Patronum + Mini Special
If the students at Hogwarts had seen Einar at that precise moment, they would have been left speechless.
That imposing warrior"the same one who had trained Harry and Cedric with a firm hand and unwavering gaze"was now in a completely different situation: it was Harry who was guiding him.
But the scene was exclusive, hidden in the shadows and mist of the Forbidden Forest. Few had the privilege of witnessing this strange role reversal. Only one solitary figure, seated against a tree trunk"an unexpected "extra""watched with eyes full of interest. It was Sirius Black, casually enjoying some chicken legs that Harry had brought him.
A few meters away, Hermione was immersed in the reading of an ancient tome, one Einar had personally entrusted to her: Lesser Ward and Unbreakable Ward. Her mind, always hungry for knowledge, was preparing for the upcoming training. She knew Harry and Cedric would need a stronger defense to face the challenges ahead… challenges that Einar had planned with the precision of a strategist and the severity of a warrior.
Learning would not be enough. They would have to survive. And for that, someone had to keep watch.
Meanwhile, Neville followed a different path. Fully dedicated to healing and mental magic, he studied in a quiet corner away from the group, seeking peace and focus before approaching Einar to resolve his doubts.
Hermione, on the other hand, could study in the middle of a battlefield if she had to. She was unbreakable. That's why she was close to the action.
"Expecto Patronum," said Einar firmly, finally raising a wand"a rare gesture for him.
As an Archmage, he naturally channeled his Magicka through his body, without the need for catalysts. Using a wand felt awkward, almost childish, as if a dragon had to walk on two legs.
But this spell required it.
It was one of the most powerful in this world. One that even many adult wizards couldn't perform.
From his wand emerged a faint white mist… which vanished before taking form. Einar frowned, looking at the wand as if it had betrayed him.
"This is useless," he growled with contained annoyance.
"Are you sure you're thinking of a happy memory?" Harry asked, wearing a serious expression and clearly a bit uncomfortable in his new role as instructor.
"Yes," Einar replied curtly.
"And… what is that memory, if I may ask?" Sirius chimed in, raising an eyebrow as he took another bite of chicken, enjoying the show.
"Beheading my enemies," Einar answered with a proud smile, as if he had just shared a warm family memory.
Hermione looked up from her tome, her expression perplexed.
"That's a happy memory for you?"
"Of course. It means I wasn't the one being beheaded."
Harry fell silent, unsure of how to respond. Sirius, on the other hand, burst out laughing so hard he nearly choked.
"What if you think of your children, professor?" Hermione suddenly suggested, a spark of inspiration in her eyes.
Harry and Sirius turned toward her, surprised.
"Children?" they both repeated in unison.
Einar said nothing at first, but his expression softened. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and thought of them.
His mind filled with warm images, laughter, tiny hands gripping his own with trust.
Then, he spoke:
"Expecto Patronum."
This time, the mist from his wand did not fade. It shone with a silvery brilliance that expanded, rippling like a river of light. Slowly, it began to take shape…
The onlookers' eyes widened as they saw it: an enormous ethereal dragon, made of pure silver magic, emerged with a roar that seemed to shake the very air. Majestic. Intimidating. Alive.
Einar's Patronus roared into the sky, spreading its wings as if ready to burn away the very darkness.
"Looks like it worked," said Einar with a proud smile.
"More than that…" murmured Harry, fascinated.
It wasn't just a Patronus. It was a symbol. Of power. Of legacy. Of who Einar was.
"Wow… The only magical Patronus I know of is Dumbledore's, and it's a phoenix," added Sirius, watching with respect.
"Hmph, but he only has one," Einar replied, arms crossed with a competitive air.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, curious.
Hermione interrupted before he could answer.
"Professor! I finished the tome!" she said joyfully, holding up the pages.
Einar looked at her with a mix of surprise and pride. Hermione had learned Skyrim magic with astonishing ease. She had the potential to become an Archmage in her own right.
"If you keep this up, you'll make the Archmages of Winterhold look like fools," he said with a smile, taking the tome and already thinking about which spell to teach her next.
"Professor… may I ask you something?" Harry asked, his tone more serious.
"Go ahead."
"Why didn't you teach Cedric and me any attack spells? Wouldn't they be useful for the trials?"
Einar's gaze hardened, as if what he was about to say wasn't just a response, but a lesson.
"Because my priority is to teach you how to survive.
No offensive spell matters if you're dead."
