Traveling my Way?
A/N: Ok-chapter 5 now in action! Finally, Harry gets his memory back, but what about him in 'our' world? How are the others going to react to his sudden 'absence'? And why is Belgarath so worried? Ok, I admit it, I'm making some of these questions up just to get you curious, but who knows? These questions and everything else might start getting answers in this chapter. Please r/r.
The typical note of no one belonging to me, blah, blah, blah. I think I might just buy the copyright for them anyway in the distant future. ^-^ hehehehe
Chapter 5-Peek-a-boo! Guess Who?
Belgarath had been sitting in front of the fire at Polgara's house, trying to figure out how to continue with this issue. It's been about a month since Garion's visit, and he hasn't gotten any further than what the Orb had responded to. His greatest efforts were those of trying to watch this Harry Potter person, but he couldn't find him. Only a boy who fits the description, and causing his friends to faint every time he says his name. What was it again? Oh yes, Draco Malfoy.
"Now what are you dreaming about, Old Wolf?" asked Polgara, who was adding the finishing touches to this evening's dinner of a rabbit stew.
"Not much, Pol, just thinking about this Harry character," he answered, still staring into the fire. "Why haven't we heard about him earlier?" he asked, interrupting the deafening silence.
Polgara looked at her father then answered, "possibly because you were trying to do the smart thing for a change in ignoring anything new, when you should have continued with the stupid thing and continued not listening to us."
Belgarath turned in his seat to glare at his miffy daughter. "Did Beldin really have to teach you such sarcasm?"
"Why father," she said, looking her most innocent, "you also helped with the lessons."
The old man shivered and turned away, getting closer to the fire. "Don't smile like that Pol, it makes it feel like winter is inside the house without the door being open."
"Anything you say father," she went back to the stove and continued with her cooking.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Poledra stormed in with a nervous looking Eriond behind her. "Please be reasonable," the young god was asking the wild haired woman. "He honestly just is a little confused with himself."
Poledra stopped in her tracks, and turned so swiftly on Eriond that her skirts literally went flying and stared him directly in the eye. "So tell me," she began in a slow and quiet voice, "is this the right person or ISN'T IT?"
"This is the right person," Eriond said, slightly wincing at her raging form.
"Then why does he always go back and change himself to DRACO MALFOY?" she demanded.
"Mother, whatever is the matter?" Polgara came and asked, frowning at the possibility of her mother being in such a rage without her father's interference.
"Polgara, dear," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "could you bring us a cup of tea and a blanket for the poor boy?"
Now Belgarath had gotten out of his seat to go and examine the odd boy standing in the doorframe. "Who're you?"
Before he could even answer, Poledra was taking charge and shouted "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT ANSWERING THAT QUESTION!"
Belgarath turned and looked at his wife in amazement. He was the reason his wife was in such a fit? This Boy? Belgarath looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "What did you do?"
"He has done absolutely nothing," Eriond answered, interrupting the boy once more. "Poledra is just losing her patience with him, that's all."
"Why?"
"He's a tad bit confused about who he is."
"Aren't we all?" he said, looking skyward.
"Yes, but, he can't really seem to get his name straight. Or anything from his past as a matter of fact."
"Boy," Belgarath said, beckoning him to come forward, "What's your name?"
"Harry Potter," he said with a great rush, trying to avoid anyone else taking advantage of interrupting him again.
Belgarath just stood there for a moment, dumbstruck at what he had just heard. "You're Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
" 'The' Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived?"
"Well, I-"
"Harry Potter whose enemy is Voldemort?"
"Um, yes, I guess so."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Belgarath shouted at the already confused and dazed boy.
Harry began feeling dizzy and was rocking slightly on the heels of his feet. Wait, wasn't his name Draco Malfoy?
"His memory is a little scrambled," Eriond apologized. "An outer force has been attacking him for a couple of days now, so he's been exposed to that danger also."
Polgara had finally calmed her mother down to the point were she could sit and drink her tea in peace. "I think I will retire early this evening," she said, sniffing slightly. "He is going to be your responsibility for the next days, Old Wolf."
"What?" Belgarath didn't understand why he should watch him. "Why?"
She looked at him directly with her golden eyes and said, "he might hold the gift, but he surely doesn't know how to use it."
"What does he use?" he asked in wonder.
