"Stormborn Shenanigans: The Improvised Chapter"
🌟 Attention, mighty guardians of the story! 🌟 If you want this fantastic adventure to grow and shine even brighter, I need your help! Leave your power stones, which not only fuel the magic of the narrative but also unlock bonus chapters just for you.
🔹 Special event this week: 🔹 🪨 For every 300 stones, you unlock a bonus chapter. 🪨 At 600 stones, another one! 🪨 And so on, because this story lives thanks to you.
As soon as we reach the goal, I'll release the bonus chapter immediately. This is your chance to speed up the plot and uncover what lies ahead! ✨📖
What do you think? Let's make this adventure shine with all its power! 🚀🔥
PD: "This chapter was supposed to be a spectacular special, but then I remembered I had a few forgotten bits I wanted to include… so, in a moment of pure genius (or pure laziness, depending on how you see it), I decided to mix it all together and voilà, here we are. Enjoy this wonderful improvised blend!"
...….
"So, where are we going first?" asked Lucia as she gazed at the vast landscapes of Skyrim with interest.
"I'm not sure…" Blaise replied, unfolding an old map over a rock. "We should head to the last place he was seen, but it's far… really far. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get there on foot. It's right on the edge of Skyrim."
"What if we visit the Greybears first and ask Lord Paarthurnax for help?" suggested Sofie with enthusiasm.
"They're called the Greybeards," Avento corrected her with a raised brow.
"Same thing," Sofie shrugged dismissively.
"Paarthurnax… he's Master Einar's dragon teacher, right? Do you think he'll help us?" asked Blaise, eyes gleaming with hope.
"Yes! He's a good dragon. Dad took me to meet him several times," Sofie answered with an excited smile.
"If we pick up the pace, we could make it by nightfall… as long as we run without stopping," commented another of the kids, tightening the strap on his armor.
"Then let's move," Blaise ordered, rolling up the map and quickly stashing it away.
The group, made up of ten young warriors, dashed forward at full speed through the ancient northern paths, braving the cold and rugged terrain with a fiery energy only the Children of the Storm could possess.
...….
From the shadows of a nearby cliff, three hooded figures watched them closely.
"Don't tell me they're actually going to run all the way there…" said Shadow B with an exhausted sigh. "It would take a grown adult at least three days to walk there."
"Don't compare them to regular adults. Just look at…" replied Shadow C, nodding toward their companion, who was already stretching her legs in preparation for the chase.
"Let's go, or they'll leave us behind," said Shadow A, the only woman of the trio, and launched herself forward so fast she left behind a streak of black.
"Why did we get stuck with her?" one of them groaned as they followed with clear reluctance.
"Because she's stronger than both of us combined, and no one dares tell her no," the other replied as they both reluctantly began to run.
...….
After several hours of non-stop running, the two men finally spotted a chance to rest when they saw the kids surrounded by a large band of highwaymen. Their bodies screamed for a break, but they stayed alert in case they needed to intervene. The woman, however, looked as if she had only been jogging for minutes. Her breathing was calm, and not a single drop of sweat fell beneath the mask hiding her face.
The bandits eyed the children with a mix of greed and mockery. The enchanted weapons and armor they carried didn't go unnoticed.
"Well, well, kids… you're a long way from home. How about we take you somewhere safe?" one of the bandits asked in a fake friendly tone.
"No thanks. We're in a hurry," Blaise replied with a frown.
"Come on, it won't take long. We've got hot chocolate… and cookies," added another, casting a disgusting look especially toward the girls.
At that expression, the children's faces hardened. Without a word, they readied themselves for battle.
One of the bandits laughed mockingly and raised his bow to aim.
He never got the chance to shoot.
A blinding flash streaked through the air. The bandit looked down, confused, and saw a smoking hole in his chest. A moment later, he dropped dead.
All eyes turned to Sofie. In front of her floated a staff taller than herself, crackling with powerful lightning.
"You little bitch!" another bandit roared, charging at her with sword and shield.
Avento, right beside her, raised both hands. Runic gloves covered his fingers, glowing with ancient magic.
"Fire rune," he whispered.
A burning red circle lit up beneath the attacker's feet. A second later, an explosion sent him flying"shattered to pieces.
