Chapter 26: Harsh Weather
Wind and rain lashed against the glass windowpanes. Harry stared morosely out at the plains. Thunder rattled the shutters and rolled over the cabin. The windows were enchanted to show the outside of the tent and interact realistically with the weather and such. The rain reminded him nostalgically of Scotland during the spring- well, all the time really. There was something inexplicably cozy about sitting at a crackling hearth playing games with friends while the elements raged outside.
Another flash of white glared through the window. Seconds later, an earth shaking boom followed it. In a mind-bending display of spatial magic, Harry had created an indoor hot tub against floor to ceiling windows so they could watch the fury of the tempest while indulging in a relaxing hot soak. Plus, he got to see Arya in a swimsuit, something which was entirely unintended, of course.
Harry refused to let Stupid, Cadoc, Glenwing, and Snowfire lounge in his living room and banished the obnoxious creatures to the warmed patio where they grazed on the grass patch in the middle. Brom set out bales of hay from the greenhouses to eat.
Arya had shot the wizard a questioning look when he brought Stupid's saddle into the hot tub wearing only swimming trunks. Harry was enchanting the infernal device to be comfortable. And if he added a few bits and bobs while doing it, well that was his business, wasn't it?
Cackling, Harry emerged from the water and slung his legs over the horseless saddle, holding the leather up to his crotch by hand. The elf looked at him like he was an idiot, but Harry ignored her. She gasped when he folded his legs up and the saddle hung midair. He sighed in contentment. Harry had woven a bevy of cushioning charms into the thing and it felt like he imagined a gold plated toilet seat would. Ultimate luxury.
Good idea, he thought, and made a note. Make a gold toilet seat. Guiding his new vehicle with his knees, Harry leaned and banked a turn, making a few laps of the indoor pool room he'd just added. Space expansion charms were so convenient. Construction required approximately zero planning or forethought. Just slap whatever rooms you want wherever you want.
He sighed. The saddle was a novel idea and an interesting surprise to have up his sleeve–or rather down his pants–in cavalry combat, but it was slow as all hell. Tonight he'd go to Heaven and finally finish that broomstick design Mum and Dad were helping him with.
Lunch came and went without fanfare. Afterwards, Brom gathered everyone in the patio, gnarled hands clutching a small sapling. The stunning vista of the Spine stretched out around them. Resting in arranged lawn chairs, they grouped around the patch of grass in the center of the patio.
"Arya," he addressed, "I'd like you to teach this lesson if you are willing." The elf watched curiously, but did not commit. "Harry, I realize that you have invested tremendous resources and effort into a conflict you frankly have zero stake in, and we have treated that sacrifice with naught but disdain and distrust." Brom crossed his arms and regarded him. "I have decided to teach you some of the secrets of the Riders, with the expectation that this knowledge will go no further than yourself. Understand?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "I appreciate it. I came to Alagaesia with the intention of assisting whoever it was that bore the weight of destiny here. I knew what I was getting into coming here. Nonetheless, I'm honored that you trust me enough to teach me the secrets of your order."
Brom scraped away a small circle of grass in the middle of the greens and dug a weathered hand into the soil, excavating several fistfuls of dirt. He gently placed the roots of the tiny sapling into the hole, then backfilled it with the darkened earth.
"This is something I thought I would leave to the elves to teach. There was an understanding between the humans and elves when Saphira's egg was first rescued, that Arya would ferry it between the elves and the Varden in hopes of her hatching. I would teach the rider first, then they would travel to Ellesmera for the elves to complete their training. However, circumstances have allowed me to teach you all less immediately useful things." Brom wrapped his beard behind his neck and out of the way.
"Honor and fairness demand that I teach you something of equal value to your teachings," Brom addressed Harry. "But what could I teach someone already fluent in the ancient language, someone with more advanced and capable magic, someone who gave selflessly without expectation of reward repeatedly, thrust himself into mortal peril to save Arya, and someone with morals strong enough that he does not wish to learn elite martial magic. Only two things leapt out to me, and today I shall teach you both."
Then, Brom began to sing. It was not a song Harry recognized, but he comprehended the words easily. The old man was singing about growth, instructing the sapling with his rough melody. The storyteller had a pretty good singing voice, he had to admit.
With each verse, Harry watched in awe as the sapling grew upwards. The oak tree burgeoned up and out, leafy green canopy extending over the patio like Gaia's embrace. The verses suddenly changed. Brom sung about a bow, how the limbs ought to flex, the direction of the grain and the durability required. Harry felt the rider extend a trickle of energy to the oak, feeding the rapid growth.
Before his very eyes, a fully formed bow emerged from the bark. Instead of rings, the grain of the wood was perfectly parallel, running unbroken and without knots from one limb tip to the other. Arya added her voice to the chorus, singing about structural integrity, ascending stairs, a hollow room, a window. The oak tree continued to grow out and up, the trunk thickening to six, seven, eight feet.
