Harry Potter and the Swords of Power by Darkstar

Rating: R
Genres: Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 15/03/2003
Last Updated: 10/03/2006
Status: In Progress

From the distant future, 12 mysterious Swords have arrived on earth. Their powers are so extreme
that they can change the balance of everything...Even in the Magical World. And so the race is on
to possess them, for he who does, can rule the world.




1. Prologue: Setting the Stage
------------------------------

Harry Potter and the Swords of Power

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in this fic. Harry Potter and associates are owned by JK
Rowling and Scholastic Publishing. The Swords series is owned by Fred Saberhagen.

A/N: Thanks to Max LoneWolf for beta-reading for me. Also thanks to Msscribe for beating on me
to get this story up.

PROLOGUE: SETTING THE STAGE

Fifty thousand years in the future…

Somehow, the lost Swords of Power—products of a war so terrible, it changed the very laws of
nature, bringing magic back into being—have returned to Earth. ARDNEH, fearing what the Swords
could do now, casts them into the past where Old-World technology could destroy them for good.
However, when dealing with the Swords of Power, even ARDNEH must move cautiously. The Swords have
been cast further into the past, and into another reality, where lives a wizard boy named Harry
Potter…

The Song of Swords

Who holds Coinspinner knows good odds,

Whichever move he make.

But the Sword of Chance, to please the gods,

Slips from him like a snake.

The Sword of Justice balances the pans,

Of right and wrong, of foul and fair.

Eye for an eye, Doomgiver scans,

The fate of all folk everywhere.

Dragonslicer, Dragonslicer, how d’you slay?

Reaching for the heart in behind the scales.

Dragonslicer, Dragonslicer, where d’you stay?

In the belly of the giant that my blade impales.

Farslayer howls across the world,

For thy heart, for thy heart, who hast wronged me!

Vengeance is his who casts the blade,

Yet he will in the end, no triumph see.

Who flesh the Sword of Mercy hurts hast drawn no breath,

Whose soul is wandering in the night,

Has paid the summing of all debts in death,

Has turned to see returning light.

The Mindsword spun in the dawn’s gray light,

And men and demons knelt down before.

The Mindsword flashed in the midday bright,

Gods joined the dance and the march to war.

It spun in the twilight dim as well,

And gods and men marched off to hell.

I shatter swords and splinter spears,

None stands to Shieldbreaker.

My point’s the fount of orphans’ tears,

My edge the widow-maker.

The Sword of Stealth is given to

One lowly and despised.

Sightblinder’s gifts: his eyes are keen,

His nature is disguised.

The Tyrant’s Blade no blood hath spilled,

But doth the spirit carve.

Soulcutter hath no body killed,

But many left to starve.

The Sword of Siege struck a hammer’s blow,

With a crash and a smash, and a tumbled wall.

Stonecutter laid a castle low,

With a groan and a roar, and a tower’s fall.

Long roads the Sword of Fury makes,

Hard wall it builds around the soft.

The fighter who Townsaver takes,

Can bid farewell to home and croft.

Who holds Wayfinder knows good roads,

Its master’s step is brisk.

The Sword of Wisdom lightens loads,

But adds unto their risk.

A young boy walked across a field in Northern England. It was dusk, and he knew he must arrive
home as fast as possible. It did not appear, however, that he would make it. The sky grew even
darker, as black clouds rolled in across the lands. A crack of thunder, and the rains began.

The boy started to run, hoping he would make it to his house in time, to be warm and cozy with
his family. He did not know what fate was to bring to him. He ran, and kept running.

A flash of lightning. In the eerie glow of the forked white light, he thought he saw figures
standing in the grass. He ignored them. They must only be his imagination. He kept running.

Another flash. They were still there, yet closer now. Panic began to ensnare him. Were they
real? Who were they? Terror flamed up inside him, and now he began to run even faster, for dear
life, for he could feel a malevolence about them that made him feel cold beyond what the rain was
doing, and made the hairs stand on his neck and arms.

He was just about to the edge of the field, when he tripped. More specifically, tripped over
something. Despite his terror, he turned on the ground and saw it. A black sheath, with a sword
hilt sticking from it. He looked around cautiously. The figures did not appear to be present.
Perhaps he had outrun them. Perhaps they had given up.

He crawled forward slowly, and grasped the sheath. He slowly pulled on the hilt. Suddenly, as
the gleaming metal shone in the half-light from the moon, he was stricken again by a feeling that
appeared out of no-where. But suddenly, that feeling did not matter. Nothing did. He thought about
setting down the weapon, but that didn’t matter now either. He slumped to the ground, almost as if
relieved of the will to live.

