Returning to England
Chapter 11:
For the next few weeks, Harry adjusted to life as a Dragon Rider.
Now, in the mornings after breakfast, he would go to the south training-yard and observe Eragon teaching the Riders magic, as both of the elder riders insisted that he should give his magic a few weeks to adjust. Colaen also joined him, as she was still too young to join the other dragons.
The lessons themselves were quite interesting.
Eragon would give all the Riders a lecture on a particular area of magic for the first half hour. Then, they would all split into different groups, depending on their skill level. Eragon informed Harry that, once he was ready to join them, he would be assessed to see which group he would fit in with. For now, Harry was content with just observing.
After lunch, Murtagh would take over and teach the Riders non-magical combat. With this area of training at least, Harry was allowed to join in.
After being assessed by both Eragon and Murtagh, he was found to be advanced for his age and species. This meant that he was placed in a group with five others. The only one who was also fourteen was an elf girl. The rest were three sixteen year old humans, including Brinla, and a male seventeen year old dwarf who would not meet Harry's eyes.
Brinla explained that, while the the dwarf did not blame him for his father's crime of killing their king during the war, he still distrusted him on a matter of principle. Harry was fine with this, as long as the dwarf did not harass either him or his friends.
Harry found it was fun to train with people his own age. While he had enjoyed the one-on-one attention from his father, it still felt nice to not be isolated. And also, now that Murtagh was preoccupied with around fifty others, he did not have enough time to be a complete hover-parent.
A few days after he became a Rider, he sent his replies to his friends, reassuring them that he was alright and that they did not need to worry about him. He also apologized for causing such a panic, and explained (to Ron and Hermione) that he would tell them why he had left in such a way on the train to school.
Before giving Hedwig the letters, he had stroked her feathers gently.
"Now don't strain yourself." He said.
Hedwig hooted and nuzzled his hand affectionately.
Harry smiled.
Harry had also learnt where the food was coming from.
Apparently, at the beginning of each week, the Riders were randomly sorted into groups of around eight to wake up before sunrise to prepare the food. And not just breakfast, but lunch and dinner. According to Eragon, this was meant to build teamwork and teach them to be prepared to work hard in the earliest hours.
Harry had at first been a little intimidated, as this was a bit much, even for him. But then Hurzomna had explained that they used a little bit of magic to slightly increase their stamina during the process. However, as Harry was not allowed to use magic yet, he was given the lighter tasks.
Harry did not mind the cooking process. He found it quite interesting, since he was not using the modern appliances he was used to. He was used to cooking for a large amount of people, due to the Dursleys large intake of food.
Sirius, Remus and Buckbeak quickly adjusted to life at the academy.
The dragons quickly became used to the hippogriff, and found that they could communicate with him through images. They would play games with him, and even have flying contests.
Sirius seemed to want to become the Peeves of the Riders academy. Thankfully, he had enough good sense not to become a menace. His pranks were enjoyed by all, and were very rarely embarrassing.
One memorable prank was when, after learning of Murtagh's redphobia, the wizard decided to help the Rider. Only, he helped him by turning everything red thing Murtagh own into a rather... Interesting colour.
Harry could not suppress his laugh when he saw Murtagh knocking on his door one day, asking for some clothes, as his entire wardrobe had been turned pink.
Harry's clothes had of course been too small for him, but he used magic to adjust them.
Murtagh hadn't been angry with Sirius, but he had still punished the wizard for the prank by making him collect dragon dung and turn it into fertilizer, as Eragon was hoping to start collecting magical plants.
Remus was frequently in the library, most of the time with Eragon, discussing ways to adapt wizard magic for use without a wand for the Riders. They seemed to both agree that potions and herbology could definitely be done without a wand, and that charms and some defense could possibly be altered to be of use for the riders. The only area of magic they seemed to have no success in was transfiguration.
They got so lost in their discussions sometimes, that Sirius and Murtagh had to literally drag them to bed. However, one memorable morning they had been found, asleep, in the library, with their faces in open spell books and a very long list of spells trailing along the floor.
Harry and Colaen had grown extremely close during this time. Many commented that they had never seen a dragon and Rider so close to one another. It got to the point that Eragon had to warn them of becoming too close, as there were many dangers with that happening.
