A Rider's Legacy

Chapter 5:
 
Harry began to awaken from his peaceful slumber. He was confused, as the bed he was lying in was softer and more comfortable than he had ever known a bed could be. He opened his eyes to find that whatever room he was in was dark, but with a slight amount of light. For a few seconds he couldn't remember where he was.
Then he remembered.
Yesterday, he had found Murtagh. He had found his father. He had found his father and he was wanted.
He sat up and groped around the bed-side desk for his glasses. Once he found them, he put them on and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Once he could see properly, he noticed that the sun was just rising from outside his large window.
He looked around the room, his room. It was just as big as his dormitory at Hogwarts, maybe even a little larger. And it was all his.
Something caught Harry's attention out of the corner of his eye. A few somethings, actually, all stacked on his desk. Harry got out of his bed to inspect them.
It appeared to be a pile of clothes, with a pair of boots placed carefully beside it. There was a note on top of the pile.
 
Harry,
I will see you after breakfast. I may be a few minutes, as Eragon has called for a meeting between the two of us and our dragons. I hope that you will be able to find your way to the dining hall by yourself. I also hope that the Riders do not bother you too much.
These clothes are for you. We always make sure to keep a decent supply of clothes in many different sizes, and I believed you would like a change from those rags you were forced to wear.
If you need anything, do not be afraid to ask.
Murtagh.
 
Harry put the note down and began to inspect the clothes. His new clothes consisted of four black tunics with four pairs of matching leggings. Harry was at first curious as to why Murtagh had chosen black, but then he remembered that the Riders seemed to decide the colour of their wardrobe according to the colour of their dragon. Well, he assumed that this was the case since he had seen Murtagh in red and Eragon in blue, the same colours as their respective dragons. Harry guessed that Murtagh was trying to give Harry a neutral colour, as he most likely believed that the wrong colour would upset him. Harry wouldn't have cared if Murtagh had given him pink. All that mattered was that he now had clothes that weren't either his school robes or Dudley's hand-me-downs.
He tried all of the clothes on, including the boots. Everything fit perfectly. He finally got dressed in one of the tunics and leggings and looked at himself in the mirror attached to the door of the wardrobe. He had to say, he looked pretty good. Now that he was wearing clothes that both actually fit him and weren't falling apart at the seams, Harry thought that he looked a bit neater.
Harry looked up to the top of the wardrobe, where Hedwig was perched, looking at him.
"What do you think?" He asked her.
Hedwig just hooted.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Not a very good colour scheme. But hey, it's better than Dudley's old hand-me-downs, right?"
Hedwig hooted again, but this time Harry could have sworn there was a note of agreement in her tone.
"Maybe I could ask Murtagh for some red." Harry continued. "Would you like that?"
Hedwig hooted again. Harry smiled.
He began to put the rest of his new clothes in the wardrobe. However, he frowned when he saw his old clothes. They were faded, warn and falling apart.
"Hey, Hedwig? Do you think I should burn these old things?" Harry asked, pulling out a particularly disgusting brown shirt which Harry could have sworn was once white.
Hedwig hooted something which Harry took to be an agreement. He chuckled and imagined burning away some of the last vestiges of his time with the Dursleys.
"We'd have to be careful. Don't want anyone panicking, do we?"
Harry chuckled again. Then, all thoughts of burning clothes were wiped from his mind by a sudden rumbling sound coming from his stomach.
"Guess I better go have breakfast." He said. "See you later."
Harry was about to open the door, when he had a sudden thought. He walked over to the desk, where he had put his wand for safe keeping. He grabbed said wand and put it in his right boot. Harry thought that he should be armed, just in case Murtagh's worst fears came true and the entire Rider order hated him.
Harry did remember that he was technically not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. But he thought that his own safety was more important than a law that shouldn't even apply here, seeing as, not only was magic common knowledge, but the place was crawling with magical species. And he'd like to see them try to arrest him. Not only was he on an uncharted island in the middle of Merlin knows where, but he highly doubted Murtagh would let them do anything to him.
So Harry felt perfectly comfortable taking his wand with him to breakfast.
And with that, Harry left his room.