But then, he smiled with a hint of mischief.
"Still… maybe it's time to teach you how to counter those dangers too."
He turned, and his voice became deeper, almost like a war echo:
"From now on, your training will include both offensive and defensive spells.
Prepare yourselves. The real training is only just beginning."
"What?" Harry said, eyes wide.
Internally, he gave himself a mental slap for opening his mouth… but he couldn't help smiling. Because if there was one thing that thrilled him, it was learning real magic. And with Einar… everything was real.
Powerful. Vast. And absolutely epic.
...…
"Home… sweet home," muttered Avento with a mix of sarcasm and nostalgia as his boots echoed over the dirty cobblestone streets of Riften.
All around him, the citizens moved like ghosts trapped in a worn-out routine: merchants arguing over prices, pickpockets lurking, guards eyeing everyone with suspicion. Nothing had changed.
And yet, everything felt different to the young ones who walked beside him.
Several of them wore the same expression as Avento: a reflection of bitter memories.
Many had grown up within the cold walls of Honorhall Orphanage, under the iron and cruel care of Grelod the "Kind"… until Einar stormed into their lives like a tempest, freeing them from that prison disguised as a shelter.
"On the bright side… it was thanks to that witch we met the old man," said Blaise with a mocking grin. "Though, of course, it all started because Avento, the weird kid, pulled off his little stunt."
"Shut up. It was the Black Sacrament that brought my father!" snapped Avento, blushing slightly as he lowered his gaze.
"Enough arguing. Let's look for information about Mara before the Thieves Guild sees us and sells us to the bandits of Whiterun!" warned Lars, his face serious.
Without another word, the children dashed through the streets, slipping like shadows through the alleys and canals of the corrupt city.
High above, on one of the rooftops, nestled among rotting beams and damp moss, a female figure observed the scene with a sharp gaze.
She was a blonde woman, cloaked in the dark garments of the Thieves Guild. Her posture was firm, and her eyes followed the children with the precision of a hunter.
"Lydia of Whiterun was supposed to be watching these brats," she said with clear annoyance, never taking her eyes off them.
"You know how it is, Vex," replied a voice from the shadows behind her. "Keeping up with kids isn't easy… and even if Lydia is the professor's aide, she can't be everywhere at once."
The woman turned her head slightly, recognizing the newcomer.
"Runa, huh? Funny that they assigned you to watch your little siblings. Doesn't happen every day."
"Hello, Professor Vex," said the shadow, her voice respectful. "It's been a while."
"And what are the brats doing here without their father?" asked Vex sharply.
"You don't know? Einar's been missing for weeks. The Lost Dragon Protocol has been activated," Runa explained seriously. "The Dark Brotherhood is already on the move… I'd be surprised if the Guild hasn't done the same."
Vex's eyes narrowed at the mention of that name.
"Einar is… missing again?" she whispered with concern, then straightened up. "I just got back from a mission. I'll need to speak with Brynjolf."
Without another word, Vex stepped forward and leapt off the roof with the grace of an expert, vanishing into the alleyways before touching the ground.
"You know someone in the Thieves Guild?" asked Shadow B, who had remained silent until now.
Runa smiled faintly.
"Vex was my teacher… She taught me how to pick locks. Before I joined the Dark Brotherhood, I almost joined the Guild. But… killing was much more fun."
"She scares me," whispered Shadow C, eyeing Runa as if afraid she'd make him disappear.
"And what exactly is this 'Lost Dragon Protocol'?" asked Shadow B, ignoring the comment.
Runa lowered her voice, her face growing serious.
"Ah… right, you're new. When Master Einar disappears" which, unfortunately, happens more often than anyone would like" a strategy is activated called: The Lost Dragon Protocol.
Undercover guards, secret watchers, allies in every corner of Skyrim… All designed to protect his people and keep any enemies in check during his absence.
It was created the first time when… well… we almost had the first massacre at the hands of the Dragonborn."
Runa sighed.
"We just have to make sure that, when he comes back, he finds everyone alive. We don't want the black dragon to be the best thing that ever happened to Skyrim."
"Understood," the shadows said in unison.
"Let's go. The kids are at Mara's temple."
Without another word, the woman leapt to the next rooftop like a swift shadow, followed closely by the other two.
The cloudy sky concealed their figures, but the murmurs on the rooftops and the tension in the air were proof enough" something was coming to Skyrim.
Something big.