An archway grew from the grass floor, forming an entrance to an internal spiralling set of stairs. Gabled windows peeked out from the outer wall and the core drained of wood like falling water, leaving a light green artery which wound around golden nodules of amber sap. Golden werelights caused the tree lifeblood pods to glitter and refract the dark yellow light. Awed, Harry kept an ear to the melody while he crossed to the tree, setting a foot on the first stair. A smooth polished railing curved along the outer wall. Harry marveled at the polished texture of the guard rail which had grown seamlessly from the tree. The stairs emerged in the middle of the hollowed green canopy. For many feet in every direction, the leaves hung like a verdant curtain. Golden light reflected off dew drops and amber pods of sap, granting the entire opening an ethereal fae-like atmosphere. Harry marveled at the densely woven branches which formed a seamless floor. The center trunk was depressed like an amphitheatre stage which gently sloped up to a nearly thirty foot diameter flat wooden circle. Guard rails lined the edge of the floor. The leafy canopy extended out to the railings but no further, so when Harry approached the edge, he could see down to the ground.
Willowy dangling branches held aloft teardrop shaped amber lanterns that glowed with soft golden light, dancing off the dewy leaves. Before his disbelieving eyes, wooden supports billowed from the circular floor against an edge, holding aloft three concentric circles of wood, the additional levels connected by a gently curving spiral staircase.
The singing became louder as Arya and Brom reached the top of the trunk. Eragon followed behind them with eyes the size of saucers and mouth agape with disbelief. The finishing details grew along the railings, transforming straight beams into decorative vine and stem shaped supports with elaborate scrollwork.
The song trailed off hopefully and both Arya and Brom sagged upon its termination. Harry quickly conjured some armchairs for them to sink into.
Brom and Arya gratefully accepted glasses of water from the wizard, drinking deeply. "Thank you," the wizened rider gasped, breathing heavily. He used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow. "What you just witnessed is one of the elves' greatest magics. In Ellesmera you will see many buildings constructed in such a manner. Elves are unmatched in the practice of singing nature into shape."
Brom caught his breath, drinking heavily from the glass of water, draining it thrice before he was sated. Harry summoned a loaf of bread from his pantry and watched it get demolished in seconds by the ravenous rider and elf.
"Eragon, Harry, this technique can be used to grow any living thing into any shape the caster desires. Are you familiar with the elves' nickname 'Fair Folk?'" At their assent, Brom continued. "They are called this for a reason. The technique I have just demonstrated can be used on any living thing, including humans and elves. This means you can-" Brom struggled to speak tactfully, "correct past deficiencies. The technique allows you to look however you like. Elves use this to personally embody what they find beauty in. Among the elves, you will see many strange looking people who have employed this ability to look however they like. It is expected that you will respect their decisions, as they will yours."
Arya gazed sorrowfully at Harry. Child abuse was unheard of in elven culture. But Arya had been among humans for decades and it was not unheard of there. Being forced to pass by vulnerable children in the name of her mission had been the ultimate test of self restraint, one which she occasionally failed. She felt no regret for the corpses she left behind in those cases. She remembered Faolin comforting her when she wept for the children she was forced to leave behind due to the importance of her mission. The slave trade was another monstrous act of Galbatorix, especially when slavers often targeted children to raise them submissive and hopeless.
Harry sat in silence for several minutes, reflecting introspectively. He emerged from his pensive mood later. "What was the other thing you were going to teach us?" Harry asked Brom.
Brom sat up straighter and raised his hand, twisting his ring. It had a purple gemstone set in a silver band. The same symbol on Arya's shoulder was embossed on the gem. "This is a technique which is vanishingly rare among the common magician, but not strictly secret per se. Spells cost magical energy, and sometimes a spell costs more energy than a magician's body can hold at their fullest. In this case, one must be able to store magical energy."
Harry gasped. That was a revolutionary idea, one which wizards at home had tried fruitlessly for centuries to crack. "How?" he breathed.
Brom smiled. "Gemstones. The more precious, the more flawless the better. Diamonds are the best, but even quartz or glass can be used. The capacity simply diminishes. This is the reason why all rider swords have a gem in the pommel. They are meant to be a reservoir for their wielders to store excess power. The trick is to extend your mind to the gem. That connection is essential."
Harry quickly summoned the jewel-encrusted circlet he forged at Horst's to himself and extended his mind. Sure enough, the gems had a presence. It was subtle and he would never have found it without knowing what to look for. The teardrop diamond in the center gleamed brightest and was the largest, so Harry connected to that one first. He carefully fed a trickle of power into the gem and beamed when it accepted it. Harry stemmed the flow and disconnected from the stone before reconnecting.
