Hello... It's me... (alive)
You guys must really hate me right now...
Anyway,
enjoy?
Deiclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything.
CHAPTER 7: Dreams and Rebels
I don't think of myself as a rebel; I just say what I think.
-Marjane Satrapi
That night, Eragon had a strange dream.
He was standing in the middle of nowhere, the air cool and crisp in his lungs. He looked around himself. He was on a snow-covered plateau and it was somewhere high, the view told him that much. He could see a lake and a river and forest and even beyond that – a desert.
There were mountains around him, some higher than his altitude, some lower, but he recognized them and he felt a pang in his chest as he did.
He was in Beor Mountains, or rather, on one of them. He was in Alagaësia.
He was home.
It had been months, nearly half a year since he had last been in Alagaësia and, needless to say, he had missed it. And this newfound knowledge that he might never be in the same world again, caused his chest to ache with homesickness.
No, he scolded himself. Alagaësia wasn't his home, not anymore. He had lost the right to call it his home the moment he had sailed to the east.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice that had spoken came from behind Eragon. He whirled around his hand grabbing for the pommel of Brisingr, only to find it gone. He didn't let that bedazzle him a great deal. He was a Dragon Rider. He didn't need a weapon to fight – and win.
Still, he frowned and tensed his body, preparing himself for a fight.
In front of him, stood a woman Eragon had never met or seen before. She was tall, taller than Arya, and willowy. And she was absolutely gorgeous – more gorgeous than elves. She possessed unearthly beauty – divine even. She had long mid-back-reaching white hair that shaded into black along its length. Her eyes were bright and seemed to possess every single shade of grey known to the world, their depths endless and wisdom immense. She was clad in a white dress with black swirls – Eragon suspected that they had some meaning – on it and her pale feet were bare.
Eragon cleared his throat. "Who are you?"
The woman gave him a small wry smile. "My real name is unpronounceable for you, young one, but you can call me Wyrda."
Fate? Her name was Fate?
"Okay," he said slowly and gave her an uncertain look.
She sat down, her legs going underneath her and folded her hands in her lap, the snow covering the ground seeming to not bother her. She inclined her head to the spot next to her and smiled warmly. "Sit."
Eragon had a feeling she wouldn't like it if he didn't obey, so he sat down next to her. He was in a dream, after all, and she couldn't hurt him.
Wyrda looked at him, her eyes sparkling and a sense of familiarity struck Eragon. As if he had met this woman before.
"Do you know why you're here, Eragon?" she asked him.
Eragon shrugged. "I suppose that my mind conjures up whatever it wants while I'm not in full consciousness."
Wyrda laughed and threw her head back, her thick hair tumbling down her back, while Eragon stared at her in bemusement.
"I'll admit, Eragon, you have kept me amused over the years," she said after a couple of minutes, brushing a lock of her hair out of her eyes. "I had been bored before I got to watch over your family."
"Watch over my family?" Eragon repeated, as bemused as before, if not more.
She sighed. "Oh, look at that. I am already straying from the purpose of my visit." She looked him dead in the eyes and he was struck with that sense of familiarity once again. "When I asked you if you know what you're doing here, I meant here as in the world of Harry Potter. Do you know what you're here for?"
Eragon shook his head.
"You're here to help them," she said. "Only help them and nothing else."
Eragon blinked. "I am not quite sure what you mean."
She grabbed his forearm and then let go a second later as if he had burned her. "You must not, under any circumstances, kill Voldemort. That's Harry's job. You did the right thing when you told Dumbledore and Dippet that one must not mess with prophecies." She gave him a small, but approving smile. "You have become quite wise, Eragon, and you are one of the smartest and bravest seventeen-year-olds I have ever known."
He bowed his head, a light blush colouring his otherwise-pale cheeks.
"But, I do expect you will make a living hell of Umbride's life." Wyrda scrunched up her nose. "I've never liked her."
Eragon gave her a sideways glance. "I don't think anyone does."
She chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so." She glanced up at the clear sky – now darkening. "Oh, would you look at how quickly the time has passed. I really ought to be on my way." She stood up, brushing the non-existent dirt from her dress. She looked at him, her grey eyes serious. "You listen to what I said, okay? Do not meddle with prophecies."
And just like that, she was gone, leaving behind only a smell of meadows and home.
Eragon's eyes snapped open.
He sat upright in his bed, suddenly feeling very hot. He moved the covers away and looked towards Saphira.
