Chapter Four – Destiny's Next Hand

The two figures dressed in black stood with their arms crossed, staring through their hoods at the man they had tied to the chair, wondering who he was. He was an old man, with greying hair and a now-indiscernible facial expression, due to the fact that he was unconscious. They had tortured him badly, using the Seithr oil, but he had still refused to cooperate. They had no new information, aside from the fact that the stone had been brought here.

With a slight groan, the old man awakened. The Ra'zac did not move, or change stance. They merely stared at him with unreadable expressions; unreadable, because their faces were completely hidden in shadow, a fitting place for the foul creatures.

'So, you rejoin us…' the taller monster hissed silently.

The man's breathing came out in ragged gasps; he was struggling to stay alive. The oil must have burned parts of his lungs and trachea.

'I'll…never…tell you…anything,' he panted.

The smaller Ra'zac leaned over and gripped his throat. 'Oh, but I'm afraid you will…' It brought his eyes up to meet its own, hidden abominations. 'You will…'

Three months earlier…

Life in Carvahall had taken a turn for the better in Harry's case. He was now fitting in with the rest of the townspeople perfectly. He wore the clothes that they did, bought his supplies from the merchants, and socialised primarily with two of them: Eragon and Roran. He didn't laze around, either; on the contrary, he worked day and night, helping Garrow with his farm and exercising regularly.

He did this for two very good reasons. Firstly, it allowed him to get into shape properly. He may be stuck living in Carvahall, but he wasn't living in a tent, either. He was healthier than ever before, in terms of both eating and keeping fit. He hadn't been too bad in Hogwarts, as opposed to Privet Drive, but in Hogwarts the food was very heavy, and no one ever really burned it off, not even the Quidditch teams. After a few weeks of his pre-established routine, he put on a few kilograms in weight. However, he didn't let it store as fat, preferring to burn it off and allow it to spread out slowly. Soon, he looked less like a skeleton, and more like a living person. The second reason was simple: it helped to keep his mind off of home, although he was continuously missing it less and less.

That, in turn, had a reason behind it. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy. Not only because he knew Voldemort was gone, but also because he was free of rules, limitations and boundaries. True, he did not tell anyone other than Eragon about his magic, but he was now free to practice it in peace. At one time, in what seemed like another lifetime, he was content when he had first arrived home, at Hogwarts. However, this outweighed even that. Other people, such as Ron, might have felt differently, but Harry wasn't one of those people. That was the only thing that caused his happiness to remain incomplete: the noticeable absence of Ron, Hermione and Ginny. If the four of them were there together, Harry would have been the cheeriest man in the universe. Voldemort's curse was actually looking quite tame now.

As it stood, however, he was forced to make do without his friends and try to survive alone… sort of.

The day after Brom had spoken of the Dragon Riders, Eragon had knocked on Harry's front door frantically, as though hell itself were chasing after him. Harry had opened it quickly, wondering what was going on. It was the crack of dawn. As soon as he opened the door, Eragon rushed inside, carrying a bundle of rags in his arms; a bundle of rags that appeared to be squirming. A soft humming noise was emitting from the bundle.

Eragon made sure the room was empty, then turned to Harry, panting. It appeared he had run the mile-long distance.

'Harry… forgive me for barging in like this… but, I need your help,' he said very quickly.

'Whoa, whoa!' Harry said hastily, holding his palms up. 'Slow down, will you? You look like you're ready to drop dead!'

Eragon grinned. 'If I can carry you from The Spine to Carvahall, I think… I can manage,' although he did take a few seconds to regain his breath. The rags appeared to move again. Eragon looked down at them, almost pityingly.

'You're not going to believe what this is,' Eragon murmured. He hesitated, then set the armful of rags down on Harry's kitchen table, and slowly opened them out. Harry instinctively recoiled as soon as he saw what was beneath them. It was a sapphire-blue dragon, with a fairly triangular head, and a dignified composure. But, that wasn't what caught Harry's attention; instead, his eyes were focused on the line of spikes running down the dragon's spine, and the very sharp-looking white claws. He took a step backwards.