Black figures were all about him now. He made no move to run, or even stand. The inch of blade
still showing seemed to suck his life force from him, rending his very soul. Hands grabbed at the
boy, heaving him up. They wrested the sword from his willing grasp. The sword was fully sheathed
again. The fog started to lift from his mind.

He stared about. The figures were all cloaked, and surrounding him. They stared back at him, but
then their ranks part, and another figure, taller than the others, entered the circle. In the
gloom, the boy could see faintly glowing red eyes from under that hood. He tried to scream, but the
apathy still consumed him enough to prevent it.

“What shall we do with him, Master?” queried one darkly. There seemed to be no question about
what they would do.

The tall figure stood still for one moment, saying nothing. “No one must know what has
transpired here tonight.” The figure raised one hand, and there seemed to be some sort of wand
there.

Then there was a blast of intense green light, then blackness.

The boy’s lifeless body was found early next morning, sprawled, eyes still open, in the field.
There was no sign that anyone else had been there. The sword, likewise, was gone.
* * *

In the town of Surrey, outside London, a sixteen year old named Harry Potter basked in the glory
of Sunday morning. He was actually able to sleep in a bit on that one day now. A little threatening
had been in order, of course, for the Dursleys, his only living relatives, did everything they
could to keep him downtrodden, as they were Muggles of the worst order, terribly afraid of magic.
However, Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, was a convicted killer—who was actually innocent, it
turned out—in the wizarding world, so the threat of him being unhappy if Harry was usually enough
to get him some small freedoms. This was one of them. Adding to the fact that Dudley was no longer
allowed breakfast on weekends, owing to the fact that he was built like a hippopotamus, wider than
he was tall, Harry had nothing to do Sunday mornings.

He slowly decided to drag himself up and glance at the latest letters from his two best friends,
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He sorely missed both of them, especially Hermione, though he
would never admit that to either of them. The simple fact of the matter is that he and Hermione had
grown somewhat closer towards the end of last year, while Hermione was still upset about her
breakup with Ron. Although she was the one who had suggested it, she still was unhappy to have to
go through with it, and Ron, who could be temperamental, had ended up stalking the school angrily
for weeks. It had fallen to Harry to raise her spirits in time for the OWLs, which were one of two
very important tests they took at their school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

In the end, Harry thought he was probably falling for Hermione, but he couldn’t ever say that.
For one thing, he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with her, for another thing, his friendship
with Ron would also likely end if he made a move, as Ron was still extremely jealous and protective
of her. So he sat back and kept his peace.

Harry stared into his closet, before pulling out an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He fingered
his Hogwarts robes for a moment. The prefect badge shone brightly on the shoulder. He had been as
amazed, if not more, than anyone about being made a prefect. He hadn’t thought his marks had been
good enough, but apparently he was mistaken, though he suspected teacher recommendation, in the
form of Headmaster Dumbledore, who was very much a supporter of him, had a major part of it.

He headed downstairs. He really had no plans for today, which probably meant his aunt would have
him work in the garden, despite the stifling heat outside. He was, however, looking forward to
tomorrow. It was his birthday. He knew he’d never get anything from his aunt and uncle, but he
could always expect something from Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures
teacher, Hermione, and Ron.

He decided to go for a walk, so as to take his mind off things. With the return of Lord
Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard in a thousand years, things were beyond hectic for Harry.
The group assembled to try and fight Voldemort, the Order of the Phoenix, with Harry’s help had
defeated his plots last year to steal a Prism of Power from Ministry of Magic headquarters in
London. The Prism could have restored even more of Voldemort’s lost power to him. Still, as the
Dark Lord had not actually appeared at the attack, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, still
denied his return.

Harry was cutting through the backyard on his way back to Privet Drive when he tripped over
something. It was a sword sheath. He frowned, puzzled. There was no logical explanation he could
think of why this would be lying there. He hefted it curiously, and drew the blade partially. It
was an exquisite blade, with absolutely no blemishes on its surface, which had an interesting
mottled pattern which seemed to extend beyond the actual thickness of the blade. Inspecting the
edge, he found it to be razor sharp, as he was able to cut a strand of hair effortlessly with it.
Upon even closer inspection, he saw there was a small white marking on the plain black hilt. It
appeared to be a small hammer of sorts. He shrugged. Doubtless the real owner would want it back,
but…

Without knowing exactly why, he hauled it back up to his room. He was thankful that the Dursleys
had not even looked up when he entered. He certainly didn’t want them to see him hauling a sword
inside.

As the day ended to a close, many more people discovered swords lying in the oddest of places
about England. Little did they know that these Swords would shape the future of the entire
wizarding world.



