Brisilliamus chapter 1
I don't own Harry Potter, or Eragon. They are the brain child of Jk Rowling and Christopher Paolini.
Enjoy.
Harry ducked as the sinister green light of the Killing Curse soared past him. Cursing, Harry thrust out his wand and sent a Stunning Spell towards Rodolphus Lestrange.
For weeks, Harry and several senior aurors, including Ron, had staked out and planned for this raid. All the planning, the careful study by himself and the aurors had not included the small army Lestrange had on his side. The reports had indicated five or six in what had been the Lestrange Manor. Upon their arrival however, they had entered a very heavy firefight. In seconds, half of the twenty aurors had been brought down by the Killing Curse Curse.
The table in the conference room was covered in notes, reports, maps and other things needed to organize their raid against one of the last, and worst, of the Death Eaters.
"Remember, Rodolphus Lestrange is not to be taken lightly. We have him on numerous counts of murder and use of the Cruciatus Curse against aurors, civilians and muggles. Everything indicates that he is unstable." said Harry. "Any questions?"
Ron raised his hand. "Are there any snacks? I'm hungry."
It had the desired effect and the aurors seated around the table laughed. Ron's insatiable appetite was notorious and everyone felt some sympathy for Hermione.
"Don't worry Ron. We'll see that you are fed."
There were no other questions.
"Excellent. All of you take tonight and tomorrow off. Report here at 21:00 hours. Dismissed." said Harry.
As Harry thought back to all their preparations and planning, he thought that plans never worked out as they were supposed to.
Harry heard a strangled yell as Procter, one of the younger aurors, was hit with a Slashing Curse, the curse almost cutting him in half. On the other side of the dark room, he heard Lestrange laugh cruelly.
"You will not take me alive Potter!" he said.
Really, thought Harry, the man is as crazy as his wife was.
Harry shot another Stunning Spell that was deflected almost too easily. A Killing Curse brought down another auror beside Harry. With a shout, Harry leapt from behind the pillar he'd been using for cover and charged Lestrange. He was done trying to take the man. He would destroy him. Like the firing of a machine gun, he sent stunner after stunner at Lestrange.
"Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy!"
None of the spells hit the Death Eater.
"Stupefy! Reducto! Bombarda!" Harry shouted. Nothing got through the shield that Lestrange had erected. Fury raging in his veins, Harry raised his wand once more, but before he could cast the spell on the tip of his lips, he heard another shout. The worst yet, because he recognized the voice. He turned to see Ron take a Slashing curse that left a huge gaping wound from the middle of his chest to his hip. Harry abandoned the spell he had been about to cast and roared the curse he swore he would never use.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green light rushed forward, shattering Lestrange's shield, and the man stumbled, blood on his face now. But the curse had not killed him.
"You have to mean it, Harry... " words Voldemort had said during the Battle at the ministry drifted through his mind.
"Avada Kedavara requires a strong bit of magic behind it." The imposter Moody had said also.
Rodolphus Lestrange's shock fell away and he began a complicated motion with his wand. Harry tore his eyes from his injured best friend and said again, wishing the Death Eater dead, " Avada Kedavra!".
At the same time, Rodolphus bellowed "Mitte ad Alagaísia!"
A bluish light raced towards Harry before he could duck, even as the green light struck Lestrange in the face and dropped him, dead, to the ground. Harry felt a jerk around the naval like that of a portkey and next thing he knew, he was whisked away.
It seemed to take forever for him to stop spinning, but then he was suddenly slammed into the hard, unforgiving ground, and amid a cloud of dust, was immediately sick. As the dust began to subside, Harry's head reeled, and he passed out flat on his back.
Eragon watched as two of his students, a large Urgal ram named Kraz, and an elf named Datra, raced each other on their dragons. Of the two, it was surprisingly Kraz's huge purple dragon Grutz, which meant Big in the Urgal language, that was faster than Datra's silver-blue dragon. Eragon called out some instructions mentally to his students, then commented privately to Saphira, 'They have become amazing Riders.'
'Yes they have. Oromis and Brom would be proud of you little one.'
Eragon felt pride at the praise, and knew she was right. His father and his mentor had taught him all he knew, and he had striven to impart that knowledge. The eldunari had helped too. Eragon felt his hair ruffle, and a split second of a thought later, recoiled and brought Brisinger to bear as a crimson sword whipped past his head.
"Too slow brother!" Eragon said, turning to see Murtagh standing at the ready.
Much to his surprise, a year after Eragon had left his home in Alagaisia and settled in Alié, Murtagh had shown up astride Thorn with four new riders. An Urgal, two dwarves, and an elf. Since then, he had become a teacher as well for the new riders. Their numbers were now around fifteen Riders.
For the next several minutes, Eragon sparred against Murtagh to no avail. They were too evenly matched still. Before they could re-engage however, a violent concussion filled the air and a blast of blue light blew outward in the middle of the training field. Stumbling, Eragon and Murtagh coughed through the cloud of dust that rolled towards them. Cautiously, they approached, and in the epicenter of the blast they found a man unconscious. He had jet black hair, brilliant green eyes behind a pair of spectacles, and he was dressed in a red and black robe. Beside him was a thin stick of wood. But the most curious thing about his appearance, was the thin lightning shaped scar on his forehead.
"Barzül!"