'Eragon… where did you find… it?' he asked slowly, not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

Eragon looked up at him, with pleading eyes. 'Promise me you won't tell anyone,' he begged.

Harry looked at him determinedly. 'I won't… if you answer my questions.'

'Okay,' he replied hastily.

Harry took a deep breath. 'Where did you find it?' he repeated.

'The blue stone.'

'The… the what?' Harry asked, not immediately catching on.

'The blue stone; or, rather, blue egg,' Eragon explained.

Harry felt a rush of self-blaming fly into his conscious mind, and absent-mindedly smacked his fist against his forehead.

'How didn't I see it earlier?' he muttered, more to himself, than to Eragon. 'I've seen a dragon egg before,' he announced, 'over seven years ago.'

'That's a long time... maybe you'd just forgotten what they looked like,' Eragon suggested.

Harry shook his head, holding his hand in place for a few seconds, before looking up once more. 'You don't ever forget something like that, especially because I was forced to fight a different dragon a few years later.'

'You had to fight one?' Eragon exclaimed.

'It's a long story.'

'Oh. Listen, I have a favour to ask of you.'

Harry raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that he could manage to raise only one. 'What is it?'

Eragon hesitated. 'It's- well, I… Look, I can't keep it in my home; Garrow would never allow it. I'd make it a good shelter in the forest somewhere, but… I was hoping you could help me out, instead.'

Harry was shocked. 'You want me to raise a dragon for you?' he burst out, perhaps a little too extremely.

'No, no, not raise, just look after,' Eragon dismissed quickly. His time was limited, else Garrow and Roran would note his peculiar absence. 'I'd bring it food myself. I wouldn't ask you to use that much. It ate an entire armful of meat a while ago!'

'Yeah, I'm very aware of their eating routines…' Harry said with a touch of sarcasm. 'However, you don't have to worry about that. I can't make food appear, but, if you can bring me some, I can increase its quantity to as much as is needed.'

'Yes, that's no problem,' Eragon said quickly. Harry smiled at his friend's demeanour.

Harry sighed with an air of finality. 'I will look after it, but not forever. It'll grow too big to be kept in this house in a few months' time. When that happens, we'll have to think of something else.'

'We? Don't you mean: me?' Eragon asked causiously.

Harry shook his head. 'No, I'll always be there to help, mate. You saved my life... and after the tale Brom told last night… well, I don't think I could ever forgive the king for his atrocities against such magnificent creatures. The dragons from my own home are wild and untamed, but those of Alagaësia sounded completely different.' Harry spoke wisely, truthfully not knowing where his words were coming from. They just seemed to pop into his mind completely naturally. He was unsure of what to do a few minutes ago; nevertheless, after remembering Brom's story, he made up his mind. 'I promise you,' he continued, clasping Eragon tightly on the shoulder, 'that I'll help look after… err… what's its name?'

'I don't have a name yet,' Eragon admitted. 'I was going to go and talk to Brom tomorrow and see if he can give me any ideas. Besides, I don't know if it's a he, or a she.'

Harry removed his hand. 'Have you checked?'

'Yes, but I couldn't tell.'

Harry felt slightly awkward at those words. 'You do know how to tell, don't you?'

Eragon flushed slightly. 'Of course. I just meant that I couldn't see... anything. It's possible it just won't… err… show up, until the dragon's fully grown.'

'Okay, I'll take your word for it,' Harry said quickly, hoping to change the topic. 'Eragon… what's that on your hand?' he asked, noticing a mysterious silvery-mark on his palm.

'Oh, I don't have a clue,' he replied, holding his hand up and examining it curiously, as though he had only just noticed it. 'It appeared after I first touched the dragon.'

'You touched it?' Harry exclaimed. He shook his head in disbelief. Even though Brom's story had touched his heart greatly, he would always remember his own experiences around dragons in the Wizarding World. They were feral creatures back home, and he would be wary of any he encountered in Alagaësia, no matter how majestic they appeared to be. He certainly wouldn't have just touched one.