Blaise wasn't about to be left out. He swung his battle axe with brutal strength and, with a roar, cleaved a bandit in half. The leather armor was no match.
Lucia summoned a spectral bow and began firing with superhuman speed and accuracy, shooting down every enemy arrow that neared her allies.
"I'm using that one!" shouted Avento, and his teammates nodded.
"Mass Paralysis!" he clapped his hands.
A wave of magic spread out, freezing every bandit in place. The children, already prepared, resisted the spell… but their enemies stood as still as statues.
"Phew… that was easier than I expected," Blaise said with relief as the group began rummaging through the corpses.
Aside from gold, there was nothing of value. The bandits' weapons and armor were trash compared to theirs.
"Sofie, I told you not to rely so much on that staff. Dad taught us loads of spells"you shouldn't just count on that ugly lightning thing," Avento scolded, arms crossed.
"But it's easier this way…" Sofie replied with a cheeky smile.
"You're such an idiot, always clinging to your toys," Avento muttered in annoyance.
"I'm not an idiot! You're the idiot! And Dad gave me this staff!" Sofie yelled, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Aaah… Avento made Sofie cry," one of the girls sing-songed while the rest gave him judging looks.
"I… I'm sorry, Sofie. I didn't mean to call you dumb," Avento apologized quickly, nervously wrapping an arm around his sister.
...…
"They just massacred an entire band… and now they're arguing like normal kids. Now I understand why they're called the Stormborn," murmured Shadow B, incredulous.
"They were trained by the devil. What did you expect?" added Shadow C.
"Don't speak ill of my master," said Shadow A coldly. "And if I recall correctly, he was your master too… if only for a while."
Then he gave Shadow C a pat on the back so hard that it knocked the air out of him.
"Cough, cough! Control your strength!" he complained, coughing.
Shadow B pushed them both to the ground when he saw the kids turn their heads in their direction.
...…
"What is it, Lucia?" asked Blaise, alert.
"Nothing… Seems our shadows aren't as stealthy as they think," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"Leave them. I'm sure Runa is with them. I heard her voice on the roof the first day," added Avento with a mocking grin.
"It's time to move on," ordered Blaise.
With renewed spirit, the Stormborn resumed their march toward Ivarstead, where the legendary steps of the Seven Thousand awaited them, leading up to High Hrothgar… the sanctuary of the Greybeards.
And beyond that, the echo of dragons.
...…
Meanwhile, in the world where Einar now lived, an uncomfortable premonition crept down his back like a cold whisper.
The students around him began looking at each other, murmuring curiously.
"What's going on?" they asked one another. "Is everything okay?"
"Professor, are you alright?" Hermione asked with concern.
"Yes…" Einar replied, eyes still fixed on the window. "I just feel like something escaped… and will probably come back to bite me later."
He paused, sighed with resignation, and gave a crooked smile.
"Anyway, hitting the Potions professor earned me another kind reprimand from Professor McGonagall. As punishment… or compensation, this week I'll teach you how I make potions. How does that sound?"
The students fell silent.
"You know how to make potions?" asked Seamus, skeptical.
Einar looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a calm smile.
"Of course. Just like I've mastered every kind of weapon, hand-to-hand combat, stealth, magic, and… other things I can't mention unless I want McGonagall to drag me by the ear again. In my homeland, my level in alchemy is 'Legendary'."
"Legendary?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "Is that… an actual level?"
"Let's say it's a way of saying I've pushed my mastery to the limit. But remember this: on the path of learning, there's no such thing as 'the maximum'. There's always more. Now, tell me… what were you working on?"
"We were making antidotes for different types of poison," Hermione quickly responded, hand raised as always.
"Poisons, huh…" Einar murmured, flipping through the book with indifference. "I like poisons. I'm quite good with them… and actually immune to most."
Harry looked at him with great interest. After all, he knew what it was like to be poisoned.
"What do you mean, immune? How do you get that?"
Einar didn't even look up.
"By eating them, obviously. Day after day, dose after dose. Like any sensible person who wants to understand poison… from the inside."
The students stared at him in horror, silently wondering what kind of person actually does that.
Then Einar walked over to the ingredient cabinet, inspected it calmly… and without hesitation, started tossing the ingredients into his mouth, one by one.
His body began to glow with faint hues of various colors.