"Brooms like a devil's witch, and sticks with fancy words like the snake's tongue. He really needs proper teaching if we want to fly to the Isle of Winds to make it on time."
"But why me?"
After the cold stare Poledra had placed upon him as she was rising to go to bed, he let it drop and accepted without another thought. "I'll help you teach if you want to, Belgarath."
"Whatever." Then, he too, also went to bed.
"Um," Harry interrupted. He was still standing in the doorway, his back exposed to the night. "Uh, have any of you possibly seen my glasses?"
"Didn't Eriond give you better vision?" Polgara asked, looking at Eriond accusingly.
"He did," Harry began, "But I miss the feeling of having something across my nose."
"Let's all just get some rest, why don't we?" Eriond suggested, trying to keep the peace within the house. "It's late, and we can figure out what to do tomorrow."
* * * * * * * * *
The morning was dawned bright, with the sun rising over the hills with a pale rosy peach tint within the sky. Harry was lying on his back, thoughts flooding over in his mind. -what happened?-
He had the strangest feeling that he was always called Draco, but yet in still he hated him. Did he hate himself if he was Draco? But then where do Harry Potter and Voldemort play a role within his life?
"Harry," a cheerful woman's voice comes from the door, "Breakfast is ready. Go wash your hands."
The voice is so calming. Is that his mother? No, the picture of his mother in his thought doesn't really match the voice. More like a sister, yes. But the sister seems so cruel and doubtful and secretive. What happened?
"C'mon Harry, you have to go and get ready for lessons."
Lessons! School! How could he have forgotten? "I'm coming!" he called, and as he got up to put on his school robes, he noticed where he was. A place made out of wood, the bed in the corner cushioned out of hay, but still topped with pillows. And a new green tunic with black tights laid out across the back of his chair for him. "Ron?" he called. He needed someone familiar with him. What was wrong with his memories? "Ron!"
"Whatever are you shouting for dear?" The lady with the gentle voice appeared in his room. Harry could not help himself but to just stare at her in amazement. She was beautiful, radiant, and had a majestic air about her. "Do quit staring like a fish trying to think dear, it doesn't help at all."
He finally regained his senses and asked, "Where am I?"
The lady turned to look at him and asked, "You don't remember?"
He shook his head helplessly. He really didn't want to disappoint her.
"Well, that's quite alright," She said, went outside of the door and called, "Eriond!"
"Yes ma'am?" came a voice from the distant that, too, seemed very familiar.
"Could you restore something quick? I have to finish breakfast."
"Coming," and sure enough, a young man appeared and smiled as he saw Harry. "Good morning," he said, still seeing no trouble cross his peaceful face.
Harry nodded his greeting.
"The poor boy's thought has gone out again. If you don't mind."
"Certainly," and the man strode over to where Harry stood and touched his scar with the tip of his finger. With a slight prod to his thoughts, Harry's memories washed over him like a tidal wave of pictures with mumbled words, becoming clearer within seconds.
When he opened his eyes, he remembered. "Eriond!"
"Very good. Now get dressed," Polgara said, and walked back towards the kitchen.
"What happened?" Harry asked Eriond, as he was getting his clothes on.
"You had a slight memory fade there," he replied, taking a seat on the stool next to the fireplace in the room, his back towards Harry.
"What kind of lessons was I supposed to be getting?" he remembered Aunt Pol calling him to hurry for lessons.
"Well, first we're going to let you move things with your mind, then we'll let you change into an animal."
"WHAT?" Harry thought he didn't hear right. He knew levitation spells, but telekinesis? Shape shifting? At HIS age?
"C'mon, let's go eat," Eriond wasn't prepared for another day of outbursts of rage after yesterday. The beginning was well, but after Harry's continuous wavering memory, he didn't know if he could take any more of it.
Harry followed Eriond to the kitchen, which seemed to have grown in size since last night. "Good morning," Durnik greeted them. He was out last night, coming from the travel of guiding Urgit back home.
"You haven't been introduced yet," Polgara said as she saw Harry's politely confused look. "This is my husband, Durnik."
"Good morning, sir," he said, not too for sure of how to reply.
"No need for formalities," he laughed.
"What's for breakfast?" Belgarath came in from behind Harry and Eriond, looking around curiously.
"Bacon and Boiled Eggs," she said, laying out the last plates.
"Lovely," he said, and sat down to help himself.
"Now father," Polgara began.
