And I'm baaack! Though, it really hasn't been that long... but, you know, it's still a bit much.

So, I won't be boring you here...

Enjoy.

CHAPTER THREE: Meeting for The First Time

Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant. Usually, when it will have the greatest impact on our lives.

-Nadia Scrieva

Pain.

"There is a proper way to greet the sentinels in Ceris, certain patterns and forms that you must observe when presented to Queen Islanzadí, and a hundred different manners in which to greet those around you, if it's not better to just remain quiet."
"With all your customs," Eragon risked saying, "it seems as though you've only made it easier to offend people."
A smile flickered across her lips. "Perhaps."

Every muscle, every fiber in his body was pulsing with the damned pain. He was sick of pain. For the past two years he felt nothing but pain, emotional and physical alike. He wanted it to stop. He didn't want to feel it anymore.

"It's impossible to go through life unscathed. Nor should you want to. By the hurts we accumulate, we measure both our follies and our accomplishments."

The back of his mind registered faint sounds, like breathing, snoring, occasional sighs, brushes of chairs against the floor and indistinct talking. But they seemed so far far away.

Then, as they stood there, struggling back and forth without avail, Eragon said in a low fierce voice, "I...see...you."
A bright spark appeared in her eyes, then vanished just as quickly.

He shifted ever so slightly and felt something soft underneath him and at once, his mind panicked. He was not supposed to be on a soft mattress. He was supposed to be in the deep blue sea or on a rocking ship on his hard mattress or even floating in the middle of air, just not here, in the middle of unknown surroundings with unknown sounds.

"Arya." He looked down the silvery river and then back at her, and he gripped the hilt of Brisingr. He was so full of emotion, he trembled. He did not want to leave, but he knew he must. "Stay with me-"
Her gaze darted up. "I cannot."
"...stay with me until the first curve in the river."
She hesitated, then nodded.

No, no, no! His mind was in a frenzy.

Where was he? He snapped his eyes open faster than a normal human could blink. An odd sight greeted him. He was in an infirmary ward, that, he was sure of. It was half dark, no lights were on, but the sun outside and his superior eyesight allowed him to see clearly. His gaze swept over beds, some of them draped, some of them not, over big door - he immediately identified them as an exit -, and at last over a trio of teenagers that were standing next to his bed, discarded chairs behind them.

"Madam Pomfrey," called one of them - a boy, that is, not a chair. He had big bright green eyes and unruly black hair. He was rather skinny and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, though it was partly covered by his hair. "The boy's awake!"

An older lady with grey hair and blue eyes rushed out of a smaller door, her face set in a frown. She was at Eragon's side in an instant, her eyes blazing worryingly. Eragon tried to sit up but she pushed him back on the bed and shoved a bottle with a liquid of ruby red color in his face.

"Drink," she ordered.

He frowned, his eyebrows meeting, forming a shape of V. He had no time for such foolishness. He needed to find-

"Saphira," he croaked out, his voice hoarse, but he couldn't care less.

"Pardon?" inquired the other boy of the trio. He was tall and had fiery red hair and freckled complexion.

"Saphira," repeated Eragon, this time louder, clearer, but more for his sake than the redhead's.

He was already sitting up, his legs swung over the edge of the cot. He was about to stand up and bolt out of the door, when he found something restraining him. He looked down and saw his hand chained in a thin stream of yellow light. Despite the situation he'd found himself in, he had to resist the urge to smile. If they thought they could stop him with that, they were clearly underestimating him. Quite a lot.

"Kverst," he muttered and the stream broke.

The teenagers and the lady looked at him in shock and fear, but, again, he couldn't care less. He stood up again, this time without any restrainement and he bolted out the door. He felt a numb pain in his torso, but he ignored it. Only one thing was on his mind.

Saphira.

His beautiful, brave, proud, wise, fierce, vain, witty Saphira, but most importantly, his Saphira. She was his constant companion for months, she was his soulmate. He had to find her before something happened to her.

He could feel that their connection was slightly cut, meaning she was probably unconscious. He would've known if she were dead, but to his greatest relief, she was alive - her mind was at the edge of his consciousness, pulling him towards her location. He stopped, closed his eyes and steadied himself, breathing in deeply, calmly and reached for their bond. He grasped it and let it guide him to Saphira. He followed it blindly, not knowing where it led him, but he knew it was the right way. He raced through hallways not caring about the world around him. He finally came upon a big gate, that were closed. He felt himself reaching for his magic and even before he gathered it, the spell was alredy on his lips.

