Chapter Twenty Nine – Padfoot's Tale

"Come on, you can do better than that!" Sirius shouted, laughing belatedly.

Unfortunately, in the Marauder's glee, he failed to notice that his deranged cousin had merely feinted with her spell. In hindsight, he should really have known her aim was never that bad. She'd been scoring hits all night long, even after years of imprisonment. There was no way skill of that level could be diminished so quickly. And why should it? Would the idea of hurting family put her off?

Not a chance. The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest, a rapid-fire banishing charm as her deception didn't allow her enough time to make the wand movements necessary for a more lethal attack. Sirius didn't dodge that one, and he was lifted off his feet, propelled through the Veil of Death. The students couldn't hear the voices, because, like Thestrals, that required a personal experience of loss, meaning Harry and Luna could hear them but the others could not. Sirius, however, was a fully fledged Auror, and had fought in the last war. He had killed and seen other people be killed, including over a dozen with one of Wormtail's spells. He could hear them, and he knew it was the end.

He tried to convey his guilt to his godson, who watched with horror, but all he managed to do was make an expression close to terror. Pitiful, really. The last thing he heard before falling through the misty aura was Bellatrix's triumphant scream.

Oh, you hateful bitch.

In one final act of bravado, he attempted to raise his wand to curse the hag, even as he flew to his doom. But he never got to cast the spell, and the end result was a spark of magic just as his wand met the drapery. The result would prove unfathomable, but Sirius couldn't know that. All he knew was that he had failed, and now his watch had ended. He shut his eyes and waited.

Sirius had been expecting some kind of release then, maybe painful, maybe not. What he hadn't been expecting was to suddenly reappear... somewhere, falling from over a hundred feet. His eyes flicked open. He was plummeting towards the dank earth at an alarming rate, but his Auror reflexes kicked in.

"Gravitas penna!"

The effect was instantaneous. Rather than slam onto the ground, he felt his body slow up rapidly, resulting in a gentle float to the end. Unfortunately, the effect of being hurtled downwards at such a high speed, only to rapidly stop, couldn't be ignored, and he promptly threw up, before collapsing, groaning as his internal organs seemed to shake from the concussive force. He was surprised to be awake, actually. Maybe Bellatrix hadn't stunned him. Or maybe the Veil had cancelled out the effect.

The Veil!

Sirius jerked up to a sitting position, cursing as the quick movement threatened to split his head with a flash of pain. He rubbed a temple for a minute, until the spots cleared from his eyes and he could think straight again. Then he blinked and stood up fully, taking in his surroundings.

He appeared to be in a barren wasteland, with dunes of sand off to one direction and a reservoir of salt on the other. To his left, as far as the eye could see, lay the dim belly of what was the Hadarac Desert. But fortunately, he was nowhere near the centre, having landed just on the northernmost outskirts. Not that he knew that.

"Where the bloody hell am I?" Sirius exclaimed. "If this is the afterlife I feel really annoyed that there are no skimpily clad women around!" he shouted, voice carrying for what felt like miles.

No response.

"Forget this," he muttered. "I must be in Africa or somewhere. Maybe the Veil doesn't kill people; the destination does."

What he didn't know was that his analysis was spot-on. The Veil of Death had been used to punish criminals in the ultimate manner for centuries, if not longer. One only had to step through and one would die... or so the Ministry had thought. In reality, the condemned had been entering a gateway, a portal to the land known as Alagaësia. There they had met the swallowing depths of the Hadarac, but Sirius did not have that problem. He had attempted to resist falling, meaning that the magic involved noted his guiltlessness of any crime. But it had never been designed to reverse the effect and allow him to return. It was a one-way trip. Instead, it allowed him a fighting chance by teleporting him several dozen leagues to the north of the usual destination, a seemingly random effect.

What nobody knew was that the object wasn't sentient. Instead, someone was pulling the strings, someone who had foreseen an arrival since the Veil had begun to go haywire minutes before. He had no idea why that happened, as it was a new occurrence, and that left him very curious indeed. He was even more so upon seeing the man arrive and use magic to slow himself down, meaning that he had some means of self-defence. The thing was, any criminal sentenced to death did not have their wand on departure, meaning that they never stood a chance of making it through the desert. Sirius had his, and he was innocent.

