the Ra'zac had secured Saphira, they and the five soldiers the Dragon had not killed came and added their weight to the battle.

Eragon and the two others were steadily pushed back into the cave's recesses, despite the fact that they downed many of the attackers as they went. Soon they were backed against the rear wall, fighting for their lives.

Eragon, Arya and Murtagh were soon overrun. With only the soldiers, it had been hard, but manageable, but with the addition of the Ra'zac to the force pitted against them, they could see they would be beaten. He signalled to them behind his back, sending the message to each of their minds so they would know what to do. They gave him sharp glances, and in Murtagh's case, a glare, but they followed his request non the less. Slowly they lowered their swords. Scarlet blood dripped slowly from the point of the blade, coating the floor in a deathly sheen.

As soon as the swords pointed to the ground, the soldiers of the King moved in and knocked them to the ground. The swords clattered off of the rock floor with a reverberating clang, making everyone in the room flinch.

“Tie them up,” snarled the smaller of the two Ra'zac.

The soldiers rushed to obey, bringing in thin cords to tie up the three prisoners wrists. Eragon grudgingly allowed his arms to be forced behind him by two burly troops, who tied them tightly behind his back; not enough to cut off blood circulation, but it did not allow for much movement either.

“Bring them with us.”

The soldiers nodded and pulled the three of them to their feet while another collected the weapons of their captives. As soon as they were out of the cave, where the snow had increased slightly to a light flurry, the taller of the two Ra'zac pulled out a small vial from inside his cloak which he handed to one of the soldiers standing next to him.

“Four drops for the Rider and the Elf. None for the other. He is not,” he paused for a second, choosing his words, “worth it.” He smirked and walked back into the forest, leaving his shorter companion with the rest of his surviving troops and their four new charges.

Orders were quickly given and followed, and soon a small camp was nestling itself down for the night. Arya and Eragon had been force fed the drug the Ra'zac had brought, and their minds soon dulled, straying away from rational thought or magic until they were in a drunken stupor. They were thrown in a tent with their hands still tied together where they lay down and tried to sleep.

Eragon was the last to fall into slumber. He lay on the hard floor of the tent and tried to think of something to do. He gathered together what force of mind he still had and tried to focus.

If only I could call for someone to help us, he thought.

He cast his mind about and settled on the Mourning Sage. He would surely send help…

He focused with all his strength and tried to find his magic. It eluded his grasp for a while, but he finally managed to grasp it for a split second. He gathered together what magic he could muster and thought only of the Sage.

Focusing with all his might, he sent out a single thought into the ether. Help us…

---~*~---

Harry loped slowly through the halls of Deraht NÃ¤an, the castle he had been staying in for the past five months, in his Animagus form. He'd learned this by speaking with one of the castle guards. His knowledge of the Ancient Language was, as the sage said, `adequate'. It was good enough, though, that he was able to speak to the guards in what Tristan had dubbed `Pigeon Elvish'. He was progressing fast, though, as he was in his other magical studies, and the Sage had voiced the opinion that in another two months, he would have a full command of the language.

He padded slowly through the halls of the castle, purring at the guards he knew in greeting. They nodded and smiled, one or two giving him a slight pat on the head as he passed. It took another two minutes of wandering before he arrived at the Sage's study. He had free time for another hour or so, and he often went into the Study for a bit of conversation or to talk about his studies in further detail, and the Sage was always happy to oblige. Today, though, he just needed a quiet place to think.

He pushed open the door with his nose and loped into the room, where he found himself face to face with an Elf, who seemed to be halfway through leaving the room. The Elf gave him a startled look and edged around him to the door, which he shut behind him with a snap.

The sage looked up and smiled.

“How nice of you to come in. My guest,” he looked distastefully at the door behind Harry, “ did not seem to want to leave…”

He trailed off and sighed, looking back down at the work on his desk. He glanced at a note that had been left on top of a large sheaf of parchment before peaking to him again.

“You and your piers have had your trials scheduled. Depending on who you are, they should be in about two months.”

Harry nodded his white, furry head once in affirmation before going over to the huge ceiling-to-floor window and lying down at its base, staring out at the huge Elvin capitol city in deep thought. The lake below the castle shimmered in the sunlight. Elvin children played in the parks dotted throughout the ancient city he looked down upon. Smoke rose from the smithies and houses in small, swirling tendrils.

He missed Hogwarts, his professors, friends, and Hermione. I'll be back there soon enough, though. After the Empire falls, We will turn the tides of my own war…

He felt Ashrang brush against his mind. The Dragon sent him calming thoughts as well as a picture of what the he was up to. It seemed the Dragon was engaged in tearing meat off of a young buck in a clearing just over a league away.

What bothers you?

Homesickness.

Take heart, little one. I have seen through your memories the disdain you hold for you're the fame you hold in your world. It is time for you to be able to make a name for yourself, for once and to break from the bonds of Childhood and become what you were meant to be. Now is your chance…

Harry felt a rush of determination at Ashrang's words. You are right. I am tire of being thought of as a celebrity and a child… I will forge myself into one whom all will fear…

The Dragon sent him a few calming thoughts. And I will be by your side throughout it all, little one…

(A/N: No, this is not a sign of evil.)

The Sage, who had been looking down at his paper in concentration, suddenly looked up with a jolt, knocking things in all directions. His eyes were unfocused and he muttered words under his breath that were not intelligible.

As sudden as it had begun, it was over. The Sage looked down at Harry, who was still in his Animagus form under the window.

“Astyan?” he said wearily, as if out of breath.

Harry got up and came to his side, placing a large white paw on the Sages lap in answer.

The old man smiled for a few seconds, but he became serious again in an instant.

“I have a task for you, Rider…”

---~*~---

Hermione Granger sat in the Gryffindor common room, Advanced Defensive Theory propped up in her lap. She watched the snow fall steadily outside the window. Squally January wind buffeted the window and whines around the castle and through the gaps between the many turrets and towers. It was a Saturday, and the day before, the main population, attired in full winter regalia, had pervaded the grounds in a number of spectacular snowball fights involving almost everyone who happened to be outside at the times they ensued. The end result was a troop of very wet and very cold students filing in at roughly four in the afternoon in search of warmth and a dry change of clothes. It was rumoured that Dumbledore himself had been seen snowballing Professor McGonagall in the early stages of a particularly vicious snowball war involving the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins against the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.

But the reality was slowly closing in on them…

The War was fast escalating into full scale combat, but both sides did not yet have their full strength together, and Voldemort would not attack when he did not have his full strength assembled. They had time, and the Order and Ministry, now working as one with the removal of Fudge the month before. He had been replace by Amelia Bones, a close friend of Dumbledore's and an ardent supporter.

But the tide of Darkness was sweeping the world none the less. Death Eater activity was up ten-fold, and attacks on prominent light families and Muggles was becoming too frequent for comfort. Voldemort, it was known had already sent envoys to all of the foreign Ministries he was sure would support him, and while the Order did the same, it was clear that Voldemort was gaining too much ground. They would have to strike soon, but they did not yet have enough resources.

