Chapter 16: Winter

The cold season proceeded apace. Every day was a rushed and hurried affair. Arya had seemingly predicted Harry's request for foraged seeds and came through magnificently, bringing seeds and fruits whose names Harry didn't even know even after his childhood of conscripted gardening and six intense years of Herbology. Arya didn't seem to mind tending to the enormous greenhouse overly much. They were moving between the cabin and Brom's house so often Harry had given up and simply enchanted her a permanent two-way portkey. The silver Monopoly top hat chewed up miles and made Harry grin every time Arya pulled it out, reminding her of his Monopoly supremacy.

The greenhouses churned out food products unbelievably quickly. Duplicated fertilizer mixed with growth potion brews made the mundane plants shoot up like time-traveling bamboo. It was so rapid that even Arya with all her elvish quickness and strength could not hope to harvest every stacked hydroponic bed before the first crops were ready to harvest again. Instead Harry had toiled away experimenting on a separate bed in the lab, trying to come up with an enchantment to automate harvesting, replanting, and fertilizing.

He added an indicator to the expanded silos, a long stripe of color, filled in green from the bottom upwards reflecting how full the storage spaces were. Amusingly enough, thousands of tons of produce scarcely pushed the bar beyond single percents. Testing revealed that the stasis charms on the silos functioned properly, and freshly harvested fruit would spill from the exit valve whenever it was opened. The animals required a bit more maintenance, a task Arya enthusiastically took up. She told him about the joy of raising piglets, calfs, and tiny chicks, using her own brand of legilimency to become a sort of second mother to the babies.

Harry courageously left the animal husbandry to her, rarely venturing into the animal enclosure without a bubblehead charm. He left her special feed mixed with growth and fertility elixirs and instructions as to their use. All those potion ingredients had been a bitch and a half to get his hands on, but with all the seeds and basilisk and phoenix materials, Harry was able to use extensive trial and error to replace ingredients in the recipes which he did not yet have access to.

The wizard's own days were often frantic and exhausting. Managing such large production facilities in the time crammed around the full day of smithy apprenticing he did with Horst caused a lot of strain. The results were telling though. Each night after returning to Brom's home and apparating across the mountain range, Harry forged a new sword, hanging them in a row on pegs, each labeled by date. The improvement was worth it. Before the blades he made were rife with faults, now he forged beautiful and straight blades, sharp and flawless. Nothing quite stroked one's ego like the standard deviation charm returning nearly impossible numbers.

Whenever Harry needed a break or simply to relax, he swaddled himself in his invisibility cloak and apparated off to the afterlife to speak with friends and family passed. Hephaestus Peverell and his brothers often offered congratulations or pointers on his forging skills while Lily hugged him and demanded that he visit more often. James repeatedly got smacked for encouraging Harry to put the 'Potter moves' on Arya. Harry liked his manhood exactly where it was thank you very much.

His discussions with Dumbledore were enlightening as well. He still had some trust issues with the old man, but on the all they worked their problems out together. Harry didn't think Lily or James would ever forgive the man, but Harry understood the headmaster's decisions. He made the best decision out of a selection of shit choices.

The Flamels were conspicuously absent, something that simultaneously relieved and disappointed Harry. He'd hold off on diving into Alchemy until he returned to his own world. Despite his insatiable drive to learn, Harry recognized he had all the time in the world and then some for his pursuits.

Instead he worked on a little family project with Lily and James; a flying broomstick. James lent his quidditch expertise and extensive transfiguration skills to the problem while Lily brought her mastery of charms. It was a work in progress and Harry hadn't even constructed any of their ideas back in Alagaesia, but he frequently returned with new sheafs of papers scrawled in three distinct hands depicting advanced plans and equations for personal flying vehicles, not all of them broomsticks at all.

God watched happily. This was exactly what she hoped would happen when she rewarded Harry. Seeing her children happy made her happy, and she was really happy.

"Bend the link quickly! It's so small it cools too quickly for a normal smith to weld," Horst urged. Harry deftly withdrew his tongs from the forge, deftly bending the link of mail into shape around the next loop. The light armor was nearly finished. Horst had given him the task to test his dexterity and precision. Forging mail of entirely closed loops was apparently a daunting prospect for medieval blacksmiths. Instead of welding each individual link they alternated between open and closed links, massively reducing the workload.

During his apprenticeship Harry had made everything from hooks, nails, and knives to chainmail and intricate hinges. The finicky tasks made him incredibly grateful the modern world had tools to replace the difficult smithing work required. Horst had a row of hooks set up against the forge where he hung Harry's best projects. Up there was a smoky rippling Damascus steel bastard sword with a silver guard and handle, a light red ruby inset into the pommel. Next to his best sword was a delicate golden circlet inset with dozens of glittering jewels. Horst had protested that it would get stolen, but Harry insisted it was fine and quietly and secretly layered anti-theft charms on the piece. It wasn't like anyone in Carvahall could steal it, it would be obvious who was guilty if they were found with the thing and the traders had long left for the year. Very few people ever traveled to and from the small village in Palancar Valley.

Hanging from the last peg was a full suit of gleaming steel plate armor. All three pieces were unenchanted as yet, but the armor Harry considered leaving that way and gifting to Horst when he left for the spring.