"I washed my hands already, Pol," he said defensively as he was getting a helping of Bacon.
"I know, I saw what a mess the washroom was in."
"Then what?"
"Your lessons begin today."
"Oh boy," he said, and began eating.
"He needs to learn the word and the will."
"Why can't he just stick with the word and the twig with herbs inserted?"
"Because he needs to fly."
"Why don't you teach him?"
"If you don't mind feeding the chickens, washing the walls, the clothes, the dishes, the floor, the windows, weeding the gardens, sweeping the back, and reorganizing the house, ALL without magic, then of course I will teach him," she said, adding a smile to the end.
"I think I'll start with moving the rock," he said, looking away.
"Brilliant Idea, Old Wolf."
"Harry, are you already done eating?" Belgarath asked in amazement.
Both Eriond and Harry had been eating while they were having a father/daughter argument. "Yes."
"Well then, father, you'll have to take your breakfast with you."
"Whatever."
Harry heard a rushing surge and heard Polgara whisper 'portable'. Instantly the food was wrapped up inside a napkin and placed within a basket. "Here you go," she said, still smiling that chillingly sweet smile.
Grumbling, Belgarath led the way out of the house and Harry followed, continuously looking back. Polgara just smiled and Eriond gave him a wave of confidence as they were heading into the morning sunrays.
* * * * * * * *
After walking for what seemed to be hours through the vale, they stopped in front of a huge white boulder, which just sat in the middle of the grass.
Belgarath sat down in the grass and said," move it."
"Where do you want me to go?" Harry asked in confusion.
"No, no, no. I meant move the rock."
"How?"
"How would you normally move a rock?"
Harry just stared at him for a while, then walked over to the rock. -move it, he says. Give me instructions, I say-
-Your wish has been answered.
Harry jumped. He knew he talked to himself sometimes, but did he ever have that kind of a girly voice in his head?
-You said you wanted a guide. So don't go around and start hurting my feelings, the voice snapped at him.
-Woah, he thought, this is seriously like the twilight zone.
-Actually, I'm here to help. So, are you going to move the rock or not?
-Yes.
-Well then, get a move on already!
Harry put his hands against the rock and began pushing with all of his might, but it wouldn't budge.
"Is there a secret to moving a rock?" he asked Belgarath after 5 useless minutes of pushing up against a boulder.
"Now that you mention it, there actually is."
-Great, now he tells me.
-Well, you could've asked earlier.
-Do you mind?
-How can I? I am your mind! Loser!
-Why me?
-Is that a popular question amongst guys or something?
"Tell me, what do I have to do?" he asked Belgarath, ignoring the voice in his head.
"Well, you could try telling it to move," Belgarath said, now lounging in the grass, staring around dreamily.
-Did he just say I'm supposed to talk to the rock?
-It did kind of sound like that, didn't it?
-I thought you were supposed to help me?, he asked with dripping sarcasm.
-And that's what I'm doing.
-So, what do I do?
-Tell it to move!
Fine, he thought, I can't get any more weirder. "Move!" he shouted at the rock. But it was still sitting there. "I said, MOVE!!" No change. "Please move?" Still no effect. "Belgarath!"
"What happened?" he said. Looking around in panic. "Did you already move it?"
"It's not working!"
"What isn't?"
"The rock won't move!"
"Do you want it to move?"
"Do I have to care about it moving?"
"Technically, that's the whole point of this practice is willing the rock to move."
"Fine, so, how do I do it?"
"Gather your will to make it move, then tell it to do so." Harry tried one more time, mostly because he was frustrated at not really getting any help at all. He concentrated, and with most of his efforts, stretched out his hand and willed it, yelling, "MOVE ALREADY, YOU STUPID ROCK!"
But instead of the boulder moving, it flew half ways across the vale and landed near Beldin's tower. Both Belgarath and Harry stared at what he had done.
-Very good, just try not to hurdle it across the nation the next time. You might hit somebody, came the girlish voice in his head again.
-How did I do that?
-You wanted it to move, then you made it move.
-That was AWESOME!
-Great, now, let's fly.
Belgarath was trying to get his composure together again and looked at Harry with new profound respect.
"Well then," he said, clearing his voice. "That concludes our first lesson. Now, to shapeshifting."
From all of the effort, Harry just fainted at even the thought of using more energy.
A/N: And that concludes chapter 5! Hope you like it. Next one will try to be posted earlier.