"Maybe I can disapparate," Sirius said. "Sure, it'll be an international trip, but hopefully Dumbledore has the situation contained by now. Then I can lie up and sleep for about a week."

Musing happily, despite his anxiety over Harry's safety, he turned on the spot, fixing his mind on the Ministry of Magic atrium.

To his eternal annoyance, nothing happened.

"Huh?"

"That won't work."

Sirius spun, levelling his wand at a peculiar figure, robed in blue, which had just appeared out of nowhere. He couldn't see the stranger's face, but he had the voice of an old man, and the temperament of an extremely powerful wizard.

"Who are you?"

The man may have gazed at him scrupulously, or he may have been staring into nothingness. Sirius might never have known, such was his shrouded appearance. But one thing was certain; the stranger spoke in no uncertain terms, and his words were not mincing. He beguiled the senses with an aura of strength, sent tingles up the spine with a voice of authority.

"My real name is of no importance, but you may call me Lailoken. I am the Keeper of the Bridge, Protector of the Realm."

His voice was gentle and patient, yet his words spoken with authority.

Sirius looked at him as though he had gone mad. "Huh? What bridge? This is all sand and dirt, if you hadn't noticed. No water here."

"The bridge that joins our worlds," the mysterious old man replied patiently, face still hidden. "You are no longer in the Wizarding World, my friend."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Sirius demanded, raising his wand higher. "What is this, some type of trick?"

The man was utterly unconcerned by his actions, and decided it would be better to do things the easy way. That's when Sirius felt a strange presence enter his mind, blowing through his modest Occulmency barriers as though they were nothing. He began to see a flood of memories, including knowledge on the Veil of Death, the Ministry and the land in which he now stood. All of a sudden, the presence vanished, just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Okay, you better start talking. Now," Sirius growled. "What was that? How did you get past my defences so easily?"

"Your defences need to be rebuilt from scratch," Lailoken said. "Come with me and you can rest. Trust me when I say your journey is far from over, but I fear you will never again set foot in your home... no, I see it now. Your part in that tale has ended."

"Like hell it has," Sirius declared. "You can do whatever you want, I'm going back to find my godson. I won't abandon him, not again. If you follow me or try anything... weird again, I might just kill you."

With that, he turned and walked away, in the direction where there was no sand. He would later kick himself for turning his back on such a dangerous adversary, even in his rage at Bitchatrix.

He got no farther than ten feet before a piece of magic hit him squarely in the back, knocking the Marauder to the ground and unconscious.

"That was the last I saw of that weirdo," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair wistfully. "He dropped me in the centre of Du Weldenvarden and must have vanished during the night sometime."

Harry was aghast. He couldn't believe the Ministry had made such a horrible error! Even if the vast majority of people sentenced deserved the slow, agonising death that the Hadarac offered, the justice system wasn't impeccable! Sirius was an example of that. It was a travesty, a perversion of justice in the highest order. But perhaps lamenting the fallen judicial sepulchre of magical society was a tale best left to another time. For now, his mind was already clouded with pain and sorrow for his godfather.

"What do you mean, 'during the night sometime'?" Murtagh demanded. "That's no mean distance at all!"

Sirius frowned, thinking hard. He had thought about it many times before, eventually coming to the conclusion that Lailoken had somehow known about apparition. The man clearly had some sense of Wizarding upbringing, not to mention a proclivity for dealing with one such as Sirius. Maybe he was also a wizard who had fallen through the Veil, however long ago? He repeated these musings aloud.

"Then we have to find him!" Eragon said, eyes bulging. "I thought three Riders was an advantage. If you add another two wizards to that formula-"

"He's gone," Sirius said flatly, and Eragon blinked, before stooping in disappointment. The group, consisting of five Riders, another wizard and four dragons scattered across the top of the crag, had been sitting for the better part of an hour as Sirius recanted his tale, but before that Eragon had told of their trek from Carvahall, ending with the confrontation in Teirm. Harry would take over there momentarily. Sirius had interjected due to a wish from Harry.

And Harry wasn't altogether surprised at the revelation. He had made the assumption as soon as Sirius came into view, and now the circuit had completed itself seamlessly. It all led to this.

The Truth.

The End of one part of his quest.

And The Beginning of another.