"Ládrin."

The gate burst open in a second. He rushed forward, taking no notice of the four people following him or of their shouts after him. He ran as if his life was at stake and, in a way, it was. It was halfway to the dark forest in which he knew Saphira was that he felt her.

Eragon!

Saphira's worry, fear and apprehension washed over him, mingling with his own, making Eragon pause momentarily.

Are you alright? he inquired.

I've been better, she answered, rage creeping into her voice. There are some two-leg-

She suddenly stopped talking and her mental roar echoed through his mind. His worry increased. He tried calling her but she didn't answer. He was already running forward, even more desperate to get to Saphira before someone seriously injured her - or she them, for that matter. In less than ten minutes, he was at the edge of the dark forest. He stopped as the wind howled, as if it was warning him from entering the forest. He glared at the dark trees, shook his head and charged at the darkness.

Harry used to think himself fast. But now that he watched the older boy in front of him run like Morgana herself was at his heels, he had to admit to himself that he maybe wasn't the fastest person ever. The boy - that had just disappeared in the Forbidden Forest - could definitely outrun him.

"Where are you going?" Yelled Ron after the boy. "You can't go into the Forbidden Forest! The dragon's in there!"

It didn't have the desired effect. If more, the boy seemed to speed up, his lean form vanishing in the darkness of the forest. Harry was sure he didn't even realize he was shirtless. Harry, Ron and Hermione were forced - though tempted would be more appropriate word - to follow. Madam Pomfrey trailed behind at slower pace but still a fast one - she was responsible for the boy, after all.

They raced through the forest, trying to keep up with the strange boy, but they had no such luck. He was way faster than them. Nevertheless, the motivation stayed and they got to their destination way faster than the last time. But, the sight before them - once again - made them pause - not that they minded, considering how fast and how long they ran.

The dragon was awake.

Oh, it was very much awake and very angry. It was breathing blue-yellow fire all over the clearing, its heat exceeding the heat of normal fire by hundreds of degrees. The only thing that kept the older two wizards and witch alive, was the shield that Dumbledore conjured up between the dragon and themselves. That and the fact that the dragons' paws were trapped in some kind of earth-trap-spell that one of the Professors must've cast. It could not move anything else than its head and neck. It couldn't roar either judging by its furious expression as it opened its jaws and no sound came out. A strong silencing charm, he supposed. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape were slowly approaching it, shooting stunning spells towards it. Not one of them was reaching it. The dragon always shot a stream of its fire forcing the caster of the spell to jump away and thus, missing the target of the spell. But the dragon was tiring quickly and the three proficient wand-wielders were slowly getting to it. Whether the dragon liked it or not, it was losing. Or at least it did until...

The boy burst into the clearing not even a minute after them - Harry supposed he got lost on the way -, his right hand raised, a silver oval-shaped mark shinning on it. His brown eyes were darkened in anger. The trio raised their wands.

"STOP!" He growled through clenched teeth. Harry didn't know if it was from pain or rage. "Let her go!"

So the dragon was a she. Good to know.

When none of the people on the clearing moved the boy let out a growl. "I said, let - her - go!
"Or I'll do it myself! And believe me, the consequences won't be pretty!"

Bruises on the left side of his chest looked even unhealthier under the dimmed sunlight and his left arm was uselessly dangling next to his body, but Harry had no doubt that whatever he had in mind would be true to his words.

Unfortunately, Snape didn't think so. "What will you do? Will you shine light on us?" He taunted with a sneer, his greasy hair ruffled and seared.

The dragon's eyes glinted viciously and it - she - raised its - her - head to strike.

But the boy was faster. "Gladly," he snarled back. Silver mark on his palm shined brighter as he cried out a single word, "Brisingr!"

A fireball of the same yellow-blue fire the dragon controlled shot out of his hand and headed for Snape. The Potions Master managed to get a magical shield in front of him just in time, but it still sent him stumbling back.

The boy shouted towards the others next, "Thyrsta!" and all including Hermione, Harry and Ron were sent flying backwards.