Colaen grew quickly, and she soon became too large for Harry to give her piggy-backs. She also now couldn't fit in Harry's bed. After a very long four-way argument with Thorn and Murtagh, the young Rider and Dragon agreed that Colaen had to begin sleeping in the dragon's den with the others. But this did not stop Harry from saying goodnight to Colaen in person and practically tucking her in her bed of straw. That is, until Colaen had asked him to stop, as it was a little embarrassing in front of the other dragons. She had even asked him to stop being such a Murtagh, (hover-parent).
Despite this, they were still practically inseparable.
Harry had, eventually, gotten over having a part of Voldemort in his forehead. He and Murtagh had begun to detach it.
Apparently, it was severely attached to him. It would take a long time to sever the connection. For now, they could only weaken the bonds before breaking any of them.
Everything seemed to be going well. However, soon it was two weeks before the beginning of the next school term at Hogwarts.
Harry had decided he wanted to go back, as he still had friends back in England.
After a lot of discussion, it was decided that Murtagh and Thorn would come with him and Colaen, so that they would be able to begin their Rider training.
And so, on the 20th of August, Murtagh, Thorn, Harry and Colaen stood outside of the front doors of the Rider's academy. His broom had been attached to his trunk, which was placed under a feather-weight charm and tied by a harness to Thorn. Colaen, who was now the size of a Labrador, would also be attached via a harness to the older dragon. She was excited, as this would give her some experience of flying. It was tied in the spot just under her wing joints. She kept jumping up and down in excitement.
Eragon, Saphira, Remus, Sirius, Hurzomna and Brinla were also there, saying goodbye.
"Do you have everything?" Eragon asked.
"Yes." Murtagh and Harry replied.
Brinla embraced Harry.
"Now, please try to stay out of trouble." She requested.
Harry chuckled.
"I'm pretty sure I can only keep that promise until Halloween." He replied. "Everything seems to happen on that day."
Everyone chuckled.
Harry walked over to Colaen. He adjusted the harness.
[Ready?]
[Yep.]
Harry chuckled.
She was quick to learn words, but she had also grown to speak less like the other dragons and more like Harry.
[Well, do you think you could stop jumping around?]
He asked.
[I don't think Thorn appreciates it.]
[I can't help it.]
Colaen replied.
[I'm going to be in the air.]
Harry chuckled.
[Well, can't argue with that. Flying is amazing.]
Colaen was sending him overwhelming feelings of excitement.
He turned to Murtagh.
"Are you ready?" His father asked.
"Yeah." Harry replied.
The two adjusted the harness one final time. Then, Murtagh helped Harry onto Thorn's saddle before climbing on behind him.
Their friends and family waved as the two dragons and two Riders flew into the sky.
It took them around a week to fly back to England. For the majority of the journey, Harry and Murtagh rode on Thorn, with Harry's trunk containing both of their belongings inside, and Colaen, harnessed to the large dragon. Whenever they found any landmass they took a break. Hedwig was still in England, and Harry guessed that she would meet them there.
Throughout the journey, Murtagh and Harry exchanged stories of the more pleasant variety, with some input from Thorn. A lot of the time they did a four-way mind-bond, so that they could communicate easier. Murtagh and Thorn were trying to improve Colaen's vocabulary, but she insisted upon speaking like Harry. Eventually they were resigned to the fact that she would be talking like a modern non-alaëgasian teenager. Harry didn't see any problem with it, but Murtagh explained that, if they were to go on any diplomatic missions, it would be a little hard to take a dragon that said "Don't" and "I'm", seriously, and they were only trying to ensure that they did not embarrass themselves. However, Harry assured them that, if the situation called for it, he would try to get Colaen to talk more old-fashioned.
They also went over the Ancient Language. Partway through their journey, Murtagh declared that Harry was finally ready to begin using his magic again.
Finally, around a week before the next term was to begin, they arrived in England.
After much discussion, they all agreed to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until the first of September.
With Thorn and Colaen camouflaged, and Murtagh dragging the trunk, they walked down the streets of London. Harry was leading the way to the wizarding pub. However, he was caught off-guard when Murtagh took an unexpected detour.
"Hey, Father, where are you going?" He asked.
Murtagh turned to face him.
"I am sorry." He began. "It is just, I remember this street from the last time I was here."
He sucked in a breath.
"Just down this road is the larkpark where I met your mother. Could I please just... For a minute."
"Okay." Harry replied.
He followed his Father as the older man walked down a side-street to a small park. Murtagh's eyes were full of emotion and unshed tears as he walked down athe path to what seemed to be a random bench. He smiled as he stroked the back of the old weathered wood.