2. Chapter 1: Mystery of the Swords
-----------------------------------

A/N: Guys, this is gonna sound funny, but, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to my Mom, who
allowed me to install the HTML cleaner so that this would work. I love you Mom! CHAPTER ONE:
MYSTERY OF THE SWORDS

Harry concealed the fact that he possessed that sword very well. Then again, it wasn’t that hard
to do so, as the Dursleys entered his room as little as possible. Soon enough, it was time to buy
his school supplies, as term began on September 1st as usual. The only problem for him
would be how to get to Diagon Alley.

He approached Uncle Vernon the morning of August 3rd. Today was when Ron and Hermione
said they would be at Diagon Alley, and Harry was going to see whether he could just stay at the
Burrow the rest of the summer.

“Er, Uncle Vernon?”

Vernon grunted, but grudgingly looked up. “What is it now, boy?”

“Er, I was just wondering, if I could go into London today. I have to, er…buy supplies. You
know.” He delicately avoided the actual reason for the necessity of those supplies, as the Dursleys
would most likely refuse if he mentioned Hogwarts.

Vernon glared at him in what appeared to be a shrewd manner. Finally, he gave a great sigh. “Oh,
very well. Need to get some things for Dudley, anyways. I’ll take you.”

Harry grabbed his trunk and lugged it down.

“Going somewhere, are you?” asked Vernon nastily.

“As a matter of fact, I was planning on staying with one of my friends the rest of the summer.
If that’s alright with you.” He knew it would be. The Dursleys would do anything to get him out of
the house and away from them.

“Fine, then. Let’s get you going.”

The drive into London was made in complete silence. Vernon had even turned off the radio, and
Harry dared not even breath loudly. Harry was dropped off a block away from where he had specified,
he was certain on purpose. No doubt Vernon didn’t want to be seen anywhere near where some of
Harry’s kind might be hanging about.

Harry pushed open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. He was widely ignored, being a rather
unobtrusive-looking boy, but Tom, the owner of the establishment, recognized him straight away.

He strode up Harry. “Morning, there, Mr. Potter,” he said, lowering his voice so not to attract
attention. “You be wanting anything?”

“No, thank you Tom,” Harry said politely, “just need to buy some things in Diagon Alley.”

Harry left through the back door. He tapped the bricks on the wall accordingly, and they
magically re-arranged themselves to reveal the entrance to Diagon Alley. Dozens of wizards strode
about into various rather ramshackle looking stores. Harry knew he first needed to go to Gringotts,
the wizard bank, where he could get money and meet up with Hermione and Ron.

He entered the massive marble building. There were as always dozens of goblins striding about,
doing various things. Harry spotted a tall red-head chatting with a shorter girl with curly brown
hair streaked with blonde. He recognized them both instantly. “Hey, Ron, Hermione!” he called to
them. They abruptly turned. They, too recognized him and jogged over. Hermione flung herself into
Harry’s arms with a great big hug, causing him to drop his trunk and almost fall to the floor. She
looked a bit embarrassed as she pulled away. Ron pursed his lips for a moment, then a grin
reappeared and he clapped Harry on the shoulder grandly.

“How are you, Harry? The Muggles treating you alright?” asked Ron. Ron seemed even taller than
when Harry has seen him last, which didn’t seem possible with Ron’s already towering height.

“Not bad. They’ve agreed to let me stay with you the rest of the summer.” Harry couldn’t help
but feel happy. He truly never felt at home at Privet Drive. His friends were more like his family
than anything else.

“It’s so wonderful to see you, Harry,” said Hermione with a smile on her face, “I was, erm,
really starting to miss you.” She broke off her words, her face a bit pink.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what to make of her current behavior. He was certainly glad to see
her, too, and Hermione *was* given to random acts of great affection every now and again, but
never seemed embarrassed by them.

“My parents also agreed to allow me to stay with Ron until the start of term. It’ll be great,
won’t it? The three of us?” she continued.

Ron and Harry invited Hermione down on the cart ride into the depths of Gringotts, as she had
never gone before, but she refused. Harry felt it was just as well. He didn’t want anyone to know
about the immense wealth that he had inherited. It made him fell bad enough that the Weasleys were
so poor, he didn’t want Hermione to know that he had so much money either. He of course suspected
that money was no problem for her family, as her parents were both dentists, but just the same, all
that money which he had never lifted a finger of work for made him feel uncomfortable.

