Hello!
I know, I know - you have every right to strangle me right now. but just a hint, I won't be able to write anymore if you do so.
but without future ado...
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own them. If I did, half of the characters would still be alive and Snape would go through a lot more hell.
CHAPTER 5: Trouble-Magnet
If you could kick the person in the pants responsible for most of your trouble, you wouldn't sit for a month.
-Theodore Roosevelt
Looking at the castle of - what the teens told him to be - Hogwarts, Eragon had to admit that only a few places he had seen in his seventeen years could match its beauty and magnificence, Ellesméra and the palace of Ilirea most definitely being a couple of them.
Suddenly, he felt Saphira's – for the lack of better word – bad mood seep into his mind, but she didn't say a word.
Care to elaborate on that? he asked in amusement, though he already knew where the problem lay.
She harrumphed but refused to answer.
But, Saphira, he said, his tone serious, almost solemn. You know there's no one and nothing in the world that's more beautiful than you. You're the prettiest of them all.
He instantly felt her mood improve, a wave of her affection for him crashing on his mind. Thank you, little one, she said, humming, but in the back of her mind, he could feel worry gnawing at her.
Saphira, he said warmly, enveloping – or trying to – her mind with his own, soothing her. You know nothing will happen to me. I will be fine.
You don't know that, she half-heartedly snapped back at him. They gave no oaths, nothing to guarantee me that they won't hurt you.
Do you really think I cannot fend for myself? he asked her,half-hurt by her words.
It's not that, she answered flatly, her voice holding just the smallest hint of remorse. There are seven of them and you're only one. You're powerful, but you have to remember that the heart-of-heart's aren't with us. We only have our own energy and what is saved within Aren and Brisingr.
Saphira, he soothed gently. They won't hurt me and if they do – at that he felt her growl out loud – well, I pity those who will stand in your way when you'll be trying to get to me. A wave of approval emitted from Saphira at his words. Besides, you made sure that they won't try to even lay a finger on me, remember? he added cheerfully, corners of his mouth quirking up at the memory.
Dumbledore stood up with liveliness that could make a younger man jealous and clapped his hands together. "What do you say, should we go up to the castle and get something to eat?" he said, eyes sparkling. "I'm starving, if I do say so myself. I missed quite a delicious dinner because of your unexpected arrival, Mr. Bromsson, Saphira."
Eragon, who had stood up by now, dusted dirt off his pants and gave a small bow. "I, myself apologize, though I wouldn't expect an apology from Saphira," he answered, eyes twinkling in amusement as he dodged Saphira's tail. "But please, stop with the Mr. Bromsson nonsense. I am no mister, Eragon will do."
"Very well then, Eragon, shall we go?"
The others stood up as well and with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore made the armchairs disappear. Eragon, however, felt Saphira's worry for him seep into his mind. He sent her calming thoughts and a smile, but it did little to calm her.
She stomped forward, her steps making the ground tremble, and stopped in front of the seven wizards. Her intense sapphire blue eyes stared into pairs of green, blue, brown and black eyes - not threateningly at all - as she spoke, I don't trust you. Not yet at least, she added after a few seconds. If any of you, especially you, one of her eyes focused solely on Snape. even dare to hurt my Rider, I promise you that you won't have time to regret it. I will not hesitate to burn down your castle and rip you apart if it comes to it - and that is barely the beginning. Watch your actions. She paused. I would.
The wizards - each and every one of them - gulped and slowly nodded, their mortified expression highly amusing.
Eragon, however, had no reason to fear Saphira's threats. He, too, stepped forward and sent a glare towards his dragon. "Saphira," he chided out loud. "Can you not scare people even more than you already did?"
She pointedly ignored him. Instead, she kept staring at the humans. I mean it, she said. She held their gaze for whole five minutes. Then, humming, she went back to her previous spot and lay down.