Meanwhile, the boy turned around and said a word others failed to hear and the earth traps that held the dragon trapped vanished. But unfortunately for him, the trio got up really fast and shot curses at him. Everyone of those was wasted as they were stopped by the dragon pushing the boy and herself out of their ways. The boy turned around again, his dark eyes flashing and face frowning. He raised his hand, the mark starting to shine again, but he never uttered the spell. His dark brown eyes met Harry's bright green eyes and they both lowered their hands.

"You're just children," the boy said quietly, his eyes softening ever so slightly as the dragon relaxed just a bit.

"So are you," retorted Harry, offended by the fact that he thought him a child after all he'd been through. He had to remember that the boy didn't know.

Before the boy could respond, Snape stood up and sent a wordless hex towards the dragon just as Madam Pomfrey rushed to the scene.

"Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed as the dragon soundlessly - the silencing charm was still affecting her - roared in pain because of the gash that Snape made over her chest.

It wasn't deep but it was long and was bleeding quite bad. Now, the boy was furious. His eyes flashed in such pure rage that all took a subconscious step back. He shot a three fireballs in a row towards the three Professors and sent a gust of a wind towards the other four, knocking them out of the way. The dragoness whipped her tail towards them, her eyes narrowed to slits. The Professors, however, were tough. They stepped out of the way and shot spells back.

"Stupefy!"

"Sectumsempra!"

"Protego!"

The boy was once again pushed out of the harm's way by the dragon, the red light and white light - shot by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape respectively - hitting her cheek while the three fireballs bounded off Dumbledore's shield and missed her. One of them grazed the boy's abdomen, though, and he hissed in pain.

"Letta!" he barked out and Snape was frozen. The boy seemed to dislike the Potions Master the most. But he wasn't done yet. "Kausta!" He continued and waved his hand.

Seven wands flew to his feet - Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey, Ron, Hermione and Harry's. He said the former word again and all the other six found themselves frozen as well. The boy closed his eyes, as if concentrating on something.

And then came the pain. Harry felt something cut through his head, no, his very mind and he heard himself scream. Out of the corner of his eye he saw others try to hold their heads and heard them scream. Suddenly, he felt memories flood his mind.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Not his parents' death, no! He didn't want to hear it again!

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead —"
"This is my last warning —"
"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... Not Harry! Please — I'll do anything —"

Not that, no!

"You're a freak!"

He wasn't!

"Your mother died to save you."

He knew that! He was going to die now and her sacrifice will go in vain...

"Harry Potter must NOT go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year!"

He wanted it to stop!

"You're a Parselmouth! Why didn't you tell us?... Now the whole school is gonna think you're his great-great-great-grandson or something."
"But I'm not! I can't be."

Were others screaming as much as he did?

"I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!"

He wanted it to stop...

"I never betrayed Lily and James. I would have died before I betrayed them."

Of course Sirius didn't betray them... Wormtail did...!

"Kill the spare!"

No! Not again! He didn't want to see Cedric's lifeless eyes staring at emptiness again! He started fighting the memories once more.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son. Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

... Stop...

"We're not going through clouds! We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

That something in his mind was digging deeper.

"He's not a child!"
"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

He had not much energy left to fight the memories flooding his mind. He suddenly found himself flailing in midair, the magic holding him subsiding and whatever it was in his mind slowly starting to retreat. Coughing and a soft voice reached his ears.

"Saphira... stop... they... don't kno-" The voice coughed again.

"Cornelius, I implore you to see reason! The evidence that the Dark Lord has returned is incontrovertible!"
"He is NOT back!"

"Th-they were... jus'..." More coughs. "...prot-tecting t-themselves..." The coughing was extremely hard now and Harry found himself worrying for the person's health.

"HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF …"

Now the memories were almost distant, like long-not-heard-but-never-forgotten voices and the voice talking was stronger.

"Stop."

"I am very much looking forwa-"

The memories stopped as abruptly as they had begun. Harry opened his eyes and found and odd sight in front of him.

The boy was no longer standing tall and strong as he did before. He was on all his fours and coughs were wrecking his body. One of his muddy hands was in front his mouth trying to stop the blood that he was coughing out and a small puddle of blood formed under him. Skin on his abdomen where the fire grazed him was red and raw.
The dragon was standing over him protectively, her head snaked around the boy and her eyes wide in worry. She gurgled softly.
The wizards and witches' wands were still laying next to them. The boy's coughs finally somehow subsided and he raised his head. He eyed them warily, but he did not attack again. Nor did the dragon. He leaned onto the dragon's paw and observed them. Harry massaged his temples in attempt to relieve the stranger spoke a few minutes later.