The power was still there! Harry felt a small current of energy running through the diamond's facets and carefully withdrew the magic. A gentle trickle flowed from the gem. He pulled harder and the flow increased before abruptly stopping when the energy was spent.
Harry turned to Brom, mouth agape. "Do you have any idea the significance of this!?" he exclaimed. "My people have been searching for a magical storage medium for centuries!"
Brom grinned. "Useful, no? Extend your mind to the gem on my ring."
Harry did as instructed and nearly tripped while sitting down at the torrential maelstrom of power thrumming in the ring. He was genuinely concerned the stone would explode under the stress of the power contained, its facets utterly incapable of containing the storm of power within.
"Where the hell did you get that much power!?" Harry gasped.
Brom grinned impishly. "I have done naught but pour my excess power into Aren," he gestured at his ring," for the decades I have lived in Carvahall."
"It shows," Harry said awed. "I can't imagine there's many if any pieces of magic beyond the reach of the power you have stockpiled."
The old rider cackled. "It's my insurance against a great foe such as a shade or in the worst case, Galbatorix riding out to find me."
Harry looked impressed. "You think you could defeat him with that power?"
Brom scoffed. "Certainly not. I might just have the chance to get in a lucky shot."
The storm raged outside with no signs of abating. Harry peeked his head out the flap and was nearly physically pushed inside. Now that night had fallen, the sheets of rain were hard to make out, only glimmering in the flash of lightning. Brom, Arya, Eragon, and Saphira practiced the mental arts with him and afterwards they halfheartedly engaged in some spars, but Brom and Arya didn't give their all. They were both clearly exhausted from singing the tree into shape.
Harry was kind of annoyed they made it in the middle of his nice patio, but he appreciated the thought. The cube of dirt rose into the air dirt, roots, and all and at Harry's direction, floated over to the border of the patio along the side of the cabin.
His to do list was getting enormous. Between his Alchemy books, the mental arts, archery and sword practice, and magic practice, Harry was feeling stressed. The addition of singing spellweaving just heaped more onto his plate. He had to research Lily's biology books and carefully plan out what he intended to do in correcting whatever problems came from the Dursleys. Blinky helped Harry practice Legilimency before bed but rather than doze off, Harry vanished from the face of the earth with a muted pop.
"Welcome back, honey," Lily beamed. Harry landed in a perfect replica of Godric's Hollow. It was rather bizarre living next door to the Dumbledores, but such was Heaven.
"I saw what you learned today," James grinned ear to ear. "Methinks we will have to tweak the final design of the broomstick," he cackled eagerly. Lily rolled her eyes but obligingly rolled out the sheets of parchment inked with complex plans.
Harry agreed with his dad. "Yeah, and I can sing the handle and twigs from a tree, too. Arya showed me how to keep the wood alive even after it leaves the tree."
Lily pondered that. "What kind of wood do you plan on using? The most air-aligned wood would probably be something like Balsa, but it's very weak. Ideally we'd use a tree connected to the sky so the living connection would enhance the broom's enchantments."
Harry frowned minutely. "I'll probably just use ash for the first iteration, it's something I have access to right now."
James agreed. "It's no good if you have to wait months to get your hands on it. Else you'd be forced to ride Stupid for however long it took to find the tree you needed."
Harry's mum rolled her eyes and examined the parchment. "All the spells should still work while linked to a gem. Could you feed it power from the living tree?"
"Surely. If I somehow trick the tree into believing the gem is part of itself, its natural energy should flow through it," he observed. James suddenly cackled evilly. Lily glanced at him rather concernedly.
"If you put it where you can reach Harry, you can feed the gem power and boost the hell out of the thing!"
After a bit of design and transfiguration testing, the prototype model was complete. "She's a beauty," James sighed. "I'm so jealous I can't ride that thing in a Quidditch match on Earth," he lamented. "I died tragically young!" James put the back of his hand to his forehead and faux-swooned. "Alas, Harry, you shall have to follow in my footsteps and win the world cup for me."
Lily smacked him. "Don't you try to convince Harry to throw away his life playing a violent sport. Do you really want our son to end up like Ludo Bagman?"
James rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah but for that to happen, Harry would need to be fat and stupid, and unfortunately I just don't think he's really cut out for the latter."
Harry's heart warmed. He gripped the polished smooth shaft of the new broomstick his family just invented. His mum had helped him incorporate physics and aerospace engineering into its design in the hopes that the technique–which had very likely been ignored by broomstick manufacturers on Earth–would balance the scales between lifelong professionals with passed down knowledge and amateurs looking to break into the practice.
It had metal footrests jutting out like branches from the bottom end, behind which was a bundle of perfectly shaped twigs, arranged like an aeroplane tail rudder. The concept of lift was included in the design and the handle gently curved ever so slightly upwards to catch the air. A wedge shaped nose would cut the air.