Eragon sighed, but he knew it was pointless to argue with her, so he stepped to her and removed her saddle with practiced ease. Then, he took an apple, a spare tunic and a sheathed dagger that the elves that had travelled with him had given him out of the saddlebags, before sending the saddle and the bags into the air pocket above his head. He bit in the apple, holding it in-between his teeth, put on the tunic and stuffed the dagger in his boot. At the inquiring gazes of the wizards he shrugged nonchalantly and started chewing the apple. "Just in case," he mumbled.
He pointed towards where he hoped was Hogwarts' direction. "Shall we?" he asked as he sent Saphira feelings of love and affection. See you soon.
Don't get into too much trouble, she snorted, sending puffs of smoke into the air.
Saphira, too, chuckled at the memory. I was being nice, she said airily and Eragon resisted the urge to snort. I didn't even bare my teeth or growl.
He mock sighed before he gave in. Fine, I'll give you that.
Good boy, Saphira praised mockingly and he could sense her amusement and contentment. All you have to know with me is when to give up in argument, which is in every one.
No one can ever win an argument with you, my dearest Saphira, he said. I've yet to see one have the last word with you. Well, he added thoughtfully after a few seconds. Perhaps with the exception of Angela.
Saphira's sadness seeped into his mind. You know, even if I do not understand her very much, I'm going to miss that bemusing ageless witch.
Me too, he answered, his tone sorrowful. She makes things that happen interesting, if a little eccentric.
With fondness and a little puzzlement he thought back to the last conversation he had with Angela.
"Haven't had your fill of interesting events yet?"
"Never. They are the spice of life." She held up her half-finished hat. "How do you like it?"
"It's nice. The blue is pretty. But what do the runes say?"
"Raxacori- Oh, never mind. It wouldn't mean a thing to you anyway. Safe travels to you and Saphira, Eragon. And remember to watch out for earwigs and wild hamsters. Ferocious things, wild hamsters."
Safe travels, snorted Eragon to himself. Oh, the irony. And then he quietly asked Saphira, Do you think we'll ever see them again?
She knew who he was referring to without him telling her.
I…, she hesitated. She was quiet for a whole minute and she appeared troubled. I think that hope dies last, little one, she said at last.
He was spared from answering her by Dumbledore, who looked at him and said, "We're here."
And true to his words, they were standing in front of – now closed – gate Eragon had blasted open when he was searching for Saphira.
Eragon looked … saddened, or at least it seemed so to Harry. He gazed at Hogwarts with a mix of nostalgia and amazement. And Harry wasn't the only one to notice it.
"Mr- I mean, E-Eragon, are you alright?" asked Hermione carefully, her voice holding a barely noticeable shake.
Eragon looked at her blankly for a second. Then he shook his head, making his brown waves of hair fall forward, effectively hiding his face from the view. When he raised his head there was a smile – that was highly unconvincing – on his face. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered evenly, his eyes holding no emotions from before. "I was just thinking."
Harry had a feeling that the young man wouldn't appreciate it too much if they asked what he was thinking about. No one did.
Instead, Dumbledore stepped forward and the others followed, their footfalls echoing around the Entrance Hall. Eragon looked around in amazement, his eyes showing nothing but awe at the great castle.
"Beautiful," he breathed out. "Just … stunning."
Snape, who was walking next to Dumbledore, scoffed at the Dragon Rider before he turned to Dumbledore. "If you're in no need of my presence anymore, Headmaster, I shall take my leave." And without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heels and walked towards the dungeons.
Madam Pomfrey sent a reprimanding look at the Professor's retreating back before she said, "I should leave, too. The patients won't heal by themselves, after all." She turned her head to face Eragon with dignified grace. "I take it you're in no need of my healing skills, anymore?"
Eragon gave a short but respectful bow, oddly twisting his hand over his heart and shook his head while smiling politely. "No, thank you, ma'am. I think I can take care of myself just fine. I will be by the infirmary shortly, though. I need to get Brisingr."
"Brisingr?" asked Professor McGonagall, her mouth becoming a thin line and her hand clutching her wand.
