A Rider's Legacy

Chapter 18:
 
Harry woke to the scent of earth and fire. He felt somewhat warm, which was strange considering it was November, and it did not feel as if he was in his bed. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was a large red blur. After groping around for a few seconds, he found his glasses and put them on his face. After he blinked a couple of times, he saw that the red was the underbelly of his dragon.
He sat up groggily and looked around. He was in his father's campsite, on a bedroll. Colaen was lying next to him, with a wing draped over him protectively. For a moment he wondered why he was here instead of in his bed in the Gryffindor tower. Then he remembered what had happened the night before.
[Colaen?]
He asked his still sleeping dragon.
[Huh... Harry?]
[Please tell me that last night was all a bad dream and that I haven’t actually been forced to participate in a death tournament.]
Colaen got to her feet groggily and shook her wings.
[I can't, sorry.]
Harry sighed.
[And I actually tried to strangle Snape?]
[Afraid so.]
Harry groaned.
[He is going to kill me.]
[Not if I have anything to say about it.]
Harry chuckled. He turned when he heard footsteps.
"You are awake." Murtagh said as he approached Harry sleepily.
Harry studied him. The man looked tired, with his hair tussled and dark shadows under his grey eyes.
"You don't look like you got much sleep." He observed.
Murtagh smiled bitterly.
"That is what happens when my son is entered into a deadly tournament."
His father eyed him.
"You do not look as if you had much sleep either."
Harry shrugged.
"That's what happens when I am entered in a deadly tournament." Harry shot back cheekily.
The two chuckled, although there was little amusement in their laughter.
"Shall we begin our usual morning exercises?" Murtagh suggested.
Harry nodded.
"Good idea, I really need to blow off some steam."
Once they were both dressed, they spent about forty-five minutes stretching and then running around the clearing several times. When they were finished, father and son sat back down on the ground, panting.
"That felt good." Harry said, smiling.
Murtagh nodded.
Harry then sighed.
"I guess I have to go to breakfast now."
"You do not have to, if you don't want to." Murtagh said quickly.
Harry only shook his head.
"No, I have to." He said. "I'll eventually have to go back there, whether I like it or not."
"What is the worst that could happen?" Murtagh asked.
Harry shrugged.
"Most likely the majority of the school will hate me, as usual. But from what Hermione and Ron told me, Gryffindor will probably be mobbing me, and praising me like some sort of hero."
He sighed again.
"I just hope I won't hurt anyone. Still can't believe I tried to choke Snape."
Murtagh nodded.
"Yes, your temper is a bit of a problem. But I would not worry about Snape."
Harry stared at him, wide eyed. Then, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What did you do to Snape?" He asked.
"Only what had to be done." Murtagh replied. "But as for your other problem, I think it is best that, if you believe you may lose your temper at breakfast, that I accompany you, so that I am close at hand to calm you down through a mental bond."
"What?" Harry asked in shock.
"Do not worry." Murtagh said quickly. "I will be under camouflage. No one will see me."
Harry continued to stare at his father for a few more seconds, before shaking his head, deciding not to argue with the man.
"Thanks." He said.
Murtagh's lips twitched up in a slight smile.
"Think nothing of it. It is my duty as your father, after all."
Harry chuckled, before saying farewell to Colaen and Thorn. He left the clearing, dread in his stomach, but his father as an invisible comforting presence.
 
As soon as he entered the Great Hall, he wished he hadn't. The second he set a foot through the doors, the entire hall fell silent and all eyes turned to him. He tried to ignore the stares, the whispers. Fortunately, he had a lot of practice with this.
However, he was less successful in ignoring the Gryffindors.
As soon as he sat down, practically the entire house moved to speak to him.
"Harry!"
"Good job."
"Well done!"
"How did you do it?"
"Gryffindor for the win!"
Harry could feel his mounting annoyance.
[Just stay calm. Remain calm, Harry.]
He heard his father say in his mind.
[Just breathe.]