The sides were fast being drawn. The German, and Eastern Bloc countries had already sided with Voldemort, as had the Finnish (by force, it was obvious), Chinese, and the Ukrainians. The Russian, American, Australian, French, Italian, British, Spanish, Canadians, Japanese Wizarding governments. The nations of South America, the Middle East, and Africa had opted to stay neutral, as they were not up to being involved in any sort of war at the moment. Internal conflict raged in many of the countries, and they had problems enough of their own.

The problems were still clear, though. Even with the two large Allied forces facing off against each other, it was clear that they would have to reveal their world to the Muggles. They needed ground on which to fight, after all…

Hermione pushed the thoughts out of her head.

Things went much better at Hogwarts. The DA, led by herself and the rest of the Order of Aries, had swollen to over 200 members, but it was still only about a fifth of the school population. They met three times a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were fast becoming the brightest days of the week. The fifth, sixth, and seventh years of all four houses, excluding the Death Eater sympathizers trained extensively, and they were fast becoming a force to be reckoned with.

Hermione fingered the ring on her left hand thoughtfully. The Platinum reflected in the light, casting strange light over the ceiling of the common room. She could only hope that things went well in the near future, and that some miracle happened sooner or later. If it didn't, the future would look bleak on all fronts.

She was bored. There was no other way to say it. She went up to her dorm room and went over to the large bay window at one end of the tower room.

She looked down on the Snow War below her before bringing her right hand up and touching a finger to the gold `A' on the ring residing on her left ring finger. She pressed nit sharply. Below her, 249 students flinched at the sudden jolt of magical electricity. Each and every one of them dropped what he or she was doing and snuck inside in groups of five or ten.

In exactly 45 minutes, they were assembled in the Room of Requirement.

It was time to learn some curses…

---~*~---

Astyan did not say anything as he approached the Riders' Wing at a run. He ran into the room, searching for his piers.

He found Mathias and Zorac sitting on the chairs in the main living quarters. He beckoned to them frantically. They set down their things immediately and came over to him.

“What is it?” said Mathias, voicing the concern of the other at the same time.

Astyan hurriedly explained the facts to the other two. Afterward, they nodded and followed him out of the room without a backward glance.

The Sage's voice still rang in Astyan's mind. `Bring them back to us unharmed. Take two or three of the others. I leave you in command. Fare well.'

They arrived at the armoury at a run. The guard nodded to each of them as they passed through the doors. He did not question what they were doing there. He knew each of them for what they were.

Astyan grabbed a heavy cloak, a Long Sword and a few throwing knives. He put each blade into the proper place in the gear belt he took with him, strapping it all over winter gear he took from a shelf. Heavy boots and a woollen tunic as well as his gloves gave him the warmth that he would need in the winter cold. He threw the cloak on and waited for the others. Zorac took the same as he had, and Mathias took a bow in place of knives.

Throwing the hood of the cloak over his head as he went, he led them out of the large armoury and into the corridor beyond. From their, they went down the stairs to the entrance to the spiral staircase and Dragon Hold.

He sent out a single thought to Ashrang waiting above him. Be ready to go as soon as we get there. We have little time.

---~*~---

Eragon was awoken roughly in the middle of the night by one of the Empire's soldiers. When he rose from the floor, the soldier was already gone.

The three of them stood awkwardly and moved into the cold night air. They were met by six armed soldiers and the Ra'zac.

“We are going. Make ready for travel,” hissed the taller of the two. He turned to one of the remaining troops who waited beside him. “Break camp. We move as the moon sets.”

The soldier nodded and hurried off.

---~*~---

Astyan pressed himself down onto Ashrang's back as they hurtled through the air above the forests of Du Weldenvarden. The landscape passed below them at a reasonable pace. They began their decent.

He could hear the rustles of metal and scale behind him as the other two followed him. The could afford no mistakes now. Their target area was only another four leagues ahead of them. They could only hope that they arrived their in time.

---~*~---

Eragon trudged through the forest, held by two burly guards. His two companions walked dejectedly behind them. Saphira walked behind them, guards holding tightly to the chains around her neck and body.

The sky had cleared of clouds, and the silvery light of the moon cast ethereal shadows onto the forest floor. The stars winked at him through the canopy above them. Mars was rising in the west. It was blood red, and as bright as the moon. It hung on the horizon like a tiny eye of some far away beast.

He heard the hum of wings before anyone else did. Saphira yowled behind her muzzle, twisting her head around in confusion.

Eragon! Wings! There is a Dragon approaching!

The fear was evident in her voice. The only other Dragon that he knew of…belonged to the King.

---~*~---

Dive!

Ashrang obeyed immediately, folding his wings back and plummeting head-first into the forest. At the last moment he snapped back his wings, levelling off and slamming into the ground. He opened his wings and gave a bone jarring roar.

Panic could be seen in the faces of the soldier, but they did not run. The two robed figures came forward slowly, unsure of what was happening. Why, though…

Then it clicked. They didn't know who he was…

He stood and flipped off of Ashrang's back, landing silently on the ground. He turned to face the two Ra'zac, moving his hand casually to the hilt of the sword he had borrowed from the Armoury in EllesmÃ©ra. They moved to stand in front of him. He eyed them both coldly, calculatingly.

They gave no orders to their troops. Why? Because they thought he was their King…

He blinked, revealing that his pupils had changed colour. Ice Blue slits looked at the Ra'zac from beneath the hood, seeing through their cloaks at what they truly were. Hideous. They were like vultures, but their shape was that of a human. Clawed, scaly legs protruded from their lower body. Their chests were feathered, as were their arms, which also held a number of spiny things that looked as though they may have once been wings. Their heads, also feathered, comprised mainly of a beak and two, scarlet, feral eyes. Had they once been human? Perhaps, but no matter. It did not complicate things…

An enemy was still an enemy, whether he was human or not.

He sent a thought to his two companions. Land behind them all. Now!

Just as his two companions dived, he caught the attention of the two Ra'zac, who had looked around at the noise.

As he gripped the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, he said the simplest thing that would get the point across.

“This is not Shruken.” (A/N: To those of you who haven't read Eragon yet, Shruken is the name of Galbatorix's Dragon)

Then he brought the sword out in a blur and cleaved the shorter Ra'zac's head from his shoulders. Blood spurted from the stump as the head hit the ground. The corpse hit the ground with a dull thump.

“And I am no King of yours.”

The other, taller Ra'zac went for his sword just as Mathias and Zorac, riding their Dragons Lasra and Ozorac, landed. The Ra'zac drew the sword and took a fighter's stance, ready and waiting.

“Free our charges,” he yelled to his two companions, “and kill the others!”

Chaos reigned as he swung the sword down in a blurred attack. It was blocked quickly and thrown back. What ensued was a spirited fight between the two, and though the Ra'zac was incredibly strong and fast, and would have beaten any human, he was stronger and faster. Soon he was pushing his opponent back, step by hard fought for step, until the Ra'zac was fighting at the edge of the clearing as he tried to push it back into the tree line.