Harry had always found the rides into the vaults exhilarating, so he felt in an even better mood
when he arrived. Their first stop after they had their money was Madame Malkin’s Robes. Harry knew
he hadn’t actually grown too much, but his robes were from fourth year, and they were beginning to
get stretched. He *was* actually in far better physical shape than he had ever been, as his
morning runs that he frequently took were doing wonders for him. He was a far sight away from what
the twins or Oliver Wood had looked like, though, which he had no problem with. If a girl was
shallow enough to only notice physique, he didn’t especially care for them.

The next stop would be Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, as always, wanted to blow most of her
money on books, but Harry and Ron managed to restrain her. To help placate her, Harry bought her
one of the books she wanted as an early birthday present, which, much to Ron’s apparent disgust,
elicited another hug from her. Though from lightly skimming through some of the books, Harry could
see their course load would get no easier, he didn’t really mind. He had resolved to learn as much
as he could about everything. Though he didn’t really want to, he knew that it seemed his destiny
to have to fight Voldemort in the end, and he wanted to be ready…or at least die on his feet.

Eventually, they came back to the Leaky Cauldron, where Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, along with their
daughter Ginny, were waiting. Ginny gave Harry the smile she always kept for him, and he gratefully
returned it. Though she admitted her crush on his had been rather silly, that hadn’t stopped them
from becoming close friends. Harry could never get over how innocent of a kid she was, even though
she was fifteen.

Harry took another look at Mr. Weasley’s drawn face, and knew instantly that something was
amiss.

“Mr. Weasley? What’s happened?”

Wordlessly, Mr. Weasley pushed over the latest issue of the *Daily Prophet*. The headline
read that a Muggle boy had been found dead in Northern England, and it was believed that he had
been killed by the Killing Curse.

“But, why? Why would they do this? There seems to have been no motive.” Harry didn’t understand.
Voldemort and his followers were evil, but why go that far out of their way to kill one person?

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “No one’s really sure why. Fudge of course denies that You-Know-Who
had anything to do with this. And when I tried to explain to Percy…” His voice trailed off. One of
Ron’s older brothers, Percy, did not believe that Voldemort had returned. He remained loyal to
Fudge. A rift had been steadily building between him and the rest of the family for some months
now, ever since Percy discovered his father was working for Dumbledore spying on the Ministry. That
Percy hadn’t reported him yet was amazing, as far as Harry was concerned.

Hermione was examining the article now. “It says here that they found nothing in the area, that
there was no sign anyone else had ever been there.” She stamped her foot. “There has to be some
reason why they would do this!”

Ron just stood there somberly. “They like to kill. It’s fun for them.” His voice was soft, yet
it was hard as granite. Ron had seen more danger by Harry’s side than anyone had a right to see in
a lifetime. He was no longer the continual joker he had been. He had seen Justin Finch-Fletchley
killed before their eyes last year, and had been powerless to do anything about it. The fact that
the three of them had inadvertently killed a Death Eater in that episode of horror did nothing to
help soften the blow. Hermione had cried for hours after they returned to the castle.

Mr. Weasley stood. “Well, come on, kids, let’s get going. We’ll talk more back at the Burrow.”
They all went to the fireplace and grabbed a bit of Floo Powder. Hermione still seemed a bit
apprehensive about this mode of travel. Harry couldn’t blame her. He remembered distinctly his
first experience with Floo Powder, accidentally going into Knockturn Alley.

He threw his Powder into the fire and yelled, “The Burrow!” He stepped into the fire and
vanished.

The Burrow seemed about as ramshackle as ever, Harry noted when he came out at the Weasley
fireplace. He loved it. This was certainly the best house he had ever been in, and wouldn’t trade a
large manor-house, which he suspected the Malfoys owned, for this.

He helped Hermione stand up as she came crashing in after him. She seemed a bit bewildered. “If
I ever have to do that again, it’ll be too soon,” she said vehemently, dusting her clothes off.
Harry glanced about. The house seemed rather empty.

“Er, where’s Percy? Is he still at work?”

“Oh, he almost never leaves now, it seems. Only comes home on the weekends,” answered Mr.
Weasley. “I, er, suspect he wants some time to himself.”

Harry decided not to pursue that subject any further. Ron stepped forward. “Here, Harry, let’s
get that stuff up to my room, so you can get settled in.” Ron grabbed one end of the heavy trunk
and they lugged it up the stairs. Hermione and Ginny followed, having somewhat more difficulty
heaving Hermione’s trunk up. Harry and Ron went to help them.

“Thanks,” puffed Hermione, her slight frame not used to such work, despite the twenty or so
books she always seemed to be carrying. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to change out
of these dirty clothes.” She closed Ginny’s door.