A/N: Ok-chapter 5 now in action! Finally, Harry gets his memory back, but what about him in 'our' world? How are the others going to react to his sudden 'absence'? And why is Belgarath so worried? Ok, I admit it, I'm making some of these questions up just to get you curious, but who knows? These questions and everything else might start getting answers in this chapter. Please r/r.
The typical note of no one belonging to me, blah, blah, blah. I think I might just buy the copyright for them anyway in the distant future. ^-^ hehehehe
Chapter 5-Peek-a-boo! Guess Who?
Belgarath had been sitting in front of the fire at Polgara's house, trying to figure out how to continue with this issue. It's been about a month since Garion's visit, and he hasn't gotten any further than what the Orb had responded to. His greatest efforts were those of trying to watch this Harry Potter person, but he couldn't find him. Only a boy who fits the description, and causing his friends to faint every time he says his name. What was it again? Oh yes, Draco Malfoy.
"Now what are you dreaming about, Old Wolf?" asked Polgara, who was adding the finishing touches to this evening's dinner of a rabbit stew.
"Not much, Pol, just thinking about this Harry character," he answered, still staring into the fire. "Why haven't we heard about him earlier?" he asked, interrupting the deafening silence.
Polgara looked at her father then answered, "possibly because you were trying to do the smart thing for a change in ignoring anything new, when you should have continued with the stupid thing and continued not listening to us."
Belgarath turned in his seat to glare at his miffy daughter. "Did Beldin really have to teach you such sarcasm?"
"Why father," she said, looking her most innocent, "you also helped with the lessons."
The old man shivered and turned away, getting closer to the fire. "Don't smile like that Pol, it makes it feel like winter is inside the house without the door being open."
"Anything you say father," she went back to the stove and continued with her cooking.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Poledra stormed in with a nervous looking Eriond behind her. "Please be reasonable," the young god was asking the wild haired woman. "He honestly just is a little confused with himself."
Poledra stopped in her tracks, and turned so swiftly on Eriond that her skirts literally went flying and stared him directly in the eye. "So tell me," she began in a slow and quiet voice, "is this the right person or ISN'T IT?"
"This is the right person," Eriond said, slightly wincing at her raging form.
"Then why does he always go back and change himself to DRACO MALFOY?" she demanded.
"Mother, whatever is the matter?" Polgara came and asked, frowning at the possibility of her mother being in such a rage without her father's interference.
"Polgara, dear," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "could you bring us a cup of tea and a blanket for the poor boy?"
Now Belgarath had gotten out of his seat to go and examine the odd boy standing in the doorframe. "Who're you?"
Before he could even answer, Poledra was taking charge and shouted "DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT ANSWERING THAT QUESTION!"
Belgarath turned and looked at his wife in amazement. He was the reason his wife was in such a fit? This Boy? Belgarath looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "What did you do?"
"He has done absolutely nothing," Eriond answered, interrupting the boy once more. "Poledra is just losing her patience with him, that's all."
"Why?"
"He's a tad bit confused about who he is."
"Aren't we all?" he said, looking skyward.
"Yes, but, he can't really seem to get his name straight. Or anything from his past as a matter of fact."
"Boy," Belgarath said, beckoning him to come forward, "What's your name?"
"Harry Potter," he said with a great rush, trying to avoid anyone else taking advantage of interrupting him again.
Belgarath just stood there for a moment, dumbstruck at what he had just heard. "You're Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
" 'The' Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
"Harry Potter, the boy who lived?"
"Well, I-"
"Harry Potter whose enemy is Voldemort?"
"Um, yes, I guess so."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Belgarath shouted at the already confused and dazed boy.
Harry began feeling dizzy and was rocking slightly on the heels of his feet. Wait, wasn't his name Draco Malfoy?
"His memory is a little scrambled," Eriond apologized. "An outer force has been attacking him for a couple of days now, so he's been exposed to that danger also."
Polgara had finally calmed her mother down to the point were she could sit and drink her tea in peace. "I think I will retire early this evening," she said, sniffing slightly. "He is going to be your responsibility for the next days, Old Wolf."
"What?" Belgarath didn't understand why he should watch him. "Why?"
She looked at him directly with her golden eyes and said, "he might hold the gift, but he surely doesn't know how to use it."
"What does he use?" he asked in wonder.