"This was where we had our first conversation." He said nostalgically. "I cannot believe it is still here."
Harry stood next to him in silence. Murtagh looked around the park and pointed to an area a few metres away.
"And that," He began. "That is where I was when I first saw her."
"Really?" Harry asked.
Murtagh smiled.
"She was fierce. Went up against a dozen death-eaters without hesitation."
He smiled wistfully in remembrance.
"As soon as I noticed she was in trouble, I jumped off of Thorn's back, still camouflaged, and fought every single one until we were the only ones standing. And instead of thanking me, you know what she did?"
"What?"
Murtagh grinned.
"Told me off for killing them."
Harry smiled.
"The two of you must have had very different moral compasses."
Murtagh chuckled.
"A little. She believed that they should use more lethal methods against the Death Eaters, but she had been trained by Dumbledore to believe that killing was not the answer."
Harry chuckled.
"That sounds like him." He said.
Murtagh then sighed.
"One thing you must understand," He began. "It is one thing to discuss using lethal methods. It is an entirely different story to actually preform the deed."
He looked down at his hands and clenched his fists.
"My hands are so stained in blood, that they are dripping with red. I had never wanted to be a killer, but I was forced to do so for my survival. And then..."
He shook his head and looked up at Harry.
"I hope that your hands never become as stained as mine."
Harry put a comforting hand on his Father's shoulder.
The two just stood there in silence. Finally, Murtagh sighed and turned to him.
"Thank you," He began. "Shall we go now?"
Harry nodded.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I am fine." Murtagh replied.
So the two left the park and continued their journey.
Right before Harry reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron, he hurriedly tried to cover his forehead.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Murtagh asked.
"Trying to make sure I don't get recognised." He replied.
"You do not have to be so over-dramatic about it." Murtagh said with a hint of amusement in his tone.
Harry glared at him.
"Okay, one, you have no right to talk to me about being over-dramatic. Two, you do not know these people. They see me, and I'll most likely get mobbed. And seeing as from what we have heard, Dumbledore is on the watch for me, I would rather not be recognised."
Murtagh shook his head in amusement.
"Are we going to enter, or are you going to spend the entire day playing with your hair?"
"Okay, okay, fine." Harry said, drawing his hands away from his messy fringe. "But if I get mobbed, it's your fault."
Murtagh chuckled as they walked in.
As they walked through the pub, Harry kept his head down. Murtagh followed quietly behind him.
It seemed pretty quiet in the pub, with only a few dozen patrons. Harry could hear some muttering about the Quidditch world cup. He supposed that it had already happened, and that it must have been good. To bad, he would have liked to see it.
When they reached the bar, Harry called quietly out for Tom the bar-keep.
"Tom."
The old wizard jerked in surprise and turned to him.
"Har..."
"Shhh." Harry hushed quickly, his eyes darting around in panic. "Not so loud."
The bar-keeper lent towards him and spoke in a quieter voice.
"Mr Potter, I should have expected you."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
Tom chuckled.
"Your owl is in the same room you slept in last summer."
He gave Harry a toothy grin.
"Professor Dumbledore has been here more than once asking if I had seen you, because you weren't at home. You haven't blown up your aunt again, have you?"
Harry chuckled.
"No." He lent closer, a smirk on his face. "But my former Uncle did become a brilliant shade of purple."
Tom laughed, but then his face scrunched up in confusion.
"What do you mean your "former uncle"?"
"Well, I have officially disowned the people I was forced to live with." Harry explained.
Tom frowned.
"So, where have you been?"
Harry smirked.
"Sorry, can't tell you."
He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pouch of galleons.
"And I would appreciate you not telling Dumbledore any of this."
Tom nodded.
"Oh, and also," Harry continued. "I would like to rent a room, the same as last year, I guess if Hedwig has spoken. But do you think you could add an extra bed? Oh, and don't tell Dumbledore about my friend either."
Tom nodded and eagerly took the pouch.
Five minutes later, father and son were in room eleven, sitting on two separate beds.
"Well that was easy." Murtagh remarked.
Harry shrugged.
"Tom's a good man, but even the best people need persuasion when it comes to Dumbledore."
Hedwig was perched on the younger man's shoulder, nuzzling her beak in his hair. Harry stroked her back affectionately.
"Yeah, I missed you too." He said, looking at his owl.
Murtagh smiled.
"She is quite intelligent."
"Yeah." Harry agreed.
Murtagh stretched.