Harry stepped into Ron’s room. It was just as he had remembered it, the Chudley Cannons posters,
the strange knick-knacks hanging all about. It was a great room.

“So,” said Ron, flopping himself onto the bed, “what do you figure we’ll do this time?”

Harry grinned. “Well, it’ll be hard to pull off as many pranks this time, what with Hermione
here and all. You *know* she won’t allow such nonsense.” He thought for a moment. “Well,
there’s always Quidditch. Speaking of which, I’m going to be Captain this year, the team already
decided. It makes sense, I mean, I’ll be the only one with more than a year of experience.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, listen, Harry, the Cannons are going to be playing in a match pretty close to
here in about a week. Mum and Dad’ll probably let us go if we ask them.” Ron’s eyes widened at the
prospect. The Chudley Cannons were his favorite team. They were also, unfortunately, one of the
worst teams in the league. Make that *the* worst team. They were on a record-shattering losing
streak, and hadn’t won in five years. They also were the record holder for the biggest margin of
loss in history, in a match against Stonehenge United. Harry recalled the utter pain on Ron’s face
while he reported the results of that match.

Harry was excited, though, about the prospects of seeing another professional Quidditch match.
So far, all he had seen was the World Cup finale in fourth year, but that had only left him a
hungering for more. “That would be excellent…though I’m not sure Hermione would enjoy a Quidditch
game after, well, you know.”

Harry referred to her first boyfriend, Bulgarian star player Viktor Krum. Although he had been a
pretty good guy, and seemed to generally care about Hermione, she had thought things were moving
too fast, and then when she had met his parents in Bulgaria, after months of negotiating with her
parents, she had written the most vindictive letter Harry had ever seen her write. They had been
incredibly rude to her, and she told Viktor before she left that she couldn’t continue their
relationship anymore. Viktor, perhaps feeling a bit snubbed, had been spotted with several
attractive young ladies since then, leaving Hermione feeling even more angry.

“Hmm, you do have a point,” mused Ron. “Well, she’ll be with us, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. And
if not, well, she’ll have Ginny to hang out with.”

Harry considered this. It was true enough, Ginny was the only real close friend Hermione had who
was a girl. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, her roommates, were just too, well, girlish for
Hermione. Ginny was actually fairly studious herself, so it gave Hermione someone to turn to for
girl problems.

“I guess so. Well, we’d better ask you parents first before anything else.”

With that they headed downstairs to seek permission from Mr. And Mrs. Weasley. Sure enough, they
gave permission, so now all Harry and Ron had to do was speak to Hermione. They waited in the
hallway for her to come out from Ginny’s room.

“How long has she been in there now?” asked Ron for the umpteenth time.

Harry gave him a sidelong glance. “Just be patient. These things take time. You know how it is
with girls.”

“And how is that, Harry Potter?” He turned with a start. Ginny stood there with her hands on her
hips.

“Oh, er, that is, well, they tend to, you know, take their time changing their clothes?” He
really did not want to have this conversation.

Ron swooped in to rescue him. “Look, Gin, it’s just a little light-hearted banter. You girls
talk about guys the same way, right?” he said with a winning smile. Harry thought for a wild moment
that Ron had a career as a used car salesman.

Ginny’s scowl turned upside down slowly. “Well, yes, but…Oh, alright, you win again, big
brother.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “So, what is this all about, anyways? There any
particular reason you’d like to tell me why you’re standing outside my room while Hermione’s in
there?”

Harry grinned mischievously. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re spying on her, get a glimpse of Hermione
in her knickers.”

Ginny’s eyes widened, and she looked scandalized. “No…you wouldn’t…”

Ron rolled his eyes and burst with laughter. “Of course not, Ginny, Harry’s just playing with
you.”

Harry distinctly heard Ginny mutter under her breath, “Bloody boys, never know when they’re
screwing off…”

Just then, Hermione exited, wearing jeans, a white shirt and a denim jacket. She glanced about
the hallway for a moment. “Is there a reason you’re all out here?”

“Well, yes, actually,” said Harry, “You see, Ron and I were…”

“Harry!” shrieked Ginny, “If you tell her what you told me, I’ll—”

Ron clapped a hand over her mouth. “Please continue, mate.”

Harry smiled, and turned back to Hermione. “Well, we were wondering if you’d like to go to a
Quidditch game with us next week. Cannons versus Bath.”

Hermione sighed. “I suppose, though I don’t see the point. The Cannons haven’t won since we were
first years, right? And that game against Stonehenge—”

“Don’t remind me,” grimaced Ron. He changed the subject. “Well, that’s settled then. There is
just one more thing I’d like to show you two.” He looked pointedly at Ginny, who scowled and
stomped into her room.