"My sword," explained Eragon shortly. When they gave him blank looks – or looks of disbelief – he continued, "You know, that blue metal thing I had with me when I arrived. It's usually used for fighting."
Though it could make an excellent toothpick as well, added Saphira jokingly.
"We know what a sword is, thank you very much," answered Harry. "But, you named your sword?"
It was Eragon's turn to give them blank looks. He recovered quickly, though. "Right," he said after a moment, slapping his forehead. "You don't know about Riders' swords." Under his breath he slowly murmured something that sounded like "you're not from Alagaësia", before he continued, "A Dragon Rider gets-" he paused and just for a second, pain flashed in his eyes. "When a Dragon Rider reached a certain stage in their training, an elven smith Rhunön forged the Rider a sword that fit their fighting style and matched their dragon's color. The Rider would than name it and often it was in the Ancient language – there was, pardon, is Zar'roc, which means misery or Islingr – Light-Bringer which was later renamed in Vrangr, meaning awry, or my own, Brisingr which means fire."
"Wait," said Hermione, eyes glinting curiously as they always did when she was in class. "Why are you talking in past tense?"
Eragon gave her a smile – a sad and tired one, but a smile nonetheless. "You're very observant and very bright, Hermione-finiaril." Hermione blushed, but he just sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "There- there was war and the Riders turned on each other. They killed each other and the dragons – as well as Dragon Riders – became almost extinct. Me and Saphira – we are one of the three living Dragon-Rider pairs and Saphira is the only female dragon currently alive. And after all the slaughter that was done with the swords she forged, Rhunön" – a weak smirk appeared on Eragon's face as he said the name – "vowed to never forge weapons of destruction, ever again."
"You come from a very strange land, Eragon Bromsson," said Dumbledore after a pregnant pause.
Inside their heads, Saphira snorted and Harry had to resist the urge to flinch. You can say that again.
They were all quiet for a couple of minutes before professor McGonagall spoke. "Regardless, I must get these three to their dormitory before our dear Inquisitor comes hurling down the hall." She stuck her nose high in the air and sniffed. "I would like to get some sleep tonight and rest my bones. I really should quit fighting anytime these days." She turned to Dumbledore. "I trust you can take care of this by yourself, Albus?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, dear Minerva," he said, looking at the transfiguration Professor sympathetically. "Go ahead and rest. I'll take care of Dolores." He then focused his gaze on the Golden Trio, looking at them strictly – but only half-heartedly. "The same goes for you three. No midnight walks tonight, understood?" All three nodded hastily. "If you're hungry, I'll arrange for a house-elf to bring you some food."
As if on cue, Ron's stomach growled, making all present smile. Well, all but Hermione, who opened her mouth – probably to argue about the house-elf bringing them food – but Harry elbowed her in the stomach ever so slightly and she quickly closed it.
"Thank you, sir," said Harry gratefully.
"You're welcome," answered Dumbledore, but Harry noticed that he still wasn't making eye contact with him. And by the look on his face, so did Eragon – notice, that is. "Now, off you go."
Professor McGonagall headed for the marble staircase with brisk steps and the trio followed quickly behind. Harry looked at Eragon and Dumbledore – Madam Pomfrey had already left – over his shoulder and he caught Eragon's gaze. The Rider gave a quick bow of his head and a small smile before following Dumbledore on his way to the Headmaster's office.
They walked in silence all the way to the Gryffindor Tower, where they said goodbye to the Head of their House and entered the Common Room. It was relatively empty, save for a few older years that were doing their homework.
"So," began Hermione once they settled into their favorite armchairs by the fire. "What do you think about them?"
"Well, they're interesting, that's for sure," answered Ron. "But, bloody hell, did you see how they wiped the floor with McGonagall and Snape, not to mention Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Ron, we saw," replied Hermione, as she gnawed at her bottom lip. "But I'm worried." Before any of the boys could interrupt her, she continued, "It's just that … they are both so powerful and if they could take down three of Hogwarts' most proficient Professors, while injured, what else can they do?"