"The Bridge at Daggermouth is the Veil of Death," he said quietly, drawing inquisitive glances. Solembum's prophecy rang out in his mind, and the words seemed to echo stronger than ever before.

"...when you are lost, you may be found upon the Bridge at Daggermouth..."

Harry told them of what had happened in Teirm after an unspoken glance he shared with Eragon. It was the first time the two had spoken of that day with so many present.

"The Bridge... it has to be the Veil!"

"And Daggermouth?" Murtagh questioned. "What could that be?"

Harry smirked and nodded at Sirius, who promptly transformed into Padfoot, baring his teeth in recognition.

Murtagh yelped, shocked by the sudden transformation, and Brom swore loudly. Sirius returned to his normal self with a bark of laughter.

Oromis paused in the sipping of his tea to look at him over the cup. He had seen this parlour trick before and wasn't intimidated. Instead, he exchanged a look and a thought with Glaedr, the ancient dragon back in his resting spot.

"It all makes sense now," Harry continued, "for I finally understand what Angela meant. I told Eragon to stop speaking earlier for a reason," he said, thinking back to several minutes prior. "I needed to hear Sirius' part first, and now I know... this world isn't another planet. It's not forwards in time from our own home, Sirius, and it's certainly not backwards. It's concurrent. The Veil is a portal which leads to alternate dimensions, not through time."

"You're probably right," Sirius admitted, "but how the hell do you know that for a fact?"

All eyes turned to Harry. It was a damned good question, given the circumstances. It was more of a gut feeling than anything, but still...

"For obvious reasons this isn't the future."

"Obviously," Sirius nodded. He had deduced as much in his time spent with the elves.

"Wait, hold up. What reasons?" Brom asked sceptically.

"The lack of technology, bikinis on the beach and rampaging blood fanatics," Sirius said.

"The what?"

"Go with the first one," Harry suggested, rolling his eyes. "If this was the future of our time, things would be very different. It's a fact. This simply can't be the future. Even an apocalypse wouldn't cause humans to regress like this. Not with the lack of architecture and primitive-"

"Hey!" Eragon said, affronted.

"Sorry," Harry grinned, scratching his head. "But you know it's true. In the long run, there would be an advancement of materials available and magical proficiency, not to mention technology, as Sirius said. And-"

"Okay, get to the point," Brom grumbled, interrupting him. "What about the past?"

"I've seen a map of this place. In our world there is no chance of the world realigning in such a short period of time, not so drastically."

"Whoa there, pup," Sirius said, holding a hand up. "You even have me confused now."

Harry took one look at the blank faces he was getting, and sighed. This was going to take a while.

After much struggling with trying to drum the theory into the heads of those natives present, as well as his bemused godfather, Harry was able to sound out the very basics of continental drift, which he dimly recalled from early school geography. It wasn't a lot, but he understood the theory and had done some independent research on all sorts of topics when hiding from Dudley in the local library as a child. That dimwit only ever read violent books, and even then he only skipped to the gruesome deaths. He had no need for a library as his awful parents just bought him everything, only for it to be destroyed within days. That allowed Harry much time to study, and geography was something he had brushed upon briefly.

He understood that the countries of the world shifted. Even Astronomy class had taught the effects of the Moon and Sun on such a process, so it stuck with him.

In any case, he gave them a basic appreciation of how long it took for continents to realign – okay, it was a very rough estimate as he couldn't remember for certain, even when Arucane sifted through his memories, but it would do. Millions of years, at the very least. Then he took some time to mention how long humans had existed in the world, and how the two periods couldn't possibly match. Even the last ice age hadn't caused enough of a change for a chunk of land as large as Alagaësia to go missing. If the world had existed in this manner there would have been scientific evidence of human settlements.

"I didn't understand half of that nonsense," Brom grunted, "but I'll take your word for it."

"As if you have a choice."

"I bloody well wish that I did!"

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why do you even care?"

Brom vaguely mumbled something about secrets, which Harry scowled at. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he demanded. Brom had been routinely embarrassed when Oromis dropped the bombshell that he had been aware of his and Glaedr's survival all along. Brom had shot him a panicked look, to which Oromis responded by shaking his head in a placating fashion.

The truth would out.

Harry was furious, but Eragon and Murtagh still weren't speaking to the old man. Though it had been only an hour ago.