His two companions were having better luck. The two of them easily overpowered the soldiers one by one. They had already managed to free Saphira of her muzzle, and she was adding her weight to the fight, whose tide was quickly turning in favour of the three attackers.

After a particularly vicious series of attacks, he had pushed the Ra'zac into the trees and down the low hill and onto the flat, rocky outcrop at its base. Looking over the Ra'zac's shoulder, he saw that where the outcrop dropped off was a steep cliff at least two hundred feet high. Hem smiled slightly and began to attack with renewed vigour. The Ra'zac seemed to know it as well, as he, too put all of his energy into the fight. Steel flashed between them, sparks flying when two blurred blades clashed. Suddenly, the Ra'zac let out a screech into the night, still fighting.

To his surprise, he heard an answering screech some way off. Ignoring it, he continued to push the Ra'zac back inch by inch.

The Ra'zac, who seemed to become desperate, let off a series of blows that gained the creature a foot or two. Before Astyan could recover, the Ra'zac had turned and leapt out into space. Astyan ran to the cliff edge and looked over just in time to see the Ra'zac land on the back of a giant bird. The bird, which resembled a giant crow, flew off into the night horizon, soon lost in the darkness.

He turned and trudged back up the hill in time to see his two companions dispatch the last four of the guards. The walked over to the three ex-prisoners and began to untie them.

Astyan turned to the Dragon—Saphira, was it?—who was still chained to the ground, only her head free of the bonds. He raised his right hand and gestured, drawing on his magic and muttering, “Dregas meirto.” The chains around her crumbled into dust and vanished. The Dragon stood and came slowly over to her Rider, who stood unsteadily, rubbing the feeling back into his hands and feet. The other two soon followed suit.

The first to stand carried a blood-red sword. That meant that he must be the Rider, Eragon. The other man must then be Murtagh, and the Elf, of course, would be Arya. They were looking at the two who had untied them in what appeared to be a strange mix of curiosity, surprise, and a touch of ill concealed fear. They did not seem to notice that Astyan had come back into the clearing.

The Rider, Eragon, was looking suspiciously at Zorac, who was having trouble refraining from squirming under the gaze.

He finally spoke in a slow, measured voice. “Who are you, Shade?”

Zorac opened his mouth to answer, but Harry, who had been moving stealthily closer behind the three ex-prisoners backs.

“We are your piers, Eragon. Whether we are Demon, Elf, Human, or Dwarf is none of your concern. All that matters is that we are not your enemies.”

At the sound of his voice, Eragon and his two companions spun around to face him. Harry lowered his hood, revealing his slitted eyes. Arya's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing.

Eragon frowned. “Who are you, though, and why are you here?”

“I am Astyan. My companions here are Zorac, and Mathias. We are here on the request of Osthato ChetowÃ¤. He asked us to retrieve Eragon, the Rider, Murtagh, the son of Morzan, Arya, Queen Islanzadi's eldest niece, and Saphira, Eragon's Dragon. He asks us to take you all to EllesmÃ©ra. When you are there, you will receive your Dragons and/or training.”

Eragon and Murtagh shot Arya a look when Harry mentioned her relation to the Elvin ruler, Islanzadi, but all three of them stare when he mentioned the words `Dragons' and `training'.

Eragon opened his mouth to ask another question, but Astyan raised his hand, silencing him.

“Come,” he motioned to them. “Retrieve your things and come to the center of the clearing. The Ra'zac I did not manage to kill will be on his way to UrÃ» Baen and the King. We had best be moving.”

They did so, getting back swords, knives, and bows, as well as packs and anything else that might be useful.

Eragon rode Saphira with Arya, while Murtagh was given a ride by Mathias's midnight-blue Dragon, Lasra. He sighed as he jumped onto Ashrang's back. It was cold and dark, and it was a two hour ride back to EllesmÃ©ra.

---~*~---

Bane looked up at the sky with interest. Magorian and Gedvolai stood next to him. The trees of the Forbidden Forest rustled darkly in the wind. In between the two largest towers of Hogwarts, the Red Planet rose above the horizon.

“Mars is bright tonight…” he said idly. “The brightest it's been for nearly twenty years…”

Magorian nodded. “It begins…”

---~*~---

A/N: Well. That is the long awaited Eighth Chapter. I've decided to keep the Author's Notice up, so this will be in the Chapter 10 slot, as the Prologue is considered Chapter 1, so Chapter 8 would normally be Chapter 9, but is now another ahead and is now 10…

I'm rambling.

Well.

I got a load of that Plot work done, but some is still a ways off from being done, but none of it is urgent. That shouldn't hold up the next chapter. If anything does it'll be writers block. Hopefully, I'll have that chapter out much earlier than this one.

By the way, in response to a reviewer on Portkey.org, I've set up a Yahoo! Group for this fic, where I have the Chapters posted and everything. I can also be used for a message board and polling place. Everyone who wants to join must be a Yahoo! Member (If you aren't already, become one. It's easy and you don't have to get an email address. Everything that goes through there can be rerouted to your existing email address.). I will be sending out Yahoo! Invite Emails to everyone I got an email address from in the next day or so. Anyone who hasn't gotten one by Saturday, January 22, can contact me for a URL via email. My address is posted on my Author Profile on both Portkey.org and Fanfiction.net.

If you have any Questions or Comments, please review and I'll get back to you somehow.

Regards,

SilverDagger

This Chapter Was Last Modified On - [Monday, January 17, 2005]

Number Of Words In This Chapter - [7,403]

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11. Chapter 9, Islanzadi

Hey, people… Well, this is certainly out later than I had expected. I had a bad cold for a while which hampered my efforts to get this chapter written. I was surprised, to tell the truth. It's the first of even a common cold I've had in well over a year. It's a real annoyance that I had to get it now.

After that, I got rather wrapped up in reading a few other fics that I had found on Schnoogle.com. If I ever take this long to post again, go to schnoogle.com and search for the authors `Bexis' and `Joe6991'. Read their fics. Both are fantastic.

Nevertheless, I got it done in the end, and here it is. I hope you'll all excuse me for my erratic schedule. I would have had it out last week, but my self-appointed beta is travelling to Rome, so he couldn't do an edit. Sorry for any mess-ups.

By the way, I want everyone to join the Yahoo! Group set up for this fic. Go to:

groups . yahoo . com / groups / DraconisSaga /

Just take out the spaces in the URL. I had to put it there because FF and PK have a bit of trouble accepting URLs embedded in the text. I would appreciate it if all of you sign up for it. It's free and everything and it's easier for me to put out messages to you all and for me to get replies.

Besides that, thanks for all of the reviews. Some clues even I hadn't found were pointed out to me…

And we continue with…

--

The Draconis Saga

--

Chapter 9

Islanzadi

--

Lord Voldemort walked stiffly into his private chambers. Today, he thought, had been a bad day. None of his plans were going as they should. The Germans were making trouble over whether or not to gain muggle support. They thought it would be useful. He, however, did not.