Harry could understand her fears, but for an unknown reason, he couldn't find it in himself to worry as well. "I think that they won't hurt us and I think that Dumbledore was going easy on them before," he said, partly believing in his words and partly saying them just to quell his friend's fears.
"You really think that?" asked Hermione softly, still biting her lip.
Harry nodded shortly, but firmly. "I do."
"Well, since you are always right," joked Hermione, but her eyes had brightened.
Harry grumbled something incoherent under his breath, but he knew she was only teasing and he didn't resent her.
They talked and laughed for a while, losing themselves in their (probably short-lived) happiness. Harry and Ron started doing their homework, with which they were already behind despite that it was barely the second week of school year. Meanwhile, Hermione started knitting clothes for the house-elves. Ron scoffed when he saw what she was doing, but kept his mouth shut, obviously not wanting to start another fight with his friend. Besides, she looked content as she lowly hummed to herself, the knitting needles in tune with her humming.
"You know, Hermione," Ron said as he temporary put down his quill to look at his friend that raised her gaze to meet his. "I think that you might get another person to join spew."
Hermione's face lit up at his statement. "Really?" she asked excitedly. "Who?"
"Eragon."
Harry could see it, but he still sent a disapproving look at Ron. There was no need to raise Hermione's hopes only for her to have them dashed. However, their friend didn't notice their silent exchange, she was too busy thinking about her next potential victim, absent-mindedly gazing at all the other students that headed for their dormitories.
"He did seem to dislike the elves' slavery, didn't he?" she asked, more herself than everyone else.
"You can ask him tomorrow," suggested Ron, once again taking the quill in his hand and lowering his gaze on his parchment.
Before anyone could say anything more, there was a loud crack and excited squealing.
"Mister Harry Potter!"
The trio turned their heads around to look at the small creature that had Apparated into the Gryffindor Common Room. Dobby was, as always, dressed rather weirdly. He was wearing mint green jumper and pair of blood red shorts and two mismatched socks – one bright orange and the other on watermelon pink. On top of his head, between his two bat-like ears, about four colorful hats had been balanced and there were about three scarves around his neck. He was holding a silver tray, that had a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice on it in his hands. He set the tray down on a coffee table in front of them and then all but flung himself at Harry, squealing happily and the young wizard returned the hug.
"Mister Harry Potter! I is very happy to see you!" Dobby said enthusiastically and rather loudly.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Dobby," Harry answered genuinely, though he clamped a hand over the elf's mouth. "But keep it down, please?"
Dobby's large green eyes blinked twice as he nodded, making the tower of hats atop his head sway dangerously. Harry slowly withdrew his hand and placed in his lap. He observed the house-elf – who was bowing – for a few seconds, before pointing to the tray.
"Has Professor Dumbledore ordered you to bring us some food?"
Dobby nodded eagerly, looking like he wanted to say something, but kept his mouth shut.
"You know, Dobby, when I said to keep it down, I didn't mean to be completely quiet, just to not be so loud," Harry explained as he reached for a sandwich and bit into it.
Ron and Hermione followed his lead.
Dobby's eyes widened to the point of taking over his whole face. "Yes, yes, sir, Dobby was summoned by Professor Dumbledore to his office. There was a very nice boy there, too. He treated Dobby very kindly. And then Professor Dumbledore asked Dobby to bring Mister Harry Potter and his friends food and Dobby was very happy, because he gets to see Harry Potter!"
Harry had to smile at the little beasty's enthusiasm. Even if it proved to be a little hard with the sandwich in his mouth. However, he didn't get a chance to answer because Hermione interrupted him.
"Dobby, are you wearing all the hats and scarves I've knitted?" she asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Oh, no, miss," Dobby answered gleefully. "Dobby's been taking some for Winky, too, miss."
"Oh." Hermione's eyes had become their usual size.
"How is Winky?" asked Harry carefully.