"Peace," Oromis proffered, raising a hand gently.

"You know," Harry said through gritted teeth, "I am getting sick of hearing that bloody word in a patronising manner. 'Peace'. You really think that'll calm me down after all the shit we've been through?"

Oromis didn't respond, but Harry words evoked a startling reaction from the enormous golden dragon; he began to growl so ferociously it felt as though the entire cliff-top was shaking with his rage.

"How dare you have such disrespect for us, hatchling! When you speak to us in the common tongue you will call us 'master'! And you will keep a civil tongue at all times!"

"Ah, yes," Sirius mused, almost to himself. "The common tongue... also known as English."

"I'll do no such thing," Harry retorted, ignoring Sirius. He was long past the point of decorum now. "The last person I know who wanted to be called 'master' killed my parents and dozens of others! You'll forgive me if that title is a little sanctimonious to my ears, Glaedr."

"Sancti... you insolent child!"

Harry's teeth began to chatter from the vibrations in the air.

"Enough, Glaedr!" Oromis uttered, and the dragon at once fell silent. Oromis' brow was fixed in a line, and he bore an unpleasant frown, the first time Harry had seen him ruffled since their initial meeting. There was always going to be tension, but the old Rider hadn't anticipated such animosity over so simple a thing as demureness. It was a natural hierarchy, something he explained to Harry in a calm and patient tone.

"And as a military man, surely you can understand virtue and respect for command?" he asked carefully, in a gentler tone of voice.

Harry looked at the elf, studying his expression. He was clearly old, even by the standards of his kind, with weary eyes betraying the grim and unnatural remainder of youth that he bore. It was disconcerting to think he would one day be the same. He shuddered at the very thought.

"I can accept 'sir', because that implies mutual respect in a progressive system, the same as 'ma'am'," Harry said. "But 'master' implies forced ownership and I won't lower myself to that level. After the war I even made a point of pushing Hermione to introduce legislation for House-Elf welfare. If my rights are going to be a problem, maybe it would be better for all parties if I took my leave of you now."

"Stop being so bloody stupid!" Brom spat, sparks practically flying from his eyes. "This is an age-old tradition that comes with the job description!"

"I wasn't aware I got a mandate with something I had no choice in!" Harry shouted back. "No offence to you, Aru."

"None taken. I can see your point. I won't call anyone 'master' either."

Harry flashed the emerald dragon a smile, but Oromis was shocked. Glaedr turned to the hatchling as if to vent his displeasure, but he was halted by the arrivals of Thorn and Saphira, who vaulting upwards, echoing their nesting partner's sentiments.

"Nor will I," she said.

"Nor I," he added.

It appeared the three were learning a lot about independence, freedom and friendship from their respective Riders, all of whom beamed with pride.

Oromis turned to Eragon and Murtagh almost pleadingly, but instead found the two looking at their dragons with a newfound respect. He sighed heavily and sat his still-full cup on the table, shaking his head in befuddlement. He felt very old indeed.

"What am I to do with the three of you?" he asked pointedly. "You've been here but a couple of hours and already you show disregard for one of the simplest rules of our order."

"With respect," Harry said, slowly, as though he were being forced, "some rules are made to be malleable. This has to be one of them. When you have someone with the varying social experience I have, not to mention Sirius here, you know there are bound to be changes afoot. It's called democracy."

Sirius nodded, but Murtagh winced. He still believed a hierarchal system was required until the people could be educated about how to rule themselves. Maybe this was the first step on that road. With people like Harry – and now Sirius – onboard, they might be able to begin. If that were the case, he would certainly accept it. He just needed time to adapt first.

"The king already tried to force me into servitude," he declared openly, voice carrying in the reigning silence. "Would you do the same?"

"No," Oromis said sharply. "I would have you show manners and etiquette that befit those of your stature."

"Then allow us to be equals," Eragon said. "Please, for the sake of all Alagaësia. Let this blasted charade lie already. We have work to do."

"Careful, Eragon," Brom said. "That sounds dangerously close to giving us orders."

"No, Brom, it's a suggestion," Eragon said through gritted teeth. "If we're to respect each other enough to share everything, all of our knowledge, what's a little mutual agreement to use given names in comparison?"