Why would they want to ally themselves with that kind of trash?

They had their uses, though, he admitted. Everyone knew how close Grindlwald had been to succeeding if it hadn't been for that muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore, and the Muggle nations of the British Empire, the Soviet Union, and the United States. That war had ended just over 50 years ago, and the world had learned its valuable lessons.

Tom Riddle would not make the same mistakes.

War would have to wait, though, for the time being. His supporters had not yet been fully mobilized, nor had his envoys to the various Dark Nations (a term used by the wizarding world to generally describe any nation of Dark Creatures) around the world returned yet. That would change, though. He would be back to his full might soon enough.

He was not pleased, though, by any stretch of the word. In order to gain full support of the Muggles he would have to ally with, he would need to grant them immunity from the purges he intended to start. It had benefits, though. Who else would rebuild the great cities of the world after the war was over?

Besides, he could always go back on his promises.

And he had work to do.

“Wormtail!”

---~*~---

The three Riders walked away from them after dropping them outside the office of the Sage. He was eager to meet with the person who had summoned him to Ellesméra, but his suspicions lingered even as he walked into the room, Murtagh and Arya following him.

They were quickly wiped away, however. The man behind the desk, working through a jumble of papers, dressed in the white robes he had seen in his dream; he was just as he remembered him. The rising sun glistened in through the windows, making the long white beard and robes of the Sage shine slightly.

He looked up as they entered, and gestured to them to sit down.

“I trust my friends found you in time?”

Eragon nodded. “Yes, they did. Thank you.”

He smiled. “Don't thank me, thank them. I only asked them to go, after all. I hope you are all well after your journey?”

They nodded. “Well enough,” Murtagh muttered.

The old Sage smiled. “Good, good. Down to business, then.”

He pushed aside his papers and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back into his chair as he did so. “Where do I start?” He sighed. “From the beginning, then.

“As you know, the King has started a covert war over the future of this world. He has possession of the last known two Dragon eggs. He is frantically trying to find the Riders for whom these dragons are destined. Until he does, he will not risk open war.

“The third egg he had had at one time is Saphira. As you probably know now, those three were not the last Dragons. Many years ago I was put on the trail of more, and, just over half a year ago, we found them. Eight more eggs were added to our side, courtesy of the long dead Rider, Forasmir, who died near the height of their power. He was an Elf, as all little ones old enough to go to school know, and his tomb was never found. Until recently.

“Using great magics that have been lost to all but a few, which we also located recently, we singled out the eight people destined to become those egg's Riders, we summoned each of them here. With the arrival of the three of you, we now have all nine Riders on our side here in Mal'daora. With each of their arrivals, we have trained each in the Riders' arts.”

He stopped and looked at Eragon questioningly. He had been biting his lip in thought.

Go on, ask him.

Saphira's amused tone snapped him out of his reverie, and he focused on the Sage.

“Who are these people?”

As the Sage opened his mouth to speak, the door at the far end of the room opened jerkily, revealing a large, white and grey leopard, which loped into the room, shoving the door closed with its tail. It lay down under the large windows behind the Sage's desk, looking down onto the city below the fortress.

Eragon looked back to the Sage, searching for an answer, but the old sorcerer did not even bat an eyelid at what he considered a highly strange scene. Instead, the Sage went on as if nothing had happened.

“They are a diverse bunch. The first, of course, is yourself. The others include an Elf from the city of Nädindel, Feramir; a Dwarf - surprising, as he is the first of his kind to ever become one - named Thrän, from the city of Dalgon; Tristan, another Human from a place I will not say, as it is far to complicated to explain where the came from. Suffice it to say that he has come from a very far off place and will not betray our cause. Then, there are the three who went after you: Zorac, a renegade shade that was dissatisfied with their ways; Mathias, another Elf, this time from the city of Osilon; and Astyan, who travelled here with Tristan.”

Murtagh frowned.

“That was seven. You haven't said who the other two are.”

Arya, who had leaned forward in her seat, spoke quietly.

“Or, for that matter, what this Astyan is.”

The Sage regarded her for a moment, before speaking.

“He is a Dexzaran.”

Arya nodded once, as if expecting the answer, but Eragon jerked in surprise.

“How could he be! Their race is extinct! It is so far back that no one can even remember what they were capable of! It's turned to legend, the things of stories, it's so old!”

“Not entirely true. There have been four known Dexzaran in the last two centuries, two of which are still alive. There was Vrael, the Last Master of the Riders, who was killed by another, Galbatorix himself. Morzan, First of the Foresworn, was another. The most recent is Astyan. There is one other, though, who has been helping the Elves for many years. His name is not known by any beyond our borders. His name is Jackob. I believe he is originally from the city of Kuasta, a secluded port city in the Empire.”

The Sage was silent for a moment. “Yes, Murtagh, your father was one of them. It was, I suspect, what made him such a formidable ally of the King. As for your question, I would have thought that was obvious.”

Arya, spoke slowly, as though she could not believe what she was saying. “There are two of us here. Are we them?”

“You are. Behind me, I have the last two eggs in the Varden's possession. They will accept you if you accept them. If you do, you will be trained in the ways of Dragon care, in their methods of fighting, and any other skills you may acquire. After your Dragons are six months old, you will take the Trials, to prove you are fully trained and to achieve your rank as Rider.”

Eragon was bursting with questions, and his mind raced through everything he had been told so fast that he began to loose his thoughts in the buzz. Finally, he asked the main question he had been mulling over.

“What sort of other skills?”

“Anything that might have come your way when you received the Ignasia. For example, you may have certain abilities, like being and animagus.”

Murtagh shook his head, confused. “Ani-what?”

“Animagus. The ability to transform into an animal at will.”

Again, Eragon threw up his arms in disbelief. “That's impossible! There aren't any words in the ancient language to transmute yourself! And, even if there were, it would use up tremendous amounts of power! You'd kill yourself in the effort!”

“It is quite possible.” The Sage turned his chair slightly, and beckoned to the huge cat lying behind him. It looked at him grumpily and gave a grunt before standing, stretching lazily, and coming over to his knee, where it sat, looking at him sceptically.

Eragon, Murtagh, and Arya stood and looked down at it over the desk, glancing at the Sage in bewilderment. Arya raised a delicate eyebrow. “What does your cat have to do with anything?”

The Leopard, to Eragon's surprise, growled at her softly and showed a few teeth before shoving its paws up on the Sages lap and facing him. It looked him sternly and grunted again. It stood motionless for a second before glancing back at the three spectators and grunting once in question.

“It's about time you stopped hiding it anyway. I'm sure they have questions to ask you.”

Before Eragon could grasp the concept of the Sage speaking to an animal that obviously wouldn't understand him, he was shocked to see the Leopard's body shift, transforming smoothly into the man, Astyan.

