First Authors Note
I have no bloody idea what I'm doing.

But thank you to Scarze for beta-ing.

This story is rated M for mild stuff and language.

Then I need to add a disclaimer I presume?
I do not own anything related to Harry Potter and The Inheritance Saga.

_

The smell of pizza was a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, Harry was dreaming.

"Harry." An angelic voice called to him amidst a large pepperoni with extra cheese.

One bite made his entire body reverberate with delight!

"Harry you bespectacled git!"

Harry groaned and slowly woke up.

"What happened?" he mumbled, groggily reaching for his glasses on the elvish bedside table.

Daphne came into focus at the foot of his bed, he noticed her bed was already made and Aelindra was nowhere in sight.

"We are late. That's what happened." Her arms were folded, and she seemed to be making a spot-on impression of Mrs. Weasley. He smiled fondly at that thought.

-oIo-

After the better half of an hour, Harry, Daphne and Eragon were seated on the floor outside Oromis' hut while Aelindra and Saphira were sat next to Glaedr.

'It is time to begin your training.' Glaedr rumbled his command at the teens with Oromis tilting his head in approval.

"First, we need to understand what you are capable of." Oromis began.

'The strength of your magic, your fluency in the flowing script and your ability to think critically, flexibly, analytically and creatively.' Glaedr finished.

"Harry, can you explain how your magic works?" Oromis asked at which Eragon shifted slightly forward with a curious ear.

"Well, we have wands, you see…" he removed his wand from his robes and displayed it for everyone to see, "and we use incantations for things you know-" Daphne silenced him with a raised hand.

"Harry, may I?" She asked sardonically.

Harry, feeling slightly offended, just shrugged as if to say whatever.

Oromis observed this interaction quietly and then nodded his assent for Daphne to take over.

"In our world, everyone has an inherent magical ability, but only some have an innate ability to wield magic." She took a breath.

"Witches and wizards? Much like Alagaesia, we have magicians, who find it easier to wield magic, and sorcerers who may not have the ability to wield magic but attempt to control spirits through magically guided rituals." Oromis added.

"That is quite interesting, Ebrithil, do you use tools to channel your magic?" Daphne asked trying not to sound offensive.

"The language is our tool," he smiled at her. "Tell me more about your wands?"

"Wands allow us to channel our magic much easier than we would need to without. With our wands, and years of study to amplify, control and refine our magic, we become adept users should we so wish. My mother-" she faltered, with a sad expression, "was not as good with a wand as my father but her potion skills were unmatched, except maybe by Harry's mum." Harry frowned at this.

"How much do you know about my mum?" He interrupted causing Glaedr to growl in annoyance.

"Shush, I will tell you later, as I was saying, wands are personified conduits that allows us to harness our magic and direct it through our intent to ensure that we do not wreak havoc with uncontrolled magic. Our wands are cases of wood, special wood like birch, holly, oak etc and contain the living essence of a magical creature such as unicorn, graphorn, dragon, phoenix or thestral."

'What do you mean by this? How would the living essence of a dragon be entombed in a wand?' Glaedr picked his head up and stared at Daphne menacingly. Even Saphira had lifted her head to pay attention.

Daphne shuddered and said, "I beg your forgiveness, Ebrithil, but in our world, dragons are not as intelligent. They are incapable of language and effective communication."

Harry was in awe of Daphne's understanding of the magical world let alone wand lore. He figured he would have to blame Dumbledore for sheltering him in such a manner.

'Continue.'

Daphne paused, feeling the weight of Glaedr's piercing stare, but continued with the calm, collected tone she had perfected over the years as a perfect pureblood princess.

"I know it's difficult to comprehend," she explained, directing her gaze to the ground, "but dragons in our world are less akin to what you have here in Alagaësia. They don't share the same intelligence or the... wisdom that you possess. The essence we capture isn't the soul of the creature, no, nothing is killed, but something more akin to their primal energy. It's... a small piece of their magic, stored in the core of the wand. Most often they are willingly given unless a creature dies of natural death, then we take a piece of what we need. If a magical creature was killed intentionally, the magic within dissipates into the ground rendering the pieces unfit for wand use. These essences allow us to tap into the magical potential of the creature, but it does not harm them in the process."