They followed Ron into his room, where he grabbed a long, thing package wrapped in a sheet. He
carried it down behind the house.

Hermione broke in. “Just what was Ginny referring to, when she mentioned what you told her?”

Harry’s face got warm. “Oh, well…”

Ron grinned. “According to Harry, we were trying to get a glimpse of you in your knickers.”
Harry stared daggers at Ron. Hermione simply laughed.

“Did she really believe that? You two can be rude, but you’d never do something like that…would
you?” she said, peering at the both of them.

“Of course not, Hermione, we were just playing around with Ginny.”

Ron cut in. “Anyhow, what I wanted to show you was…”

“Oh, right,” said Harry. “What?”

Ron unwrapped the package. Inside it was a sheath, exactly like the one that Harry’s sword was
in. A look of disbelief ensnared his face.

Ron misinterpreted his look. “Amazing, isn’t it?” He pulled the blade out. It was a meter long,
and the blade looked exactly like Harry’s, smooth, unblemished, razor-sharp, with the same mottled
pattern.

“Bill found it last week in Egypt. Sent it to me as a birthday present; he’s missed a few over
the years. Not that I minded, but, this, this is an amazing piece of work.” He gave it a bit of a
twirl, and Harry could see he’d handled a sword before.

“Er, could I see it for a moment?” asked Harry. Ron handed it to him. Harry inspected the hilt,
as Hermione looked over his shoulder. Surprisingly, she seemed to be examining the hilt as well. It
depicted a sword high over a wall.

He handed it back to Ron, as he and Hermione straightened. “I’ll be right back,” they said at
the same instant. They peered at each other a moment, then tore as one back to the house. Harry
grabbed his sword from his trunk and headed back. Hermione arrived a moment later, carrying an
identical sheath.

“Wait a second,” said Ron, “those look exactly like mine!”

Harry nodded. “Not only that, the blades look the same, too.” He drew his, with its hammer
symbol. Hermione drew a perfect replica of a sword. Hers had an arrow pointing to the blade.

“But what do these all mean? Who would make three duplicate swords with different symbols?”
asked Hermione. That was the question, thought Harry. The mystery of the swords began.

A/N: For all those who are wondering about the R-Rating…Well it’s gonna get violent later. So it
you don’t like that stuff, don’t read. Oh, and thanks to Nappa for suggesting the HTML cleaner. And
again to Max LoneWolf for beta-reading this chapter.



3. Chapter 2:  The Origin of the Swords
---------------------------------------

Disclaimer: Yay! I finally own *something*. The characters of Kyle Foster and Taylor Ward
belong to me. Everything else is not mine. Harry Potter and associates are owned by JK Rowling. The
Swords are owned by Fred Saberhagen. CHAPTER TWO: THE ORIGIN OF THE SWORDS

They wrote to Bill, to see where head had found the sword. Strangely enough, it had been found
inside a treasure trove he had uncovered while on a mission for Gringotts. As it wasn’t gold,
silver, or adorned with jewels, the goblins could’ve cared less that he took it. Hermione related
to them that she had found hers in a park near her house. She didn’t even know why she decided to
keep it. They then proceeded to argue about whether or not to tell Mr. Weasley about the
swords.

“Ron, your father would want to know! These swords could be dangerous. They might have dangerous
magic, or who knows what!” shrieked Hermione. On one level, Harry agreed with her. The fiasco with
Tom Riddle’s diary in second year had opened his eyes to the dangers of some magical objects.

“Hermione,” said Ron exasperatedly, “has your sword shown any powers yet? Has Harry’s or mine?
For all we know, they’re just normal swords.”

“With this kind of craftsmanship? And then why are the markings different, if they’re just
swords?”

Harry decided to butt in before this argument got worse. “Look, if there is a danger to these
swords, I don’t think Mr. Weasley could do much about it, no offense or anything. I think we should
take them straight to Professor Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts.”

Hermione glared at him a moment, before she sighed. “But that’s still two weeks away. Who knows
what could happen between now and then?”

“Well,” said Ron, looking for any excuse to keep his sword, “nothing has happened already. I
mean, most magical objects have to have someone actively using them to do anything, much less harm.
It’ll probably be safe.”

Hermione still seemed upset. Harry stepped in. “Look, Hermione, if these things do start to
exhibit some kind of danger, we’ll take them to Mr. Weasley straight away, but nothing’s happened
yet, OK. Just calm down and be patient. Everything will be fine, trust me.” He smiled at her. She
couldn’t help herself, and smiled back, placated finally.