"Professor, what are you doing!?" exclaimed Hermione, a mix of panic and resignation in her voice.
"Testing their effects to improve the recipe, of course," Einar replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Then he turned toward them, looking genuinely confused. "How do you test effects, then?"
"Normally, potion-makers test small amounts on animals or rely on centuries of recorded studies!" Hermione snapped, clenching her fists, remembering the professor who once tried basilisk venom.
"Exactly. Relying only on books limits creativity. But if you know exactly how your body reacts, you can fine-tune the recipe with precision. That's why I'll give you an alternative. We'll compare results."
Einar turned to the board and wrote two recipes. One was the traditional book version. The other… simpler, more direct. He had cut the ingredients in half.
"Are you sure it'll work?" Hermione asked, doubtful.
"Sometimes, too much theory clouds instinct. Just give it a try."
The students split into groups. Half followed the book's recipe. The others followed Einar's.
Halfway through the expected time, the cauldrons using Einar's recipe were already boiling with a bright, stable liquid. The ones following the original recipe were still mixing, with several visible mistakes.
At the end of class, they encapsulated the potions and brought them to the front for comparison.
"See? Not only did you reduce the preparation time, but you also used fewer ingredients and got the same results," Einar said calmly.
"Professor, then… could we do that too?" asked a fascinated Ravenclaw student.
"Theoretically, yes. But you need to deeply understand the function of each ingredient. Some are poisonous, others unstable. If you want to experiment, do it under supervision… and with a good antidote nearby," he added with a calm smile, while his body still glowed faintly.
.....
"Alright. Now that Harry will be learning Dovazul, Cedric… I have something special for you," said Einar as he opened his coat and pulled out several ancient books, covered in runes and the dust of dormant power. "Combat spells, barriers, concealment… everything you might need to face a dragon."
His tone was calm, but each word carried the weight of authority.
"Though honestly," he added, a cold expression crossing his face, "I doubt they're stupid enough to make mere students face such beasts. If that were the case… I would tear this tournament down with my own hands, stone by stone, and then personally break every bone of the one who organized it."
The tension in the air was palpable. Behind Einar, the Weasley twins, Neville, and Hermione stared wide-eyed, not wanting to miss a single word.
"Concealment? Like turning invisible?" asked Cedric, still processing what he had just heard.
"Yes… but it's not just that," Einar replied mysteriously.
And then, before their very eyes, his body vanished as if dissolving into mist. An instant later, his cold voice echoed behind Harry:
"Who are you looking for?"
Everyone spun around at once, having neither heard a step nor seen a single movement. Nothing. He had vanished without a trace, like a ghost walking between worlds. They also now understood how Einar managed to catch them off guard so often.
"There are also illusion spells," Einar continued in a measured tone. "Enchantments to soothe, to inspire fear… to induce harmony or chaos. Magic isn't always about brute force."
"Then… I'll go with concealment," Cedric said with a determined smile.
Einar nodded in approval and handed him several volumes: advanced techniques on concealment, invisibility, shadow manipulation, and silent movement. Everything needed to become a shadow amid chaos.
"Professor, may I ask something?" Hermione interjected, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "If Harry learns the Dovazul language, will he be able to use those shouts… the ones you use?"
Einar looked at her calmly.
"Of course not. Speaking the language doesn't mean you understand the Tuhum," he answered gravely. "Though yes… it does improve understanding, prepares the throat, and trains the intent behind each word."
He walked slowly across the room as he spoke, as if each step carried centuries of knowledge.
"Each Tuhum shout is made of three words. The first might take you weeks to learn. The second, months. The third… years. But if Harry, after mastering Dovazul, wants to learn a shout, I wouldn't mind teaching him the first word. The other two… well, he'll have to consider that very carefully."
Einar stopped and looked directly at Harry.
"Because once you learn them… there's no turning back. Unless you want to take a vow of silence to avoid destroying everything around you whenever you speak."
"But if it takes so long… how is it that you, being so young, already master several of those shouts?" Hermione asked, genuinely intrigued.
Einar gave a faint smile, his gaze fixed on the invisible horizon of his past.
"Because I'm… special." He paused. "Just like Harry with Parseltongue. He understood it without needing to study it, right? It's the same with me… and the Tuhum."
His voice was soft, but each word fell like the beating of a war drum.