Reputation
Chapter 4:
Harry sat bolt upright. His face grew warm as he realized that he had been caught hugging Murtagh.
He hadn't meant to be so dramatic, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. It was just that, hearing what Murtagh said when Harry told him he still wanted to be recognised as Murtaghson, that his mother would be proud of him... That he was proud of him... It was more than Harry could have ever imagined.
For his entire childhood he wanted nothing more than for someone to love him, to praise him for his accomplishments and to comfort him during his failures. For so long he wondered what his parents would think of him. Would they love him? Would they be disappointed in him?
For the past week he had been worried that Murtagh wouldn't accept him. He feared that he wouldn't be what Murtagh had imagined him to be, what he wanted him to be.
So when Murtagh had told him that he was proud of him... Harry couldn't control his joy. He didn't think that he had ever been so happy in his life. Not when he had first flown on his broom. Not when he had learnt he was a wizard... Not even when, for the first time in his life, he had found friends in the forms of Ron, Hermione and Hagrid.
At first, when Murtagh hadn't reacted, he thought that he had overstepped his boundaries. But then, Murtagh had returned the embrace, and it was as if for the first time in his life, Harry felt complete. He felt at home. He felt loved.
And then he had heard the clearing of a throat, and he had jumped immediately out of the embrace.
He looked forward to see a... Man? Harry wasn't sure. He had a feline face, with exotic features, brown hair and eyes, and, strangest of all, pointed ears.
"Am I interrupting something?" The man asked.
"Oh, not at all." Murtagh replied sarcastically.
He turned to him to see that the older man had a note of frustration in his eyes. Harry shot a questioning gaze to him. Murtagh looked at him, then the strange looking man.
"Ahh, yes. Harry, this is my brother, Eragon Shadeslayer. Eragon, this is my son, Harry." He said, getting up from where he was sitting.
Harry also got up. He looked at Eragon. Murtagh had mentioned that Eragon had gone through some form of transformation during his training in Ellesméra, the capital city of the elves. Harry was not expecting him to look this different. Though, he could see somewhat of a resemblance between his father and Eragon. Harry supposed that their lack of a strong resemblance was due to them having different fathers.
Eragon walked to Harry, smiling, and extended his hand. Harry shook it hesitantly.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Harry." Eragon said. "I must say, you were an unexpected surprise. But you are never unwelcome."
"Umm, thanks." Harry replied.
Eragon turned to Murtagh.
"So, how was it?" Eragon asked. "I'm judging by the way I found you that it went well?"
Harry blushed again, but Murtagh managed to keep his mask, his eyes showing only a flicker of annoyance.
"Much better than I expected."
"Well," Eragon said, still smiling. "Dinner will be in about an hour. I was thinking of introducing Harry to the rest of the Riders then. That is, if you are alright with that?"
Both men turned to Harry, who shrugged.
"Might as well. They're going to find out about me sooner or later." Harry replied.
"Well," Eragon continued. "All that needs to be done now is to decide how you wish to be introduced."
"I'm okay with being introduced as Murtaghson." Harry replied.
"Really?" Eragon said, shooting a look at Murtagh which seemed to say "I told you so."
"Well," Eragon said. "With that settled, I best be leaving. My apologies for the interruption."
Eragon began to leave, but then Harry stopped him.
"Wait!"
Eragon turned to him questioningly.
"Thank you for, you know... Letting me stay."
Eragon smiled.
"You're family. Of course you're welcome."
Harry's heart tightened. In one afternoon he had received more familial love from people he had just met than he had ever received in thirteen years of living with the Dursleys. Was this what family, real family, felt like?
After Eragon left, Harry turned to Murtagh.
"Well, he seems nice." Harry said.
"Yes, Eragon has a good heart." Murtagh replied, a small smile flickering over his face. "At times, he may be a bit naive, which I find strange considering his constant desire for knowledge. And we have gotten into more than a few arguments. But I feel lucky to have him as a brother."
Harry smiled.
"That kind of reminds me of my friend Hermione. She is the most brilliant witch in our year, but she can't seem to get it out of her head that not even authority figures are perfect. And she tends to blow things out of proportion when someone doesn't agree with her. Just last Christmas, I received my firebolt." He gestured to his broom inside the room. "Well, it didn't say who it was from, and she was worried that it was from Sirius Black, who we still thought was out to get me at the time. And so she told Professor McGonagall. It got taken away from me, but thankfully I got it back by the next Quidditch game."
A smile flickered across Murtagh's face.
"And, did you ever find out who the broom was from?"
"Yes, it was Sirius." Harry replied. "But it didn't have a jinx on it. So, both of us ended up being right."