"Winky is still drinking lots, sir," answered Dobby, his large green eyes looking down at the floor sadly. "She still does not care for clothes, sirs and miss. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean the Gryffindor Tower anymore, not with the hats and soc-" His eyes flickered to Hermione and he instantly shut up (to be honest, Harry was rather surprised at the house-elf's tact).
But it was too late. Hermione had registered his words than Draco could say Mudblood.
"What?" she asked, her voice a few tones harsher. "What's with socks and hats?"
Dobby looked scared, to say at least. His eyes were as wide as saucers and he was fiddling with the hem of his scarf nervously. And when he spoke, his voice was even higher and squeakier than normally. "Dobby didn't say anything about hats and socks, miss. Oh, no, Dobby did not."
The house-elf was shaking his head furiously and Harry stifled down a laugh, succeeding in doing so by stuffing the sandwich in his mouth. Ron copied him.
"Yes, you did," Hermione accused. "You said that the other house-elves don't want to clean the Gryffindor Tower because of the socks anymore."
Dobby was outright frightened now, seeing as Hermione had stood up. "D-Dobby has to go, Miss Hermione Granger. Mister Harry Potter, Mister Ronny Wheezy." He bowed deeply and before any of them could say a word, he Disapparated.
Hermione hissed, half-angry, half-hurt. "Did he just say that the other house-elves don't like my clothes?" she asked.
Instead of replying, Ron and Harry, both, reached for another sandwich and Harry let out a content hum as he found out that the plate was refilling by itself.
Eragon found himself at a loss of words at the beauty of the castle.
After he and Dumbledore had left the students and their Professor, he'd followed the old Headmaster to his office. After Dumbledore had said the password (t sounded like "fizzing whizzbee") to the gargoyle and it had moved aside, letting them enter, they – or rather, he – had found himself in the Headmaster's office. And that is where he currently was.
The room was large and circular with many windows and a row of portraits along the walls. There was a claw-footed desk and a chair and a bunch of spindly-looking tables with delicate-looking sliver instruments set upon them. They were all whirring and emitting puffs of smoke. There was a large collection of books, looking very similar to Oromis' collection of scrolls. Then there was a shallow bowl, filled with a silvery substance that looked like a mix between gas and liquid. And lastly, next to the desk, there was a stand, on which a beautiful and proud-looking bird sat.
It had crimson red feathers and golden tail. Its claws and beak were gleaming gold and its eyes a piercing black. Eragon would have cringed at its gaze, had he never been on the receiving end of Saphira's stares – which were sometimes even worse.
"That's Fawkes the Phoenix, my dear companion," Dumbledore told him as Fawkes and Eragon locked their eyes.
At last, Eragon bowed and gently touched the bird's mind with his own. "Kvetha, Fawkes," he murmured, his tone kind and non-threatening. "Eka weohnata néiat haina ono un onr fricaya. Atra nosu waíse fricai."
The Phoenix regarded him for a second longer, before his gaze softened and he trilled softly. Eragon smiled at him as he felt Saphira's contentment at Fawkes' acceptance of her Rider.
"He seems to like you," Dumbledore quietly observed as he petted Fawkes' head. "It is unusual for him to do it so soon after meeting you." He smiled at Eragon mysteriously. "I suppose I would be asking in vain for translation of your statement?"
You suppose right, answered Saphira firmly. We do need to keep some secrets.
Dumbledore smiled cryptically once again. "I think that regarding secrets you have the upper hand here, Saphira," he answered.
Eragon immediately knew what he was talking about. "Regarding whatever we saw when we broke into your minds, we promise that we won't tell anyone, whose business it is not. We would've never broken into your minds, had we not felt endangered and I'm – we're sorry for that. Consider them forgotten."
The old wizard gave him a curious look. "You are a very strange young man, Eragon Bromsson," he said. "For a seventeen-year-old you have an impeccable sense of morals. Many people your age would not hesitate to use it to their advantage."
Eragon shrugged nonchalantly. "I am what I've been made – nothing more, nothing less."
