The next three days passed in a peace that almost felt unreal.
As dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of gold and crimson, Harry stepped out of his cottage carrying only his carved staff. Cool morning air greeted him, rich with the scent of dew-soaked grass and pine. Wisps of mist drifted across the lake, blurring the line between water and sky, while birds welcomed the new day with cheerful songs echoing through the surrounding forest.
The settlement was already awake.
Smoke curled lazily from dozens of chimneys as families prepared breakfast. Women gathered outside newly built homes, chatting while kneading bread. Elderly villagers sat together carving fishing hooks from bone and wood, their laughter carrying easily through the crisp morning air.
Harry paused along the village road, taking in the peaceful scene.
A little girl no older than six chased a frantic chicken that had somehow escaped its pen, her determined squeals drawing amused smiles from everyone nearby. Not far away, two boys dueled with rough wooden swords, enthusiastically reenacting one of their future battles against the Empire.
"You'll never defeat me!" one shouted, swinging wildly.
"Oh yes I will!" the other declared, only to throw himself dramatically onto the ground without being struck.
Harry chuckled softly.
Beyond them, several hunters checked their equipment before leaving for another expedition into the forest. Their bows had been repaired, their spears freshly sharpened, and the uncertainty that had once haunted their faces had slowly given way to quiet confidence.
One of the hunters noticed Harry watching and raised a hand.
"Morning!"
"Morning," Harry replied with an easy smile.
"We're heading farther north today."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Be careful near the eastern cliffs. I found fresh bear tracks there yesterday."
The hunter's expression grew serious.
"We'll steer clear."
Another man laughed as he hoisted his pack onto his shoulders.
"Or we'll just let you deal with it."
Harry shook his head.
"If you keep relying on me for everything, you'll never learn."
"We're trying," one of them answered with a grin.
"I know."
That simple answer pleased Harry more than he cared to admit.
They were learning.
Not waiting for someone else to solve every problem.
Just learning to stand on their own.
As he continued through the settlement, the changes of the past few weeks became impossible to ignore.
What had once been little more than scattered huts sheltering frightened refugees was beginning to resemble a real village. Drainage ditches kept the streets dry after rain. Wells had been reinforced with carefully shaped stone, and new buildings rose steadily where empty ground had once stood.
Near the lake, fishermen prepared their boats for another day's work. Massive tree trunks had been hollowed into sturdy vessels capable of carrying several men at once.
The chief fisherman spotted Harry and waved enthusiastically.
"Perfect timing!"
Harry smiled knowingly.
"What needs fixing?"
The older man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Nothing's broken."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"But?"
"We're building another dock."
Following him to the lakeshore, Harry found nearly thirty villagers gathered around an enormous oak trunk that had been dragged from the forest. Thick ropes wrapped around it as men pulled with all their strength while others pushed from behind.
The log refused to move.
The village carpenter sighed dramatically.
"I swear this tree weighs more than the mountain."
Harry rested his staff against a nearby stump.
"Everyone, stand back."
They had witnessed enough of Harry's magic to know what came next.
Harry lifted one hand. The emerald Eldunarí atop his staff glowed faintly as ancient magic answered his call.
The enormous oak trembled before rising smoothly into the air, as effortlessly as though it were no heavier than a feather.
A familiar wave of astonishment swept through the gathered villagers.
No matter how many times they witnessed magic, it never ceased to amaze them.
Carefully guiding the floating trunk across the shoreline, Harry lowered it into place with precise control. The carpenter circled it twice before breaking into a broad grin.
"Perfect!"
He turned toward Harry.
"You're not allowed to leave again."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"I think someone might object to that," Harry replied.
"Then tell them we're borrowing you."
The carpenter sighed theatrically, earning another round of laughter.
One of the women wiped sweat from her forehead before smiling gratefully.
"Without you, we'd still be moving that thing tomorrow."
"You would have managed eventually."
"Eventually isn't nearly as convenient."
Harry only smiled. Helping them never felt like a burden. If anything, moments like these reminded him why he had walked away from politics, endless councils of war.
The rest of the afternoon passed much the same.
Whenever difficult work threatened to halt progress, Harry quietly stepped in. A new roof was built in minutes. Warped support beams were straightened instead of replaced, saving valuable timber. Entire stacks of stone floated across the village to the construction site of a new bakery before sunset.
Everywhere he went, grateful smiles greeted him.
No one treated him like royalty.
To them, he was simply Harry—the mysterious mage who never refused to lend a hand.
When the day's work finally ended, the village grew quieter as the workers returned home for supper.
For Harry, however, the day was far from over.
Afternoons belonged to Mella.
The man who had spent the morning helping villagers disappeared the moment their lessons began. In his place stood a patient but relentlessly demanding teacher.
Mella stood in the middle of a clearing, sweat dampening her brow as she aimed her newly carved staff toward a collection of smooth river stones.
"Again," Harry said calmly.
She groaned.
"I've already floated every rock in this clearing."
"Then float them again."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're enjoying this."
"I am."
"You admit it?"
"I've never denied it."