"Brooms like a devil's witch, and sticks with fancy words like the snake's tongue. He really needs proper teaching if we want to fly to the Isle of Winds to make it on time."
"But why me?"
After the cold stare Poledra had placed upon him as she was rising to go to bed, he let it drop and accepted without another thought. "I'll help you teach if you want to, Belgarath."
"Whatever." Then, he too, also went to bed.
"Um," Harry interrupted. He was still standing in the doorway, his back exposed to the night. "Uh, have any of you possibly seen my glasses?"
"Didn't Eriond give you better vision?" Polgara asked, looking at Eriond accusingly.
"He did," Harry began, "But I miss the feeling of having something across my nose."
"Let's all just get some rest, why don't we?" Eriond suggested, trying to keep the peace within the house. "It's late, and we can figure out what to do tomorrow."
* * * * * * * * *
The morning was dawned bright, with the sun rising over the hills with a pale rosy peach tint within the sky. Harry was lying on his back, thoughts flooding over in his mind. -what happened?-
He had the strangest feeling that he was always called Draco, but yet in still he hated him. Did he hate himself if he was Draco? But then where do Harry Potter and Voldemort play a role within his life?
"Harry," a cheerful woman's voice comes from the door, "Breakfast is ready. Go wash your hands."
The voice is so calming. Is that his mother? No, the picture of his mother in his thought doesn't really match the voice. More like a sister, yes. But the sister seems so cruel and doubtful and secretive. What happened?
"C'mon Harry, you have to go and get ready for lessons."
Lessons! School! How could he have forgotten? "I'm coming!" he called, and as he got up to put on his school robes, he noticed where he was. A place made out of wood, the bed in the corner cushioned out of hay, but still topped with pillows. And a new green tunic with black tights laid out across the back of his chair for him. "Ron?" he called. He needed someone familiar with him. What was wrong with his memories? "Ron!"
"Whatever are you shouting for dear?" The lady with the gentle voice appeared in his room. Harry could not help himself but to just stare at her in amazement. She was beautiful, radiant, and had a majestic air about her. "Do quit staring like a fish trying to think dear, it doesn't help at all."
He finally regained his senses and asked, "Where am I?"
The lady turned to look at him and asked, "You don't remember?"
He shook his head helplessly. He really didn't want to disappoint her.
"Well, that's quite alright," She said, went outside of the door and called, "Eriond!"
"Yes ma'am?" came a voice from the distant that, too, seemed very familiar.
"Could you restore something quick? I have to finish breakfast."
"Coming," and sure enough, a young man appeared and smiled as he saw Harry. "Good morning," he said, still seeing no trouble cross his peaceful face.
Harry nodded his greeting.
"The poor boy's thought has gone out again. If you don't mind."
"Certainly," and the man strode over to where Harry stood and touched his scar with the tip of his finger. With a slight prod to his thoughts, Harry's memories washed over him like a tidal wave of pictures with mumbled words, becoming clearer within seconds.
When he opened his eyes, he remembered. "Eriond!"
"Very good. Now get dressed," Polgara said, and walked back towards the kitchen.
"What happened?" Harry asked Eriond, as he was getting his clothes on.
"You had a slight memory fade there," he replied, taking a seat on the stool next to the fireplace in the room, his back towards Harry.
"What kind of lessons was I supposed to be getting?" he remembered Aunt Pol calling him to hurry for lessons.
"Well, first we're going to let you move things with your mind, then we'll let you change into an animal."
"WHAT?" Harry thought he didn't hear right. He knew levitation spells, but telekinesis? Shape shifting? At HIS age?
"C'mon, let's go eat," Eriond wasn't prepared for another day of outbursts of rage after yesterday. The beginning was well, but after Harry's continuous wavering memory, he didn't know if he could take any more of it.
Harry followed Eriond to the kitchen, which seemed to have grown in size since last night. "Good morning," Durnik greeted them. He was out last night, coming from the travel of guiding Urgit back home.
"You haven't been introduced yet," Polgara said as she saw Harry's politely confused look. "This is my husband, Durnik."
"Good morning, sir," he said, not too for sure of how to reply.
"No need for formalities," he laughed.
"What's for breakfast?" Belgarath came in from behind Harry and Eriond, looking around curiously.
"Bacon and Boiled Eggs," she said, laying out the last plates.
"Lovely," he said, and sat down to help himself.
"Now father," Polgara began.