 
Harry found that the home of the Riders was much, much easier to navigate than Hogwarts. For a start, none of the staircases moved. For another, nothing else did. Harry really didn't know what the founders were on when they had designed Hogwarts. Or maybe they were trying to make it difficult for future students to get anywhere on time, as a sort of prank. If so, then they had out done both the Weasley twins and the Marauders.
In any case, Harry did not have that much trouble navigating his way to the dining hall.
When he entered, he could see out of the window that the sun was just rising from beyond the horizon. Harry predicted that it was about 7:00 a.m. He blinked in surprise when he saw that many of the Riders were already awake.
Harry was not used to the majority of people in one location waking up at the crack of dawn. Back at the Dursleys he was always expected to wake up even before the sun had first appeared to make them a full English breakfast. The Dursleys themselves wouldn't usually wake up until the sun had risen. And even then, it was hard to get Dudley out of bed, (usually because the reason for the early morning was school). On weekends and in the holidays, they would usually sleep in until around 10:00 a.m. at the very earliest, long after the sun and Harry had risen.
At Hogwarts, the only people he knew to wake up so early were the teachers, the Ravenclaws, some sixth and seventh years, and Hermione. The vast majority of Hogwarts students wouldn't be awake until around an hour before classes. And on the weekends, the number of early risers was lower. Harry had known some to sleep in so late that they had missed breakfast.
Hence why he was surprised to see the majority of the dragon Riders already awake and eating breakfast.
As soon as Harry had entered the room, every single head turned towards him. Harry squared his shoulders and ignored the stares the best he could. He continued to tell himself that this was nothing compared to Hogwarts. He could deal with the stares.
Harry walked over to the grand table in the centre of the hall and grabbed a plate. He could hear the riders beginning to mutter. Harry ignored them and put some food on his plate.
He hardly recognised any of the food. He doubted he could get a full English breakfast here. Not that he minded. Due to the Dursleys practically starving him during his childhood, Harry's stomach had suffered as much stunted growth as the rest of him. This had resulted in him not having that much of an apatite.
Finally, he found some pieces of fruit and filled his plate, bringing it with him to an empty table, far away from the stares of the Dragon Riders, but in a good position if he was suddenly attacked by any of them.
Harry found the fruit to be quite wonderful. He liked fresh foods, such as fruit and vegetables, as they usually lacked grease.
Due to the Dursleys rather unhealthy diet, Harry had developed an aversion to fattening, greasy foods. His body just seemed to reject any foods that were oily, deep-fried or heavily drenched in fats. He remembered during his first Hogwarts feast, he had marvelled at the wide variety of food that had been laid out for him, and there was no Dudley to take it away. Indeed, Harry believed that there was enough food to feed an army of Dudleys.
Against his better judgement, Harry had stuffed himself with a bit of almost everything. By the end of the night, he had eaten more food than he would have gotten in a month at the Dursleys. At the time, Harry had felt bloated. He had wondered at how someone could eat so much. Yet no one had batted an eye at his food intake. However, it was evidently too much for Harry, as at around 2:00 in the morning he had woken up, only to have to run into the bathroom and vomit out the contents of his stomach.
He had accidentally woken the other boys, who looked at him strangely when they saw him puking his guts up. They had asked him if he was sick. Harry was momentarily taken aback, as no one had ever shown him concern. But Harry had quickly recovered and replied by saying that he must have eaten too much at the feast.
However, this only led to more concern when Ron had pointed out that Harry had eaten just as much as any of them, maybe even a little less.
When the red-head had suggested they see one of the teachers about it, Harry had just shrugged it off and said that it was nothing to worry about, and that he had a pretty good immune system.
From that point on, Harry only ate small portions of food. His friends always asked him why he never ate much, and suggested that he tell Madame Pomfrey about it. But Harry always refused. He really, really didn't want to draw attention to a problem that he could handle. He wouldn't call what he had an eating disorder, only a natural reaction to certain foods, as well as a certain amount of food.
Harry remembered seeing a concerned look in Murtagh's eyes when he was helping Harry find food the previous night, and the Rider had noticed that he had decided on a small serve. Harry hoped he wouldn't push the issue. There was nothing wrong with not wanting to eat too much food. After all, Harry could go days, maybe even weeks, without eating a single bite. He was well acquainted with the pain of hunger.
Harry was almost finished his breakfast, when he saw out of the corner of his eye that two of the Riders had gotten up from their table and were walking towards him with half-finished meals. He let his hand fall only a few millimetres away from his wand, ready for anything.