Later that night, Ron turned to Harry as lay on the floor. “Harry? How do you do that?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, calm Hermione down. I could never do that, but she always gives in to you. How do you
do it?” Ron propped himself up to look at Harry.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know, Ron. I just…” He looked at Ron. “You still like her don’t you? I
mean, in *that* way.”

If Ron’s face grew red, Harry couldn’t tell in the moonlight. “Well…I guess so. I never gave up
on her, but…” He blew out a heavy breath. “I just always wanted to figure out what I did wrong, or
what I could’ve done to make it work.”

Harry considered this for a moment. While he completely understood this made sense from Ron’s
point of view, he knew that there was nothing he could’ve done. Hermione had told Harry so. There
was just too much of a difference of personality. “Sometimes, Ron, things just aren’t meant to be.
Look at it this way, it didn’t hurt your friendship. Isn’t that important? You are still friends.
Things like this…they can force two people apart completely.”

Ron peered at him. “Since when were you so wise?”

Harry could tell he was joking. He grinned. “I guess I must be hanging around Professor
Dumbledore too much.”

“I said wise, not crazy.”

The Quidditch match proved to be more exciting than they had thought. The Cannons’ new Chaser,
Kyle Foster, was lighting up the boards. However, if they didn’t get the Snitch, they’d probably
still lose.

“I thought the Cannons were supposed to be really bad, Ron,” said Hermione, delighting in the
look of pain on Ron’s face when she uttered that.

“Well, they’re not really that bad. Their drafts are starting to show some promise.” As he said
this, Foster scored another goal, to make it 90-50 Cannons.

“Well, Ron, you know that Foster has scored 70 of the Cannons’ 90 points. Other than him,
they’re pretty mediocre,” said Harry cunningly. He exchanged a grin with Hermione as Ron’s cheek
twitched.

Ron changed the subject. “Speaking of new Chasers, I understand that Taylor Ward is starting at
Hogwarts this year.”

Hermione and Harry both looked at him with puzzlement. Though Harry loved Quidditch, the fact
that he lived with the Dursleys made it impossible for him to follow the sport. “Who is Taylor
Ward?” he asked.

Ron looked scandalized. “What? You don’t know? Why, she’s the best youth-league Chaser today!
Some people say she’s the best in the youth league this century.”

“Ron,” said Hermione stuffily, “You know that first years aren’t allowed…” Harry poked her in
the ribs. She looked at him and sighed. “Oh, alright, so Harry was! But we don’t even know which
house she’ll be in.”

Still, the discussion had Harry thinking. What would he do with such a great Chaser? In either
case, the Cannons again lost, but just barely, Foster’s performance keeping it close until the
end.

The days passed quickly after that. Hermione had the three of them studying their course books
at a frenetic pace during the day, which left them little time to do anything else. Soon enough,
September 1st rolled around and they all piled into the new car Mr. Weasley was experimenting on
for the journey to Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station. They thankfully all made it through the
barrier just fine. Harry was a bit paranoid about it every now and again. Sometimes running at a
brick wall seemed silly to him, and there was always the time when Dobby the house-elf had sealed
the barrier and he had crashed into it.

They were met on the platform by Neville Longbottom, a plump boy who always seemed to be getting
into accidents. Strangely enough, though, he seemed rather serene. Harry shrugged.

They managed to find themselves an open compartment. They stashed their trunks and sat down.
“Well,” yawned Harry as he stretched in his seat, “Another year at Hogwarts. Wonder if there’ll be
another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

Hermione smiled. “I doubt that anything bad has happened to Professor Birmingham.” Professor
Birmingham was the DADA teacher in fifth year. He had been an Auror before himself, and was one of
the best instructors they’ve ever had. Add onto that the fact that he was not a Death Eater,
incompetent fraud, or werewolf—though Professor Lupin had been great—it seemed unlikely he would be
gone.

Just then, the compartment door opened, revealing the one person they absolutely did not want to
see. Draco Malfoy. A smug smile spread across his face. “So,” he sneered, “you three are still
coming here. Most a pity. I would have thought that the Dark Lord would’ve gotten the better of at
least one of you by now.”

Ron snarled menacingly, but Malfoy’s cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, appeared at his sides. They
cracked their knuckles menacingly. All of the sudden, a dull pounding sound like a great hammer
echoed in the compartment. All of them were confused and glanced about in puzzlement.

“What was that?” demanded Malfoy.

“No idea. But I suggest you get out of here,” said Harry, standing slowly, still holding Ron
back. The pounding got louder and faster now. All of the sudden, it was joined by another sound,
this one a high pitched mill-saw whine.