Harry tried to do so, taking long, deep breaths in and out. This helped him calm down, somewhat. But unfortunately, it could not stop the Gryffindors from yelling in his face and slapping him on the back.
Finally, he could not take it any longer. He quickly muttered a spell in the Ancient language to make his voice louder.
"Okay, everybody shut up!"
Instantly, there was silence. Not only had the Gryffindor table fallen silent, but so had the entire hall.
"Okay," He began slowly and clearly, so everyone could hear him. "I am only going to say this once, so listen carefully. I, did not, put, my name, in the Goblet of Fire. I don't want anything to do with this bloody death tournament. I would ask you all kindly to stop being such a bunch of sheeple and actually show some common sense. Do any of you remember seeing me at all yesterday? No, I never had a chance to put my name in. I wasn't even at the feast when they drew the names out. Think about it for one second before jumping to conclusions, if I had entered my name in the goblet, then don't you think I would have been there to see if it actually came out?"
Harry ended the spell, as it was starting to become draining. As soon as he stopped speaking, the entire hall burst into hushed conversations. Thankfully, the Gryffindors backed off and he was able to grab some food.
[Well done.]
Murtagh said.
[But was it truly necessary to refer to them as "sheeple?"]
Harry shrugged.
[I was only stating the truth. They listen to whatever they are told and believe it without question.]
Harry could sense amusement through the temporary mental bond.
He was broken from the mental conversation when Ron and Hermione sat down, Ron beside him and Hermione opposite.
"Bloody hell mate." Ron said. "That was brilliant. I need to learn that spell."
Harry shrugged.
"It was a Rider's spell. A bit harder to learn than wizarding magic."
Ron only shrugged.
"Well, you definitely shut everyone up."
"That was the plan." Harry replied.
"Yes, well." Hermione began. "While I am glad you spoke out, and that you at least tried to reason with them, I thought that it was a little unnecessary to call the entire hall "sheeple“.“
Harry laughed.
"You're starting to sound like my father."
"Well," Hermione retorted. "He is right. I doubt insulting the entire hall will win you any favours."
[And this is why I approve of her.]
Murtagh said.
[She has a good head on her shoulders, and she may be able to reason with you when I am not around.]
[Father!]
Harry said, starting to feel embarrassed. Ever since he and Murtagh had had that talk, he was noticing new, unfamiliar feelings beginning to develop. He began to think of Hermione more than usual, and a lot of these thoughts made him feel... Strange. He had once felt as if he could come to Hermione with everything. But now... He could feel a connection building between them, something deeper. He just wanted to be closer to her, to talk to her all night, to hear her shy little laugh... Even to hear her little tangents about various subjects.
And then would come the other thoughts. How he wanted to feel those bushy curls through his fingers, to hold her hand in his... To feel those soft lips...
At this point he would shake himself out of it.
He had been able to control his thoughts around her, thankfully, and he somehow managed to keep their conversations from becoming awkward despite his new strange feelings.
He had approached his father about it, but he had simply told him there was nothing to worry about, and that it was all a part of growing up. But Harry was not satisfied. He couldn't actually be falling for Hermione. She was his friend, nothing more. He loved her, yes, but only as a friend... Right?
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and brought his mind back to the present.
"So, errr," He began, trying to find something to talk about. "Who are the other champions?"
"Well," Hermione began. "From Beauxbatons there is this girl called Fleur Delacour."
"She's the very pretty blond." Ron added, gesturing to the Ravenclaw table, towards the girl who had caught Harry's eye during the arrival feast.
"And from Durmstrang..." Hermione began.
"Viktor Krum." Ron interrupted excitedly. "The quidditch player, Harry."
"Yes, thank you Ron." Hermione said, slight irritation in her voice.
"And from Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Cedric Diggory." Hermione replied.
Harry blinked. He looked over to the Hufflepuff table. He thought that they were sending him strangely strong glares, which was kind of strange, especially for such a gentle house.
Harry thought over what he knew about Cedric. He was a good person. The year before, after Harry had fallen from his broomstick during a quidditch game, he had called for a rematch. He was a fair player, and a very talented wizard.