He watched as the two approached. They both appeared around his age. However, this was hard to tell, considering that Riders were apparently immortal. One appeared to be a human female, with brown hair that fell to her shoulders, and light blue eyes that were looking directly at him. She was dressed in purple, so Harry guessed her dragon was likewise purple.
The other was an elven male. His hair was so white, that it gave Harry shivers. He hoped that this guy wasn't like a certain light-haired Slytherin he new and despised. Thankfully, he was not dressed in green, but rather grey.
Finally, they reached his table. He looked directly at them and they at him.
"Greetings, Murtaghson." The elf said.
"Good morning." Harry replied, looking at the two of them curiously. "Can I help you?"
"We noticed that you were sitting by yourself." The girl replied. "Did you not wish to join us?"
Harry shrugged.
"After how all of you reacted to me last night, I figured it would be in everyone's best interest if I avoided sitting in close proximity to anyone besides my father and Eragon."
The girl winced and the elf cleared his throat.
"Yes, last night was quite a... Surprise. And I must admit, there are a few who were... Σ than pleased."
He looked towards where the other Riders sat.
"However, after much thought we at least have decided to give you the benefit of the doubt."
Harry blinked.
"Umm... Thanks."
The girl smiled.
"May we sit then?"
Harry shrugged.
"Go ahead."
The two sat opposite him, placing their half finished breakfasts on the table in front of them. The three were silent, before Harry decided to break the tention.
"So, what are your names?"
"Oh," Said the girl. "How silly of me. My name is Brinla, and this," She pointed at the elf. "Is Hurzomna."
Harry's lips twitched in a small smile.
"Nice to meet you. Please, call me Harry."
Brinla smiled widely and Hurzomna's lips twitched upward.
"Likewise." The elf replied.
Brinla looked at Harry's empty plate.
"I noticed you didn't eat much." She commented.
Harry shrugged.
"I'm not a big eater."
Brinla frowned but said nothing.
"So," Harry said, trying to change the subject. "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you? It's just, I've heard that Dragon Riders are pretty much immortal and so it would be a bit hard to tell by appearance."
Brinla smiled.
"I have just turned sixteen."
"And I am also sixteen, though I shall be seventeen in three months time." Continued Hurzomna.
Harry blinked.
"Really? Because my father told me that there weren't that many elven children."
"That is... Complicated." Replied Hurzomna. "You see, after the fall of the original Dragon Riders, the elves' fertility suffered greatly, with only two young being born in that period of time during Galbatorix's reign. However, once the tyrant king was defeated and the balance of magic was restored with the return of the dragons, there was quite an... Increase in elven births... While it is nothing compared to human birthing rates, it was a massive increase for the elves."
"So, what you are saying is, that you are part of an elven baby-boom?"
Hurzomna furrowed his brows.
"I suppose you could say that."
"So, tell us Harry," Brinla began. "Why is it that non of us have ever heard of you?"
"My father thought that it would be safer for me to not be raised near Alagaësia. At the time, it had only been a few years since the war and emotions were still fresh. He was afraid that I would be hated for both what he was forced to do and what Morzan had done."
Harry noted that both Brinla and Hurzomna flinched at the name "Morzan", just as the people in the wizarding world flinched at the name "Voldemort".
"That is... Understandable." Hurzomna finally said. "However, you need not be too concerned. Though I am ashamed to say there are a few who are hesitant to trust you based on your heritage, the vast majority of them are the dwarfs."
"It's okay." Harry replied. "I'm used to it."
He did not elaborate, and the two Riders did not push the issue further.
Brinla cleared her throat.
"May I ask, did you come here alone? I assume you came here alone, as you were the only new-comer last night."
Harry shrugged.
"I came with my owl Hedwig."
Brinla blinked in shock and Hurzomna raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean by "your owl"? Do you mean as a pet?"
Harry shrugged.
"Kind of."
"How strange." Brinla said in amazement. "Is this a custom where you come from?"
"Yeah, well, in part of it." Harry replied.
Hurzomna cleared his throat.
"What of your mother? Surely she would not let you travel so far by yourself?"
Harry looked down.
"Well... She really couldn't do much to stop me. She died when I was a baby."
"Oh, I am sorry." Brinla said, her eyes full of sympathy.