She was still in her bed, her breathing even and calm. And normally, that would've calmed him, but not this time.
He'd expected her to be awake and witnessing the same dreams as him.
He shook his head and pressed his palms to his eyes so that his thumbs touched his temples. His skin was unusually hot.
He stood up – rather gracelessly – and stumbled in the bathroom. He turned on water on and dipped his hands in the cool liquid.
He splashed the water on his face, feeling the burning skin slowly cool off. He raised his head and looked in the mirror. A pale face with slanted features stared back at him. And maybe it was just him, but it seemed as if his cheekbones were more prominent and cheeks more sunken than they had been a few months ago.
He barely remembered what he'd looked like just a couple of years back, before he was sucked into the war. But he was sure that his eyes weren't that intense and his face not that rugged.
He shook his head and lowered his gaze, not being able to look at his reflection anymore. His eyes ran along the length of his muscled arms and stopped dead on his forearm.
Because there, exactly where Wyrda had touched him, was a pure white scar the size of a fingertip.
Harry woke up to Ron shaking his shoulder.
"Harry!" His eyes seemed big, the morning sun reflected in them like pools of molten gold. "Harry, wake up!"
"What?" Harry grumbled sleepily. He'd been just about to open the door in his dreams, when Ron'd woken him up. "Ron, it's Saturday, so I don't have to get to any classes."
Ron grabbed him by the shoulders. "Harry, what happened yesterday?"
Harry yawned. "We had classes and then we went to Hagrid's but he wasn't home and then…" he trailed off, trying to remember. And when he did, he bolted upright. "And then we met Eragon and Saphira."
Ron let out a groaning sound and collapsed on Harry's bed. "I was hoping it was just a dream."
Harry snorted. "When is it ever with us?"
"Point taken."
They got dressed and descended down the stairs, into the common room, where Hermione was already waiting for them.
She took one glance up at them, momentarily stopping her knitting, and said, "Took you guys long enough." She stood up, brushing her hair back. She looked first at Ron, then at Harry and smiled tiredly at them as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her.
It went as a kind of an unspoken agreement that yesterday's events were real.
They exited the common room and started walking towards the Great Hall. They tried to come up with a cover story for their absence the previous evening, though it turned out to be unnecessary.
Next to the entrance to the Great Hall stood Professor McGonagall, eyeing anyone, who dared to question her presence in front of the Hall, evilly. When the three approached, she trained her eyes on them.
"Potter, Granger, Weasely," she said as she inclined her head quickly. "Follow me."
She led them towards her office, her pace so fast the three had to practically run to keep in step with her. She gestured to the chairs. "Sit down."
They complied, staring at her as she, too, sat down stiffly. She opened a jar of biscuits and offered the jar to them. "Biscuit?" she asked.
They shook their head. "No, thank you, Professor," said Hermione. "With all due respect, why are we here?"
Professor McGonagall sighed. "I suppose you already know," she said. "It is concerning young Eragon Bromsson that arrived yesterday." She put the biscuits down. "If anyone asks you where you were yesterday evening or anything concerning yesterday, I want you to tell them that you were welcoming Eragon to Hogwarts, along with Albus, Severus and myself. You were the only students to know of his arrival because we chose you to lead him around Hogwarts and because the agreement of his arrival was made really quickly."
"Arrival from where, Professor?" asked Hermione.
"Norway," answered Professor. "He's from a hidden school that specializes in wandless magic in Norway. As far as public is concerned, Saphira doesn't exist and Eragon is completely human."
Harry couldn't imagine Saphira being happy with the arrangements.
"What if his ears are seen?" he inquired. "Professor," he added hastily, but she didn't seem to notice.
Professor shook her head. "They won't be. He will change them with his magic." She stood up briskly. "Now that that is cleared, off you go. Breakfast is waiting."
The trio stood up and exited her office.
They entered the Main Hall and sat down at the table. Ron immediately attacked the food. He loaded his plate with eggs and bacon and filled his glass with pumpkin juice. Hermione took a toast and nibbled on it, her eyes glancing around the Hall. Harry didn't have an appetite.
Hermione glanced at him. "Harry, you have to eat something."
Harry shook his head. "I'm not hungry."
Ron looked at him over his loaded plate. "Are you sure? You look kind of pale."
Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice and glanced towards the teachers' table involuntarily. Professor McGonagall had just sat down, reaching for a toast as if it were a completely ordinary day. Snape was being his usual mean-looking man with greasy hair and a murderous glint in his eyes. Dumbledore, too, acted as if nothing was different than usual. He was chatting with Professor Sprout, taking a bite of his eggs every once in a while. And Umbridge – well, Umbridge was glaring at Harry if it he'd drowned all of her kittens and cut up all of her disgusting sweaters. Her dark eyes were boring into Harry's with unnerving intensity and Harry looked away, dropping his eyes on his empty plate.
With a sigh, he realized that Ron and Hermione were right. He reached for the toast and jam. His gaze lifted when Ginny sat down next to him, her fiery hair pulled in a ponytail and an apple in her hand.
"Where were you three yesterday?" she asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing at the trio.
Fred and George sat down in-between Ron and Hermione. "Yeah," said George. "We really missed you guys at dinner."
Fred nodded. "Mhm. Umbridge nearly flipped when she saw that you three and Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were missing."
Ginny smirked before taking a bite of her apple. "You should've seen how red her face was."
"So," said Fred as he clapped his hands together. "That being said; where were you?"
Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged uncertain glances, What should we tell them?
As if sensing their discomfort, Dumbledore stood up. Students' eyes turned to him, prepared to listen to his every word.
"Good morning, students," the Headmaster said. "I have a little announcement to make. Yesterday evening, I, along with Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and a few students, was absent from dinner, as I'm sure some of you have noticed." His glance stayed on Ginny and the twins a second longer than the others. "The reason is that a new student arrived to our school yesterday and we awaited him."
Chatter and whispers broke out all across the Hall.
"However," continued Dumbledore and the Hall quieted. "As he has already finished his basic education – meaning he has already reached the level of Hogwarts' graduates – he will be taking place as my personal student and therefor, shall not be sorted into any of the Houses."
Whispers broke out again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce you, Eragon Bromsson!"
Eragon walked through the Hall's side door (the one that led to chamber of portraits) and gasps – mainly female – were heard from all over the Hall. Eragon was clad in a simple white button-down shirt and loose jeans, his feet still in his boots though they were covered with his jeans down to his ankles. A dark wizard robe was thrown over his Muggle clothing and his hair was neatly side-swept. Harry could see why the female population of Hogwarts was entranced, though he could not understand it.
Eragon was taking long strides, his shoulders squared. He didn't seem arrogant or unearthly. He seemed quietly confident in himself and real – someone people could relate to.
He stopped in front of the teachers' table and bowed his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Headmaster, for your introduction."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "You are welcome, Eragon. I trust your first night was pleasant?"
Eragon nodded shortly, but firmly. "Indeed. Thank you, Albus-elda."
Dumbledore gestured all around the Hall. "Please, take your seat anywhere you'd like." His eyes twinkled. "I imagine you'd want to sit with your acquaintances."
Eragon nodded. "Thank you, Headmaster." He turned around and strode towards Harry and his friends, his eyes firmly trained on them, as if he didn't want to acknowledge all the eyes in him. He sat down at the Gryffindor table and gave them a small smile. "Good morning, acquaintances."
Ginny snorted. "I should've known you three were involved in this somehow."
Eragon turned to her, his face unreadable. "Hello," he said and offered Ginny his hand. "I'm Eragon."
Ginny took his hand and firmly shook it. "I'm Ginny Weasely, Ron's sister."
Across the table, Fred and George exchanged mischievous glances. Fred held out his hand. "I'm Forge," he said cheerfully.
"And I'm Gred," added George just as merrily as he, too, held out his hand.
Eragon glanced at them and his eyes sparkled in amusement. "Pleased to meet you, Fred and George," he said as he shook their hands. "I'm Roragon."
A couple of days later, Eragon was in his room, sitting at the desk that had magically appeared there when he'd wanted a writing surface. He was staring at the papers that Kimly had given him so that he could learn Norwegian. He'd started with greetings and that alone was already giving him a headache.
He tugged at his hair. It seemed that wherever he went, he always managed to find trouble no matter what.
He half-expected Saphira's incoming comment, but he had to remind himself that she had gone hunting an hour or so earlier. Therefore, she was almost out of range for she had flown miles north and Eragon preferred to slightly cut their bond while she was hunting. But he could feel that she was alive and okay as well as satisfied because her belly was full.
Speaking of which, Eragon himself had missed dinner, which had passed a couple of hours back, and he hated the idea of interrupting Kimly's work just so that she could bring him some food. He would just have to suffer in silence, then.