"Well, it is getting late. Let us rest for now and do your school shopping tomorrow."
"Okay." Harry replied.
The next day, the two Riders took a trip out to Diagon Alley. Murtagh's eyes were darting around curiously as they walked down the cobblestone street towards Gringotts.
"What, never seen Diagon alley before?" Harry asked.
Murtagh shook his head.
"Lily and I mostly stuck to the non-magical part of London."
After they had collected some money from his vault, they proceeded to buy Harry's school supplies. They had received a list from Hedwig the night before when they had gone to their temporary living quarters.
Harry was surprised to see that something called "dress robes" were on the list.
"Maybe there is something special happening at Hogwarts this year." Murtagh suggested.
Harry groaned.
"As long as it's not life-threatening."
"Harry, for you, leaving your bed is life-threatening."
Harry rolled his eyes, but with a grin on his face.
"I can't help it if trouble likes me."
Regardless, Harry still went to Madam Malkin's and went through the long and agonizing process of being fitted for dress robes. He eventually decided on a set of deep red. Even when he was in his wizard robes, he wanted to represent his dragon. Even if it freaked his Father out.
By the end of the day, they were sitting outside of Florean Fortescue's with a bowl of ice-cream each. Murtagh had decided to let him have some as a treat, considering that he had been sticking to his diet and not trying to eat less than he was supposed to.
Harry had purchased a copy of the daily prophet, and was currently reading it to see if there was anything about the Quidditch World Cup. He wanted to see what happened.
However, the article that he did find was not about what happened during the Quidditch World Cup, and rather what happened after it.
"Errr, Father?"
Murtagh looked up from his now empty bowl.
"Yes, is something wrong?"
Harry just handed him the newspaper.
Murtagh's brows scrunched up in concern.
"Death-eater activity, after all these years? What could be the cause of this?"
Harry frowned.
"The paper says that they were just messing around or something, to scare the large amount of magicals there. But I doubt it."
Murtagh nodded.
"Especially with this."
He pointed to a picture of a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth.
"What's that anyway?" Harry asked.
"It was known as the Dark Mark." Murtagh replied. "I saw it once or twice. The death-eaters left it in places where one or more of their victims had died."
Harry shuddered.
"But no one died at the Quidditch World Cup, right?"
Murtagh shook his head.
"They would have mentioned it. No, it was probably meant to install fear in people."
"Well, I think they succeeded in that." Harry replied.
"But what could possibly be the cause of this?" Murtagh asked again under his breath.
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"I a... Meant to tell you something, but I didn't want to worry you."
Murtagh narrowed his eyes.
"Harry, if it is something that you find concerning..."
"It's nothing." Harry continued. "I didn't want to tell you because you seemed stressed enough about returning to England."
"What is it?" Murtagh asked.
"Well, errr..." Harry began. "A few nights ago I had a dream. It was about this old man, and an old house. And in this house was Wormtail and Voldemort..."
"What?" Murtagh asked in shock.
"But Voldemort was weak or something, he didn't have a proper body... But the old man saw him for a few seconds before Voldemort killed him and..."
"Harry," Murtagh began. "This is serious, what were Voldemort and Wormtail discussing?"
Harry looked down.
"Something about a witch and the Quidditch World Cup and... Me. But it was just a dream."
Murtagh frowned.
"Did it feel like a dream?"
Harry looked down and shook his head.
"No."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I'm sorry," Harry replied. "It's just, you were already stressed out enough and I didn't want to add to it and..."
Murtagh cut him off by putting a hand under his chin and pushing his head up to look into his eyes.
"Harry, no matter how I am feeling, I still wish for you to tell me important things like this."
"Sorry." Harry muttered.
Murtagh sighed.
"Just please, do not keep something like this from me. I do not care if I am pulling my hair out in worry, I still want and need to hear about things which concern you."
"Okay." Harry replied.
"Well, this dream now changes things." Murtagh continued. "Maybe the death-eaters were operating under Voldemort."
Harry shook his head.
"I don't think so. According to the paper, they all vanished when the dark mark appeared. Wouldn't this have made them more excited?"
"Possibly." Murtagh replied. "Maybe only the one who cast the dark mark was working under Voldemort."
"And the death-eaters freaked out." Harry said. "I mean, from what I heard the second Voldemort fell they all started yelling imperious and throwing money at politicians, renouncing their loyalty to Voldemort."