'It was scared, and I was trying to reassure it,' Eragon said defensively. 'Besides, it seemed docile, and it hasn't harmed me... I think.'

'You think?'

'Well… it did hurt when I felt it, but I don't think it was the dragon's fault. It was just a surge of energy shooting through my body.'

Harry almost laughed at the way he said "just a surge of energy" as though it were the most common thing in the world. After his own experiences, Harry certainly wouldn't have been as nonchalant as that.

'Maybe that's a link they have between them…' Harry wondered.

'A link that who has?' Eragon asked.

'Dragons and their Riders; don't tell me you didn't make that connection.'

Eragon looked shocked. 'Are you saying that I'm a- a Rider?'

'So, you didn't make that connection, then?'

'Well, I considered it; but, I was only toying around with the idea.'

Harry stood up straight. 'Well, you can stop toying, because I think the idea just became very real.

A whirlwind of events, unexpected discoveries and the task of helping look after a dragon occupied Harry's attention for the next two months. The dragon (Saphira, Eragon had named her), was both rowdy at times, and very subdued at others. Eragon had discovered it was a "she", due to a seemingly-modified version of Legilimency, whereby he could interact with Saphira's mind, as well as those around him. Not that Harry didn't trust Eragon - it was quite the opposite - but he had begun to deploy occlumency as soon as he had learned of Eragon's rare gift. For Eragon, it appeared… effortless.

Harry had never been a good Occlumens, probably due to the fact that Snape had been the one to teach him. However, he was now free to calm his mind at his own leisure, and soon discovered that Occlumency was much easier than he had first believed. After some practice, it became as simple as thinking there were barriers surrounding his mind, and there really would be. It would undoubtedly require much more concentration and strength if he was attempting to resist someone employing Legilimency, but for the moment that was not the case. He had Eragon test his defences one day, and was happy to realise that he could tell automatically if someone was attacking his mental barriers. Eragon promised him he wouldn't intrude without permission.

That didn't surprise Harry in the slightest; Eragon was unlearned in any form of magic, and the new connection appeared to unease him. What disturbed Harry was what Eragon had said the previous day: 'I think you should know: Saphira can understand me. She can even speak back to me... she practically chose her own name.' That freaked Harry out at first, but then he started to think about the Riders of old, and realised that they must have communicated with their dragons in some way, and vice versa.

There must be an incredibly strong bond between dragon and Rider; otherwise, Galbatorix wouldn't have gone mad after his dragon died. What we do to dragons in the Wizarding World and how we treat them is completely wrong, he eventually concluded. In truth, he thought that the idea of using dragons for sport was barbaric, as was gouging out their eyes and chaining them up underground, as they did in Gringotts. He now felt a large amount of sympathy for Hermione's organisation, S.P.E.W.

House Elves are slaves, dragons are beasts… God, I could stay here and be happy, he joked. But... was he really joking? The more he thought about it, the less-funny it seemed, and the more the idea appealed to him. Eragon is a Dragon Rider. He'll have to either go up against the king, or join him, and I seriously doubt he would never join that honour-less bastard. He'll need my help when the time comes.

His mind wasn't the only thing that had changed in that time, either. Harry was now a much stronger person, weighing a respectable amount of weight and exercising constantly. He enjoyed the hard work on Garrow's farm - it gave him a great experience of how real life could be. If he had never arrived in Alagaësia, he would have undoubtedly had some different experiences, but that thought was now little more than a dream. As well as all of that, his hair grew even longer than it normally was. He hadn't gotten it cut since after the Battle of Hogwarts, until he decided enough was enough and cut it himself. His first result was disastrous; he had borrowed a pair of scissors and a mirror from Eragon and had sat down, without the slightest clue about what he was doing.

When he stood up twenty minutes later, his hair was cut in random places around his head, looking like a hedge that had grown completely wild. Realising how ridiculous he looked, Harry scowled and picked up the scissors again, determined to do it properly even if he had to sit there all night. Two hours later, he was happier with the results, although he wouldn't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon.