[Father, I think I have an idea.]
[What?]
[You'll see.]
Harry got up from his seat.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked.
"I just need to talk to someone." He said, before leaving his friends and walking to the Hufflepuff table. The entire house was glaring at him, but he ignored them. He hadn't seen such hostility from the Hufflepuffs since second year, when they thought he had targeted Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Eventually, he reached Cedric surrounded by other seventh years.
"Hey, errr, Cedric?" He began, second guessing his decision.
The older seeker, along with everyone else, looked up at him. Cedric's face was the only one not hostile towards him.
"Yes Harry?" He asked.
Harry sucked in a breath.
"Can we errr, talk? Only for a few minutes."
The other Hufflepuffs began to whisper frantically to Cedric, but the teen reassured them and stood up. Harry smiled.
They both left the Great Hall, and stood outside the doors somewhat awkwardly.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Cedric asked.
Harry sucked in a deep breath.
"Look, I'm sorry that my name came out of the goblet and that I kind of stole your thunder, even if..."
"Don't worry," Cedric said. "I don't think you put your name in the Goblet."
Harry blinked.
"You... Don't?"
Cedric shook his head.
"Look, I don't know you that well, but you don't seem like the kind of person who would do something like this."
Harry smiled in relief.
"Thank you." He said. "It's good to hear that at least someone believes me."
Cedric nodded.
"Don't worry, I'll try to convince the others that you didn't do it."
"Thanks." Harry said. "But that's not why I asked to speak to you."
He sucked in another breath.
"I was just thinking... We're both Hogwarts champions." He began. "So, I just thought, maybe we should... You know, stick together."
Cedric raised an eyebrow.
"You mean like an alliance?"
"Yeah." Harry replied. "If either of us win, it's still a win for Hogwarts."
Cedric frowned.
"Seems a bit unfair." He said. "The other schools only have  one champion each."
"Yeah, but we can't help that." Harry replied. "The best we can do is make the most of the situation, help each other out. And hey, this might actually give the school something to unite behind, if we stand as a united front."
Cedric frowned in consideration.
"I guess, if it's for Hogwarts..."
Harry nodded, smiling.
"And you can keep all the gold, I don't need it."
Cedric shook his head.
"No, if we're in this together, then we will split the gold fifty-fifty."
Harry nodded.
"Okay."
Cedric nodded.
"Okay, let's have an alliance."
Harry smiled and shook Cedric's hand.
"Great, thanks for this." He said. "I seriously think you deserve to be champion more than me."
Cedric shrugged.
"Don't worry about it. And hey, maybe you're right. If we work together, then maybe we can get at least some of the school to agree."
Harry chuckled.
"Yeah, we'll see."
The two walked back into the Great Hall, rejoining their friends and feeling more satisfied.
"What was that about?" Ron asked as soon as he returned.
"I was just suggesting to Cedric that we form an alliance." Harry said, shrugging.
"What?!" Both Ron and Hermione exclaimed in unison.
"What?" Harry asked. "I just thought it would be a good idea if we helped each other."
"But Harry!?" Ron argued. "How do you know you can trust him?"
"Cedric' is a good person." Harry replied. "I can sense he's trustworthy. And anyway, we're both from Hogwarts, we might as well work together. If either of us win, it's still a Hogwarts victory. And we'll split the gold fifty-fifty."
"I think it's a good idea." Hermione replied.
[As do I.]
Murtagh agreed.
"Thank you." Harry replied out loud to both of them.
A silence fell between them. Finally, after a few minutes, Ron spoke up.
"Hey, mate?"
"Yeah Ron?" Harry asked.
"What did you do to Snape?"
Harry frowned. He looked up at the staff table. Snape was staring at his plate, though his gaze was unfocused. He could clearly see the purple bruising around the man's neck, but that was not the most startling thing. Every few seconds, his gaze would flick up from his plate and he would look directly at Harry. Though, Harry felt as if the man were staring right through him.
And then there was the expression in those black depths. Harry could not quite place it. Guilt...? Sadness...? Fear...?