Harry shrugged.
"It's okay. It was a very long time ago."
"May I ask how she died?" Brinla inquired hesitantly.
Harry thought over his response for a long time. Finally, he decided to tell them the truth, but not to get into too much detail.
"She and my adopted father were killed protecting me from a dark wizard."
Brinla's eyes were wide with shock and Hurzomna's previously neutral expression melted into disgust.
"Do you mean to tell me that a wizard was wicked enough to attempt to murder an infant?"
"Yes." Harry replied. "To this day, everyone... Well, almost everyone, is afraid to say his name."
Brinla frowned.
"Are there many wizards where you come from?"
"Yes, an entire society of witches and wizards, though it is concealed from the Mug... Errr, the non-magicals."
"Oh really?" Hurzomna asked in curiosity, raising an eyebrow. "Tell us of this society. And perhaps even of this dark wizard?"
And so Harry went into an explanation of the wizarding world, and the war against Voldemort which had ended with his parents’ deaths. As he told the story, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a few of the other Riders were attempting to listen to his story, while making it seem as if they weren't.
Brinla's brows were furrowed.
"Why did Masters Murtagh and Thorn not assist in fighting against this Voldemort?"
Harry shrugged.
"My father told me that they were still recovering from what Galbatorix forced them to do, and they did not wish to involve themselves in any conflict."
Hurzomna nodded slowly. But then he asked his question.
"And how did you survive when countless had not?"
Yet again, Harry shrugged.
"Don't know. No one does."
"And, if your mother was dead, who was the one to raise you?" Brinla asked.
Harry's expression darkened.
"My mother's sister and her husband. They are not... The nicest people."
Harry did not get into detail, and the Riders did not ask him to.
"Well," Brinla began after a long silence. "What do you have planned for today, Harry?"
"My father has offered to teach me how to use a sword." Harry replied, a smile beginning to creep onto his face.
"Really?" Hurzomna asked quizzically. "Do you have much experience with swordplay?"
Harry shrugged.
"I used a sword once to fight a basilisk."
"Impossible." Hurzomna retorted. "A basilisk is a very dangerous creature. There is no possible way an inexperienced fighter could have faced it with nothing but a sword and lived to tell the tale."
"Oh really?" Harry smirked. "Then how do you explain this?"
He pushed aside part of his tunic to reveal his shoulder, on which he still had a jagged scar. Even though Fawkes had healed him of the venom, such a deadly wound left its mark.
Brinla gasped and Hurzomna's eyes widened.
"I got this from when it bit me." Harry stated simply.
"Bit you?" Hurzomna breathed out in shock. "But a Basilisk's venom is poisonous."
"Well," Harry said, pulling his tunic over the scar again. "That is a long story."
"Tell us." Brinla insisted eagerly.
Harry hesitated for a few seconds. He really didn't want to tell complete strangers his life story. Well... yes, he had told Murtagh. But that was different. He is Harry's father. And any way, Harry had lost control of his temper when he had told Murtagh. Now, he was in complete control of his anger, and his audience was not in any way related to him. But still, they had come to sit with him, and had been polite about it.
In the end, he decided to tell them an abridged version of his second year.
"Well, it began the summer before my second year. My relatives had guests over who were interested in a business deal with my Uncle's work. I was told to go to my room and pretend I wasn't there, as they did not want me to embarrass them..."
Brinla frowned.
"Do you have a problem with social gatherings?"
"Nope." Harry replied, smiling bitterly. "My relatives just had a problem with me at social gatherings."
He cleared his throat and continued.
"Anyway, I was planning to just relax in my room and probably try to send another letter to my friends from school, even though they hadn't replied to any of my previous letters. But as soon as I stepped into my room, I was met with a startling surprise. For you see, there was a visitor, jumping on my bed. After I recovered from my shock, he introduced himself as Dobby, and told me he was something called a house-elf..."
"I beg your pardon?" Hurzomna interrupted indignantly.
"Oh, um... Sorry." Harry replied nervously. "I don't think your the same species. I mean, Dobby was shorter. And his eyes were larger, as were his ears."
Hurzomna narrowed his eyes.
"And what, exactly, are the roles of "House-elves", in your society?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Just so we're clear, I don't exactly agree with it. I don't know much, as I've only known about house-elves for two years now, and my mind has been on a lot of other things. But umm... From what I've heard... They umm... Serve old pure-blood wizarding families..."