Eragon's life had changed dramatically in recent times, for obvious reasons. He now spent a great deal of time with Saphira, whether exploring the woods with her or merely speaking to her and listening in return. Sometimes, Harry would be with them, which was a good thing occasionally and a bad thing at other times. As Saphira grew, the link between their minds also did, and both were reluctant to open their minds to anyone, even Harry. However, after a time, Saphira decreed that she trusted Harry as much as Eragon did, and thanked him deeply for helping to raise her as a hatchling. In acknowledgement of this, she opened a link between her mind and Harry's, so they were able to talk directly. Of course, it wasn't the same as her relationship with Eragon; she did not allow emotions or thoughts to drift across the barrier, for which Harry was grateful. He did the same thing.

It took several days, but Harry was eventually able to recognise Saphira's consciousness, and she his. Eragon and Harry had already established a link between the two of them, so this formed a metaphorical triangle between the three minds. Although reluctant at first, Harry had become so fascinated with this form of magic that he reached out with his mind every night, just for the mysterious out-of-body sensation. Eragon hadn't taught him directly, only told him what it felt like and how he was able to do it. There had been some difficultly for a while, but, after endless hours of practising, Harry had been able to smash through the interior barrier that had previously encircled his mind.

One night, Eragon had seen fit to deliver some bad news. It was an hour until midnight, when Harry was lying in bed. He felt Eragon's presence outside his mind, and lowered the barriers encompassing it.

'Harry, are you there?'

'Eragon?'

'Who else?'

'I don't know', Harry admitted humorously.

'I know it's late, but… would you feel like talking for a while?' Eragon asked hesitantly.

'Well, yeah, but technically this isn't "talking", per se.'

'Seriously, though.'

'Okay…' Harry frowned to himself. Something must be up, he thought to himself.

Eragon sighed across their mental link, seeming lonely and depressed. 'Roran's leaving,' he said finally.

Harry was surprised. He had come to know Roran well and also called him a friend, so it upset him as well. He had always thought Roran would stay behind to help out until the next harvest.

'Why?'

'He was offered a job as an assistant smith in Therinsford,' Eragon said bitterly. 'He got the job two weeks ago, and is leaving tomorrow. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, only… I just came to terms with it myself.'

Harry nodded, but then remembered that Eragon couldn't see him. 'Perfectly understandable. I always liked to be alone when something was getting me down, as well. It's a problem I had difficulty overcoming.'

'Why is it a problem? It gives you time to reflect on your thoughts.'

'Because you get addicted to doing it,' Harry said gently, 'and it isn't good to keep your thoughts and emotions bottled-up all the time.'

'I'll remember that.'

'Good.' There was a slight pause, then:

'How's Saphira?' Eragon asked.

'She's doing well, no change since you asked me half an hour ago,' Harry said, smirking.

'I just got a little worried,' he said defensively. 'I haven't been able to contact her in that time.'

'She's sleeping, I think.'

After Eragon had asked Harry to help look after Saphira, Harry had added an extension onto the house, whereby he created a room for her to sleep in. Using magic, he tried out the trick Hermione had used on her beaded bag, and the Weasleys on their tent – he added a feature to the room, which made it bigger than it looked from the outside. That way, Saphira could grow comfortably for a few months, and would still be able to fit inside the "den". The task had taken him two days to complete, although it had definitely been worth it. When standing in the room, it was the size of the Gryffindor common-room, but from the outside it looked… well, didn't look "anything" from the outside, if that made sense. In order for the spell to work properly, there had to be a barrier shielding the room or object in question from plain sight, otherwise the human brain wouldn't be able to comprehend what it was seeing. For that reason, there was a door that always remained closed, unless someone was entering or leaving the room. Harry didn't know what the effects of looking into that room from the outside would be, and didn't particularly want to, either.

'Very well. I'll let her rest. How are you doing?'