Oromis tilted his head, his eyes reflecting both intrigue and confusion. "A curious practice," he muttered, more to himself than to the group, his voice rich with age and wisdom. "A tool, then, that binds itself to the wizard or witch's intent. But you are saying that this magic is not bound by language?"

"Correct," Daphne answered, looking up at him now, "the words we speak, the incantations, are more like instructions that give our magic shape and form. They don't control the magic itself; they simply guide it, like a map leading to a destination. The intent behind the words, the will of the witch or wizard, is what makes the spell work."

Eragon, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up, his voice thoughtful. "But in our world, the language itself is the magic. The words, the ancient language we speak, contain power. They bind the forces of the world together. It's not the will that controls, but the words themselves."

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Is your language only effective if the speaker understands it?"

"Yes," Eragon admitted, "but we do not need a wand. The words are enough. And the magic flows from them... from the speaker's knowledge of the language."

Harry, feeling a bit like an outsider in this deep conversation about magic, asked, "So you're telling me that words are magic in Alagaësia, but in our world, it's more about the tool—the wand—that channels it? What happens if someone has the right intentions, but not the right wand?"

Oromis nodded, sensing Harry's confusion and deciding to explain. "In your world, it seems that the wand and the words together channel and direct the magic, the perfect bond. Without the proper tool, the intent may be stifled, the spell incomplete. But here, in Alagaësia, the magic flows directly through the words, through the speaker's understanding. The intention behind the words shapes the outcome, and if the speaker does not fully understand the words they speak, then the magic can still work. Let's take Eragon for example, he heard a word but did not know the meaning, and used it regardless. The outcome saved him."

"So," Harry began, processing the information, "magic here is more about knowledge, understanding the words, and saying them with purpose. In our world, it's about finding the right channel—like a wand—and using it with the right words."

"Yes," Oromis agreed. "Each world has its own method, its own set of rules. But the one constant is the power of intent."

Daphne shifted slightly, her mind still processing the comparison. "But in our world, magic isn't just bound to wands or spells. It's in potions, charms, and enchantments. There are hundreds of ways to wield magic, each requiring its own mastery, its own type of knowledge. And then there's... Dark magic, which—"

"Dark magic," Oromis interrupted, his voice heavy with caution. "That sounds unnatural. Do you have such magic in your world?"

Daphne hesitated, her gaze drifting to the ground for a moment before answering. "Yes. Dark magic exists in our world... and it is the most dangerous kind of magic, because it's not always easy to spot. It feeds on a person's desire for control, for power, and it warps them. It's not always about spells, either. It can be in curses, in potions, in any form of magic twisted to manipulate others."

Eragon spoke up again, his voice steady. "Do we have to fear this dark magic you speak of?"

"No." Harry shook his head.

Glaedr's deep voice suddenly echoed in Harry's mind, a calm presence amidst the tension. 'Do not fear the darkness, Harry. Understand it, and you will never fall to it.'

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He knew one thing for damn sure; magic was a pain in the butt. Eragon furrowed his eyebrows at the exchange between Glaedr and Harry.

"We have much to learn," he murmured, glancing at Harry and Daphne.

"Yes," Daphne said, her tone resolute. "But we'll learn it together." Harry nodded along.

"Master," Eragon asked tentatively, "will Harry and Daphne learn the Ancient Language? And will I be able to use a wand?"

'Eragon-finiarel, do you plant a seed today and expect a full harvest tomorrow?' Glaedr asked the young rider.

"No, Ebrithil." Eragon responded in understanding.

"We do not know much about their world, so it is difficult to surmise whether our bodies will be compatible with their magic, also, they may not even be able to harness our magic." Oromis explained to Eragon with a smile. Eragon looked to Saphira and shared a look. Nothing would be easy.

Aelindra hobbled over to Harry, jumped on his lap and promptly fell asleep.