Both of them shared a laugh.
Harry was surprised. Was Murtagh's mask breaking? He had been afraid that it would take much, much longer to break through his father's mask. But he supposed that some parental instinct was helping things along.
"Hey, umm, sorry for, you know, earlier. I didn't mean to attack you with hugs, it's just that... My emotions got the better of me and..."
Murtagh's face sobered.
"Don't be sorry Harry. You were perfectly fine. Just remember, if you ever need any form of comfort, you are always welcome."
Harry's smile returned.
"Thanks."
The two smiled at each other.
"We better start getting ready for dinner." Murtagh said finally. "Are you sure, that you wish to be introduced to the Riders as my son?"
"Yes." Harry repeated, yet again. "I don't care about our bloodline's reputation. I'm not going to let some long dead monster like Morzan shape how I live my life."
Murtagh smiled.
Harry looked around at the large dining hall. It was probably as large, if not a little more, than the great hall at Hogwarts. Light flooded in from large windows on either side of the hall, which stretched a metre or two from the ground to near the ceiling. Harry supposed it was so the Riders could see their dragons and vice versa. There were many small tables arranged around the hall, though there were only at most fifty Riders excluding Eragon and Murtagh. In the centre of the hall was a grand table with many platters of food, from which the Riders could select whatever food they wanted. Murtagh had assisted Harry in finding foods that were somewhat familiar to him.
At the front of the hall there was a long table, much like the staff table at Hogwarts. Murtagh informed him that this was meant to be where The Rider's Council sat. However, the council only consisted of Eragon and Murtagh. Harry was informed that there was a third member, Arya, but that she also had the duty of being the Queen of the Elves.
Harry had decided to sit with his father, as he did not feel comfortable sitting with complete strangers. Murtagh also didn't want Harry to sit with people who would soon learn of Harry's lineage, and very likely, might hate him for it.
They had been the first in the hall, so Harry sat at the council table and watched as the entire Rider order arrived.
When the Riders looked up at the council table and saw Harry, they began to mutter, wondering who this new person was. Murtagh shot him a concerned look, but Harry just shot back a reassuring smile. He was used to mutters.
Harry marvelled at the diversity of the Dragon Riders. He could see some humans. But there were also beings Harry guessed were elves. Thanks to the descriptions provided by Murtagh when he was tell him his story, Harry could also recognize a few dwarfs and Urgals.
Once they had all arrived, Eragon called the hall to order. The room went completely silent when he stood up.
"Thank you." He began. "As you can see, we have a new arrival among us. I would like to introduce you to my Nephew, Harry Murtaghsson. He is from a distant land, and has recently come here to reconnect with his father. I ask that you show him the same hospitality and respect that I expect from you."
And with that, Eragon sat back down.
For a long time, the entire hall was silent. Then, the mutters began again in Ernest. This time, the glances they shot Harry were not curious. Instead there was surprise, fear, and, mostly from the Dwarfs, hatred. Harry just ignored them.
"Are you alright?"
Harry looked up to see that Murtagh was shooting him an expression of concern. Harry just shrugged.
"Don't worry, I'm used to it. You should have seen the Hogwarts students when they thought I was the heir of Slytherin."
Harry turned back to his meal. The food was good. It felt as if he had returned to Hogwarts early. The only difference was that he didn't have Ron and Hermione, and he wasn't sitting at the Gryffindor table.
After Dinner, Harry quickly returned to his room. It felt good to think of this room as his.
He laid back on his bed and thought about the days events.
He had to admit, his father was very good at concealing his emotions.
Harry had become an expert at reading people's emotions. He had to learn from a young age how to tell when someone, primarily Uncle Vernon, was angry. It was vital to his continued survival that Harry learn when it was safe and when he should run for cover.
Murtagh, Harry could tell, was very good at hiding his emotions. Harry could only catch glimpses of what the man might be feeling. This was difficult for Harry, as it was harder to figure out what to and what to not do. He really, really wanted things to work out between the two of them. But this was made difficult because Harry was scared of making a mistake which would lead to Murtagh becoming angry at him.
He sighed and turned in the bed. He was now facing the desk where he had put his books and other various belongings. He sat up. Maybe he could get some homework done. Yes, it was now dark out. But maybe he could find some sort of candle and sit out on the balcony.
He went over to his trunk and rummaged through it. Eventually, he found his box of matches. He would have used magic, only he wasn't sure if the ministry would be able to reach him here or not. So he had to do it the old fashioned way.
After a further look in his trunk, he realized he had forgotten to pack a candle.
He sucked in a nervous breath. How was he going to get any work done now? He supposed that he could wait until the morning, but he really needed something to occupy his mind right now.