Harry could see Hurzomna's expression darkening, so he quickly went on with his story. He talked about how Dobby had been secretly steeling his letters and that he did this because he wanted to "protect" Harry from something that was going to happen at Hogwarts.
As Harry continued his story, he saw out of the corner of his eye that more and more of the Riders were listening to his tale, some even moving closer to him. Harry decided to ignore his growing audience and continue.
 
Murtagh was agitated. Admittedly, he shouldn't have spent practically half the night looking in Harry's photo album. But he just could not help himself.
Regardless of his poor judgement of time, Eragon did not have to insist upon waking him before the sun had even risen, just so they could have an early morning meeting. Eragon should be thankful he hadn't picked up the dagger that he hid under his pillow and accidentally stabbed him in the confusion of waking.
Eragon quickly left the room so that Murtagh could get dressed. Looking at his clothes, Murtagh thought about what Harry had to wear.
Little more than rags.
He thought.
So, after he got dressed, he quickly ran down to the storerooms, where they kept spare clothes. He did not know what colour Harry would like. At first, he thought that maybe Harry would like red, as his son had mentioned being in Gryffindor, who's colours were also red. But then he opted not to give him that particular colour until he was more settled in and the other Riders had had a chance to get used to him. Red was also Murtagh's colour, and, regrettably, Morzan's. Murtagh feared that, if Harry did begin to wear red, then the Riders may begin to associate the colour with their family, and use this link to come to the conclusion that Harry was attempting to follow in his families legacy.
A red legacy.
He thought to himself.
As red as blood.
He shook his head. That would not be Harry's fate. His hands would not be drenched in blood that cannot be washed away and scars that can never heal. Well... At least any more scars that can never heal.
In the end, Murtagh chose several outfits in black, as that seemed like a neutral colour. He hoped that Harry would tell him if he had any colour preference, and decided to ask him later.
He quietly snuck into his son's room just as the first light of dawn was appearing from beyond the horizon. He crept to the bed-side desk and put the new clothing and boots in an empty space stacked neatly in a pile.
He looked over at Harry, where the boy, no, young man, still slept. Murtagh smiled. Harry seemed younger, more innocent, less damaged, in his sleep. It both warmed and broke his heart. His child looked so fragile, so small, so pure, lying in his bed. Murtagh had dreamt of being able to tuck his son into bed for so long. He had longed to wrap his son in blankets of warmth and safety, wishing him goodnight and sweet dreams. Maybe even telling him a bedtime story. But because of his own foolishness and fear, he hadn't.
And now that time had passed. Harry was much too old for such treatment.
Despite this, Murtagh still reached out to brush some hair out of Harry's face. His son continued to sleep peacefully. Murtagh smiled and quietly left the room.
Eragon was patiently waiting for him in the younger brother's office.
"Thank you for joining us." Eragon said.
"I am sorry I took so long." Murtagh replied. "I was finding some new clothes for Harry. I refuse to allow him to remain in such horrible excuses for garments."
Eragon nodded.
"We thought it had something to do with Harry."
Murtagh sighed and sat down.
"Let us just start this meeting."
Instantly, the two Riders and their dragons joined in a four-way mental link.
At the formation of the new Rider council, Eragon had suggested a way for all of them to communicate without anyone else being able to listen in. He said he wanted both Riders and dragons to be able to communicate with all involved in the council, and not just their respective dragon and rider. So he proposed that, during council meetings, they all lower their mental barriers just enough to create a link between all of them. Murtagh and Thorn had out right refused at first, as they had had enough invasions of the mental variety from Galbatorix. However, after almost a year of coercion, they finally agreed to Eragon's plans. After all, it was only going to be the four of them. And hopefully, when the council eventually grew, they would both trust the new members enough to allow this temporary link.
Now, Murtagh and Thorn had gotten used to this occasional communication.
[Finally.]
Said Saphira.
[The hatchlings and their young riders have begun to wake up, and soon they will be having breakfast.]
[Do not worry Saphira.]
Replied Eragon.
[This will not take long. And any way, you are so fierce I highly doubt the younger dragons would hunt all the good game and leave you without some food.]