Beneath the shade of a nearby oak, Arya quietly read one of Harry's books. At their exchange, the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
Mella noticed immediately.
"You too?"
Arya looked up with studied innocence.
"I said nothing."
"You smiled."
"So?."
"That's basically the same thing."
Harry folded his arms.
"Mella."
She sighed dramatically before raising her staff once more.
The nearest pebble lifted into the air.
A second followed.
Then a third.
One after another, more stones rose until twenty smooth pebbles circled her in a slow, steady orbit. Maintaining them demanded complete concentration, and before long her breathing became noticeably heavier.
Harry watched silently before nodding.
"Better."
"I don't even know why I'm doing this anymore," Mella muttered.
Walking toward the floating stones, Harry reached out and gently stopped one between his fingers.
"Because magic isn't measured by the biggest spell you can cast."
He looked directly at her.
"It's measured by how much control you possess."
With a slight gesture, he indicated the orbiting stones.
"If you can't perfectly control twenty pebbles..."
He let the unfinished sentence linger for a heartbeat.
"...you'll never control one mountain."
Mella blinked.
"I never thought of it like that."
Harry picked up another pebble and tossed it lightly into the air.
"Power impresses people."
The pebble landed neatly in his palm.
"Control saves lives."
Arya lowered her book.
Every lesson Harry taught challenged beliefs she had accepted for over a century. The elves viewed the Ancient Language as the foundation of all magic. Harry insisted that intent came first—that words merely helped shape what the mind already intended.
At first, the difference had seemed almost meaningless.
Now she realized it changed everything.
Eventually Mella lowered her staff.
"I have a question."
Harry smiled faintly.
"Questions mean you're thinking."
She considered that before asking, "If words aren't necessary... why do your spells have names?"
"They help me focus."
"So they're optional?"
"For me."
"What about everyone else?"
"They may need them."
Arya finally closed her book.
"I don't understand."
Both Harry and Mella turned toward her.
"If two mages imagine the same result," Arya asked slowly, "why would one need words while another doesn't?"
Harry crouched beside a fallen branch and picked it up.
"Imagine this becomes a sword."
"I can," Mella answered immediately.
"So can I," Arya admitted.
Harry nodded approvingly.
"Good."
He held the branch between his hands.
"Now imagine every scratch on the blade."
He paused.
"Every grain of the wood."
"The balance."
"The weight."
"The exact shape of the edge."
"The temperature of the metal."
"The sound it makes as it cuts through the air."
Silence settled over the clearing.
Both women realized their imagined sword had become increasingly vague with every new detail.
Harry smiled knowingly.
"Exactly."
He tapped the branch lightly against his palm.
"Words compensate for details your mind struggles to maintain."
Arya's emerald eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
She had studied under the greatest elven spellcasters alive.
Yet this young human continued forcing her to reconsider everything she thought she understood about magic.
That evening, as she walked back toward her guest cottage beneath the fading light of sunset, she found herself replaying the lesson again and again.
For the first time in decades, Arya wished to become a student once more.
Morning arrived bright and clear on the fourth day.
The first rays of sunlight spilled over the surrounding mountains, turning the still waters of the lake into a sheet of shimmering gold. Long before sunrise the settlement had already begun stirring to life. Smoke rose lazily from chimneys as hunters prepared their bows, fishermen untied their boats from the docks, and craftsmen gathered their tools for another day's work.
For Harry, however, this morning was different.
His time here had come to an end for now.
Inside the small cottage that had served as his cottage, he packed with the efficiency born of years spent traveling. At the flick of his wand, everything folded itself into a neat bundle before shrinking until it slipped effortlessly into his trunk.
Only after everything else had been packed did Harry kneel before the most valuable cargo.
The Eldunarí.
Hundreds of glowing dragon hearts rested within specially enchanted compartments. Ancient minds stirred in quiet greeting as Harry inspected every protective enchantment one final time.
Everything remained stable.
Satisfied, he closed the compartment gently and layered several locking charms over the trunk before finally rising to his feet.
Outside, Mella was already waiting.
She leaned comfortably against the fence surrounding her cottage while adjusting the leather straps that secured her newly carved staff across her back. Perched upon her shoulder, the young golden dragon watched the awakening village with bright, curious eyes. Though it had grown only slightly since hatching, its timid nature had almost completely vanished. Instead of hiding behind Mella whenever strangers approached, it chirped happily whenever children waved in its direction.
"You packed already?" Mella asked as Harry stepped outside carrying the trunk.
Harry smiled.
"I've found it's easier to prepare before breakfast."
She glanced toward the luggage before looking back at him.
"So... we're really leaving."
"It would seem so."
Word spread with surprising speed.
The mysterious mage was leaving.
One by one they gathered nearby. No one tried to persuade him to stay. Instead they came simply to wish him well.
Every face carried genuine gratitude.
Harry greeted each of them warmly, promising that if fate allowed, he would visit again.
Standing quietly at the edge of the gathering was Arya.
Unlike the others, she said nothing.