"I did not do anything." Harry said. Though, he thought he knew who was responsible.
 
Later, after breakfast, Harry walked into an empty classroom, Murtagh following close behind him. As soon as Harry had closed the door, his Father dropped the camouflage.
"Okay, what did you do to Snape?" Harry asked abruptly.
"Only what had to be done." Murtagh replied calmly.
"And what exactly does that mean?" Harry demanded.
Murtagh sighed.
"The man's constant harassment of you was beginning to have a negative affect on your anger. Last night's events proves this. I had to do something, to make him stop."
"What?"
Murtagh sighed again.
"I went into his bedroom while he was sleeping, and I... Had a look inside his mind."
"You did what?" Harry asked in shock. "But I thought invading people's minds was wrong."
"It is." Murtagh said. "But desperate times call for desperate measures."
Murtagh shook his head.
"I entered his dream, and manipulated it. Then I... I communicated with him through an image of... Of your mother."
"What?" Harry yelled. "You... You used my Mum's image to... To scare Snape?"
"No, no." Murtagh said quickly. "Well, maybe... But you have to understand, it was the only way I could make him listen."
Harry took several long, deep breaths.
"I understand. I don't like it, but I understand." He said. "So what did you exactly say to him?"
"I basically told him to stop his constant harassment of you and the rest of the students." Murtagh replied. "I may have also accidentally told him about your childhood."
"What!?"
"Only that you were raised by your mother's sister." Murtagh was quick to reassure. "Though, it was enough for him to imagine exactly how you were treated."
Harry sighed heavily.
"Anything else?"
Murtagh frowned, obviously hesitating.
"I learnt some... information, that I wish to discuss with you. But not now. I feel you may want to sit down somewhere where you can be free to... Vent your anger."
Harry nodded.
"Fine." He said. "Just one thing."
"Yes?"
"Please, the next time you want to stop someone from harassing me, don't traumatize them with images of my mum." He requested.
"I only used your Mother because I thought she would be the most effective way to pass on the message." Murtagh said. "I did not like it, believe me. I hated the mere thought of invading anyone's mind. I only did it to keep you safe."
"And the gesture is appreciated." Harry replied. "Just please, try to find another way."
Murtagh nodded.
"If that is what you want."
Harry smiled.
"Thanks."
 
Later, Harry sat on the Owlery floor, his legs crossed and Hedwig on his knee. He found the room calming, with only the sound of ruffling feathers and hooting owls.
It had been a while since he had spent some proper quality time with Hedwig. He had just been so busy. He was now making up for it by grooming her feathers. They had become quite dishevelled, poking out in every possible way.
"Honestly Hedwig." He said, smoothing some of the feathers on her wing. "You look worse than my hair."
Hedwig hooted in indignation.
"Hey, I'm just saying." He argued. "How did your feathers even get like this? They're just poking every direction and... Is that a twig? Have you been flying during storms again?"
Hedwig hooted.
"I know that that's practically everyday weather right now." He granted. "But I still think you should take better care of yourself. You look like something the cat dragged in... ouch!."
Hedwig pecked his hand, before flying off of his knee and onto his head. Harry laughed.
"Oh you little..."
"Errr, Harry?"
Harry turned his head, Hedwig still perched on top of it, to see Hermione standing in the owlery doorway, hands full with what appeared to be a plate laden with food.
"Oh, hey Hermione." He said. "I was just grooming Hedwig's feathers. I think they look worse than my hair, but she disagrees."
As if to emphasize his point, Hedwig dug her talons into his head slightly, not enough to draw blood but definitely enough to hurt, and flew off, only to land moments later on one of the overhead perches.
Hermione chuckled, making Harry's heart skip a beat. Thankfully, he was able to prevent any outward reaction.
"So, what's with the food?" He asked.
Hermione walked over to him.
"It's lunchtime, but I figured you wouldn't want to eat with everyone muttering again." She explained.
Harry nodded.
"Thanks. Oh, please, sit down. I'll clear a spot for you."