Maybe he could ask Murtagh if he had any spare candles? Harry would hate to bother him, but what choice did he have?
Deciding to muster up his Gryffindor courage, he left his room and walked to the one that Murtagh had indicated was his.
Hesitantly, he knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door opened. Murtagh stood there, appearing wide awake. Harry could see the light from a candle behind him.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you..." He began.
"Do not worry," Murtagh interrupted. "You are welcome any time."
Murtagh gestured for Harry to come in. Harry entered the room hesitantly.
Harry looked around the room. It was sparse, save for the usual desk, bed and wardrobe. However, Harry could also see a few books stacked up on the desk, as well as a stand which held pieces of armour. But the thing that caught Harry's eye the most was the sword on the bed.
Its crimson blade shone in the candlelight. Harry looked at it in wonder. It was truly a beautiful sword. However, Harry could also remember Murtagh describing a sword just like this.
"Is this...?" He began, gesturing towards the sword.
"Zar-Roc." Murtagh replied. He walked over to the bed and picked it up. "I was just cleaning it before you came. Not that it needs much cleaning, considering all of the magical protections on it. For the most part it just gets dusty after a while."
Harry gazed at the sword in amazement.
"That's, that's the sword that..."
Murtagh's lips slightly curled into a bitter smile.
"Many lives have been taken by this blade. It was with this sword that my father marred me for life."
"Can I... Hold it? Just for a second."
Murtagh studied him for a while. Finally, he handed the sword, hilt first, to Harry.
"Be careful. It is very sharp."
Harry curled his fingers around the hilt. It was slightly heavier than the sword of Gryffindor. But other than that, it was very similar.
He gave it an experimental swing.
"I said be careful!" Murtagh said, stepping back.
"I'm sorry!" Harry said worriedly. "I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"I'm not concerned about me." Murtagh replied. "I'm only worried that you might hurt yourself."
Harry looked back down at the sword.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. This sword, it's just so beautiful. And yet... Why do you keep it, if it's only coursed misery?"
Murtagh shrugged.
"I don't know, maybe as a reminder."
"Of what?"
"Of what not to become. Of what can happen when someone has too much power."
Harry looked down at the sword again.
"This sword has done so much bad... But, isn't this also the sword you used to save Mum with?"
Murtagh nodded.
"So maybe, in the right hands, this sword could be used for good." Harry continued.
Murtagh stared at him.
"Maybe you are right." He finally said.
Harry handed the sword back to Murtagh.
"Thanks. I've just been so interested in swords since last year, when I used the sword of Gryffindor to fight the basilisk."
"Well," Murtagh replied. "Maybe I could teach you how to use one, if you're willing."
"Really?" Harry said, excitedly. "That would be great."
"Great." Murtagh said, smiling. "We could meet in the training yard tomorrow. Usually I am the one who handles the Rider's combat training, but I'm sure Eragon won't mind covering for any lessons I have tomorrow."
"If neither of you mind." Harry replied.
"Of course we won't mind. I'll check with Eragon, but I'm sure he will be okay with it, if it means we get to spend more time together."
Both father and son smiled. Harry was excited because Murtagh actually wanted to spend time with him. More than that, he wanted to teach him how to use a sword.
"So," Murtagh said after a long silence. "Did you need anything?"
Harry blinked, trying to remember why he had come to Murtagh in the first place. Then he remembered.
"Oh, right. I was wondering if you had any candles. I was just going to do some homework, only it's a little dark."
Murtagh walked over to the desk and opened the draw. From it, he pulled a candle.
"Thanks." Harry said, taking the candle.
Harry left the room, but was followed by Murtagh.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked.
"Yes." Murtagh replied. "I am only making sure you are alright."
"I am fine." Harry replied.
"Will you need any help lighting the candle?"
"I'll be fine." Harry replied. "I've got some matches."
"Then will it be alright if I looked at some of your books?" Murtagh asked. "It is just, I have always been curious of your Mother's kind of magic, and there was only so much that she could show me. And Eragon was also curious to see your brand of magic, as he wishes to see if there could be a way of adapting some of the spells so that they can be used by the Riders."
Harry shrugged.
"Go ahead."
They entered the room. Harry took his stack of books, the candle, and his box of matches onto the balcony, where he could smell the night air. It was hard, carrying such a large load, but Harry was used to it because of the Dursleys.
Harry sat down and lit the candle. Murtagh sat next to him. Harry turned to the stack of books and saw that the top one was his photo album. Gently, he removed the album and placed it to one side. He made to open his potions book, to get all of Snape's work out of the way, but he was interrupted by Murtagh's gasp.