No one could think of an appropriate response, but Harry was in a foul mood indeed and he decided to add a little fuel to the fire, just for spite. And because he was sick of the secrets and needed to clear the air. This had to be done now, when tempers were already running high. If it were left for another day, week or month, when all of this was settled, it would only reopen old wounds. That couldn't happen when their minds needed to be clear – the fate of the entire sodding world was in danger. He knew it was a huge risk, but it was also a calculated one at that. Eragon needed to be told the truth and Harry did have faith in his friend's ability to be forgiving.

"Speaking of sharing knowledge, Brom is your father," he told him.

Silence.

Absolute, complete, nullifying silence.

And then:

"I don't care."

Brom, who had been glaring at Harry with something like desire to kill, turned his eyes to Eragon. He looked almost hurt, not that Harry was going to peddle the old man any sympathy any time soon.

"What do you mean?" he asked neutrally.

"I mean I no longer give a damn about anything you have to say," Eragon said calmly, shrugging. "I'm done taking orders from you, Brom. The amount of secrets you've kept from us... it makes me wonder what else you've hidden. And to be quite frank, I. Could. Not. Give. A. Shit."

"Little one, maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Eragon snapped, as she tailed off.

"...it can wait."

Brom did not respond. He merely bowed his head slightly, accepting this new development. Sirius looked more than a tad uncomfortable.

"I thought our reunion was awkward," he muttered, nudging Harry. Unlike Brom and Eragon, who were seated at opposite ends of the table, Harry deliberately chose the seat nearest to his godfather and, dare he say it, his second father to boot. He had embraced Sirius with unknown joy, and it had taken great effort to prevent him from crying at seeing that face again.

Harry coughed and shook his head. "We've gone too far off the mark. My point was that this isn't the future or the past, so it's an alternate reality."

"You said about other planets," Sirius intoned, holding up a finger. "How do you know we're not trapped on the moon or something?"

"The moon is right there, Sirius," Harry said with annoyance, pointing up at the glowing orb in the night-sky.

"Oh. Well, how about Mars or something?"

"Don't you remember anything from Astronomy class? There is no other planet in the solar system which supports life apart from Earth. And I absolutely refuse to believe Voldemort or some ancient wizard astronomer discovered a planet in another system or galaxy which can support life, not when Muggle scientists haven't even done that yet. It has to be an alternate reality of some kind."

"I guess you're right," Sirius admitted, grinning sheepishly. "But for the record, I was in Azkaban for over a decade. Cut me a bit of slack."

Harry nodded and held his hands up placatingly. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."

The two of them were leading the conversation now, mainly because the others were too absorbed in their own thoughts to care. Glaedr still glared at anyone who dared look his way, Oromis had his eyes shut in deep thought, Eragon glared stonily at the table with his arms crossed, Brom kept trying to catch his eye, and Murtagh simply looked out over the forest, mirroring the two youngest dragons. Saphira was glaring right back at Glaedr.

"But do you really think it's possible?" Sirius asked.

"Hopefully," Harry sighed.

"Hopefully?"

"Well, yeah... otherwise there are more absurd possibilities that even I can't think of, and this one is bad enough by itself."

"Huh, point taken," Sirius grinned. "What are you thinking, then? Alternate reality with a different outcome of human development centuries ago?"

"Maybe. Or maybe an inherently dissimilar origin of magic has shaped the world differently. That would explain why dragons are intelligent, elves aren't indentured servants and everyone speaks 'the common tongue'."

"Actually, if I may, there is a distinct reason for those first two differences," Oromis said. "It's an important part of the Rider history. Back in the time of The Dragon War, or 'Du Fyrn Skulblaka', a pact was formed between the two races. This happened when a young elf known as Eragon discovered an abandoned egg and raised it as his own, allowing him to create the mantle of our proud race. The two then acted as negotiators for both dragon and elven kinds, eventually resulting in the truce that formed the inseparable bond between elves and dragons.

"Humans were later added to this pact, and in the corresponding years all three have lived in relative harmony, with the notable exception of this war taking prominence. We elves gathered together our strongest spellcasters at Ilirea, which is now Urû'baen, but even with their combined might the magic took nine years to come full circle. The dragons sent the greatest of their race, a purely white being whose name cannot be spoken in any language, as the representative of their kin.

"That is but a basic introduction. We will learn more about it when it comes time for the Blood-Oath Celebration."