'Pretty good, actually. I'm not missing home at all anymore, except for that girl I told you about…'

'Ginny was her name, am I right?'

'Yes.'

'I'm sorry, but I'm sure you'll get over it with the aid of time and some hard work.'

Harry chuckled. 'Yeah, I probably will... maybe I can find someone else to fall in love with.'

'Well, there are many women out there, even in Carvahall.'

Not willing to talk about this any further, Harry changed the topic quickly. 'I think I'm going into town tomorrow. I need some new plates.'

'Did Saphira break your old ones?'

'No, I just felt like blowing something up.' He could have repaired them easily, but fancied the idea of a long walk.

'Hmm... sometimes I wish I could break whatever I'm standing beside as well.'

Harry felt Saphira's mind brush alongside his, as did Eragon. 'Little one, is that you?' she asked wearily.

'It is,' Eragon replied, sounding much happier already.

'I'll think I'll leave you in privacy,' Harry offered. 'I'm tired, anyway.'

'Goodnight, other little one.'

Harry smiled and shook his head, before departing from the link and re-defending his mind. Silently, he lay there and allowed sleep to overcome him.

'So, what do you think of him now?' Eragon asked Saphira.

'Knowing little of your people, and your culture, I would be slow to judge. However, I have to say that he strikes me as a kind, honest and loving person. I like him,' she replied in her calming "voice".

'I agree with you on just about all of that, except for the part about my culture. I like to think I know quite a bit about it.'

'Perhaps, but maybe you still have much to learn.'

'As do you.'

'As do we all, little one. Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.'

The next day Harry awoke promptly at dawn, planning his excursion into Carvahall for later during the afternoon. After dressing, he headed outside, yawning widely. However, as the first of the Sun's light ht him that fine morning, he got the urge to go straight into Carvahall and just walk around for the rest of the day. He barely had time to consider the option before Saphira flew overhead, making him jump.

Looks like she can still fit through that window. After building the den, he had installed a rectangular gap in the wall, so that Saphira could fly in and out at will.

He reached out for her mind carefully. 'You made me jump.'

'Too bad. I'm going to go hunt.'

'Hmm…' Harry wondered why she was acting so uptight. Probably because she misses Eragon, he thought. No matter how much I look after her, I will not, and cannot, ever take his place. He shrugged and headed back into the house, already planning his trip into the village.

I wouldn't particularly want to, either.

Eragon awoke hours later, planning to talk with Roran before he left for Therinsford. However, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he was unable to talk with him properly until they entered Carvahall to meet with Dempton, the miller. Eragon found him friendly enough, but was unable to harbour any good feelings towards him. As far as Eragon could see, it would have been better if the man had never arrived in Carvahall.

'You must be Eragon,' he said, extending his hand. 'I would of course offer you a job as well, but I'm afraid Roran has got the only one available. Perhaps in a year or two, eh?'

Eragon gave an uneasy smile and shook his hand, remaining silent.

'Very good,' Dempton said, before returning his attention to Roran. He began to explain how his mill in Therinsford worked.

'They're ready to go,' Horst interrupted, gesturing at the table, where several bundles rested. He beckoned to Eragon and left the smithy. Curious as to what Horst wanted, Eragon followed him quickly into the street. He noticed a pile of destroyed crates, and silently wondered what had happened to them.

'What do you think of him?' Eragon asked.

'Dempton? He is a good man; I'm sure Roran will do fine with his help. But, that isn't what I want to speak to you about.'

'Oh?' Eragon asked with renewed interest, raising an eyebrow. Horst put a hand on his shoulder.

'Lad, do you remember that fight you had with Sloan?'

'If you're asking for payment for the meat, don't worry; I haven't forgotten,' Eragon assured him quickly.

'No, I trust you, lad,' Horst replied, waving a hand dismissively. 'What I wanted to know is: do you still have that blue stone?'

Eragon felt his heart flutter apprehensively. Why does he want to know that? Maybe someone saw Saphira! With a forced sense of calm: 'I do, but why do you ask?'