Harry was not pleased. Though many of the castle already knew what he was, he had never been eager to tell them who.

He shot the Sage a glare before turning back to the three newcomers and shift position to stand behind and just to the right of the Sage, his arms crossed. He frowned at the three in front of the desk, forcing them (with the exception of Arya, the elf, who had never opened her mouth in shock) to close their gawping mouths.

“Well, it's not as though you haven't seen me before,” he growled.

The Sage gave them a moment to get back to the point at hand before speaking again.

“The fact remains that I have two eggs, each destined for one of you. Momentarily, I will perform a charm to discern which is yours. When the egg hatches in about a week, you each will be put through a four month training cycle, with the exception of Eragon. You will be trained for any talents you have during that time. Eragon will also be tested for any talents. If he has any, he will be trained for them.”

He pause and addressed Eragon directly. “If you have any talents that need to be trained here personally, you will have one month. You will then be outfitted with weapons and armour before going through your trials. Astyan, who is just now going through the final stages of training, will do so at the same time. If you do not have any talents that need to be addressed, I will be helping you in the Ancient language. Again, you will share these studies with Astyan, who speaks the language almost fluently now, though there is still room for improvement.”

Turning back to the other two newcomers as well, he bent his fingers into a steeple before continuing. “Before I give you your eggs, do you have any questions?”

Eragon nodded, as did Arya. The Sage nodded to Eragon to go first.

“I'm not saying I didn't welcome it or anything, as it provided distraction, but why did the Ra'zac think that Astyan's Dragon - I'm sorry, but what was it's name?”

Harry glanced at the Sage for a second, who nodded to him subtly. “His name is Ashrang.”

Eragon nodded. “Well, why did the Ra'zac think that Ashrang was the King's Dragon, Shruiken?”

Eragon was surprised to hear Murtagh speak in answer.

“I suspect that the last time anyone saw Shruiken was many, many years ago. The King has not been out of Urû'baen in over a decade, with the exception of his visit to Dras-Leona recently. Being a member of the court-”, he spoke bitterly, glaring at his boots, “Being a member of the court, I knew that the King's Dragon had not bee seen in over fifty years, but was in seclusion on the island, Sharktooth, just off of the coast of the Empire. I doubt even the Ra'zac were allowed to see him. As such, they probably forgot the sheer size that Shruiken would been now. They probably just took you as the King on site. Who else has a black dragon? Well,” he said slowly, “Now they know.”

The Sage nodded, more to himself it seemed than anyone else. He looked up after a second and nodded to Arya. The Elf woman did not speak to the sage, though, but to Harry. He soft melodic voice was not unfamiliar to him, and it did not surprise him. Many of the Elf women who resided inside the Fortress, being members of the Queen, Islanzadi's, court, and they spoke in the same manner.

“I have not heard of these talents before, and I am interested to know what they may entail, so I ask you, Astyan: Would you enlighten me as to what talents you are trained in?”

She spoke in the Ancient Language, and he replied in kind. “I am an accomplished Animagus, as you saw. I am also now well versed in the Arts of Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as that of Metamorphmagi. I am also a Dexzaran, as you know, giving me a few more, though I wish not to divulge that information until the times require it to be told.”

She nodded once and flashed him a small smile. Eragon tilted his head, thinking.

“Occlumency? Legilimency?”

The Sage looked down at the papers on his Desk and moved one or two around. “The arts of protecting ones mind and invading another covertly.”

He pulled a long metal rod out of a pile of parchments and turned to Murtagh and Arya. “Now, if we could progress to the eggs? Eragon, Astyan, you may leave, now. There is nothing left to concern either of you. I will contact you if such a thing arises.”

Harry nodded and motioned to Eragon to follow him. Once they were out of the room, he turned to his charge. “It's early in the morning, and I don't suppose you have eaten anything for a while. I certainly haven't. Would you like to come down to the mess halls before I show you your quarters?”

Eragon nodded, and after going through a complicated set of right and left turns accompanied by a number of staircases, the arrived at the Mess. “Half of Mal'daora, that's the name of the Fortress is reserved for the Royal family and the court. That's the half on the other side of the cliffs. This side, though, is the base of the Elvin Militaries.” He indicated the many soldiers seated at the five long tables in the room. “One table for each of what was once five Elvin Kingdoms, even though they're all one nation now. It's symbolic. I believe the Queen has a five pointed crown…”

They walked over to a counter set against the wall. Behind the counter stood a bored looking cook, who nodded once to them and gave them each a tray. Astyan thanked him quietly and took the tray to the nearest table, selecting a seat next to a large window overlooking the city below them. Eragon did the same, remembering that this was the first meal he had had in over a day. Just thinking about it made his stomach rumble.

He sat down across from the Animagus, sighing as he picked up he food. He cast his mind out for Saphira and found her in the forest with two of the other Dragons, eating a catch of deer with almost indecent gusto. He shuddered and went back to his food.

As he finished, he turned to the window, gazing down at the city below him. He watched as a cloud of wood smoke drifted up from the houses below, twisting into many shapes and symbols as it floated away and dispersed on the breeze.

He cast his mind out into the world again and found Saphira lying on the forest floor in a secluded spot for a rest. He sent her an inquiring thought and she sighed mentally.

I had a large meal, little one. Now, I nap. How goes the day with you?

You did wolf down a few deer, as I remember.

She harrumphed and repeated her question.

Alright, I suppose.

I see your troubles… Some of them plague me as well. I believe we should just ask him for the truth. Who is he, and where is he from, and why should we trust him? Ask him that, but don't call me for a while. I believe it's time for me to catch up on my sleep…

He voice died down and was silent. He turned back to the Rider across from him, and was surprised to see him leaned back in his chair, watching him lazily. He locked eyes with him for a moment, and felt a chill wash over him. He tried to shake it off, but found that he could not tare his gaze from the cat-like pupils in front of him.

Eragon watched as Astyan stood up from his chair, staring at him, calculating. Eragon could tell that the Rider was sizing him up, deciding what or if to tell him. But I haven't asked a question…

Astyan smirked, and the cold feeling washed over him again. A cold voice in the back of his head spoke, startling him. It was not, he realised with a stab of fear, Saphira's voice. Haven't you?, the voice chuckled. Never catch the eye of a Legilimancer, especially when you're practically broadcasting your thoughts…

Realization struck him hard, and he struggled violently to bring up his mental shields; to clear his mind. He searched frantically for a probe, but found nothing, though he could sense it still there. What resistance he could put up was quickly quashed with a speed and violent effectiveness that left him feeling helpless and ashamed that he had presented no hindrance. The Rider's skill was higher than the twins', higher even than Arya's, though Astyan did not try and crush his mind as they both had come close to.

Do not resist, Eragon, the voice, which he now knew to be Astyan's, said, I am not here to invade your memories, but what you ask of me is precious information, at the very least. I am a friend and an ally, yes, but I must know if you are worthy of such knowledge. I have read the minds of the others without their knowledge, and I have decided they will not know who I really am for now.