"Thank you," Harry said with sincerity. That was a fascinating tale.

Oromis inclined his head. "I would have expected you to learn it sooner, but..."

"But I was more concerned with keeping the ungrateful little shits alive," Brom said, his head snapping up as he felt the need to defend himself.

"Ungrateful? No, just untrusting. I told you outside of Teirm that I trusted you," Harry said, pointing a finger accusingly. "My exact words to you were: 'I trust you as well. I value your training and wisdom. You've helped us to stay alive. I just don't like being kept in the dark'. Do you remember that?"

"I remember you telling me that you would respect my decision to keep my secrets," Brom shot back.

"Yes, but that was before I knew there was another Rider still alive! Let's sound off, shall we?" Harry asked mockingly, raising a finger to correspond with each point. "We have: being a magician, the two eggs, Eragon being your son-"

Eragon blinked, but said nothing. He was wrapped up in thought about the origins of his namesake, mainly to deter him from the more glaring and immediate issue. Mending this bridge was going to take a lot of effort. And for the time being, he had no interest in histrionics.

"-the Varden, the dwarves, being a Rider and now this on top of all that? It's too much..." Harry said, shaking his head. "No, it's just too much, Brom. I don't know where the lies start and where they end anymore."

"They end here," Brom admitted. "I have no more secrets to keep from you, and I'll repeat that fact in the Ancient Language if you wish, because it's a binding oath. Binding. Do you know what that means?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then you also know why I couldn't say anything about Oromis and Glaedr!"

Harry shook his head. "Maybe so, but I would have forgiven that if it weren't for the other secrets you kept from us."

"So you're slating me for something you already forgave? That is just pettiness."

"It's an accumulative total. I'm sure I'll get over it sooner or later."

Brom was relieved to hear that, but still looked annoyed. He shot Eragon a glance, who shook his head.

"Not a chance."

"Son..."

"Don't call me that! What type of father abandons his own child and then returns to live in complete solitude?" Eragon demanded.

"I left to avenge my dragon and to find the egg!" Brom roared. "When I knew where Morzan was, how could I not take advantage of that?! How the hell could I ignore him?! He had killed the man we sent to retrieve the egg, Hefring! I didn't even know your mother was pregnant until I returned after Morzan goaded me – goaded me before I put my blade through the bastard's neck – and by then it was too late! Selena... your mother... she..." he hesitated, and Harry could have sworn there were tears glistening in the old man's eyes.

Eragon's expression softened somewhat. "...she was dead," he finished.

Brom nodded, not looking up. He stared at the table for the rest of his explanation. His steel did not return. "She had left to give birth in Carvahall sometime during my absence. When she saw what the king and Morzan had planned for you, Murtagh... she just couldn't let that happen again. But the return journey led to her death, and by the time I got back Eragon was already with his aunt and uncle. The midwives told me she had been pregnant, so I made up my mind there and then.

"I took the egg I retrieved to the Varden and negotiated the yearly exchange with the elves, accompanied Arya to Ellesméra and met with Oromis and Glaedr here for the last time. After that I went to Carvahall. To look after you," he said sharply, looking up again.

"Then why didn't you raise me?" Eragon asked.

"I couldn't. After all that I had lost... I couldn't deal with loving someone else, only to have them torn away from me. I was a coward. And I could see the love in Garrow's household. You were happy there, with two people better fit to be your parents than I ever could be and another child who could be a second brother to you."

"I have three brothers," Eragon declared, "and two of them sit beside me now. But... I can understand your reasons. That doesn't mean I have to be happy about them."

Harry and Murtagh gave him encouraging and grateful smiles at his words, but Brom merely nodded in acceptance.

Sirius appeared to be growing increasingly uncomfortable under the scrutinising glances Brom and Eragon were shooting each other, something which was not helped by Harry's tumultuous impatience. He began to click his tongue and tap his foot against the ground, until at last Oromis sighed, breaking the silence.

"I see you haven't learned the value of patience. That is most unfortunate," he said with sorrow.

"Trust me, I'm swimming with remorse," Harry said. "But let's cut through the bullshit. I'd been patient with 'adults' my entire life, until I hit seventeen, learned how the world really works and decided to start looking out for myself. I place little trust in authority figures and I won't be treated like a child."