His stomach growled in protest.
Well, Eragon thought sardonically. Maybe not in silence.
Then he remembered that he was in Room of Requirement and that it had this handy habit of granting one's wishes if one asked nicely. He glanced at the walls uncertainly.
Here goes nothing, he thought. Um, I would like something to eat. Please.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, a door appeared next to the bookcase and Eragon stood up. He stepped towards it and twisted the doorknob. It opened to reveal a dark passage. He gingerly stepped forward, his hand on the pommel of his dagger, the only weapon he had on himself as of right now. (He'd taken to leaving Brisingr in the Room of Requirement at all times, seeing as there was no need to be carrying a hand-and-a-half sword, that had a tendency to burn when its name was spoken, around a school.)
"Naina," he whispered and the passage lit up.
He started walking, barely remembering to send a quick thought to Saphira, who was already on her way back. He didn't know how long he walked – it could've been minutes or hours. But when he finally saw the end of the passage, he felt caution stalk into his movements. He slowly pushed the door open and found himself slightly above a small living room with a durable carpet, a wobble-legged chair and a worn-out couch.
He jumped down from wherever he was and he would've landed quietly if not for the creaking boards of the parquet. They squeaked as his feet hit the wood and he internally cursed. He straightened up and brushed dust off his shirt and pants. He looked around the room and saw that he had entered the room right above a small fireplace and that what he had thought a door was actually a large oil painting of a blonde girl. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed at the room.
"Stupefy!"
Eragon barely had time to react as the spell flew towards him. He whirled around and let the red light pass him, already unsheathing his dagger and twirling it dangerously in-between his fingers.
He came face to face with a tall and thin man with long and stringy grey hair and beard. His eyes, hidden behind smudgy glasses, were a bright and piercing blue. "Who are you?" he grunted, brandishing his wand.
Eragon raised his hands. "Eragon Bromsson. Who are you?"
He knew the answer before the man spoke. Even though he had longer hair and a beard now, Eragon still recognized his blue eyes and goat-like appearance from Albus Dumbledore's memories.
"I'm Aberforth," said Aberforth Dumbledore, his wand still raised though lowering now. "You're the new kid Albus's been tellin' me 'bout."
Eragon nodded slowly. "And you're his brother."
Aberforth squinted at him. "And how'd you know that?"
Eragon pursued his lips sheepishly. "I'm really perceptive?" he tried, slowly sheathing his dagger.
Aberforth laughed, he, too, putting his weapon away. "I'm gonna pretend that I believe you," he said.
The Rider cracked a smile. "You look alike – one could figure it out from that," he offered.
Albus's brother nodded thoughtfully. "I s'pose." He cleared his throat after a few seconds of silence. "So, what're you doin' here, kid?"
Eragon shrugged. "I was in the Room of Requirement and I asked for something to eat and the passage to here opened."
Aberforth nodded. "Mm, it can't conjure up food, so that's understandable." He stepped forward and closed the portrait, covering up the passage. "But I've got food, if you want some."
Eragon's stomach growled and he grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, food sounds good."
Leaning back with a sigh, Harry ran a hand through his messy hair. Doing his Transfiguration homework late at night had never been a good solution for him, but what could he do when between Quidditch practices and all the other homework he hadn't had time for it. The whole week had exhausted him and of course then there was the matter of Hermione's idea, which offered an additional headache.
It had been about a week since Eragon and Saphira had arrived at Hogwarts and things had pretty much stayed the same since then. The Rider rarely showed in public, preferring to stay in his room, wherever that was, and according to McGonagall learning whatever he had to, which was simply ridiculous since the seventeen-year-old could wipe the floor with half the seventh year at once. He even missed out on meals occasionally, but whenever Harry saw him, he seemed healthy and well-fed.
As for Saphira, Harry hadn't seen her since he'd met her, though she sometimes found her way inside his head and commented on various things. Purely for her own amusement, Harry suspected. But no matter how amused she seemed, she always gave him good advice and judgement. On more than one occasion, she stopped him from getting himself in detention with Umbridge again.
Having a sudden urge to find the two on the Marauder's Map, he climbed up the stairs and opened his trunk to find it, along with the Invisibility Cloak. Once he fished them out of the mess also known as his trunk, he descended the stairs again and sat back down in the armchair, adjusting himself comfortably. He tapped the Map with his wand.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
The map of Hogwarts appeared and the castle's main body was vacant except for a few prefects and Head Boys and Head Girls as well as some teachers patrolling the castle. Most of the students were in their dormitories, sleeping soundly. But there was one dot that was neither a teacher nor a student – not technically, at least.