Tentatively, he reached out with a tendril of thought and touched the Dexzaran's mind. It welcomed him, but every avenue of thought was guarded from him except one. He moved forward through it, but found nothing. Cautiously, he spoke through the link.

What must I do?

Astyan laughed through the link. Simple. Show me your life, and I will show you mine.

He hesitated, not sure whether to agree or decline.

The Rider spoke again. Open your mind completely, and I will show you.

He paused, and then spoke a simple word.

Ok.

He heard a muttered incantation across the link, or from the Rider's mouth, he wasn't sure. Immediately after Astyan had finished, though, the world in front of his unfocused eyes swirled, and vanished.

Blinding, infinite whiteness assaulted him, and he struggled to see. He moved forward slowly, looking around while his vision returned to normal. He was in a void, or space, or something, but there was nothing. He was surrounded by never ending white blank-ness. He was walking on nothing, but still he felt the ground.

A voice chuckled and he whirled around. Astyan, the Black Rider, was standing behind him.

“Welcome, Eragon, son of Selena and…no. It is better I don't tell you. But welcome, human, to my mind…”

Eragon's voice cracked as he spoke, and anger welled inside him. “You know the name of my Father? Tell me!”

Astyan frowned. “It is not my place to tell you. Ask the Sage or your brother if you desire to know, but not me. I have brought you here because you wanted to see my past. I have seen yours and I believe that you are trustworthy with my secret. I want your oath, though, that you tell no one unless it is imperative.”

“You have it.”

“Then enjoy the show.”

As soon as he spoke, Astyan vanished, and the world around Eragon shimmered and swirled, as if the surface of a lake had been disturbed. Colour blossomed out of nowhere and arranged itself into objects and people. All to soon he found himself inside another world. Images raced passed his vision at an impossible speed. Gradually, the images slowed until they stopped completely, except for the movement around him.

He stepped forward slightly, and moved around the room. He seemed to be in some sort of house, a fat boy was running up and down the stairs, pounding down on the wood with sadistic gusto.

“Come on, cousin! Get up! Come and see how many presents I got!” The boy gave a sneering laugh and ran down the stairs again.

A boy, no older than six or seven, poked his head out of the compartment under the stairs, but was violently thrown back in, the door slammed in his face, as the fatter one ran by, cackling. In a few long seconds, the boy attempted to come out again, and, seeing that the fatter one was nowhere to be seen, crept out, shutting it behind him.

He was a rather runty child, dressed in huge clothes and wearing cracked glasses. He walked timidly into the next room, where the fatter one was madly counting a mound of wrapped gifts set on the kitchen table.

“Forty-seven!” exclaimed the fat boy.

“That's two more than last year, Diddidums,” said the women sitting at the table, obviously the obnoxious boy's mother. She turned to the small, scruffy child standing in the door frame, and her expression hardened into one of disdain. “Get the breakfast ready, boy, and be sharp about it!”

The six year old moved into the kitchen, and got the breakfast ready, though he had to stand on a stepping stool to do it. He couldn't reach the back of the stove properly, and stood on tip toe to get to it. When he overbalanced and threw his hands out, he caught them on the bottom of a hot pan. The adults didn't even bat an eye lid.

The scene shifted to what was obviously later in the week. Again, the child was being forced to make the breakfast, even though he could barely grip anything through his bandages. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the third-degree burns cracked, opening them to the air…

Again, the colour around him dissolved, rearranging itself into what had to be a small school room, though the runes being taught were not the kind he had learnt to read, their meaning was clear enough. Five runes were set next to a picture of an apple, and all of the children were copying it down onto peaces of white, lined paper. The fat boy, Diddidums, or whatever his name was, sat across from the little boy.

It seemed to be about a year later. The fat boy was, if possible, even fatter, and the little child had grown at least three or four inches. They were just moving on to the next word they were learning when the teacher came around and looked at their work.

“Very good, Harry. That's very nice penmanship for a seven year old. Keep up the good work.” She turned to the fat boy and frowned. “Well, Dudley, that isn't right at all. Where do you see a `g' in `apple'? Try again.”

The fat boy, evidently Dudley, annoyed at being outdone waited until the teacher was looking in another direction before lashing out at the little boy, Harry. Harry raised an arm to defend himself, but the force of the blow was too strong. His arm gave a sickening `CRACK', and the bone snapped, jutting out of the skin slightly. Blood poured down the boy's arm. Dudley showed no remorse…

“That took six months to heal.”

Eragon jumped as he heard Astyan speak behind him. He turned around to face the Rider. “That was you?”

“Yes. That was just over ten years ago.”

The colour around them dissolved into whiteness again. Eragon stood stock still, his mind racing. “Your name is Harry?”

The Rider gave a sardonic smirk. “Yes. My name was Harry Potter. I've left it behind. I am no longer.”

The world around them burst once more into swirling colour, which arranged itself into a room in the house they had been before. Again, they were in the kitchen. Everyone, judging from height and greyness of hair (on the part of the adults), was about five years older.

They were eating breakfast at the dinner table, when the mail came through the slot in the front door. The large man with no neck, Vernon Dursley, Astyan had told him, his wife Petunia, and the two boys continued to eat until Vernon spoke from behind his newspaper.

“Get the mail, Dudley.”

The fat whale didn't even look up from his plate. “Make Harry get it.”

“Get the mail, Harry.”

“Make Dudley get it.”

“Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”

Harry dodged out of the way of the stick Dudley aimed at him, and went to get the mail. When he returned, he kept one of them for himself, which Dudley promptly brought attention to. Vernon took it, opened it, gasped, and then put it in his pocket, despite Harry yelling that he wanted his letter.

The colour dissolved again, reforming into a small, rickety house parked in the middle of nowhere.

“Vernon tried to escape the letters, as they kept coming, and he didn't want me to see them,” said Astyan, who was still standing behind Eragon, watching the memories with mild interest.

For the next few hours, Eragon viewed the memories of the Rider before him. When he was finished, Eragon found himself back in his body, still reeling from what he had seen of the life of the man in front of him.

“I am intrusting you with these memories because I need an ally in the Riders who knows who I truly am. I trust you will keep them secret from any living soul unless it is imperative they be known.”

Eragon nodded, and looked around him. He found to his surprise that the light of dawn was just breaking over the mountains outside the window. Cooks were bustling around the dining Hall, getting things ready for what was obviously the day's breakfast. One or two Elvin officers ate at the tables, and a few scholars sat arguing in rapid Ancient at one of the alcoves on the other side of the room.

The relative peace of the room was interrupted as the doors at the end of the room banged open. An Elf, obviously one of the Royal servants that worked in the fortress, rushed over to them. He leaned on the table, panting. When he caught his breath, he addressed them urgently.

“Eka geyl eka yhen feasd ono! Ono drá tauthr eka! Ono aíre ethgrí eom Osthato Chetowä uri du Koígrá Scedrisr! [I am glad I have found you! You must follow me! You are summoned to Osthato Chetowä in the Royal Chambers!]”