'As soon as you return home, get rid of it. Two men arrived here yesterday; strange fellows dressed in black and carrying swords.' Horst shuddered. 'It made my skin crawl just to look at them. As soon as they arrived, they started asking people if a stone like yours had been found, and were at it again today.' Eragon felt his face whiten with fright. 'No one with any sense said anything – they all know trouble when they see it, BUT, I know a few people that WILL talk… eventually.'

Eragon's voice trembled. 'Thank you for warning me, Horst. Do you know where I could find them now?'

'I didn't warn you because I thought you needed to meet those men! You need to leave Carvahall. Go home.'

'All right,' Eragon said, to placate the smith. 'If you think that I should.'

One hour earlier...

Harry sat in Morn's tavern, trying his first ever glass of ale. He had turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and had planned an earlier trip than this, but there had been much to do. He didn't even tell Eragon it was his birthday, although he didn't really know why. He raised the glass to his lips for a third time, hoping it would taste better now. Mercifully, it did. The beverage wasn't quite up to the standards of Butterbeer or Fire-Whiskey, but it was fair enough. Rather than sit with anyone, he chose a seat at the bar, not planning to stay long. He was the only one to sit there.

He had given in to his love of the countryside, and had decided to walk into town much sooner than expected. It was probably a little early for drinking ale, but who would judge him?

After finishing the first drink, he decided to have another. What was the harm in that? Halfway through the glass, two mysterious figures in black cloaks entered the tavern and headed towards the bar. The chattering of the townspeople did not die away, but it lessened somewhat. Harry looked around interestedly, straightening his glasses.

They looked around them several times as they walked, then simultaneously brought their eyes around to meet those of the barman, Morn.

'Innkeeper,' the tallest one hissed, 'we have a few questions for you.' Harry felt his skin tingle with goose-bumps as they spoke. Carefully, he focused his hearing on their conversation. They were standing about five metres away now, opposite Morn.

'Y-yes?' Morn asked nervously.

The smaller figure leaned in closer to the bar. 'We are looking for a blue stone, which we believe was brought here several weeksss ago.'

Harry shuddered at the way he… no, it, said "weeks". Whatever these things were, they weren't human, and they knew about the egg, which meant that Harry had to do something. He reached cautiously for his wand, which was stored in a pocket on the inside of his shirt; one that he had created. He leaned further over the bar, so it wouldn't be obvious what he was doing. Morn gave his terrified response.

'I- I'm afraid I know nothing of such an object, and I know no one that does,' he said, a little more bravely.

The smaller creature hissed lowly, causing Morn to take a step backwards. It drew a sword quietly from its sheath. Morn paled.

'I would hate to think you are being untruthful… because things would become unpleasant for your establishment,' it threatened. It raised the sword and pricked Morn's neck, who backed up against the wall. Harry withdrew his wand and rested it on his knees, whilst everyone else continued with their drinking, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

'N-now t-that you m-mention it, I think I d-do know someone that can h-help you,' Morn said quickly, looking absolutely petrified. 'T-the b-b-butcher, Sloan, I think he k-knows a thing, or t-two.' He turned his head sideways as the sword was raised higher, but then relaxed as it was withdrawn.

'I hope, for your sake, that you aren't lying to usss,' the smaller one said, then replaced its sword and beckoned to its companion. Together, they left the tavern. Quickly, Harry sat his money on the bar and followed them outside, leaving Morn standing there, looking like he had stared Death in the face and just barely survived.

The day was still and calm outside, but nobody was in the streets. Either they were starting the day's work, or just awaking from the previous night's sleep. Harry was surprised to find the tavern open at all, let alone almost full.

He barely had time to look around for the creatures, however, before a blow to the back of the head sent him flying across the ground.

He quickly jumped to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in the back of his skull. The two of them stood there, looking at him. Quietly, they drew their swords and slowly advanced, side-by-side. Harry knew they didn't want him dead, else they would have killed him from behind. They were merely trying to intimidate him into surrendering.

