A/N: Most of this chapter has come from the book Eragon. Until there is a change in location, you will be reading a modified version of the hatching. So in order for me not to be sued or have this be deleted from Wattpad/Archive of Our Own, I will be saying this: I do not own Eragon or Harry Potter. The rights for those two books go to Christopher Paolini and J.K. Rowling. Thank you and enjoy.

There was a time, long before Merlin and Morgana, when the magic of the world ran rampant and everyone knew of it's power. During this time there were men who rode astride mighty dragons in the land of Alagaesia. For thousands of years, the people prospered, but the riders grew arrogant and began to fight amongst themselves for power. Sensing their weakness, a young rider named Galbatorix betrayed them. He cut down every rider and dragon that had dared to cross his path until there was one left. A hundred or so years later, a young farm boy named after the first rider to come into existence, found a stone stolen from Galbatorix himself. This farm boy went on to defeat the shade known as Durza and the king of Alagaesia; Galbatorix.

Now in modern-day times, a young boy happens upon a green stone and is drawn to its powerful magic. This young boy is the descendant of Shadeslayer, of Kingslayer, of Bromsson, of Eragon.

"What is this?" a young teen asked himself as he held a green stone in his hands. "Looks like an emerald stone... But the magic coming from it is incredible."

The young teen then hid the stone in his robes as he headed back to the castle where he stays most of the year.

Privet Drive #4, Surrey; A few weeks later

It has been a few weeks since Harry returned to Durzkaban and returned to a life without magic. The way he felt could be described by a single word: Loathsome. He loathed the time he wasn't allowed to use magic. He could feel it emanating from the emerald green stone he found weeks earlier. He could feel a power in the air that is older than Hogwarts.

One night at his summer "home", Harry was abruptly aroused from his sleep. He listened carefully. All was quiet. Uneasy, he slid his hand under his mattress and grasped his wand. He waited for a few minutes, then slowly sank back into sleep.

A squeak pierced the night's silence, tearing him back to wakefulness. He rolled out of bed quietly and slowing turned around the room, his wand in hand. Heading over to a wall, Harry flipped a switch and his room's light was turned on. He then checked under his bed for a mouse or a rat, but found nothing. He sat on the edge of his mattress and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Another squeak filled the air and he started violently.

Where was the noise coming from? He thought to himself. Nothing could be in the walls, they were made of solid wood. He also would've noticed if something had crawled into his bed. He then walked over to his closest and saw the stone he found weeks prior to that night lying comfortably in his open trunk that he was sure was closed earlier that day. He took the stone out of his trunk and absently cradled it as he studied the room. A squeak rang in his ears and reverberated through his fingers; it came from the stone.

The stone frustrated him as he couldn't figure out what it was and now it's stopping him from sleeping! It ignored his furious glare and sat solidly, occasionally peeping. Then it gave one very loud squeak that Harry was scared that it awoke his Aunt and Uncle, before falling silent. Harry warily put it back in his closet and on his closed trunk for easier access. Whatever secret the stone held, it would have to wait until morning.

The moon was shining through his window when he woke once more. The stone was rocking rapidly on his trunk as his closet opened up magically. It was bathed in moonlight that seemed to bleach it's surface. Harry jumped out of bed, wand in hand. Then the stone started squeaking and rocking faster than ever.

Soon the rocking stopped and the stone became quiet. It quivered, then rolled forward and dropped onto the floor with a loud thump. Harry inched towards the door in alarm as the stone wobbled toward him.

Suddenly a crack appeared on the stone. Then another and another. Transfixed, Harry leaned forward, still holding his wand. At the top of the stone, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if it were balanced on something, then rose and toppled to the floor. After another series of squeaks, a small dark head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body. Harry gripped his wand tighter and held very still. Soon the creature was all of the way out of the stone. It stayed in place for a moment, then skittered into the moonlight.

Harry recoiled in shock. Standing in front of him, licking off the membrane that encased it, was a dragon.

The dragon was no longer than his forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. Its scales were the color of forest leaves with sunlight shining through them, the same shade of the stone. But not a stone, Harry realized, but an egg. The dragon fanned its wings; they were what made it appear so contorted. The wings were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's head was roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of the upper jaw. Its claws were brown, like rich, dark earth, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the dragon's spine, from the base of its head to the tip of the tail. A hollow where the neck and shoulder joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.

Harry shifted slightly, and the dragon's head snapped around. Eyes as green and as intelligent as his own stared right back at him. He kept very still. It might be a formidable enemy if it decided to attack.