Harry had the idea of specifically locally enchanting each part with the functions that region of the broom would do in a traditional plane design. He had included a wind ward tied to the nose which would slice through the air like a knife and reduce friction and drag. The twigs were each individually enchanted like tail rudders or avian tail feathers. All along the sides of the shaft and specifically focused on the stirrups were lift and speed enchantments. Directly below the nose and right beneath where the pilot would grip their hands a hollow space gripped by tendrils of wood like roots indicated where a gemstone would be placed. The space was the size of a chicken egg, likely WAY larger than even the largest gemstone in the vault, but Harry had come up with a plan for getting his hands on a gem of that size. Eagerly, he returned to Earth.
He arrived fully rested at the crack of dawn and hurried down to the lab. If this worked- well It would be monumentous. If flawless diamonds were so precious for their energy storage capacity, Harry was about to create a mint.
Quickly, he constructed an icosahedral container. Hopefully it would mould the gem into shape. The container was about the size of a chicken egg. Using the Elder wand (against his original one's protests) he laced unbreakability and durability charms into the metal. Harry scrawled many words and enchantments on the surface of the container, empowering them with blood and magic.
Arya had noticed Harry dashing to the lab like a kid who badly needed to pee and followed him to observe. She silently watched his frantic energy as he dashed about, grabbing tools and materials off of shelves. He set up a large funnel whose nose was as wide as the entire egg-shaped metal shell.
Harry quickly set up an enormous alembic and dumped piles of charcoal in it. The wood quickly burned off. He distilled out all its imperfections and reduced the lumber to large piles of graphite. The magical glassware and purifying phoenix flame churned through wood, outputting a sizeable mound of graphite larger than a compact car. Harry judged the amount to be enough (though really he had no clue how much he'd need) and begun shoveling the stuff into the metal shell. When no more graphite funneled into the expanded space, Harry removed the funnel and sealed the egg before carefully placing it in the danger room.
The wizard sealed and barred the heavy door and watched carefully through the thick quad-glazed unbreakable windows. He reached out and felt for the space expansion charm on the egg and gripped the threads holding it together. Breathing out, he held his hands over his ears and pulled.
A thunderous blast came from the room. Black clouds billowed from the center, accompanied by a blinding red explosive flash. Harry grinned maniacally and cast a bubblehead before entering the airlock, sealing the outer door, and opening the inner one. The clouds of superhot graphite smarted against his skin, but it was like midget bee stings, annoying but entirely ignorable. Gingerly and using tongs, Harry picked up the twisted wreck of a supposedly 'unbreakable' shell.
The moment the tongs touched the superheated tungsten surface of the icosahedral shell, it fell apart. Rather than forming a perfect diamond as Harry hoped, blackened jagged shards of glittering gem grew from the edges like rows of serrated teeth. He held out the 'failure' with his tongs and entered the airlock before cycling it and exiting. Arya watched what he was holding curiously and gaped at the newly created diamonds.
"Not even conjured," Harry bragged. He placed the geode-like diamond toothed ball on a table and conjured a glass sphere around it. "Proof of concept," he explained to Arya. "I really should have been more careful. Theoretically if I push the space expansion enchantment far enough and fill it with something more dense, I could create a singularity." The elf had a blank look. "That would be bad." Harry stated.
Arya paled at the remark. If this singularity was dangerous enough that even Harry was unwilling to mess with them, she wanted nothing to do with it. She resolved to do everything in her power to encourage caution during this little experiment.
He silently pondered how to get the right amount of graphite without resorting to guess-and-check since the check was explosive and expensive in terms of wood and effort. Answer in hand, the wizard exploded into action. He summoned a piece of duplicated parchment and his quill (briefly revelling in their quality) and rapidly scribbled down a few equations, summoning more glassware hastily.
After checking the density of graphite and diamond separately, Harry flipped through Lily's geometry text and puzzled together the volume of the unexpanded icosahedron. With the ratio and quantity measured out, He set the whole thing back up again, this time carefully measuring and pouring the graphite at a specific volume. Rather than just shove the expansion charm onto a new shell, Harry carefully pushed out the sides slowly and deliberately. With measurement charms he made minute adjustments until the interior size was nearly perfect for the volume of the graphite he would add.
Arya clambered off the ground, shaking her head dazedly. Brom and Eragon came down at the sound of the explosion and–much to Harry's chagrin–so did Saphira, muscling down the narrow staircase. Harry (finally) expanded the stairway threefold so she could glide down if she so desired. "Waise Heill" Arya placed her hands on her head and healed her concussion.
Impatiently he entered the danger room and set the container on the central pedestal- still blackened from the last attempt and fled the room. He raised his wand. Arya saw this and urgently clapped her hands over her ears, turning away and crouching. Brom saw her cower and instantly did the same, something which caused Eragon to follow suit. The blast was just as loud, but the flash was a million times brighter, briefly illuminating even the dull walls opposite the window as bright as the sun.