Oromis stood and beckoned to the teens to follow suit. He then cleared his throat, commanding their attention. "Now, we shall test your abilities with a simple exercise. I would like each of you to summon something – a simple item of your choice. In doing so, I hope to observe the nature of each form of magic and see how they are different from each other."

Harry and Daphne exchanged glances, and Eragon sat up, intrigued but a little hesitant. "Summoning? I know the word to call an object to myself, but... I'm not sure how it compares to what they do," Eragon said thoughtfully.

Daphne raised her wand. "Accio branch," she incanted softly, and a nearby branch lifted off the ground, gliding smoothly through the air into her hand. She looked to Oromis, who was nodding as he observed the precision of her summoning.

"An elegant spell," he murmured. "But the magic seems... indirect, as if guided by an unseen force tied to your wand. Your magic channels through it as water flows through a riverbed."

Harry raised his wand, trying to make his summoning look just as smooth. "Accio stone!" he called, and a small rock jumped from the ground, landing in his hand with a quiet thud. He grinned, pleased with himself, until he noticed Eragon's thoughtful expression.

Eragon reached out his hand palm up and spoke a single word in the Ancient Language, "Gath!" A small stone slowly levitated until it was roughly shoulder level and then curved in Eragon's direction for a few seconds before slowly landing in his open palm.

"That's incredible," Harry said, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You didn't even need to aim or gesture – you just... called it."

"Really Harry?" Daphne rolled her eyes. "Goblins? Accidental magic?"

"Oh yeah," he said sheepishly, "right. I forgot about that."

Daphne shook her head and continued, "Harry, do you remember in first year when you won all those points? That was Dumbledore using wandless magic to change the banners. House cup. How did Granger put up with you, honestly."

Oromis allowed the teens to complete their exchange before resuming.

"Harry and Daphne will learn the ancient language from today. But seeing as you are already ahead in that regard –" he turned to Eragon, "you should opt to be clear with your phrasing. Gath means to unite, but it may not have worked, at this stage of your education, you need to be explicit in your instruction. A better and simpler way would be stenr rïsa un flauga eom eka. Remember that to and for are both eom so your intent in imperative."

"Yes, Ebrithil," Eragon held his hand out again and said, "stenr rïsa un flauga eom eka!" A rock from further away flew toward him with greater speed than either of the wizards' spells, stopping only when it reached his palm.

Daphne watched Eragon, curious. "Eragon, could you try summoning an object of your choice without saying the word aloud? Use only your will, as we might without wands."

'NO!' Glaedr's voice boomed like thunder. Eragon appeared paralyzed on the spot.

Oromis nodded. "I agree with Glaedr. This is the heart of our magical tradition. The Ancient Language itself holds the magic, it is both tool and power. But without knowledge and precision, it will not obey. If he does not say the name of the object, then the magic makes it so that there is no object to summon. And if there is no object to summon, magic may choose what to summon if the will of the caster is weak. Imagine saying the word to summon and the Earth gets summoned to you because you were not clear? What would that mean Eragon-finiarel?"

"It would mean instand death, Ebrithil." Eragon answered in shock, he felt shaken after realizing that he could have just killed himself. Saphira huffed at him and said, "I told you to be careful."

Harry's face brightened with an idea. "Alright, Eragon, why don't you try this?" He held out his wand. "See if our magic can work for you. Just try saying 'Accio stone' and see what happens."

Eragon accepted the wand gingerly, turning it over in his hand as though it was some rare artifact. He looked to Oromis and Glaedr, who both nodded, and then spoke the incantation. "Accio stone."

Nothing happened.

Daphne tilted her head, contemplating. "It seems our magic is tied specifically to us, to our world. Wands, incantations, they respond to those who are bonded to them, who can channel our world's magic. Perhaps it's the same way we cannot speak the Ancient Language with power."

Oromis shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. "This lesson has shown us a great deal. In some ways, each world's magic is tailored to its people, its lands, its history. But in all cases, the spirit of intent, whether guided by a wand or bound to a word, is at the heart of it. But in terms of you being able to wield magic with the Ancient Language, it takes time. And only time will tell."

