AN: Well, I was looking around for Inheritance/Harry Potter crossovers, and I was unable to find anything that really suited my needs. No big deal, I guess. I decided to just write one of my own. :) This is a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, so, even though I do have a good idea of the plot and such, not everything is completely thought out. That means probable slow updates.

This takes place after Order of the Pheonix, and Eldest. At first, I was just going to make it seem like the world of Eragon and the actual world (with wizards and muggles) were the same world, but I knew that would be so incredibly incorrect that it would probably annoy many people, so I'm going to have Eragon travel in between "worlds".

Now, on to the story!

Of Wizards and Dragon Riders

Prologue

Nasuada leaned heavily on the railing that trailed up the large staircase. She was exhausted. Galbatorix had a dragon rider, and another dragon egg that could hatch at any moment, on his side. This was extremely bad news for the Varden. Eragon had set off with his brother on some rescue mission. Though he promised he would be back soon, she had no idea how soon "soon" was.

The Varden had come up with a plan. A risky plan. One that had less than half a chance of working, and if it didn't work, would most likely mean Galbatorix would win.

It was not so common knowledge that the Dragon Riders had the ability to travel between worlds. It was even more of a secret that another world, so different from their own, held people, many people, with magical skills. Magical skills that far exceeded what their own spellcasters could accomplish. If they could contact these people and convince them to help the Varden, there was a chance they could win.

But, if Eragon did not successfully and completely transfer himself to the other world, both he and Saphira could die.

Nasuada shook her head slowly. She didn't know what to do. She would have to talk to Eragon, as soon as he came back.

But how soon was soon?

As it turned out, soon was very soon. Eragon sat on top of Saphira, along with Roran and an extremely frightened looking Katrina. She hadn't been very difficult to rescue. She had been placed in a lightly guarded cell, with no one but a few urgals standing watch. No Ra'zac. Roran tried to soothe Katrina -- she had never been anywhere close to this high in the air -- while Eragon became lost in his own thoughts.

Murtagh was alive. Murtagh was a dragon rider. Murtagh had betrayed him.

Murtagh was his brother.

Eragon squeezed his eyes shut.

"Zar'roc should have gone to Morzan's eldest son, not his youngest."

Eragon's stomach lurched as he felt a wave of nausea hit him.

He unconsciously reached for the scar on his back, feeling nothing but smooth skin. He was not like Murtagh. He would never be like him.

He unsuccessfully tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The sky was grim, lightning flashing through dark clouds, though there was not yet any rain.

He sighed, and felt Saphira's warm presence in his mind, comforting him.

Do not dwell on this for too long, little one.

...Yes. He said, after a long pause.

He opened his eyes, the color of Saphira's scales speckling the brown. They glowed in determination as his mouth set itself in a thin, strait line.

He would kill the Ra'zac, and end Galbatorix's evil rein over the land. If he should run into Murtagh again, it would not be his own misfortune...

...but his brother's.

Harry Potter sat on his small bed, books, parchment and quills scattered around him. Thanks to Moody's warning at the train station a couple month's ago, the Dursley's had been too scared to lock away any of his things, so he was free to do his homework, thankfully.

At the moment, though, he wasn't paying the least bit attention to his homework. His back was propped up against the wall beside his bed, and his eyes were closed.

He reached up and absently rubbed his scar, which was painfully tingling. His thoughts drifted to the ministry of magic, Sirius, his outburst in Dumbledore's office, and the prophecy.

Neither can live while the other survives...

So it was killed or be killed.

Well then. He better get ready to kill.

He opened his eyes slowly, and if anyone else had been in the dimly lit room, they would have been startled to see an eerie green glow shining from his eyes.

AN: So, how do you like it so far? Please leave feedback, whether it's good or bad, I don't really care. Constructive criticism is something I actually like to get, so don't be shy!

Oh and just so you know, I eat flames for breakfast. -Grins-