"If you insist," Oromis said, appearing disappointed. Then, his gaze flashed to Harry's, a look of intense desire welling up. "Defend yourself!"

And before Harry could even respond, a mental probe shattered his defences, before beginning to assail his memories with effortless ease, snatching glimpses of his childhood and time at Hogwarts. Fortunately, Harry had long since learned how to combine mental combat with the traditional methods, and used his reflexive controls to fire off a stinging hex that the elf couldn't avoid. He used nothing lethal, knowing this was a mere demonstration, the beginning of their training, but it still ruffled his cap rather profusely.

He also hated to admit it, but he still couldn't cast much more than basic attacks wandlessly.

Oromis let out a mild yelp and flinched, allowing Harry to push him out of his mind and retaliate with a barrage of mental strikes, each of which rebounded off the elf's iron-hard barriers like water upon rock. His efforts might have been fruitless, but his task had been successful, as Oromis was unable to reengage on the front foot, leaving him trapped within his own mind. At last, after several minutes of warring against one another, he raised a hand.

Harry ceased his attack.

"Very impressive," the elf admitted. "And you didn't even have to resort to casting additional spells after your original attack. Perhaps you know more than I gave you credit for."

Sirius, who had started at Oromis' assault and moved to help his godson, frowned uncertainly. Brom had held him back with a knowing look, and Sirius had allowed the duel to go ahead, though he was distinctly unhappy.

"I'd ask you not to do that again, but I know why you resorted to a sneak attack. The king won't be accommodating either," Harry said.

Oromis nodded gravely, his brow furrowed. He looked into Harry's eyes, thinking about this young man's potential, before turning his gaze to the others. He repeated the exercise with both of them, even though they were now prepared for his attack.

Eragon was only able to keep him at bay for a few minutes, even with Saphira's help. He was still inexperienced with mental shielding and, unlike Harry, didn't have the virtue of Occlumency to give him aid. With a nod, Oromis mentioned that he had shown good progression, but still needed further training to reach the next level.

Murtagh, who had years of fortifying defences under his belt, was able to repel Oromis successfully for a little while. The elf's experience won out, however, and he broke through after fifteen minutes of struggle from both parties. That was when something unexpected happened.

Murtagh's mind was a sanctuary. Nobody ventured there without his permission; it had taken long enough for him to trust his friends. Oromis, despite his position as head of the Rider Order, wasn't a friend. In fact, he had proved beyond doubt that he was very dangerous, possibly manipulative, and openly hostile to their desire for outright independence.

That tally of unpleasant facts erupted within Murtagh's mind, melding with his deep instinct for self-preservation, something he had conditioned into himself, and he bounded to his feet, a thunderclap of fury masking his weather-beaten face. The area around them stilled, as though the centre of a hurricane stood overhead, and Murtagh quickly unleashed the torrent that would outmatch any devastating display of nature. Streaks of red electricity began to crackle around a now pulsating aura, which could be seen by the naked eye. The young man raised his hand, the one with the Gedwëy Ignasia, and aimed directly at Oromis.

Harry knew what was coming, and was determined not to let it. This was all happening in the space of but a few heartbeats, so Oromis hadn't even had time to retract yet. When he did, Murtagh's composure did not change, so Harry hit him with a stunner. It had absolutely no effect, batted away by the crimson visage of arcane power that swirled around Murtagh like shimmering mist. Harry gaped in horror at what was happening.

By now the entire ensemble of men was on their feet, worriedly diving for cover or, in the case of Harry and Sirius, firing non-verbal spells with rapidity. Brom and Eragon eventually added to this with their own, non-lethal magic, but nothing could penetrate Murtagh's shield. The younger dragons reared, Thorn in particular, and Glaedr forced them behind his massive bulk.

"What the hell is this?" Harry shouted, voice carrying above the thunder that had began to boom with bursts of sonic power.

Oromis had spun out of the way, and Murtagh's gaze did not follow. Instead, his arm was pointed straight ahead, wherein lay Oromis' home. Bravely, Glaedr bounded over, almost knocking everyone down with the force of impact as his feet hit the ground, and stood blocking his path. He roared directly at the young man, determined to frighten him into submission.

"Murtagh, nosu weonata néiat haina ono!" Oromis declared suddenly, his voice rising above even the intense storm that now brewed.