Harry turned back around and saw the tungsten glowing a white-red color–impressive since tungsten's melting point was several thousand degrees–and sinking into the molten pedestal which had twisted away like the apex of a waterspout, beads of molten metal dripping down the sides.
He made to enter the airlock but Arya seized his arm irritably. "You idiot, do you think the weather will be pleasant in there?" she asked sarcastically. Harry hopped on his feet in boundless nervous energy.
"Yeah, but I want to see what happened!" he exclaimed impatiently. Brom cautiously removed his hands from his ears and looked back. It was pretty amusing to see the normally unflappable old man completely flabbergasted at the twisted molten wreck inside the danger room.
Arya had to very nearly sit on Harry to stop him from excitedly dashing into the room. She heartlessly made him wait until the central pedestal stopped glowing and dripping like mush–completely unreasonably, in Harry's opinion–and refused to budge. The instant she let up, Harry flew across the room and yanked open the first door of the airlock, impatiently tapping his foot while it cycled. He watched Arya tap her mouth exasperatedly and remembered to apply the bubblehead charm at the last second. The inner door swung open with much more effort than normal and Harry noticed the inner side which was not visible through the windows had melted and deformed a bit, creating a viscous puddle of molten iron on the ground. Using tongs, Harry gripped the–intact this time–icosahedron and retreated from the room with it.
His onlookers watched curiously while Harry laboriously peeled the rapidly hardening tungsten facets off the treasure within. Arya spotted the glitter first and gasped. Harry noticed white powder flaking off with the tungsten. Is that- magnesium? He wondered. I've just accidentally cracked cold fusion.
He dismissed the thought and savoured the awed eyes on the diamond he'd just created. Take that, laws of transfiguration. Upon peeling off the last face of tungsten, A beautiful glittering gem was revealed. Harry brushed off the magnesium flakes to revel a flawless perfectly clear and perfectly cut icosahedral diamond. When he touched the gem with his mind, he found a near-infinite reservoir of power waiting to store energy for him.
"That's impossible," Brom breathed in awe. "How did you do it?"
Harry radiated satisfaction. "Diamond is just compressed carbon. Graphite, the blackish-grey material which composes charcoal is made of six carbon atoms in a hexagonal shape. It has extremely high tensile strength, but it only works one way. Diamond is composed of tetrahedral bonds in a three-dimesional lattice, even denser and more compact than graphite, giving diamond its characteristic tremendous strength."
Brom looked uncomprehending, but Arya–who had been reading the mundane textbooks in the library–had a better grasp of the concepts involved. "How are you causing the change?" she asked.
Harry explained, "diamonds are naturally formed in the earth by pockets of carbon being compressed and heated to tremendous degrees by shifting earth. Back home labs were able to grow diamonds by putting carbon under tremendous heat and pressure, but it was a costly process which hardly reduced the cost of getting your hands on diamond in the long run. It took tons of energy to do." He cackled. "I simply used the compression force from collapsing a space expansion charm to crush the carbon."
Scraping up a bit of the magnesium flakes, Harry showed it to Arya. "The process had the pleasant side effect of achieving a fusion reaction." The elf gaped.
"Should we not all be dead then?" she asked breathlessly.
Harry shrugged. "The sun's fusion reaction is on a whole other scale. Its gravity crushes much lighter isotopes like hydrogen, helium, and such which radiates enough heat to burn anything away. I just managed to fuse a bit of carbon. Since there was nothing but carbon in the shell, it was forced to make magnesium instead of a lighter element like nitrogen."
Eragon was bewildered but Brom was flat out amazed. "This must be what happened to Thuviel on Vroengard," he wondered. "He was a rider who killed himself deliberately with magic, unleashing a massive blast which killed Glaerun the Forsworn and poisoned the land. It was said that he did it deliberately to obliterate the building where dragon eggs were kept to keep them out of Galbatorix's hands."
Harry was doubtful. "You say poisoned, can you elaborate on the effects?"
Brom nodded. "Plants and animals there are deformed and bizarre, they grow oddly. The very air is poisonous to breathe and inhabitants developed rashes and burns which they quickly succumbed to."
The wizard was certain then what happened. "That was not fusion, that was fission."
Arya and Brom gave him inquisitive looks. "Fission?" Arya asked, "as in nuclear weapons?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. Fusion is when two atoms are forcefully bonded with incredible heat and pressure. Fission is the opposite, where a very heavy unstable isotope splits apart, releasing free neutrons in the reaction. It sounds like Thuviel caused a nuclear blast. Back home, nuclear weapons were the most devastating weapons ever created. They are so dangerous that testing was internationally banned by every country regardless of their conflicts. The weapons gave rise to a new form of war called 'Mutually Assured Destruction.'"