"I washed my hands already, Pol," he said defensively as he was getting a helping of Bacon.
"I know, I saw what a mess the washroom was in."
"Then what?"
"Your lessons begin today."
"Oh boy," he said, and began eating.
"He needs to learn the word and the will."
"Why can't he just stick with the word and the twig with herbs inserted?"
"Because he needs to fly."
"Why don't you teach him?"
"If you don't mind feeding the chickens, washing the walls, the clothes, the dishes, the floor, the windows, weeding the gardens, sweeping the back, and reorganizing the house, ALL without magic, then of course I will teach him," she said, adding a smile to the end.
"I think I'll start with moving the rock," he said, looking away.
"Brilliant Idea, Old Wolf."
"Harry, are you already done eating?" Belgarath asked in amazement.
Both Eriond and Harry had been eating while they were having a father/daughter argument. "Yes."
"Well then, father, you'll have to take your breakfast with you."
"Whatever."
Harry heard a rushing surge and heard Polgara whisper 'portable'. Instantly the food was wrapped up inside a napkin and placed within a basket. "Here you go," she said, still smiling that chillingly sweet smile.
Grumbling, Belgarath led the way out of the house and Harry followed, continuously looking back. Polgara just smiled and Eriond gave him a wave of confidence as they were heading into the morning sunrays.
* * * * * * * *
After walking for what seemed to be hours through the vale, they stopped in front of a huge white boulder, which just sat in the middle of the grass.
Belgarath sat down in the grass and said," move it."
"Where do you want me to go?" Harry asked in confusion.
"No, no, no. I meant move the rock."
"How?"
"How would you normally move a rock?"
Harry just stared at him for a while, then walked over to the rock. -move it, he says. Give me instructions, I say-
-Your wish has been answered.
Harry jumped. He knew he talked to himself sometimes, but did he ever have that kind of a girly voice in his head?
-You said you wanted a guide. So don't go around and start hurting my feelings, the voice snapped at him.
-Woah, he thought, this is seriously like the twilight zone.
-Actually, I'm here to help. So, are you going to move the rock or not?
-Yes.
-Well then, get a move on already!
Harry put his hands against the rock and began pushing with all of his might, but it wouldn't budge.
"Is there a secret to moving a rock?" he asked Belgarath after 5 useless minutes of pushing up against a boulder.
"Now that you mention it, there actually is."
-Great, now he tells me.
-Well, you could've asked earlier.
-Do you mind?
-How can I? I am your mind! Loser!
-Why me?
-Is that a popular question amongst guys or something?
"Tell me, what do I have to do?" he asked Belgarath, ignoring the voice in his head.
"Well, you could try telling it to move," Belgarath said, now lounging in the grass, staring around dreamily.
-Did he just say I'm supposed to talk to the rock?
-It did kind of sound like that, didn't it?
-I thought you were supposed to help me?, he asked with dripping sarcasm.
-And that's what I'm doing.
-So, what do I do?
-Tell it to move!
Fine, he thought, I can't get any more weirder. "Move!" he shouted at the rock. But it was still sitting there. "I said, MOVE!!" No change. "Please move?" Still no effect. "Belgarath!"
"What happened?" he said. Looking around in panic. "Did you already move it?"
"It's not working!"
"What isn't?"
"The rock won't move!"
"Do you want it to move?"
"Do I have to care about it moving?"
"Technically, that's the whole point of this practice is willing the rock to move."
"Fine, so, how do I do it?"
"Gather your will to make it move, then tell it to do so." Harry tried one more time, mostly because he was frustrated at not really getting any help at all. He concentrated, and with most of his efforts, stretched out his hand and willed it, yelling, "MOVE ALREADY, YOU STUPID ROCK!"
But instead of the boulder moving, it flew half ways across the vale and landed near Beldin's tower. Both Belgarath and Harry stared at what he had done.
-Very good, just try not to hurdle it across the nation the next time. You might hit somebody, came the girlish voice in his head again.
-How did I do that?
-You wanted it to move, then you made it move.
-That was AWESOME!
-Great, now, let's fly.
Belgarath was trying to get his composure together again and looked at Harry with new profound respect.
"Well then," he said, clearing his voice. "That concludes our first lesson. Now, to shapeshifting."
From all of the effort, Harry just fainted at even the thought of using more energy.
A/N: And that concludes chapter 5! Hope you like it. Next one will try to be posted earlier.