They jumped to their feet, and the same thought crossed their minds.

This had better not be a disaster…

---~*~---

Andrew Evans moved the tractor into the barn with a masters hand, parking it within a fraction of an inch of the combine harvester. He flicked off the engine, took out the keys and jumped down from the cab. He walked towards the front door of the house. He was surprised to find a man in a dark cloak waiting for him at the front door.

The man was tall and thin. He had short, closely cropped blond hair, and grey blue eyes. Mr. Evans placed him at about twenty-five years of age.

“Can I help you?”

The man turned to him.

“Andrew Evans?”

Mr. Evans nodded stiffly. “Yes.”

“My name is Julian McLaggan. I am a former Unspeakable. I'm currently holding the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. I have a message for you from Albus Dumbledore.”

Mr. Evans eyed him for a moment before opening the door.

“Come in, then.”

They entered, and Mr. Evans called down his wife, who sat down with him, looking at the visitor expectantly.

“Is this about Tristan?” Mrs. Evans said, a look of hope glinting in her eyes.

McLaggan nodded. “It is. We have investigated all leads we have, and have looked into a Prophecy made the day he disappeared.”

“Prophecy?” Mr. Evans said sharply.

“Yes. We believe that it predicted your son's disappearance along with another boy his age. We believe that it also predicts the date of his return. It also alludes to the outcome of a conflict in our world.”

“When?” Mrs. Evans said simply.

“The date is about a year from today…March 28, 1998. The Headmaster told your other son, Mark, at Hogwarts this morning.”

---~*~---

Vernon Dursley sat on the sofa in the living room of Number 4, Privet Drive with his wife, watching the evening news.

“This is the BBC World News at 6 o'clock,” said the announcer. “I'm Alistair Jameson. Thank you for joining us tonight.

“In our leading story tonight, six people have been found murdered in their home in Leeds. They were discovered in their house by a neighbour early this morning. The victims, who the police have not yet identified, were taken to the crime Laboratory at Scotland Yard for autopsy and evidence examination. A cause of death has not yet been released, and Police have said they have no new leads as of this hour, though they are investigating all possible avenues. Jonathan Harrison went to find out more…”

Vernon turned to his wife, who was reading an article in that months issue of People Magazine.

“Odd thing to happen, don't you think, Petunia? You don't think it has anything to do with their lot, do you?”

“Vernon!” said Petunia, glancing at the cracked window in the corner of the room, as though she expected Mrs. Number 6 to be pressing her ear up to the glass.

“Sorry, dear,” he said, lowering his voice, “But, do you?”

“No, I don't. At least…” she paused, frowning, “I dearly hope it doesn't.”

They turned back to the television.

“Astronomers across the globe have reported that the planet Mars has been unusually bright this season, and that it has been getting brighter still over the past month. Mars, which can be seen in the night sky quite clearly, is named after the Roman god, Mars, god of war. Analysts are stumped by the strange brightening of the planet, and are investigating the phenomenon. The last such occurrence was in the year of 1937, just over fifty years ago…”

---~*~---

As they rushed down the hallways in the Royal Wing of Mal'daora Fortress, the servants stood out of their way, some bowing as they flew past. Harry sensed the urgency in the face of the Elf servant who had come to find them, and he quickened his pace. Eragon, who followed him a step behind, did so as well.

As they rushed around the corner and into the main Royal Hall, the guards stood stiff in salute. The two guards manning the huge golden doors at the end of the hall, pulled the doors open before them without a word.

The room they rushed into was a large round one, set in the top floor of the tallest tower in the fortress. Rich green carpet covered the floor. Strange patterns woven into the carpet with golden thread made the floor a tapestry of scenes, colours, and words of many languages. The circular wall was lined with book shelves, except the quarter behind the throne, which was lined with tall windows, overlooking the vast and powerful kingdom that was ruled from this room. On the shelves stood many hundreds of old books, and still more hundreds of small jars, pots, and other priceless small possessions. About ten feet into the large room from all sides stood thick columns of white marble, positioned in a large circle around the throne, one every six feet or so. In the center of the ring stood the throne, a great work of intricately carved wood, gold and jewels of untold worth. Behind it was a long, wide desk of the same design.

They slowed to a brisk walk as they entered the room. The elf servant hurriedly withdrew, and the great gold doors snapped shut behind them with a soft thump.

In front of them, the Sage sat at a chair pulled up to the side of the desk. Around him on his side of the desk sat many elves, some in military dress, others in the uniform of the Queens advisors. Behind the desk, though, was the Queen, Islanzadi.

She looked up as they entered, obviously midway through speaking to her Council, and smiled at them. The Council all did the same, some smiling, some frowning, others with no expression at all. Harry kneeled in a bow, and Eragon, slightly hesitantly, followed suit. After a second, they looked up. The Queen smiled at them and beckoned.

“Come and sit with me,” she said, her voice soft, warm, and harmonious, “I have been wondering when I would meet you both. Osthato has told me much of you.”

They walked to the desk, and, seeing that the only unoccupied chairs were on her side of the desk, on either side of the throne, sat down on either side of her. Some of the advisors expressions turned to either bewilderment or jealousy; Harry could not tell.

“Perhaps you would like to hear why your are here?” said the Queen, slowly.

“Please.”

“Osthato, if you would, then.”

The Sage looked at them sadly. “Eragon, Arya and Murtagh are mostly loyal to you, as they have not yet met the others. Astyan, you, on the other hand largely hold the loyalty of Zorac, Mathias, Tristan, Thrän, and Feramir for much the same reason.

“Thus, by meeting with you, the rest will quite likely follow your Orders later. The reason were all here is a serious one. Spies in the Empire have reported that the King has ordered four thousand of his troops to go to Ceunon, and ten thousand Urgal troops to move down from their nations in the north. Scouts on the borders have noted this, and it seems that they have arrived at Ceunon already. These fourteen thousand troops have been amassing at the border. We suspected before now that the Empire may be amassing the army to attack Du Weldenvarden.

“We were proved correct. We received an urgent report from our spies in Urû'baen with the information that the King had a Council of War today, something he hasn't done in over twenty years. They have also noted that messengers were sent out to Gil'ead, Ceunon, and Belatona, where the majority of the Empire's Army is kept. It is clear what is happening. Galbatorix is planning on invading Du Weldenvarden and Surda any time now.

“We must decide what to do. It is that simple.”

One of the Elves sitting at the table spoke slowly and quietly, “As I was saying, we must send messages to our allies. Surda, and the Boer Empire must know at once, and I'm sure that the Zelarians would appreciate knowing what is happening in the Empire.”

Many of the people around the table nodded, others stayed impassive. Another Elf, this one in a military uniform spoke. “I agree, but the main problem is closer to home. What are we to do about the threat to our borders?”

One of his colleagues, also in military dress, spoke next. “The answer is obvious. We must mobilize the troops at Osilon. They will be enough to bring an invasion to a standstill if they are mobilized in time. If they aren't we will only be able to stall it. If the Enemy gets past the Pass of Jade and Kii'l Roth, we will only be able to slow it down.”