Spurred on by their fellow apprentice's success and the seemingly endless amounts of iron ingots Harry brought, Baldur and Albreich's skills grew alongside his own, that is to say incredibly quickly. Even Horst honed his trade further, applyingHarry's suggestions and modern knowledge to his craft. So much steel did they make that they handed out pieces to the townsfolk for free just to clear up space. Every door in Carvahall swung on shiny new hinges, every farmer wielded brand new hoes and rakes, and every craftsman gratefully used fresh new steel tools. The goodwill the smiths garnered with the gestures could not be valued. Harry was no longer cautiously treated as an outsider, instead enthusiastically invited to drink with the villagers at Morn's tavern.

Sadly, Harry's time in Carvahall was ending. The air was warming and though the nights froze consistently, snow was beginning to feel wetter. Horst noticed it too and set a punishing pace for the apprentice daily, churning out all sorts of pieces at a frenzied pace. Despite having no soldiers or men-at-arms to equip with their weapons, Horst, Harry, Baldur, and Albreich turned out maces, spears, lances, swords, knives, daggers, arrowheads, and armor for no reason other than to hone their craft. The chance to use unlimited metal was not one which came often to smiths. When Horst had realized Harry wasn't joking about providing the metal, they began to push the envelope with the smithing.

That evening, the men sat at the dinner table and Elaine, Horst's wife, set out food. Harry broached the subject first. "I'll be leaving soon."

Horst smiled ruefully. "We'll be sad to see the last of you. I learned a lot from you, Harry. Best apprentice I ever had," he announced. Baldur and Albreich complained and jested comically, to which the burly smith's eyes softened. He bundled the two into a hug. "And you fools are the best sons I ever had."

Harry continued. "I'll take the crown with me, but you lot can keep the rest." Around the table he saw astonished looks. "I'll learn how to be a jeweler next and I'll send you my early works," he joked with a grin. "I've actually torn through like half my supply of iron-" Horst actually choked when he said that "-and I have to restock," he continued obliviously, "regardless I'm leaving you with a cart of it to keep on with."

The family was struck dumb with the generosity. "This way if Carvahall is ever attacked, you can be ready," he smiled.

Elaine grasped Harry's hand in thanks. "You brought us so many opportunities to prosper, I thank you, Harry. Safe travels and godspeed."

Harry left Horst's house that night and made his way over to Brom's residence. He was nearly home when he caught a glimpse of something which made him pause and whisper the muffling spell, creeping closer to listen. Sloan, the obnoxious germophobic butcher, was talking to two hooded strangers who sent chills down his spine for no apparent reason.

"-swear, Eragon, the farmboy has it! He found it hunting in the Spine this fall! His farm is due north a mile and a half, you can't miss it!"

"The king doesss not like liarsss, Sssloan. If you are sssteering usss wrong, it could be very… Unpleasssant." The butcher looked about ready to wet his pants. He nodded meekly with a pale face and fled for the safety of his house, slamming the door behind him.

The strangers spoke like Voldemort. Sibilant, every word dripping with menace. Harry could not place the reason, but their outlines looked faintly wrong, unnatural and inhuman in a way that even the Urgals did not look. Their limbs and joints turned too far, and they walked with an odd gait reminiscent of an insect. Harry cursed the treacherous butcher and made to back away, out of the shadows and to Brom's house. He froze.

The stranger's cowled head turned, far further than any human head could without breaking. Harry could not see his eyes beneath the dark cowl in the night, but he knew without a doubt the creature was staring right at him. The other one gestured to his brethren. On the ground paralyzed with fear, Eragon was backed up against the wall of an alley. The creature stalked up to him, making excited clicking noises that chilled his blood. Harry was about to intervene when-

"Eragon! What are you doing out so late?" Brom burst from the alleyway, bustling over and helping the kid to his feet.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I was just about to head home-" he spoke nervously.

"Yes. If you don't get home safely Garrow will blame me. How the fool man expects me to believe it my fault-" Brom interjected.

"Hey!" Eragon protested. "Garrow's no fool."

Brom waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. Run home, the night is dark and perilous tonight," he warned. "And if you remember the name of that merchant, tell me!" he called after the fleeing boy with a glint of amusement. He turned back to the strangers, setting his hand on his waist where an unfamiliar sword rested, ruby pommel protruding from a strange wrapped sheath.

"Carvahall does not take kindly to strangers slinking about in the night," he warned. "I imagine things could get ugly if you were found sneaking about by the wrong person…" he trailed off. "Why, they might just kill you."

The cloaked creatures fled. Brom sidled up to Harry, effortlessly picking him out of the deep shadows cast by torches and lanterns flickering in the night. "Tonight we leave."

Harry nodded, troubled. "What were those things?"

The old man scowled. "Ra'zac. Foul beasts we thought eradicated by the Riders. The black king has raised them into servitude. You were fortunate indeed I came out when I did. They breathe a poisonous gas which paralyzes humans. If they are here, Galbatorix or Durza have a strong hunch where in general the egg ended up. I'm sorry to say, your little cabin in the Spine won't survive the king's curiosity."

Harry scowled. "Whatever. Sloan sold Eragon out. The Ra'zac have their sights set on Garrow's farm, and they don't seem like the type to let something like that go. Eragon and Garrow need to leave, tonight. I-" he cursed. "Someone just entered the cabin. Go. You may make it to the farm before the Ra'zac. I can't let the king or the shade learn where I am from or of my magics. I'll meet you at the farm in no less than an hour." He twisted on his heel, and darkness overtook him.

AN:

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