"What is this?"
Harry turned to see that Murtagh had picked up the photo album, who's front cover displayed a photo of both his mother and... James Potter, just after they graduated Hogwarts.
"Oh, that's a photo album that my friend Hagrid, you know, the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts and the one who told me I was a wizard, gave to me at the end of my first year. It's got a bunch of pictures of my Mum and Da... James Potter."
Murtagh frowned.
"Harry, I do not mind if you still think of James Potter as your father." He said seriously.
Harry blinked.
"You don't?"
Murtagh shook his head.
"No. He's just as much your father as I am. And he's done far more to earn the right than I have."
Harry's face lit up with a relieved, yet unsure smile.
"That... That's good. I've been very worried about it for the past week."
"Don't be." Murtagh replied. "As you said. You can't pick your blood, but you can pick your family. For all his flaws, James Potter was a good man. And I will forever be grateful for all he had done for you and your mother."
Harry smiled.
"Me too."
Then he looked down at the potions book.
"Too bad not everyone sees it that way."
"Hmm?" Murtagh looked at him questioningly.
"There's this one teacher who's hated me since day one, just because he hated my Dad."
"Oh?" Murtagh replied, raising an eyebrow. "And who is this teacher?"
"The potions teacher. Professor Snape."
Murtagh dropped the Album. Fortunately, Harry was able to catch it with his seeker reflexes. Harry looked at Murtagh to see that his eyes were wide and his expression both shocked and horrified. His mask had obviously slipped off.
"What? Did I say something...?"
"Did you just say Snape?" Murtagh asked. "As in, Severus Snape?"
Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, why? Do you know him?"
"I know of him." Murtagh replied. "Your mother spoke at great lengths of him."
"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued.
"Yes. She and Snape had been very close friends since even before Hogwarts."
It was Harry's turn to be surprised.
"What? Mum... And Snape... Friends?"
Murtagh nodded.
"What...? How...? When...? Why...? Ha...?"
Murtagh sighed.
"When the two of them were children, they lived close to one another. They became good friends because they had discovered that the other had magic. During the majority of their Hogwarts years, they remained close despite them being in rival houses. Your Mother even defended Snape when a group of students were constantly harassing him."
"You mean Dad and the other Marauders?"
Murtagh nodded.
"Then there was an incident in their fifth year. Apparently, after yet another bout of harassment, Snape, in his rage, called your Mother a foul name."
"Did it start with an M, and was usually used against Muggle-borns?"
"I believe so." Murtagh replied.
"Yeah, I've heard that word before. One of the Slytherins, a right old git, called Hermione that name. Everyone went crazy. Ron even tried to jinx him. Though, Ron was using a broken wand at the time and he ended up vomiting slugs. Hermione and I didn't even know what the word meant until Ron explained it to us."
"Well," Murtagh continued. "After this incident, Snape did apparently feel sorry, but your Mother was too angry to forgive him. She did regret it, eventually. But by then, it was too late."
Harry whistled.
"Do you think Snape still cares about Mum?"
Murtagh shrugged.
"I do not know. I've never met him."
Harry shrugged.
"It would explain a lot of his confusing actions."
"Such as?" Murtagh prompted.
"Well," Harry began. "Ever since I arrived at Hogwarts, he has hated me. Well, he's very unfair to anyone who isn't a Slytherin, but he's especially nasty to me. He's always belittling me in front of the class, and taking points off of me for the lightest mistake. But then again, he's also apparently tried to save me a few times. Like in my first quidditch game when my broom was being jinxed. At first we thought Snape was the one doing it. But then I found out it was Quirrel, you know, the one with Voldemort on the back of his head. While that was shocking, it was even more surprising when I found out that Snape had been muttering a counter-curse and trying to save me. And well, his past friendship with Mum would explain why his actions would be so confusing."
Murtagh nodded.
"I can see your point."
The two sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Harry spoke.
"Do you... Do you want to have a look through the Album?"
"What?" Murtagh asked.
"It's just... I thought that maybe you would like to look through some of the pictures of Mum... You don't have to, but your welcome to look if you want."
"That would... That would be very kind of you..." Murtagh said, a small smile on his face.
Harry shrugged.
"Who knows? Maybe you'll feel better after looking through it."
Murtagh took the album again and smiled.
"Thank you."
"Oh, and here." He said, handing Murtagh the potions book. "Screw Snape's work, give this to Eragon. Potions don't require a wand, and maybe he'll be able to find something useful in this."
Murtagh smiled again.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it... Father."
Murtagh sucked in a breath. Then, he got up and left the room. Harry turned to the stack of books.
On to transfiguration, I guess.