Daphne dipped her head and said, "Thank you Ebrithil."

Eragon returned the wand to Harry, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. "I still want to try a few more spells with you," he said, his voice full of determination. "Perhaps there is some way to bridge the magic between our worlds. Or at least... to understand it."

"Of course, that shouldn't be a problem."

Oromis cleared his throat and took a long, contemplative breath. "While you all have different foundations for your abilities, dedication and discipline are constants across any form of mastery. Your magic may differ in practice, but training the body and mind is crucial in any endeavour, magical or otherwise. Therefore, as part of your daily routine, you will engage in the Rimgar, a series of exercises for flexibility, balance, and strength. These will hone both your physical endurance and mental clarity."

Daphne and Harry exchanged glances, intrigued but uncertain. It was nothing that they had heard of. However, Eragon seemed to know what it was.

"You will join us each morning before dawn," Oromis continued. "The Rimgar will challenge you to understand your body's limits, and you will learn to push them carefully. Alongside Eragon, you will cultivate discipline, a virtue essential to both warriors and magicians alike."

'Saphira,' Glaedr added in his deep voice, 'you, too, have much to gain. I will oversee your exercises each morning, focusing on stretches that will enhance your agility and strength.'

The large blue dragon turned her head toward the golden dragon, her eyes gleaming with a mix of respect and anticipation. 'Thank you, Ebrithil,' she rumbled, bowing her head slightly.

"Until now," Oromis said, his tone solemn, "you've both been using magic within certain boundaries and with particular tools. But as you learn here, your training will also test your adaptability. Do not underestimate the importance of even the smallest movement, the smallest word or thought. Such dreary details define the difference between detrimental success and disappointing failure."

Harry leaned closer to Daphne, murmuring, "Sounds like DADA but on a much bigger scale."

Daphne gave a subtle nod, her eyes on Oromis, determination in her expression. "Whatever it takes," she whispered back. "We must top the class!"

Harry rolled his eyes at her, "Hermione must have rubbed off on you too…"

Oromis motioned for the trio to rise. "Return to your quarters and prepare yourselves. Tomorrow, the true journey begins."

-oIo-

The following morning, a gentle but insistent voice echoed through Harry's mind, pulling him out of sleep. "Harry," Aelindra's soft voice sounded like a whisper, but with an urgency that only she could convey in a single word.

The pleasant warmth of the dream he'd been having – something about him gliding through the sky on Aelindra's back – slipped away. Reluctantly, Harry forced himself to open his eyes, his face half-buried in the pillow. As his vision adjusted, he noticed a silhouette standing at the foot of his bed. Blinking, he pushed his glasses up onto his nose.

"Daphne?" he mumbled, trying to shake off the amazingly beautiful sleep that clung to him.

Daphne crossed her arms, a hint of a smile playing on her lips as she took in his sleepy state. Her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder, and she was dressed in the standard Elven bedwear tunic, a subtle but beautiful weave of thin pale greens and soft browns that made her look almost ethereal in the early light. Harry noticed the morning chill had given her a reaction at which he feigned ignorance.

"You're late again," she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I swear, you'd sleep through a Ministry raid if someone didn't drag you out of bed."

The image of Daphne standing there in the golden morning light, her eyes bright and amused, took a moment to fully register and caused him to lose focus again. Harry's breath caught just slightly as he took her in, his heart doing an odd flip. There was something about her in that instant, as if the forest itself had graced her with its elegance and warmth, and for a moment, he simply stared.

"Harry?" She tilted her head, a single eyebrow arching.

He snapped out of it, quickly rubbing his face in an attempt to hide the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks. "Right. Up, I'm up!" he muttered, throwing off his blanket and hopping out of bed, a bit too fast and nearly stumbling in the process while try to face his front away from her. Daphne shook her head, giving him a knowingly amused look as he scrambled to his feet.

-oIo-

After some rapid preparations, they made their way to the small dining area outside Oromis' hut, where simple breakfast fare awaited them: fruit, warm bread with herbs, and a peculiar elvish tea that Harry was slowly learning to tolerate.