"Destruction?" Brom questioned incredulously. "Thuviel's blast was enormous, but all but one of the Forsworn was able to shield themselves from the explosion, and it barely ripped apart the hatchery."
Harry frowned. "Well he probably didn't have any uranium or plutonium," he observed. "Nuclear weapons operate on an uncontrolled fission chain reaction. A large block of enriched fissile fuel gets bombarded by neutrons which causes the first atom to split, the first atom causes two more, then those two cause however many more, etc, until the fuel is expended or the casing blows up. Only two nuclear bombs were ever deployed, and they both caused over a hundred thousand deaths, rendering the cities they blew up uninhabitable. The chain reaction is so fast and violent that it tears apart the casing and disburses radioactive material throughout the entire blast radius and beyond, contaminating the water, earth, and air for long after the explosion. It's why they are considered war crimes, they are weapons of cruelty. Sure the people caught in the blast will be instantly vaporized, but the poisonous ash and debris will slowly and agonizingly kill everyone it touches. It's called mutually assured destruction because many countries have dozens if not hundreds and in two cases thousands of nukes."
Arya's eyes were wide with horror. Harry laughed humorlessly. "If one country decides to fire a nuke and someone retaliates…" he trailed off darkly.
"The riders have known that matter is frozen energy, but to think this knowledge is so dangerous," Brom breathed in terror. "You must never ever speak of this again, Harry. If Galbatorix were to get his hands on this knowledge…"
Arya understood. "He could train his pet magicians on how to suicide bomb the Varden and send a single man to wipe us out."
The solemn and subdued atmosphere persisted. Harry quietly continued work on his broomstick. He began forging the footrests using aircraft aluminum. It was a trivial task which only took him half an hour, so he moved onto the handle. The original plan James and come up with was to split the shaft in half, inscribe the enchantment's instructions on the inside, and seal it back together. Harry thought if Arya could sing intricate details into the wood she grew, he could probably sing the runes into the interior without ever seeing them.
Out on the patio, he composed his song and began. Harry's singing voice was rusty, but it seemed to not matter. It took a while for his first attempt to bear fruit. Soon enough, a straight wooden barkless branch grew out of the trunk and fell into his lap. It had natural looking grains and some knots in it, so he tried again. He began to become more familiar with the technique of feeding the tree energy as he sang.
Arya came out and watched him work. He firmly held the image of his desired shape in his mind and began the verse again. Slowly, the correct shape extended out in a light tan oak wood shaft. It was curved properly and the slot for a gem formed as it should.
Harry discarded the correct broomstick shaft in a growing pile. It did not have the runes on the interior. This time around, he was more familiar with how to impress his desired shape on the wood and sang another attempt out of the tree. It reminded him of transfiguration; holding the image in his mind and forcing it upon the world. The difference was, the tree was stubborn. Harry had to coax it into shape, cajoling cooperation out of the stubborn arbor.
Every attempt brought him closer to his goal. He would sing until the shaft emerged from the tree, split it with an axe, and examine the interior critically. Each time, the lettering got sharper and more defined. Finally, the shaft touched his hand and just felt right. It was more subdued than a wand, but nevertheless it connected magically to him in his palm. Inside was a heptagonal array of strings of English describing the enchantments it would receive.
A new song began. Like seeds in spring, little green shoots of new twigs emerged from the base of the shaft, extending exactly as Harry envisioned, each individual one containing the same set of seven strings of runes. As he worked, he felt the tree's connection to the wood in his hand, feeding it nutrients, water, and sunlight to feed the growth he coaxed out of it. Harry smiled and included a miniature circulation system in the broomstick, growing green veins of sap and tiny little capillaries which fed even the very tips of the twigs. They met in the core of the shaft and extended all the way up to the hollow space for the gemstone.
Arya was grudgingly impressed. Harry took to the art of singing to nature like a duck to water. He was very skilled at changing the wood to reflect intricate details. The outside of the wood grew into subtle feather patterns and swirling stylized gusts of wind. Two indents sunk into the shaft near the bristles and the wizard carefully slid his metal stirrups into the indent, twisting them securely into place before continuing his song and growing wood around the metal to seal it in. Arya noticed something she hadn't seen before the song started. The metal stirrups had dark etched details upon it, denoting stability and balance, security and safety.
The quality was such that Arya would have believed it elvish without doubt had she not known its creator. The broom was a work of art
Suddenly, the tone of the magic changed. Instead of singing of growth, Harry began singing about strength, flight, lightness, frictionless shields from wind above a certain speed, gravity modification, speed, and agility. The sense of magic in the patio garden grew heady and thick as the little wizard poured power into the enchantments. The flawless diamond turned to an emerald green color and sunk into the shaft, nestling itself into the root-like nest grown specifically for it.