The words were accompanied by a gong that could be felt, let alone heard. Murtagh suddenly convulsed, gasping deeply. The display subsided, and he fell to his knees, clutching at his temples furiously. Sirius, with the greatest sympathy, cast a minor charm that would alleviate his pounding headache. Murtagh gave an enormous sigh of relief.

He knew he was doomed now. He had proven that there was nothing for him here, no trust, no control... but he didn't want to face the music. When he rose, they would be looking at him, condemning him with their furious glances. It took a lifetime, but he eventually gave to the inevitable and rose, with all the pretence of a wounded man approaching the gallows.

What he found shocked him.

Rather than scrutinise or attack him, Sirius and Oromis were crouching over him, great concern etched into each man's countenance. They looked at him in a way his father never had, leaving Murtagh to feel an overwhelming swath of pity and shame.

"Forgive me," he choked, drawing a smile from Oromis.

"Do not concern yourself," the elf said. "This was my doing, and I should be the one begging your forgiveness."

Harry, too disturbed at what he had just seen to pay attention, left the medical aid to those two, as they would know much more than he which could help. Brom took it upon himself to pace the area, seemingly arguing with himself. With a wave of his hand, Harry repaired the chairs that had been trashed by the subsided shockwaves. It wasn't perfect, but he couldn't do much better without a wand.

"I feel so useless!" Eragon spat, disgusted with himself.

Harry retreated into his mind. "How the utter hell did Murtagh do that? He didn't speak in the Ancient Language at all..."

The answer came to the two of them simultaneously and the gape they shared was seemed to stretch for hours. Harry had to know the truth. He looked around over the cliff-face and thought only of the tranquillity of the forest. He put his hand flat, palm facing upwards.

"Adurna!" he thought.

To his delight, the ball of water he had envisioned came into being, hovering above his palm. It swirled in a never-ending motion, the surface rippling with all the ferocity of a whirlpool. Grinning, Eragon came over to him.

"Let me try..."

"Stop!"

They turned and saw Oromis looking pleading. "You cannot! If your attention were to waive for even an instant, you could destroy us all!"

Harry blinked. "Em..."

"Please," Brom said, helping Murtagh to a chair. "Look at him. Give it a rest for one night, can't you? There's a lot happening here and we can explain on the morrow, when we're not afraid of being clubbed around the head for our efforts."

Eragon rolled his eyes, but nodded stiffly and walked back to Saphira. "Is Murtagh alright?"

"He'll be fine," Oromis nodded.

"Good. Then, since we won't be training today, I think I'll go flying. I need time to clear my head," he snapped, as Brom looked ready to protest. The old man deflated and said nothing. Seeing he would be unchallenged, Eragon mounted Saphira and the two took off.

Harry watched them for a moment, before shaking his head. "He needs time," he said at large. "Sirius, can you help me take Murtagh to his room? We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Glaedr can fly you back in turns," Oromis said quietly, hoping the help would be appreciated. To his disappointment, Harry shook his head without looking back at him.

"No, thank you. Sirius can apparate us there."

"You have a lot you want to ask me, don't you, pup?" Sirius asked, eying him carefully.

"Oh, yeah," Harry chuckled. "You have no idea. I think we'll start with anything you know about making new wands, once I find whatever the elves drink in this place."

Sirius laughed. "There he is, James. Okay, I'll take Murtagh if you grab the dragons."

"We can fly," Arucane said, considering the method of transportation. "I don't like the looks of this spell."

Harry didn't really want to be apart from his friend in this place, but accepted that. No one would dare try and accost either of them, surely. He nodded and instead helped Sirius to support Murtagh, the three disappearing with a loud crack. The dragons took off in the direction of the city, leaving the three eldest behind.

Oromis and Glaedr went to look over the cliff, leaving Brom to sigh to himself.

"Well," he said aloud, "that was a complete and utter clusterfuck."

A:N - For the first time I found myself with a need to redraft a chapter more than once. Eventually I threw my hands up and said "screw it" and subsequently chopped it in half. This is essentially one long conversation, but if it had been uploaded as the second draft what you can see would have been twice as long. As a compromise, I'm editing the next chapter and removing large parts for later use. Dialogue can be fun to write, but 12,000 words with little action is a drag.