The Queen spoke. “Is there any more we can do? I will not willingly take Du Weldenvarden to war unless there are no other options.”

“There aren't any,” said a stern Elf in the fortress uniform. “War is the only way we can survive. Peace is out of the question, and a continuation of the status quo would only lead us farther along the road we've been on for over a century, and if we do that, the only possible outcome it the eventual decline and destruction of our race.”

The Queen sighed, and suddenly she looked far older. “Then so be it. To war we go, then. But how? We haven't the strength to destroy the entire Empire's Army, and the Urgal nations as well.”

Harry, who had been listening with his chin in his hand, spoke. “Then don't stall them until we can gather the forces to fight back.”

The elf who had spoken last before the queen, looked at him thoughtfully. “The spies we have in the Empire have said that the total troops there number just over eighteen thousand. The Urgals are another story. As far as we have been able to gather, they have something in the order of eighty thousand. You know them—everyone in the entire nation fights, but only some of them join their army. These are the only ones willing to fight for the Empire, though. Only three of the fifteen clans have joined the Empire. The rest have just opted to stay in the North.”

The Queen spoke softly, “What is our current force?”

One of the Elves in military dress spoke. “We currently have twenty-four thousand soldiers based in various places. Ten thousand are based in Osilon. Eight thousand are based in Kirtan, two thousand in Sílthrim, and four thousand in Ilia Fëon.”

The Sage nodded. “And our allies? What of them?”

“Surda is currently at ten thousand. The Boer Empire is at sixteen thousand. Zelaria, though, has more than all of us at sixty-seven thousand. They may not want to interfere, though. Not unless we can persuade it's worth their time, or the Empire attacks them.”

Islanzadi looked at each of them before speaking. “Very well. We must hold off an invasion until we can rally our forces and contact our allies. That is, of course, if the Empire does decide to invade. All of you are dismissed except the three of you.”

She indicated the Sage, Eragon, and Harry. They others nodded, stood, bowed, and made their exit. When they had, she looked over at the Sage. “On to other matters. How are our Riders coming?”

The Sage opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off. “We are doing well. Training has almost finished for myself. Eragon will be tested tomorrow to see if he has any talents that must be trained. If there aren't, then he and I will take our Trials in two weeks. If there are, It will be set back to another two weeks afterward. The others will be finished in about three months.”

“Then the times of old are finally fast coming from the future. I have not met a new Rider for over a century. It will be an honour to host the next generation here in Du Weldenvarden.”

Eragon looked up. “Brom always said that the Varden were always fighting over who would control us. Aren't you as well?”

The Queen smiled sadly. “Brom was right. There are people of the court here that would desperately love to control a Rider, and the same goes for the other nobles and lords of the other countries that are members of the Varden. I am not one of them, though. I am much older than I look, and I remember the Old Ways. I know what the oath you take after the Trials states. I do not meddle with that.

“It is my belief that after you are trained, and the Empire defeated, if we can manage that, then it will be time for the countries to unite again, and for the Old Ways to come back. I will help you in any way I can. Firstly, Vroengard must be restored to its former power. Then, just maybe, we can move into another Age of prosperity, without the mistakes we made in the past.”

She sighed. “I get ahead of myself, but I have awaited the time when that could happen most of my life. When I was much younger, I met Vrael, and the sense of peace he gave us all, and the power his Order held that kept use safe and happy were extraordinary. When I became Queen of the Elves not too long afterward, he was present at the coronation. He spoke to me afterward, and made me promise that whatever happened to me, I would always strive to keep the Riders' Order in power, so that the peace and prosperity would always continue. I will keep my promise.”

---~*~---

The Dark Tower

Bulgaria

March 31st, 1997, 6:30 pm, Zulu

The room was made of black marble; the long table and chairs of dark alder, and with the exception of the moonlight, streaming through the window at the end of the room, it was pitch black. A lone figure stood at the end of the room, his hands on the window sill, watching the night below him.

At the other end of the room, two high doors of the same wood as the table opened, and three men walked into the room to stand at the end of the table, looking at the lone figure at the other end of the room, who did not move.

The figure spoke in a soft, deadly voice. “Report, Andrea.”

“It has been done, my Lord. Germany and the others are yours to command.”

The figure turned slowly around, and waved his hand lazily at the room around him. Candles set in brackets along the wall and in candelabras along the table erupted to life. Their black flames illuminated the room in evil, tainted light. The figure's face was lit up, revealing the scarlet, slitted eyes, the snake-like nostrils, the pale, scaly face. Lord Voldemort smirked.

“See that they are…”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The man turned to leave, and the Dark Lord turned back to watch the dark night outside, his eyes fixed on the road that lead to the fortress walls.

“Andrea.”

The man turned back to face the cruel joke of a man near the window.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“See that our new arrivals have the proper…accommodations…”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Death Eater swept from the room into the torch lit hallway beyond it. The doors slammed shut behind him. Lord Voldemort, terror of over 33 years, bane of the Wizarding world, turned back to the window, and looked down. Below him, the Fortress teemed with activity. The Fortress covered an entire small mountain, built into the side of the rock, with catacombs running throughout the giant natural monolith. A Lake spread out on all directions from the Mountain, It's water, black as the night around it, lapping up at the base of the tainted stronghold built above it.

A single, wide bridge, of the same stone of the fortress spanned the distance between the Fortress and the Lake side. Lord Voldemort watched as four hundred trolls began to cross the bridge. No longer were they the stupid excuses for animals they had been for so many years. Now, they were cunning, smart brutes; the brawn of an army the world had not seen in over two thousand years.

The Darkness had taken hold of the world once more, and everyday, it washed like a sea over the world, beginning to cover all it came across. It lapped at the feet of them all. It gave no visible threat. How, after all, could you drown a civilization in an inch of water? This they said and brushed the threat aside.

But every day, the tide rose a little bit more, and one day, it would drown all it found.

Lord Voldemort laughed into the night…

---~*~---

A/N: That, ladies and gents, was Chapter 9. I hope the wait was worth it. I had meant to put this out last Friday, but I ran into a bit of a clinch with a plot item that just wouldn't work with the rest of the fic, so I had to edit it out a bit. That is why it's up today.

Now, I have nothing much to say, really aside from the fact that I want everyone to join the Yahoo! Group for this fic. I mean Everyone, by the way. No exceptions. Again, the URL is:

http:// groups. yahoo. com/ groups/ DraconisSaga/

Just take out the spaces. I had to put them in because FF.net and PK.org won't accept Links. Besides that, I want feedback from all of you willing to give it. It helps. A lot.

Chapter 10 will be out as soon as possible, and I will work on it as fast as possible. In the mean time, read, review, and do it again.

Until the sun sets upon a broken world…

Regards,

SilverDagger

Last Modified - [Monday, March 14, 2005]

Total Words in this Chapter - [7,956]

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