She simply watched as Harry finished his preparations, her emerald eyes thoughtful.
Eventually Harry noticed her.
A small smile crossed his face.
"So..."
Arya returned it, though there was unmistakable sadness behind her expression.
"I suppose this is where our paths separate."
Harry rested a hand atop the trunk.
"I think it's time for us to leave."
She nodded slowly.
For a few moments silence settled comfortably between them while the village continued its morning routine around them.
Finally Harry broke the silence.
"You don't have to leave, just because we are."
Arya looked at him in surprise.
He gestured toward the villagers nearby.
"They trust you now."
"The children already follow you everywhere."
Several children who had been pretending not to eavesdrop immediately looked away with guilty expressions, earning a quiet chuckle from Harry.
"If you wanted to remain here for a while," he continued, "you'd be welcome."
"The villagers would gladly look after you."
The offer genuinely caught Arya off guard.
For a brief moment she considered it.
The peace she had found here was unlike anything she had experienced in years.
But duty soon reasserted itself.
She slowly shook her head.
"I can't."
Harry had expected that answer.
"My people are waiting," she said quietly. "The Varden will expect my report, and the elves will want to hear everything I've learned."
Her gaze drifted toward Mella and the small dragon perched proudly upon her shoulder.
"They deserve answers."
Harry nodded in understanding.
"I thought as much."
His expression grew slightly more serious.
"There is something you should know before you leave."
Harry pointed toward the dense forest surrounding the hidden settlement.
"The moment you leave..."
"...the enchantments protecting this place will reactivate."
Understanding dawned almost instantly.
Arya's eyes widened.
"I won't be able to find it again."
Harry inclined his head.
"Exactly."
"No map will lead you here."
"Even if you returned to this very forest..."
"...you would walk straight past the village without ever realizing it was here."
Arya slowly turned, allowing her gaze to wander across the settlement one final time.
Children laughed beside the lake.
Builders raised another cottage.
Women hung freshly caught fish beneath the morning sun.
Only now did she truly appreciate how completely hidden these people were from the rest of Alagaësia.
Protected.
Safe.
Perhaps that secrecy was the only reason they had survived.
After several moments she looked back at Harry.
"So where are you going?"
Harry answered with such casual certainty that it took her a heartbeat to process his words.
"Dragons Island."
Arya frowned.
"...Dragons Island?"
Harry nodded.
"That's our destination."
Her brows drew together. She searched every memory she possessed. Every map she had ever studied. Every tale passed down by the elves.
Nothing.
She had never heard about such a place.
"Where is Dragons Island?"
Harry's smile became almost mischievous.
Arya released a quiet sigh. Then another thought occurred to her.
"The Eldunarí..."
Harry glanced down at the trunk.
"They're coming with us."
"Hundreds of them."
"They'll be safer there than anywhere else."
Arya hesitated. She already knew what his answer would be. Even so, she had to ask.
"Would you consider giving some of them to the Varden?"
Harry answered immediately.
"No."
There was neither anger nor impatience in his voice. The firmness of his answer ended the discussion before it truly began.
Arya lowered her eyes thoughtfully. She had expected nothing less. After everything she had witnessed, she found she could not disagree.
The Eldunarí were not weapons.
They were living minds.
Ancient dragons who deserved more than becoming tools in yet another war.
Her curiosity finally overcame her hesitation.
She looked directly at Harry.
"May I accompany you?"
Harry studied her quietly for several moments before smiling.
"If you want."
Relief spread across Arya's face before she could hide it.
"Thank you."
Almost immediately another concern surfaced.
"There is one problem."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"The Varden."
"They're expecting news."
"If I simply disappear..."
"...they'll assume I've been captured."
"Or killed."
Harry considered the problem for a moment before nodding.
"Fair point."
His fingers instinctively brushed the green Eldunarí atop his staff. Harry lifted it toward the clear morning sky.
"Expecto Patronum."
Brilliant silver light erupted from the tip of the staff, so bright that several nearby villagers instinctively shielded their eyes.
The shining mass soared high above the village before slowing.
It twisted gracefully. Began taking shape.
Harry blinked.
"...That's different."
Instead of a stag, a small dragon unfurled shimmering wings that seemed woven from moonlight itself. Every translucent scale glowed with silvery radiance as it circled high above the village, leaving sparkling trails in its wake.
The entire settlement fell silent.
Builders lowered their hammers.
Children forgot their games.
Hunters stared upward in open amazement.
Even Harry watched with genuine surprise.
"I wasn't expecting that."
Arya looked from the magnificent dragon to Harry.
Harry continued watching the dragon glide effortlessly through the sky before understanding slowly dawned upon him.
A quiet smile spread across his face.
"I suppose..."
"...my life changed."
His gaze drifted toward Lily and Norberta sleeping peacefully beside the lake, then toward the trunk containing hundreds of rescued Eldunarí, and finally to the young hatchling perched proudly upon Mella's shoulder.
"I've spent years protecting dragons."
"I've bonded with two of them."
He chuckled softly.
"I suppose my Patronus finally decided to catch up."