The song continued, growing a circulatory system with the gem at its heart, denoting it as both a reservoir and a source of power. Harry ran his fingers along the twigs at the tail individually, empowering the enchantments and increasing their durability beyond any mortal wood.
The music tapered off. Harry hefted a gleaming broomstick in one hand, eyes glinting with eagerness. Arya looked like she badly wanted to examine his handiwork, but he quickly mounted the cleaning implement and kicked off.
Arya gaped. Hearing that the wizards of Harry's world could fly on broomsticks was an entirely different thing from actually watching a human soaring through the skies without the assistance of a dragon. She gazed upon the tiny figure with awe. He took to the skies as naturally as any bird or dragon, twisting through the air, banking and diving with all the natural grace of a creature born to rule the skies.
Harry dove headfirst at the ground, speeding up tremendously. Arya watched him approach the ground in a straight dive. He got closer and closer to the ground, showing no signs of pulling up. Just when she was about to cry out, he heaved the front of his broom upwards and blasted forwards nearly faster than her eyes could track him. The rushing sound of wind filling his wake sounded as Arya's raven hair whipped in her face. She smiled genuinely. This was what he was born to do.
Harry gracefully touched down with an enormous grin. He had missed flying more than he knew. Ever since the loss of his beloved Firebolt, he'd behaved like a filthy landlubber, two feet on the ground at all times besides a brief interlude on dragonback after Gringotts.
The verdant diamond's interior glowed with green fire and powered the enchantments. The broom itself was undoubtedly superior to a Firebolt already, but Harry would hardly accept his first attempt being his best. Maybe not today, but he would iterate upon the design until he could outfly supersonic jets and turn on a pinhead.
Arya approached him after he landed. His cheeks were rosy from the force of the wind tearing past his face and his hair was windswept and mussed, and it was in Harry's opinion, the best feeling in the world.
"That looked wonderful," she remarked with a smile.
"Thanks," he breathed. "I've missed that quite a bit." She nodded.
"Yes, I can tell," she remarked wryly, grinning.
Harry offered her the broom. "You want to try?" he asked. Arya bit her lip, resisting the urge to shout joyously and immediately accept. She did not want to take advantage. He noticed her indecision. "I'll make some more, and you can tell me then." A wide grin broke out on her face.
Over the next week, the seemingly endless storm gusted and blew angrily across the plains, raging at anything that dared stand in its way. Brom voiced his worry that the ground would be muddy and difficult to pass on horseback if the rain continued to fall. They spent their days in much more luxury than any save Harry had experienced. Even he enjoyed himself immensely. Climate control magic was a wondrous invention.
Every day they played board games, practiced magic, swordplay, and the mental arts in every location available to them in the tent. Harry plied his songcraft in the greenhouses and watched awed when the plants shot up, visibly growing upwards. It looked like the singing and Herbology had a synergistic relationship, since Harry could reap several harvests an hour just by singing and pouring his strength into the plants. It was a bit ludicrous how much food was stockpiled by now. The colossal expanded silos were three quarters full and they hadn't even reached Teirm yet, much less the Varden.
When Harry wasn't training or flying, he was working on his craftsmanship. Singing wood into shape completely obviated the need for carpentry in general, so he focused much more on smithing, tannery, and scrivening. Work on a country-sized Marauder's map proceeded apace, and with the abundance of extreme quality stationery, Harry began to take notes on his growing skills.
Plans were drafted for a new greatsword, light armor, and a project Harry was extremely excited for; firearms. He planned on them being his ace-in-the-hole. The lower technology base of Alagaesia was sure to have never encountered such weaponry. He knew an automatic or semi-automatic weapon was outside of his capabilities, but Harry figured a cannon would be childsplay.
Harry practiced precision songcraft by creating dozens of elvish bows. His armory of personally made projects was no longer a pitiful cavernous room with a handful of projects within. The hundreds of swords, spears, arrows, and armor stood against the right hand wall with the rest of his mass produced goods. On the left were his enchanted weapons.
Out by the forges a new bucket had appeared, filled to the brim with variously colored gems of diverse sizes and cuts. Harry had been experimenting with adding other elements and different moulds to make gems. At Arya's request, he had set a rather large emerald in the crossguard of her blade, Du Sundavar Freohr. It was a tricky gem to produce, requiring aluminum, beryl, and silicon oxide in just the right amounts with vanadium or chromium traces for the green color. He could hardly complain though, the result was stunning.
He'd begun using gold filigree hammered into tiny carved channels to add beautiful gold tracery along his weapons. The nicer looking weapons tended to be weaker and more prone to breakage, so Harry would leave them to be display pieces, at least until he found the skill to compensate for those weaknesses.