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was hoarse from yelling and lack of water, but they could all tell it was relatively deep, slightly musical and had light northern accent. "For-for attacking you," he coughed out blood again.

Harry slowly stepped forward, caution in his every step.

"Harry, no!" Hissed Hermione.

He didn't listen to her. He continued until he stopped a bit over three feet in front of the stranger. The latter offered him a small smile.

"You're a brave one," he said, a curious glint in his eyes. "Harry, right?"

The said boy was taken aback. The boy couldn't possibly hear Hermione say his name. She spoke too quietly. Harry nodded, still aghast. The stranger looked at the dragon pointedly, she let out something that sounded like a sigh and rolled the wands closer to the boy with her snout. He picked them up and offered him to Harry with a neutral face.

"You can take them, you know," he said after Harry hesitated. "I wouldn't be offering them to you if I didn't want you to have them back.
"And I would appreciate it if you took them. My ribs aren't agreeing with my movements."

Harry carefully took the wands from the boy's hand and the latter quickly let his hand drop with a sigh of relief.

"Why did you attack us?" Harry asked curiously.

The boy let out a dry chuckle. "When you live through what Saphira and I did, you strike first and then ask questions. It is a simple instinct of survival."

"Then why did you stop? We didn't say anything that made you sure we weren't your enemies."

Your memories spoke for yourself, young one.

At the alien voice in his head Harry flinched and jumped back, looking around franticaly. From the corner of his eye he saw others do similarly. The boy just seemed torn between exasperation and anger.

"Saphira!" he scolded with a glare for the dragon. "You know you can't do that. They don't know you can't speak!"

"The dragon can speak?" Dumbledore asked, watching the boy over his half moon spectacles.

I most certainly can.

It was that voice again. They were more prepared for it that time, but they all still flinched.

And my name is Saphira. I would appreciate if you called me by it.

Dumbledore recovered first. "Greetings, Saphira. I am Albus Dumbledore."

"We know," answered the boy. He gestured to the others. "You're Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley-"

-Minerva McGonagall, Poppy Pomfrey and-

"-Severus Snape."

Their eyes, Harry knew, were wide as saucers. How could they possibly know? They didn't even know them and yet, they knew their names. It was Ron, however, that voiced their thoughts.

"How did you know?" He asked incredulously.

Like I said, your memories spoke for yourselves, hatchling.

"Y-you were the ones that triggered the review of our m-memories?" asked Hermione.

"It was the easiest way to determine if you were our enemies or not," answered the boy.

And, we were angry.

"There is one thing we don't understand, though," frowned the boy in confusion. "You have strange titles."

"Titles?" asked Dumbledore politely, but Harry could tell he was somewhat puzzled.

"What you have after your names. Most people call me Shadeslayer," he paused to massage his torso. "Or Kingkiller."

"You've slayed a shade?" sneered Snape mockingly. "What an accomplishemet!"

Neither the boy nor the dragon - Saphira, her name was Saphira - responded to his remark. The others ignored it as well.

"We use surnames here," explained Hermione.

"Yes, it stands behind our name and it helps us determine our families. Usually, if you have the same surname as someone else, you belong to the same family."

"Oh." The boy's face brightened considerably. "Then you can call me Bromsson," he said as he stuck out his hand for them to shake. "Eragon Bromsson."

So, I've made myself a deadline for this chapter and I didn't stick to it (bad EA4E, bad). But I really wasn't that late beacuse my deadline was yesterday. It was actually my birthday, sooo...
Anyway, I kinda liked writing this chapter. It most cerainly was interesting for the characters ;)

Answers to your reviews:

Peyton: I'm glad that you find it interesting. I hope that Saphira's (and everyone else's) reaction(s) were satisfactory to you. And to your questions - yes, I do plan on taking this through Deathly Hallows and I don't really have and update schedule (as you can see).

Guest reviewer: Thank you for your wishes! I have the last test tomorrow (I should probably go learn xD) and I hope you liked this chapter.

Love,

EA4E.