Eragon Bromsson.
(The Map had identified him the same night he'd come to Hogwarts – Harry had checked.)
He was in the Astronomy Tower, all alone, Saphira not even on the Hogwarts grounds.
Harry wondered why the Rider would be alone on top of the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night, without even Saphira in his vicinity.
Deciding that knowing that was more important than his homework, Harry grabbed the Cloak and draped it over his shoulders. Then he proceeded to exit the Common Room, his Transfiguration homework lying forgotten on the desk.
An avoidance of two prefects and a near run-in with Professor Flitwick later, Harry finally arrived to the foot of the Astronomy Tower. He checked the Map to see if Eragon was still up there and sure enough, he was. His dot hadn't moved a millimetre.
With a sigh, Harry started ascending the stairs. About ten minutes later, he came to the top of the stairs, his chest heaving as he had practically run up.
He noticed Eragon almost immediately. He was sitting at the ledge of an opening, his body aligned with the edge. One of his legs was outstretched completely, while the other one was bent, one of his arms perched atop the bent knee. His other hand was at his side and he was leaning against the four inches wide wall. His head was tilted upward, toward the dark night sky, the moon reflected in his eyes.
The Rider didn't even glance in Harry's direction as he said, "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" his voice filled with mirth.
"Shouldn't you?" retorted Harry, taking a step closer to Saphira's Rider.
The said Rider glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, his mouth curving in a smirk. "I believe I asked first." He whirled on the ledge so that his body was now fully facing the starry sky, his legs dangling over the edge. At any moment, he could've gone hurtling down, toward the cold hard ground many feet underneath them, but he didn't seem to care. He appeared completely at ease.
Harry shrugged as he stashed away the Cloak and the Map. He joined Eragon on the ledge, tentatively sitting down – partly because of being unsure of Eragon's agreement on this, partly because of being afraid of falling to his death. "I had to do some homework and I couldn't sleep," he explained. He turned his head to look at the other boy. "You?"
Eragon lifted his hand and blue flames danced across his palm. He shrugged with one shoulder – the one that wasn't connected to his flaming palm. "I couldn't sleep either," he said as his eyes swivelled back up to the stars, the flames still burning. "The stars are different here – it makes me homesick."
Harry nodded. "Understandable." He watched as the fire died out slowly. Then, like Eragon, he turned his gaze upward, his eyes finding the familiar constellations of the sky – Cassiopeia, Little Dipper, Big Dipper, Orion and others. "I would too."
Eragon's gaze flickered to him. "Aren't you tired?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Probably a little. But I'm way too energized to feel sleepy." He returned the glance. "You?"
Eragon shook his head with a chuckle. "No," he answered. "I don't really need sleep." He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. "Part elf, remember?"
"Still, don't you need energy?"
"Yes, but we never really sleep – we're in a half-awake-half-asleep state. It allows us to be aware of everything around us while still getting some rest."
"Wicked," Harry said with a grin. "I wish I could do that."
"It is a double-edged sword. Sometimes, I wish I could just momentarily forget some things." He got this faraway look in his eyes, his hand playing across the stone walls. A few seconds later, he shook his head quickly. "Anyhow," he continued hurriedly. "why can't you sleep? There has to be a reason."
Harry shrugged. "Well," he said slowly. "a few days before you came, Hermione suggested this thing that we should do – but it would probably be breaking the rules. I mean, not technically, but still…" He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I think she'll want an answer soon."
Eragon seemed amused, if the twitching of his mouth was anything to go by. "As far as I can recall, you've never had any problems with breaking the rules."
Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well," he said as he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "This would be angering the Ministry of Magic and I'm already on thin ice with them."
"So it would be rebelling against the authority," summed up Eragon, a twinkle in his eye.
"Basically, yeah."
"Well, considering I've done this and it saved the whole land, I'll say, go for it."
"Really?" asked Harry sceptically. "I mean, there could be serious repercussions if this gets out."
"So what?" retorted Eragon, his eyes alive. "You aren't risking your life or others', are you?"
Harry shook his head.