"And the appearance of the dark mark caused them to fear that their old master was gaining power." Murtagh finished. "Which would of course be bad for them, as they had renounced him and hid while he was a wraith barely clinging to life."
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples.
"So much for a quiet year."
Murtagh placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Do not worry, you do not have to rely on yourself or your friends any more." He said comfortingly. "You now have me, Thorn and Colaen."
[I'm not going to let any dark wizards hurt my Rider.]
Colaen added.
Harry chuckled.
[And I'm not going to let any dark wizards hurt my dragon.]
"Thanks." Harry said, smiling.
On the night of August 31st, Murtagh and Harry sat in their room, going over the plan one more time.
"Now, do you remember the plan?" Murtagh asked.
Harry nodded.
"You will follow the train on Thorn with Colaen harnessed to him again."
[Hopefully she will not jump around so much again.]
Thorn added.
"And then the three of you will set up camp in the forbidden forest." Harry continued. "Are you perfectly sure it's safe? I mean, there are centaurs and giant spiders and..."
"Do not worry." Murtagh interrupted. "I know how to take care of myself, and Thorn can help until Colaen is strong enough to take care of herself."
Harry nodded.
"Do you have everything?" Murtagh asked.
"Yes," Harry replied. "Books, robes, broom, cauldron, weapons."
"And about the weapons..." Murtagh continued.
"I will camouflage them so that no one sees that I'm carrying around sharp objects." Harry replied.
Murtagh nodded.
"And your cloak..."
"In my pocket." Harry replied.
"Good." Murtagh replied.
There was a long tense silence.
"Father, are you okay?" Harry asked.
"What?"
"It's just, you seem tense."
"I am fine." Murtagh replied.
Harry frowned.
"You sure? You just seem stressed."
Murtagh sighed.
"I suppose I am only concerned for you returning to Hogwarts."
"I'll be fine." Harry replied. "I've got you, and Colaen and Thorn."
Murtagh sighed.
"I am aware, but still..."
Harry put a hand on his shoulder.
"Do not worry, I will be fine."
Murtagh smiled.
"Alright."
He then remembered something.
"Oh, and there is something else."
He pulled out a small stone from his pocket.
"Do you remember what the Eldunari told us about the shard of Voldemort's soul in your forehead?"
Harry frowned.
"They said that, judging by how frayed it was, it seemed that Voldemort split his soul several times."
Murtagh nodded.
"After examining the piece in you, I used the energy to enchant this rock."
He held it up so Harry could see it.
"It will become warmer when it is close to a shard."
Harry grinned.
"So, it's a Voldemort tracker?"
Murtagh nodded.
"I had to calibrate it so it did not pick up the shard inside of you, but I believe it is working."
"How do you know this?" Harry asked.
Murtagh frowned.
"Ever since entering the country it has been warm."
Harry frowned.
"How many do you think he made?"
Murtagh shook his head.
"I do not know. Sirius, Remus and I have discussed magical numbers in the wizarding world. I doubt he split it too much, as even the soul has limits. The highest magical number that I believe it could be is twelve."
Harry shuddered.
"Oh I hope he hasn't split his soul twelve times."
Murtagh shook his head.
"I am afraid that the only way we will be able to find out is when the stone goes cold and we are able to permanently kill Voldemort. But the next magical number lower than that is nine, then seven, then three."
Harry frowned.
"I doubt he stopped at just three. That bastard is so paranoid, I bet he did do it seven, nine or even twelve times."
Murtagh sighed and shook his head.
"You should get some sleep, it is late and you have a big day tomorrow."
"Okay." Harry replied, getting into bed. "Night."
"Good night."
Hours later, Murtagh sat on his bed, watching his son sleep. He looked so peaceful, free of the worries of the waking world.
As Murtagh examined him, he realized that Harry's body had changed slightly. He was no longer as thin and fragile looking. Weeks of training had improved his muscles, giving him a lean build. He was still skinnier than Murtagh would have liked, but at least he had gotten some fat on his bones.
Murtagh sighed.
Ever since returning to England, the old feelings of regret had resurfaced. He had finally fulfilled the urges that had been nagging at him for fourteen years, but alas it was too late.
[It is not too late.]
Thorn argued.
Murtagh shook his head.
[You are right, it is not too late.]
Murtagh looked at his son, a small smile on his face.
It was not too late. He was here, now. Though nothing could change the years they never had, he could still be here now, for his son. Now, he would do everything in his power to ensure that his child was safe, and that the woman he had loved did not die in vain.