With a few words in the Ancient Language, he cleared a spot next to him from feathers, animal bones and owl droppings. Hermione sat down and handed the plate to Harry, who began eating.
"Is it strange that I feel more comfortable eating up here, surrounded by the scent of dead animals and owl droppings, than in the Great Hall?"
Hermione shook her head.
"I get it, wanting some privacy."
Harry smiled.
"It's better when it's quiet."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Why do you think I spend so much time in the library?"
They both laughed. A comfortable silence fell between them. It felt nice, just sitting beside her. They didn't need to exchange words or even touch. Her mere presence made Harry feel safe, and comfortable, and other various things he could not name.
"Are you okay?" Hermione finally asked.
"What? Oh, yeah, why?" Harry asked.
"You were staring at me."
"What?" Harry asked. "I wasn't... I mean..."
He cleared his throat.
"I was just thinking." He began. "This whole tournament thing..."
Hermione sighed.
"I know." She said. "It's ridiculous. The entire concept is just barbaric, and it's not fair."
"Life isn't fair, Hermione." Harry said, smiling bitterly.
"I know, but..." Hermione argued. "I just can't understand why no one believes that you didn't put your name into the Goblet. It's just illogical."
Harry grinned.
"Remember Hermione, wizards and logic don't exactly mix."
Hermione frowned.
"Tell me why, Harry it is, that whenever something happens, you are always involved?"
Harry shrugged.
"I've been asking myself that question for years."
Hermione sighed in frustration and rested her head against his shoulder. Harry tried very, very hard to remain calm at the contact. But he could not help but feel... what? Joy? Excitement? Nervousness?
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"We should errr, go now. Thanks for bringing up the food."
Hermione sat up.
"That's okay." She said. "I was only making sure you followed your diet."
Harry laughed as they both got to their feet.
"Well, Father's expecting me for magic training soon." He said.
Hermione nodded.
"I've got homework to do."
Harry laughed.
"Of course you do."
They both left the owlery. As they parted, Hermione towards the library and Harry for the forest, he could not help but think back on those confusing feelings. And he could not help but yearn for the contact they had earlier.
 
Later that afternoon, Murtagh stared at his son. They both sat cross legged on the ground, attempting to meditate. Though it appeared that Harry was having trouble.
"You seem to be having problems concentrating on the task at hand." Murtagh observed.
Harry jerked in surprise.
"What, oh, it's nothing." He said quickly.
"Oh really?" Murtagh  asked.
"Yeah, just..." Harry hesitated. "Earlier, I was talking with Hermione and errr... She kind of errr... Lent her head on my shoulder."
"Oh, did she now?" Murtagh asked, his lips twitching.
Harry's face became red.
"It was nothing." He said quickly. "It's just... Afterwards I felt... Strange... I don't know..."
Murtagh sighed.
"Harry, I have already told you." He began calmly. "These feelings could be a sign that..."
"I'm not falling in love with Hermione." Harry interrupted. "It's not possible."
Murtagh raised an eyebrow.
"And why not?"
"Because, she is my friend." Harry replied.
"And I have already told you, this is how many relationships begin." Murtagh argued.
"Just... Can we please stop talking about it." Harry said, before changing the subject abruptly. "Didn't you say you found some interesting information when you looked into Snape's head?"
Murtagh sighed. He had been dreading this moment. He knew that this would either devastate Harry, or enrage him. But his son deserved to know the truth.
He moved closer to his son and took the younger man's hands in his, predicting that he would need the comfort.
"This information concerns Voldemort, and the reason why he attacked you." He began slowly.
Harry was silent during the entire explanation, though Murtagh could feel the grip that Harry had on his hands tightening. Finally, he finished, and Harry stared at him unblinkingly.
"So, what you're saying is," Harry began slowly, his voice calm, but containing an undertone of barely contained fury. "Is that Voldemort attacked me, killed my parents, because he had heard of a prophecy that said a child born at the end of July would defeat him?"
Murtagh nodded.
"Sadly, we do not have the full prophecy."