Dumbledore – and Fawkes – tilted his head as he studied him, his eyes full of kindness and some kind of empathy. "And what have you been made? You said it yourself – you were a human orphan, who got changed into an elf-human hybrid and dragged into a war. And not as a common solider either, you were the hero who conquered the enemy."
Eragon stayed quiet for a long time. What had the world – or rather, the people of the world – made him?
You know who you are, little one, Saphira's soft voice resonated in his mind.
He didn't answer her. Instead, he pondered. He was more elf-like than any other human, but he still had human blood in his veins. He was a member of the lead Dwarf Clan, Dûrgrimst Ingeitum and practically a member of the Urgal nation. And on top of that he was also the Leader of the Dragon Riders (Though my substitution will probably have to take that title for the time being, he thought silently.), the peacekeepers of the land. So, he was not completely a human, nor an elf, nor a dwarf, neither an Urgal (At least you're not a Werecat, joked Saphira.). The only thing he truly and completely was was –
"I'm a Dragon Rider," he answered softly, but simply.
Dumbledore looked at him with that bright blue, soul-piercing eyes. It unnerved Eragon, but he had taken worse gazes – like Saphira's or Arya's, not to mention Glaedr's. He returned the stare coolly, squaring his shoulders. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Saphira interrupted.
As amusing your little staring contest is, said Saphira sarcastically. there is someone approaching the piercing-gazed-old-sage's – what did they call it again? Ah, yes – office. And she doesn't seem too happy.
Eragon sent her a mental nod and a quiet thank you, before he thrust out his mind as well and lo behold, there was a woman headed for the Headmaster's office. She was just a couple of minutes away. "Saphira says there's a woman approaching the office – and she doesn't seem like the happiest person in the world to her."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded. "And it's not Minerva?"
Eragon shook his head. "No, we would've recognized her mind."
"Ah." Dumbledore's gaze lingered on Fawkes and a silent conversation seemed to had passed between them. "Then, I think we have a minor problem."
Before Eragon could ask what exactly that problem was, the door of the office opened and in stepped a woman. If that deserved the title woman. She was short with pale complexion and short neck. Her face was broad with wide mouth and her eyes were bulging. She had mousy brown hair with a black bow in it. Eragon wished he could say that he had seen uglier or more repelling women, but then he would be lying. No one – not even the elves that were the masters of flattery – could say that she was decent-looking. And to Eragon who had spent last few months with elves – they were, after all, the epitome of beauty – she seemed even more repulsing.
Nevertheless, he arranged his features into a neutral expression, being careful to not show his shock.
Although his façade almost crumbled when the woman spoke. "Dumbledore, I demand to know why you or Professors Snape and McGonagall weren't present at the dinner." Her voice was sweet and sugar-coated, but Eragon could detect an undercurrent of disguised fury in it. It was like a sword coated in honey.
Eragon instantly disliked the woman.
When she saw him, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes raked over him and settled on his angular features. He subconsciously checked if his ears were covered by his hair. He had a sneaking suspicion that the woman wouldn't like his elfish appearance too much.
"Who is this?" she asked Dumbledore as if Eragon was an unintelligent being unworthy of her direct addressing. Her voice lost its sweetness for a split second before regaining it.
Eragon glanced at the Headmaster from the corner of his eye. He had no idea what to tell to the woman. He kind of doubted telling her that he was "Eragon, an elf-like human Dragon Rider who had just crashed in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with his dragon" was a good idea.
Come on, Eragon, think, he commanded himself. When his mind – and Dumbledore – failed to come up with an idea, he weakly asked his dragon, Saphira?
You're in a school, Eragon, she told him impatiently. What do the schools have?
And then it clicked and he had half-a-mind to kick himself into the next century when he would be wiser (hopefully).
He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. "I'm Eragon Bromsson, a student from abroad."
He was certain he could pull this off. His accent was completely different than theirs, after all.
She eyed his outstretched hand before shaking it quickly, her grip slack, and raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Where from?"