"Then do it," said the Rider, his tone serious. When he saw the look Harry gave him, he sighed and turned full to the younger boy. "Considering you said that it would be angering the Ministry of Magic, I'm guessing it's got to do something with Umbridge." When Harry nodded, he continued, "Look, there's nothing wrong with rebelling once in a while, especially if you're doing something good for yourself and those you care about." His mouth curved up. "Take it from the cause of a rebellion." He squeezed Harry's shoulder encouragingly. Then he stood up.
Harry's head spun when he saw the Rider standing on the ledge of a very high tower, acting as if he couldn't fall to his death any second.
Eragon offered him his hand and Harry took it. The Rider pulled him up with almost too much strength. "Good night, Harry." He gave him one last encouraging look before he strode down the stairs, his tall figure being swallowed by the darkness.
The next morning, Harry told Hermione that he would teach the other students Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Pfft! You don't hate me! You love me! You wouldn't have this *gestures to the story* brilliance without me! :P xD
Okay, all jokes aside though; I'm really sorry I hadn't updated in three months and a half. But you guys are AWESOME! I mean, 181 follows and 114 favorites along with 91 reviews! I LOVE YOU!
So, how'd you like this chapter? I think that Aberforth and Eragon would make good friends.
Anyway, a few things I have to say:
1. I'm thinking of changing my username, so don't be alarmed if you see another name the next time I update (which will be in indefinete time).
2. Can you help me figure out Eragon's birthday (not the exact one, like which part of the month, e.g. the end of July or something)?
3. There were literally no offers for beta-ing, so now you don't get to complain that I make grammar mistakes :P Though thank you for your compliments on my knowledge of English.
4. But I could really use help from a native Norwegian speaker, because I don't speak Norwegian (that's what I wanted to say in the last AN but I forgot to write speak). Pretty please?
5. I think that's it.
So, answers to your reviews:
Quintain Apprentince of Alduin: Uh, no? I'm really sorry.
Cynder2013: Mhm, though they can't be all-mighty.
Zanondalf1992: Oh, you just kick back and relax, 'cause you're in for an enjoyable ride, honey. :D
crazyone-oh-one: Danke schön :D You readers warm my heart :)
SpaceDandyman: I'm sorry it took so long, but thanks. :)
Dragonsblue: Thanks, sorry for the wait :)
TheDancingMelon: Join the club :D but thanks.
SaviourUnleashed: I know, I love the house-elves :)) I try to answer every review and yes, Arya will come up, just not in Harry world.
FireDragon233: *blushes* You flatter me :)
xXxGhostRiderxXx: Take that, Death Eaters :P I think it'll be fun to write, yes.
dragonlver: Thank you, I do put in an effort. I just hate Umbridge, so naturally, so will Eragon.
Guest: Ha-ha, if you knew me, you'd know that I don't do well with deadlines xD But I'll try, I really will.
Peyton: Well, there might not be a bit of action in the next chapter, I'll see... Of course they'll clash - he's beautiful, she's not, among other things. Oh, Saphira would do more than flip, I'd imagine.
Inherifan1: You really love this, don't ya? I'm sorry for not updating... :)
andrewbaur69: Why, thank you :D But I'll see how and when the students will get to meet Saphira - maybe sooner, maybe later... you never know ;) Also, I want Eragon to speak another language, though he probably could get away with speaking Ancient Language.
Ky111: Hmm, maybe... ;) But I think she did, for a second.
ShadowTabby: Danke schön :)))
WriterGreenReads: I'm glad :D and thank you. But did you realize I actually asked how horrible it was? xD xD xD
Guest: For the first part, -"-; and for the second, yes, I actually have an awesome fanmade grammar. You should check it out: It's An Introduction To The Ancient Language from Paolini . net
Guest: I should really try that sometime. :)
DrBurn: Once again, heart-warming 3 Thank you :) I really enjoy writing Eragon, he's such an amazing character.
peyton: I don't know if you and Peyton are the same, but thanks anyway :)
SaviourUnleashed: I'm sorry, okay? I know I'm a horrible person! :(
Zekrom1010101010: Since Eragon. He's always hated slavery. Otherwise, I totally agree with you. Well, except for the Ron part - I'm kind of neutral to him.
redninjalass19: Thank you :) that makes me feel special. Yes, I know they're very powerful. And they will. Probably...
emilee1404: Thank you for reading :D
Also, thank you, Pkmntrainereragon124, for being my constant reminder and for your unswerving love for this story :'D
Lots of love,
EA4E.