Harry smiled solemnly. If that was the case and they weren't just being honourable, they were in for a surprise. He raised his wand quickly.

'Expelliarmus!'

A jet of red light erupted from the tip of his wand and hit the smaller creature directly in the chest, sending it packing into a pile of crates. Screaming, the taller one ran at him, brandishing its sword.

'Incarcerous!' The creature dodged his attack with lightning-fast reflexes, twisting around the ropes like a snake.

God, I hate snakes, Harry thought. 'Stupefy! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!' But no matter what he tried, the creature avoided his every move. He was slowing it down, but that wouldn't last forever. In fact, at that exact point, it put on a dash of speed and charged at him. Feinting casting a spell, he strafed left and swung his leg around, cracking the creature straight in the chest, where it collapsed to the ground, stunned.

He was slightly surprised at his technique and reflexes.

Lucky it wasn't wearing armour…

Harry stared down at it in disgust, wondering just what the hell it was. He made a move to reach for its hood and pull it back, but didn't get very far. The one he had hit earlier chose that moment to smack him in the back of the head with the pommel of its sword, knocking him out cold.

Harry awoke with a groan, feeling an awful pain coursing through his body. He cleared his vision by blinking, first noticing that he was in Garrow's home. Secondly, he realised that he was tied down to a chair. He could hear one of the two creatures talking behind him.

'Oh, but I'm afraid you will…' It seemed as though it moved something. 'You will…'

'He is awake,' the other one declared.

Silently, the both walked around to Harry's front, and stood there, watching him.

'So, you rejoin usss… magician,' one of them whispered. 'You hoped to defeat usss? It is impossible… we are the Ra'zac, and we hunt your kind!'

Both Ra'zac looked at each other, before the taller of the two withdrew Harry's wand and examined it closely.

'Your weapon is a mysterious one. Where did you obtain it?'

'At a garage sale in Croydon, I think. Actually... I think it was lying in my attic a few years ago.'

The smaller Ra'zac punched him in the face, hard. Harry's head was forced around violently. Wincing, it brought it back to its normal position, and sat a mouthful of blood onto the floor at their feet.

'Go to hell,' he spat.

The small Ra'zac withdrew a small flask from its cloak and held it up for Harry to see clearly.

'Seithr oil,' it declared, as though it meant something to Harry. 'A most effective form of torture, if used correctly. Would you like me to ussse it?' Its taller counterpart held Harry's wand to his eye, as though trying to see down it. Harry seized his possible one and only chance.

'Not particularly. Imperio!'

When nothing visible happened, the smaller Ra'zac laughed loudly, in a hoarse voice. Harry laughed as well, raising his eyebrows.

'Funny, isn't it? Now!' Knock him out! Harry commanded. The taller Ra'zac raised a powerful-looking fist and struck its brother in the back of the head, toppling him over… again.

Untie me!

Powerless to resist, it brought out a short, silver knife and cut the ropes that bound Harry's arms and legs. He stood up and took his wand back, before stunning it directly in the face. Noticing Garrow for the first time, Harry ran over to his chair urgently. He recoiled as he saw dark, angry-looking burns covering his face and clothes.

Those monsters. Quickly and carefully, he released the farmer and carried him outside, unaware of both Ra'zac stirring. He leaned over and inspected Garrow's wounds, finding them very, very bad. Grunting from the exertion, he carried the old farmer outside.

Why didn't I ask Hermione about those healing spells? He thought furiously. He jumped as he heard a loud crash inside the house, and brought his wand up to meet the front door.

'What the-' he exclaimed. The house was on fire. Rapidly, both Ra'zac came sprinting outside and bolted off down the road, avoiding Harry's stunning spell.

Bloody hell, they're fast! He watched them disappear around the corner, then stored his wand inside the pocket of his trousers once more. He glanced at both Garrow and the house. Deciding that Garrow was more important, he threw him over his shoulder and headed quickly for Carvahall, keeping a watchful eye for the Ra'zac.

'Eragon! Saphira! Where are you?!'