Again, he was without ideas and so was Saphira. How was he supposed to know the lands of this world? Fortunately for him, Dumbledore had one idea this time.
"He's from Norway," he answered.
Eragon's eyes shot towards Dumbledore's, one of his eyebrows raised.
"Is that so?" asked the woman. "Then how come I haven't known you'll arrive?" She turned to Dumbledore. "And why were you not present at the dinner?"
"It, uh, was a quick decision," answered Eragon quickly, having absolutely no idea where he was going with it. "My guardians were, uh, fed up with my rebellious attitude and decided to send me to professor Dumbledore through the school year. The details of my arrival were sorted out only last night."
"And we agreed on tonight," continued Dumbledore. "I had no time to warn you of his arrival. I barely managed to inform Minerva and Severus, who welcomed him here alongside me."
The woman looked unconvinced, but she still asked, "And the Potter boy and his friends? Why were they not present at the dinner?"
"I asked them to give Eragon a tour of the castle tomorrow and they wanted to meet him today."
"Mm. Charming young people," cut in Eragon, his voice sincere.
The woman looked at him as if he was nothing more than dirt on her shoes. "Of course, if a little bold sometimes." She scrutinized him with her brown eyes, before she said, "Nevertheless, I have just one last question." She paused for a moment before she continued, "What school were you going to?"
Eragon shot the answer without even thinking. "Shur'tugalar. Its Headmaster is Oromis Thrándurin." Well, he thought solemnly. Was.
"Really?" The woman raised her eyebrows. "I've never heard of it."
"Very few have heard of it. It used to be one of the most legendary schools, but last century or so it has gotten very few students and it has become a myth, of some kind. Still, it offers one of the best educations in the world. It specializes in wandless magic."
The woman's eyebrows had acquainted themselves with her hairline. "Is that so? Well, I'm certainly looking forward to your demonstration of your knowledge, especially of your language."
Eragon choked, but he subtly tried to change it into a cough. "Yes, ma'am."
She nodded contently. "Well, I should get going."
She turned towards the door and quickly and ungracefully – and without a greeting – walked through it and down the stairs.
They all – even Fawkes – stared after her, Eragon in complete shock. He would have to learn Norwegian? Well, that adventure was off to a great start.
Well…, said Saphira slowly – though there was amusement in her voice – as they kept staring after the woman. We've been here for naught but a few hours and you've already gotten yourself in trouble. I'm sure you'll have fun learning Norwegian.
Ah, don't you just love Eragon and Saphira? So, I wanted to update before school starts (which is on September 1st). When does your school start?
Kvetha, Fawkes. Eka weohnata néiat haina ono un onr fricaya. Atra nosu waíse fricai. - Greetings, Fawkes. I won't hurt you and your friends. let us be friends.
-finiaril - suffix for a young woman of great promise
So, answers to your reviews:
Master of Dragons God: Thank you.
Quintain Apprentince of Alduin: I'm glad. :)
Ddragon21: I'm sorry, but no. I like the pairings just the way they are in the books, so... but I'm glad you like the story.
Cynder2013: Yes, yes you do. But not in the forseeable future.
Elemental Dragon Slayer: Thanks. i already have an idea in my head with how to get them back, but if you - or any other reader - have any idea how to do it, I'm open for suggestions. And yes, the other IC characters will make an appearance, but no on Hogwarts or anything.
Zekrom1010101010/Awesomepants/Awesome pants: Thank you. ANd I know it should have been more in depth, but just...ugh, sometimes I just can't do it. And thanks, I like scaring Snape. And answer to your question will be answered in the next chapter (hopefully). Don't worry though, I will include Hagrid. As for the timeline, it's about two weeks into the school year.
Catchfire: Thank you. :) I love the snark, too. And the two will definetly get involved with Dumbledore's and Umbridge's actions.
Peyton: Thank you. Yes, I will be making changes and about the dragon eggs: No comment.
dennej21: Thank you. :)
Thank you for all your reviews, follows and favorites!
Love,
EA4E.