Harry noticed as they sat down that Daphne had chosen a spot where the early sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a soft, golden glow over her face just like in those romantically nauseating movies that Aunt Petunia used to love so much. Daphne had a serene expression as she poured her tea, a small smile flickering across her lips as she brought the cup to her mouth. The sunlight danced over her fair skin, accentuating the delicate lines of her features, the faint flush in her cheeks, and the way her eyes seemed to catch the light, making them almost luminescent.

Harry, quite unprepared for the effect this would have on him, could only fumble with his own cup, his face heating up every time she glanced in his direction. He tried to focus on his breakfast, but his gaze kept drifting back to her, each stolen look making his heart race a little faster. Why did she have to be so fucking… radiant?

He nearly dropped his cup as she looked up and caught his eye, a curious expression on her face. "Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, her tone genuinely concerned.

"Fine!" he answered, a bit too quickly, his voice almost a squeak. "Just, uh, thinking about… yesterday's lesson." He grabbed a piece of bread to give his hands something to do, inwardly cursing himself for sounding so ridiculous.

From her point of view, Daphne was more amused than anything else. She'd noticed Harry's lingering looks, and the faint color in his cheeks every time he glanced her way. A part of her found it endearing – that nervous, boyish charm he had, so unlike the more reserved, calculated manners of many wizards she knew. But there was something deeper, something in the way he cared about his friends, his unassuming bravery, that made her heart beat a little faster whenever she looked at him.

Yet, she could almost envision the hate filled taunts that she would have received from her fellow Slytherins had they been Hogwarts just for looking in his direction. And it was because of this that Daphne was used to hiding her emotions, keeping her face serene and unreadable, but here, away from the world of pureblood politics and expectations, she felt a sense of freedom she hadn't known before. And in that quiet moment, she let herself indulge, her gaze lingering on Harry's messy hair, his slightly tousled appearance, and the intensity in those green eyes of his when he wasn't bumbling nervously. Rough. Rugged. Meh. He will do.

Despite herself, she smiled.

After breakfast, they returned to their quarters to prepare for their morning training, and Daphne turned her back to Harry, picking up a fresh set of Elven clothes. They'd become so used to the close quarters they shared that she didn't think twice before starting to change into her tunic.

But Harry, caught off guard by the movement, turned around at just the wrong moment and froze as he realized what she was doing. Daphne's back was turned slightly, but he could see her shoulders as she shrugged out of her top, revealing a delicate line of skin that caught the morning light and the side of her breast with the hint of a pink point.

Harry's eyes widened, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he jerked his gaze away. "Uh – sorry!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet and nearly tripping over his own shoes as he bolted for the door.

Daphne's head whipped around; eyes wide as she realized what had just happened. A flush of embarrassment – and, if she was being honest with herself, a bit of amusement – rose to her cheeks. She hadn't intended to surprise him like that, but the sheer shock on his face had been oddly… adorable.

Outside, Harry leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding. He could still see the image of her bare shoulders and singular breast in his mind, and it only made him more flustered. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the overwhelming embarrassment – and maybe a touch of awe.

As she finished dressing inside, Daphne couldn't help but smile to herself, a mix of amusement and curiosity flickering in her eyes. She hadn't expected Harry to react that way, but she found it rather sweet. And though she tried to ignore it, the thought lingered: Harry's reaction had been a sincere, earnest reminder of his innocence – a quality that was rare in their world.

They met again outside, where Harry was trying very hard not to look directly at her. She gave him a soft smile, suppressing her laughter. "Are you ready?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.

Harry, still red in the face, nodded quickly. "Ready as I'll ever be."

They walked together in silence toward the training grounds, the tension between them subtly different now – not awkward, but charged, like a spark that neither of them dared acknowledge.

In that quiet moment, both of them found themselves smiling just a little bit wider. And as they joined Eragon, Saphira, and Oromis for the start of their training, the tension could be seen for Eragon had just smirked and Oromis had a knowing smile.

"Let us begin your combat training." Oromis said.