Murtagh rolled his eyes. Sometimes, it was hard to tell where Eragon's mind ended and Saphira began. Murtagh and Thorn's relationship had improved significantly since the end of the war. However, they were still two separate entities, and liked it that way.
The meeting was going smoothly. They mostly discussed the new riders and how they were progressing. Then they discussed reports of possible disturbances in Alagaësia, and whether they should send anyone and if so, who.
Finally, they reached Harry.
[In approximately a month and a half he will be returning to Hogwarts.]
Murtagh said.
[Are you alright with this?]
Eragon asked.
[That place does not seem safe for a hatchling.]
Saphira continued.
[And you do not seem to want him to go back there.]
Thorn interjected.
[It does not matter what I want.]
Murtagh argued.
[In the end, it is Harry's decision whether he goes back there or not. The most I can do is attempt to teach him some new skills before he has to return.]
[Yes, today you begin to teach him how to use a sword.]
Eragon remarked.
[Will you be teaching him how to use the Ancient Language?]
[I thought about it.]
Murtagh replied.
[Possibly, if he shows interest.]
He could hear Saphira mentally huffing.
[Is Harry just going to do all the decision making?]
Murtagh scowled.
[He has more than earned the right to. So much has been taken away from him at such a young age. For his entire life he has had people with authority over him taking away his freedom and disregarding his opinion. I am not going to do that.]
[In any case,]
Eragon interjected before Saphira could retort.
[I wish to discuss another matter with you. Harry will be fourteen soon, will he not?]
[Yes.]
Murtagh replied suspiciously.
[Well, he is the right age. Perhaps we should...]
[Eragon, if you say what I think you are suggesting...]
[Think about it Murtagh.]
Eragon argued.
[No.]
[But think of the advantage he could get from this for whatever happens at....]
[No.]
[This could be a great opportunity for him...]
[No! I refuse to have him tested by the eggs.]
[Why?]
Eragon asked incredulously.
[You are concerned for his safety at Hogwarts. So why not give him an advantage by making him a Dragon Rider? He will be stronger, both physically and magically, and he will have a Dragon of his own to act as a constant companion. And anyway, this may help him in fitting in with the family.]
[That is what I am afraid of.]
Murtagh replied.
[Say he does become a Dragon Rider. What if someone discovers his true name and forces him and his Dragon to do horrible things? Or, what if the other Riders believe that it is a sine that he will follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps?]
[Is that what you're worried about?]
Eragon asked incredulously.
[You are afraid that something as little as Harry becoming a Rider will cause him to be associated with Morzan and what Galbatorix forced you to become?]
Murtagh could hear Thorn mentally scoffing.
[Earlier, he was concerned that Harry wearing the colour red would cause him to be associated with Morzan and what Galbatorix forced Murtagh to become.]
Murtagh could just imagine Eragon rubbing his temples.
[Really Murtagh? Really?]
Eragon mentally sighed.
[Alright, how about a compromise. We ask Harry if he would like to be tested on his fourteenth birthday. If he decides he wishes to be presented with the dragon eggs, then we shall allow it. If an egg doesn't hatch for him, then that will be fine.]
[And what if one does?]
Murtagh asked.
[Then we will deal with that problem when it happens. Either way, it will be Harry's decision. After all, did you not just say that you wished for Harry to have freedom with his life?]
Murtagh sighed.
[Fine. But only if Harry agrees.]
[Great.]
Eragon said.
[Now, I believe that is all for now.]
The four-way connection broke, and Murtagh's focus went back to the outside world.
"Come, breakfast should be almost over." Eragon said cheerfully.
The two brothers got up and left the room.
"I hope that Harry was able to find his way to the Dining hall." Eragon said. "Did you give him something to assist him? A map possibly."
Murtagh shook his head, suddenly concerned.
"Harry seems very perceptive. I hoped he would be able to remember his way from last night. And anyway, from what Lily told me, Hogwarts is much, much harder to navigate. Though, now I wish I had left a map, just to make sure."
[Do not worry.]
He heard Thorn say in his mind.
[I have just passed the Dining hall, and I saw him through the window.]
[Was he alright?]
Murtagh asked.
[He seemed perfectly comfortable, though he was surrounded by the Riders.]
Murtagh stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. Then, he suddenly began to walk at a much faster pace.