Harry knew that everyone was stockpiling energy in their respective gems while they waited out the seemingly endless storm. He himself dumped whatever power he could into another green diamond kept on his bedside table before sleeping. It was an excellent way to tire himself out enough to instantly fall asleep.
During their travel break, Harry crafted two more broomsticks, each better than the last. The third one he created was the grandest, gold filigree filling grooves in the patterned carvings. It all sparkled when it caught the light. At Hedwig's insistence, Harry had sung one of her feathers into the core of each broom. The result was staggering. The brooms drew energy from their riders as easily as a wand.
The last thing he had been working on was a song to fix up his health. Harry poured over biology texts with a quill and parchment at hand, taking extensive notes and planning out verses. The song was critical and he wanted to do his best so he made a proper song out of it, complete with verses, a chorus, bridges, and even a key change. He consulted Freddie Mercury himself on the songwriting and was very proud of the result. They had poured over sheet music for a long time up in Heaven. Harry was infinitely grateful that the man had the patience to teach a complete novice such as himself everything he needed to know.
He grinned in memory of Lily very nearly fangirling over Freddie and him working together on a song. Apparently she had been a bit of a wild child in her youth and was a massive Queen fan.
Harry woke up with an enormous smile on his face. Sunlight streamed through the skylight onto his bed. He quickly dressed and dashed downstairs, slapping together scrambled eggs and cheese with buttered toast for his companions.
Outside the front window he could see the Great Plains looking like a postcard. Bright green grass formed a thick carpet which extended as far as the eye could see. "Brom, Arya, Eragon! Come down, it stopped raining!" Harry called in excitement.
Eragon thundered down the stairs with a smile. He inhaled a plate of eggs and downed several glasses of fresh pressed orange juice. "Saphira!" he shouted joyously with his mind. "It we can go outside!"
A triumphant bugle sounded from the patio. A massive blue pile of scales burst in from the sliding door and made her way over to the kitchen, ivory claws clacking on lacquered floorboards. Even Brom was smiling by the time he reached the kitchen. He tried to infect everyone with his old man grumpiness by grumbling about the muddy soil, but everyone- even Arya ignored him, smiling happily.
Harry threw aside the tent flap and stepped outside to the earthy smell of petrichor and pollen. Spring was in full swing outside. "Where are you going?" Brom asked gruffly. "The horses can't walk on mud like that," he pointed at the ground.
Laughing, Harry summoned a trio of bundles and distributed them. "Eragon and Saphira can just fly, and we will use these!" He unwrapped the broomstick happily. If Brom had watched carefully, he would have noticed two more enormous trees joining the beginning of a grove next to the cabin. Arya certainly had, and eagerly received her broomstick. It was the second one made. Harry pawned the inferior first attempt off on the old man and kept the best one for himself.
Saphira emerged from the tent already saddled with Eragon atop her and leapt into the air with powerful wing strokes. She roared happily, the sound echoing for miles in every direction. Harry summoned the collapsed tent and stuffed it in his pack, eagerly mounting his broom.
"See you in the sky, old man," he taunted Brom insolently before kicking off with a whoop. The old man grumbled but unsteadily rose from the earth. He tried to resist it, but not even Brom's legendary composure could not stop a smile from spreading on his face. He had not felt this way since Saphira… And maybe, if he was very very fortunate, their hearts would join once again in the future.
Arya was the most enthusiastic and least steady flier, but the legendary elvish balance compensated and she quickly grew in confidence. The spring breeze and scent of petrichor whipped passed the elated elvish ambassador. Arya began to test the broom's limits and was not disappointed. At full tilt, she could easily overtake Saphira. She knew the dragon's pride likely smarted at that. Dragons were legendarily vain and Saphira was worse than most in that regard. She smiled and went into a dive. Saphira followed with bared teeth and a challenging expression on her face.
Brom watched with a smile. Dragon and elf dove steeply, both pulling up at the last second. Arya's shoes and Saphira's claws both brushed the grass before pulling out of their dives. Harry laughed happily and assembled them midair, cruising along next to Saphira's gently gliding form. "Right, we obviously don't want to be seen in Teirm, so get close to me!"
Harry withdrew his holly wand and cast the disillusionment charm several times, linking the enchantments together so they could see through each others' invisibility. It was not overly effective on Saphira who now resembled a mobile mirage or heatwave, but it was very difficult if not impossible to pick the broom riders out against the cloudless azure sky.
"Come on, last one to Teirm is a cranky old man!" he called his challenge, flattening himself upon his broom and racing off. Brom spluttered and growled for a second, then sped ahead. Arya pulled away and Saphira growled.
"I may not be able to outsprint those little bugs, but no mere human on a stick has more endurance than the Queen of the Sky," she told Eragon. "Let us handily defeat these fools."
She beat her wings hard, quickly gaining altitude until the ground below was just a formless field of green, then tilted forwards and winged her way after them.