Harry's grip tightened so much that Murtagh could feel the younger man's nails digging into his palms.
"And Voldemort only knew as much as he did because... Because of Snape?"
"Yes." Murtagh said. "But as soon as he learnt that Voldemort was planning on coming after you, he..."
"It does not matter!" Harry exclaimed. "He told Voldemort. He is the reason why they are dead. He is the reason why... Why..."
Harry quite literally began glowing. Red tendrils of magic swirled around him. Wind began swirling around the entire clearing. The tent was blown off of the ground, and even Colaen and Thorn were knocked off their feet.
The entire clearing had become a cyclone, and Harry was in the eye of the storm.
Murtagh tightened his grip on his son's hands. He could feel the energy pushing against him, attacking him. Magical energy burnt his flesh, the wind whipped at his face. It was trying to push him away.
But he would not let go. He could not let go. No matter how much it hurt him, he would not let go of his son.
"Harry!" He yelled through the howling wind. "Harry, focus on my voice! Calm down! You need to calm down! Take back control! You need to take back control!"
Harry's eyes met his. Though their usual green shade remained, the irises were surrounded by a crimson glow.
"Harry, please." Murtagh practically begged.
Harry blinked. Then, suddenly, everything was still. The wind stopped, the clearing went silent. The glow that had been radiating from Harry slowly faded, and the young man fell into Murtagh's arms. His son buried his face into his shoulder, and Murtagh felt his clothes quickly become damp with tears.
He held his son close and rocked him gently, rubbing his back.
"Shhh, shhh, it's alright. You will be alright."
Harry did not speak. He only continued to sob, in anger or in sorrow, Murtagh did not know.
For a long time, they sat like that, Murtagh rubbing his son's back and comforting him as best as he could. Colaen and Thorn had shakily gotten back to their feet, and were now approaching their Riders.
After a few minutes, Murtagh could feel Harry's breathing become steadier, and he knew his son had fallen asleep, most likely from magical exhaustion. He sighed and rose to his feet, Harry in his arms.
[Thorn, can you watch Harry while I get a bedroll?]
He asked.
[I have a feeling he will be sleeping here again for the night.]
He gently placed his sleeping son against Thorn's side as he went to the crumpled tent. He used his magic to quickly reassemble it. Thankfully, nothing seemed overly damaged. He would have to definitely clean up the entire tent, as it appeared the sudden wind had knocked practically everything onto the floor, making a sea of mess that he would have to clean up. However, that was not the most pressing issue on his mind. Harry first, then the mess.
He eventually found a bedroll and a blanket. He left the tent, prepared the bedroll, and gently laid Harry down on it. He tossed the blanket over his son and tucked him in gently. As soon as he stepped back from the sleeping Rider, Colaen ran to him and curled up next to her rider, a wing draped over him.
Murtagh smiled. His son just looked so young, so innocent, when he was asleep. He had not cut his hair in months, and it was now just past his chin. Colaen's head was right near his, and his dark brown strands kept fluttering about in the dragon's breath.
Murtagh sighed.
[That was close.]
He said.
[Yes, very.]
Thorn agreed.
[He could have very well died.]
Murtagh continued.
[Or very seriously hurt himself.]
[Can you blame him for the outburst?]
Thorn asked.
[No, of course not.]
Murtagh replied.
[But still... We need to find some way of helping him with his anger, other than eliminating the cause of it. What if something like this happens again?]
[Yes, this is troubling.]
Thorn agreed.
[Perhaps we should discuss this with Eragon.]
[Yes.]
Murtagh agreed.
[Once he and the others arrive.]
Murtagh sighed as his gaze flicked to the tent.
[Do you mind watching them while I go clean the tent?]
[Go ahead. They will be safe while you are cleaning.]
Thorn replied.
Murtagh stared at his son and the young dragon one more time, before stepping into the tent. This mess should be easy compared to the troubles he was facing. However, he knew that it was worth it. He would fight entire armies singlehandedly, if it would help protect his son. He would keep Harry safe, even if it was from Harry himself.