"Murtagh, what is the matter?" Eragon asked, panting from the sudden increase in speed.
"The Riders have Harry surrounded." Murtagh replied. "I have to make sure he is safe."
Murtagh continued down the halls, Eragon hot on his heels.
"How do you know he is surrounded by the Riders?"
"Thorn told me."
"And how do you know that he is in danger from them?" Eragon continued.
"Why else would they be surrounding him?" Murtagh retorted.
They rounded the bend into the corridor leading to the Dining Hall.
"I truly think you are jumping to conclusions."
"I am not..." Murtagh began, but was stopped when he saw the seen before him.
The riders were indeed surrounding Harry. However, it was not for the reason he thought. He had feared that they were attacking his son. But no. They were listening to his son telling them a story. From what he could hear, it seemed as if Harry was telling the tale of his fight against Slytherin's monster and the memory of young Voldemort at the end of his second year. Eragon stopped right by his side and also began to listen to the tale.
"... And so, once I had been healed of the poison by Fawkes's tears, I used my newly renewed strength to grab the cursed diary and the fang which had been previously stuck in my shoulder. I then stabbed the diary until ink began to pour out of it like blood. Riddle screamed with every stab, but I continued. Once the diary was destroyed, Ginny woke up and we returned to the entrance of the chamber. By then Ron had cleared a large enough gap for us to crawl through. It was then that I discovered that Lockhart had accidentally erased his own memory, as apposeopposed to mine and Ron's."
Several of the Riders laughed at this.
"And so Fawkes assisted us in escaping from the chamber. We immediately proceeded to Professor McGonagall's office, where we were surprised to discover, not only Ron and Ginny's parents, but Professor Dumbledore. The Weasleys went to the Hospital wing, and I presented Dumbledore with the diary and told him my story."
"But how did Ginny come to posses the diary?“ Asked one Rider.
Harry grinned.
"Oh, just wait for it. For you see, just as I finished my story, Dumbledore had a visitor. It was Mr Malfoy. However, he was accompanied by, to my surprise, Dobby."
There were many gasps.
"It turns out, Malfoy had snuck the diary into Ginny's cauldron to try to discredit Mr Weasley."
There were many exclamations of anger and disgust. Harry raised a hand to silence them.
"Anyway, once Malfoy learnt of how his plans had failed, he left, dragging Dobby with him. However, I quickly grabbed the diary, with Dumbledore's blessing, and ran out to meet the older wizard. I tossed him the diary, and as I expected, he immediately threw it to Dobby. Once Malfoy had turned, I gestured for Dobby to open it. Once he did, he discovered that Malfoy had inadvertently given him the only thing that could set him free. Clothes. A single sock, of which was taken from my own foot."
Harry smirked and gestured to his foot, as if to emphasize his point.
"Malfoy was of course not happy. He made to attack me, but Dobby used his magic to blast him away. I then turned to my friend and asked him but one favour. To never try to save my life again, for then I feared that he would actually succeed in killing me."
All of the Riders laughed at this. Harry joined them.
"And so, Hagrid returned, all who had been petrified were revived, and all was well once again."
Harry finished his story and sat back.
The entire hall burst into applause.
"That was incredible!" Said a Rider.
"You are truly mighty!" Said another.
Harry gazed down in embarrassment.
"I was only doing the right thing. I mean, Ginny was my best friend's sister, and she was only an innocent girl. I couldn't let her die. And anyway, something had to be done because the school would have closed if I didn't. And it wasn't as if Lockhart was any good."
"You single-handedly defeated a basilisk!" A rider exclaimed.
"And before that you defeated a dark sorcerer when you were but an infant!"
Eragon turned to Murtagh in shock, his eyes wide.
"A basilisk?" He said.
"Death has come for you many times, and you have defied it!"
"You have fought it!"
"You have defeated it!"
"You are it's bane!"
"Harry Deathsbane!"
"Harry Deathsbane!"
"Harry Deathsbane!"
The chant continued. Murtagh was amazed. He had not even been here a day, and yet it seemed as if Harry had literally made a name for himself.
He could not help the pride and hope that swelled in his chest. Perhaps everything would be fine. Perhaps Harry was not in danger of the Riders hating him, due to his heritage.
He looked at his son, embarrassed and yet smiling at the praise.
Perhaps, this was the beginning of something new, for both of them.