He thought as he picked up his Transfiguration text book.
Murtagh quickly went to his room and placed the album on his bed. He decided that he would give the potions book to Eragon before looking through it.
It didn't take him long to reach his brother's room. Murtagh knocked on the door. After a few seconds, Eragon opened the door, his hair tussled.
"Murtagh?" He said, yawning. "Do you even know what time it is?"
"Sorry." Murtagh said, entering the room. "Harry just wanted me to give you this."
He handed Eragon the potions book.
"I told him that you were curious about his kind of magic. He knows that this isn't exactly magic, but he still thought that it might be useful, and it doesn't require a wand."
Eragon leafed through the first few pages.
"I suppose I could have a look through this." He muttered. "I shall have to thank him."
"Do you think you could make a copy of it for yourself?" Murtagh requested. "Harry still needs it for his school work, and apparently the potions teacher isn't exactly the nicest person."
Eragon nodded.
"I shall see what I can do."
"Thank you." Murtagh said again.
Eragon looked at him.
"So, how was Harry after the Riders reaction to him at Dinner?"
Murtagh shrugged.
"He seemed fine, but it's hard to tell. He seems to have much practice in concealing his emotions."
Eragon scoffed.
"Sounds familiar." He muttered.
Murtagh decided to ignore him.
"He did not seem to care what they thought of him. We talked for a while, and..."
"And what?" Eragon asked.
Murtagh sucked in a breath.
"He called me Father."
Eragon's face broke into a wide smile.
"That is wonderful."
Murtagh smiled.
"I know. I could hardly believe it."
Eragon yawned again.
"Well, it is late, and we both best be off to bed."
Murtagh nodded. He went to leave, but then stopped and turned back to Eragon.
"Oh, and one more thing. Is it alright if you cover for me tomorrow with the Riders? It is just that Harry and I were discussing me teaching him how to use a sword, because he was showing curiosity for it earlier."
"Of course." Eragon said, smiling. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."
Murtagh smiled again.
"Thank you."
Murtagh left Eragon's room.
When he returned to his room, Murtagh instantly went to the album. With shaking hands, he picked it up. He was afraid to open it and see her face again.
On one hand, he longed to see Lily again. He had missed her smile, her light, her joy. Even if he would only be looking at a picture of her, it was better than nothing.
On the other hand, he was afraid that if he did see her face again, even if it was only a picture, then he would not be able to control his emotions. He was afraid that, once he saw her, the feelings of sorrow, regret and guilt would return.
In all, Murtagh did not know whether to open the book or not.
[Murtagh.]
Murtagh turned to see that Thorn had landed on the balcony. Murtagh walked over to him and sat down, leaning against his dragons side.
[Should I do it Thorn?]
He asked him.
[Do you want to open it?]
Thorn replied.
[Of course I do. But I am afraid...]
[Afraid of what?]
[Afraid that if I see her again, even in a picture, then I will not be able to hold back my grief.]
[Do not worry.]
Thorn replied, wrapping his tail around Murtagh.
[I will be here for you, always.]
[Thank you.]
He replied.
[Harry will think no less of you for feeling grief.]
Thorn said.
Murtagh smiled as he thought of Harry. He was so much like his Mother. So forgiving, so kind. Murtagh was surprised at how kind he was, considering that he had never been shown that much kindness during his childhood.
The biggest surprise, however, was when Harry had called him Father.
Murtagh had longed for it, dreamed of it, for so long. He did not think that Harry would be so willing to refer to him as such. Murtagh knew that he had done barely anything to deserve such a title.
But when that one word had left his son's lips, Murtagh could feel his heart clench and he had to hold back his tears.
Murtagh turned his attention back to the book. With shaking hands, he flipped open the cover.
She was just as beautiful as he remembered. Her eyes were just as green, her hair was just as red. Her smile was just as bright. Murtagh had to curse the wizards for making their pictures move, for it only made her seem more life-like.
Murtagh had to hold back his tears when he saw a picture of Lily, sitting and smiling in a bright late summer day. In her arms, she held a small bundle. The bundle was Harry, when he was only a few weeks old.
Murtagh looked at her smiling face, her bright eyes, her hair blowing in the breeze.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to the picture.
Murtagh sucked in a breath.
"But I promise you, your sacrifice will not be in vain. I will do all I can to protect Harry. I will do, whatever it takes."
[You should go to bed Murtagh.]
Thorn said.
Murtagh got up. He walked back into his room and placed the album on top of his desk. With one last glance at the moving picture on the cover, Murtagh climbed into his bed, his mind swirling with the day's events.
Whatever it takes.
He thought to himself.
I will do, whatever it takes to keep him safe.