The dragon lost interest in Harry and awkwardly explored the room, squealing as it bumped into a wall or one of the few pieces of furniture that were in the room. With a flutter of it's wings, it leaped onto the bed and crawled onto his pillow squeaking. It's mouth was open pitifully, like a young bird's, displaying rows of pointed teeth. Harry sat cautiously on the end of the bed. The dragon smelled his hand, nibbled on his finger. He pulled his arm back.

A smile tugged at Harry's lips as he looked at the small creature. Tentatively, he reached out with his right hand and touched it's flank. A blast of icy energy surged into his hand and raced up his arm, burning in his veins like liquid fire. He fell back with a wild cry that somehow didn't wake up his relatives. An iron clang filled his ears, and he heard a soundless scream of rage. Every part of his body seared with pain. He struggled to move, but was unable to. After what seemed like hours, warmth seeped back into his limbs, leaving them tingling. Shivering uncontrollably, he pushed himself upright. His hand was numb, his fingers paralyzed. Alarmed, he watched as the middle of his palm shimmered and formed a diffused white oval. The skin itched and burned like a spider bite. His heart pounded frantically.

Harry blinked, trying to understand what had occurred. Something brushed against his consciousness, like a finger trailing over his skin. He felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through which he could feel a growing curiosity. It was as if an invisible wall surrounding his thoughts had fallen away, and he was now free to reach out with his mind. He was afraid that without anything to hold him back, he would float out of his body and be unable to return, becoming a spirit much like those at Hogwarts. Scared, he pulled away from the contact. The new sense vanished as if he had closed his eyes. He glared suspiciously at the motionless dragon.

A scaly leg scraped against his side, and he jerked back. But the magic did not shock him again. Puzzled, he rubbed the dragon's head with his right hand. A light tingling ran up his arm. The dragon nuzzled him, arching its back like a cat. He slid a finger over the thin wing membranes. They felt like old parchment, velvety and warm, but slightly damp. Hundreds of slender veins pulsed through them.

After feeding the dragon with some leftover meat from that night's dinner, it crawled onto his arm and curled up against his chest. Then it snorted, a puff of dark smoke rising from its nostrils. Harry looked at it with wonder.

Just when he thought it was asleep, a low humming came from its vibrating throat. Gently, he carried it to the bed and set it by his pillow. The dragon, eyes closed, wrapped its tail around the bedpost contently. Harry lay next to it, flexing his hand in the near darkness.

He faced a painful dilemma: By raising a dragon, he could be sent to Azkaban much like his godfather Sirius Black. He'd be discredited, wand snapped, and left to the Dementors of Azkaban Prison. He wasn't even sure his friends would help him. The simplest solution was just to kill the dragon, but the idea was repugnant, and he rejected it. He could not - would not - kill an innocent creature that was capable of thought.

Where could I keep it? Harry thought to himself. At Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest? Maybe. But definitely not here in the city. I'll just figure it out in the morning.

Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley

"Lord Ragnok! Lord Ragnok!" a goblin shouted as it ran into the Goblin King's chambers.

"What is it, Hookler?" Lord Ragnok asked in a gravelly voice.

"Th-The Morzaine vault and the Bromsson heir vault are now open!" Hookler said. "The Heirs have returned!"

"Find the heirs and bring them here immediately!" Ragnok boomed. "Somebody contact Lord Bromsson and tell him that we have found his niece or nephew and his heir!"

"Yes, sire!"

As Hookler ran out of the king's chambers, Lord Ragnok said, "The Heir of the House of Morzaine has returned. It must mean that the dragon riders have returned to our lands."

The goblin's eyes widened at the thought.

"If they have returned, then-" Ragnok was cut off by a powerful wave of magic that shook the magical world to its very foundation. "A new Rider. Lord Bromsson must have felt that powerful wave of magic."

Unknown Location

A low growl resounded from a chamber and an elderly man with greying hair and twinkling brown eyes said, "I know Saphira. I felt it too, a new Rider has hatched. We must find them and train them. For the world of Magic to be safe once more from the Dark Lord and the Shade he has by his side."

Of course, little one, a female voice said to the elderly man. It has been far too long since I last trained a hatchling. But first, we must find them before training the new riders.

The elderly man nodded and said, "I agree Saphira. But how do we find him? Perhaps the goblins may help us."

Then lets set up a meeting with them Eragon.

Granger Residence

Unknown to all, Hermione Granger, Heir of Morzaine, was tossing and turning in her bed as the pulse of magic shot across all of the magical world and the ancient magics of the Dragon Riders unlocked within her an ancestry that was supposed to be extinct. Her facial features became fairer, her ears became more slanted, her hair became like silk and turned raven black, her skin was also free of any blemishes. That night, Hermione Granger-Morzaine, became a true elf. Much like her ancestors of Ellesméra.