Malfoy, looking a bit flustered by the noises, decided to back down. “Whatever. I was just about
to leave, anyway. Don’t want to be contaminated by any Mudblood air.” He gave a final sneer as
Harry held back Ron again, and departed. The noises slowed and then it was silent.

“Harry,” whispered Hermione, “Those sounds.”

“Huh? What about them?” Harry was suddenly aware that Hermione had not moved at all from the
spot she had been sitting at next to him. She was staring wide-eyed at something.

“They…they were coming from yours and Ron’s trunks!”

The three of them looked at each other. “The swords!” they all exclaimed at once. Harry and Ron
threw open their trunks, dragging out the weapons. The door began to open again, just as Ron was
unsheathing his to get a look at it. The sudden slamming of the door caused Ron to fumble, and the
sword went flying towards the person standing there.

However, he turned suddenly as there was a noise. It was Neville. He looked at them right after
the sword flew by where his chest had been. “Whoah, that was lucky,” he said. Apparently unfazed by
this, he picked up Ron’s sword and handed it to him.

He sat down, saying, “Malfoy tripped. Pretty funny.”

Then Harry noticed it. *Neville was wearing a sword at his belt*. “Neville, could I see
that sword for a moment?” he asked.

Neville frowned. “Er, I’ll let you take a look at it, as long as I hold it. I seem to have bad
luck whenever I let go of it.”

He unsheathed it and showed it to Harry. “It’s the same,” breathed Harry, “but is has a picture
of two dice on the hilt.”

“What?” said Neville, confused, “The same as what?”

They all showed him their identical swords, save for the symbols. “We are going to show them to
Professor Dumbledore when we arrive, Neville. Do you want to come, too?”

Neville agreed to show his sword to Professor Dumbledore. He said that it was strange, though.
Ever since he got this sword he had had a string of amazingly good fortune. He was not longer
clumsy, didn’t cause any accidents, none of that. It was like the sword itself was inherently
lucky.

The rest hadn’t seen their swords exhibit any kind of powers, beyond the noises that Ron and
Harry’s had made. Still, they resolved to see Professor Dumbledore. The four traveled up to the
castle, and they all strode up to the Head Table before the first years arrived.

“Professor Dumbledore, we need to see you about something, as soon as possible,” said Harry.

Dumbledore eyed them. Harry suspected that Dumbledore more or less knew everything that happened
in the castle, so if the swords *were* magically powerful, he already knew they were here. “Of
course, Harry. I will meet you all in the Great Hall tonight after the first years are shown to the
dormitories.”

Harry barely paid attention to the Sorting Ceremony. His mind was far too focused on the swords
and what their meeting with Dumbledore would yield. He did hush up, though, when Taylor Ward was
announced.

She was thin, and on the short side, with shoulder length light brown hair. She looked a bit
apprehensive as she strode up to the stool with the Sorting Hat. She sat there for almost a minute,
until the Hat cried out, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Smiling, she jumped down to her new table. Harry waved her over to sit near him.

“Hello there. My name’s Harry Po—”

She stared at him. “Harry Potter? I had heard you went here, but I can’t believe I’m actually
meeting you!” She pumped his hand. She had a surprisingly strong grip for one so slight.

Harry managed to extricate his fingers. “Yeah, well, anyways I’m one of the Gryffindor prefects.
Hermione Granger here,” he pointed to her and she smiled, “is the other. I’m also the Quidditch
Captain.”

Ward smiled at him broadly. “Ah, I knew there must be an ulterior motive. Though, I can’t say
why so many people make this much out of me. I mean, from what I hear, Giusseppe Drigo in Italy is
at least as good.” She blushed slightly, as if talking about this embarrassed her. “I mean, have
you even seen me play?”

Harry smiled. “Well, from what I’ve heard you’re brilliant, so I don’t have to. I trust my
sources.” He looked at Ron. “I’ll talk to Professor McGonagall to see if we can bend the first-year
rule.”

The rest of the feast went as usual. Ron stuffed himself, earning a glare from Hermione. She and
Harry then led the first years up to the common room. Hermione had chosen the password; it was
“*Revision*.” Trust her to pick a synonym for study.

The four of them grabbed their swords after everyone was situation and headed down, careful not
to attract any notice. They were in the Great Hall in a flash, waiting for Professor
Dumbledore.

He arrived shortly after them, along with Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick. “So,
Harry, what is it you wish to discuss?”

Harry stepped forward and unsheathed his sword. It shone fiercely in the light, a beam glinting
off it’s razor edge. Harry had a sensation of power and energy he had never felt before. He handed
it to Professor Dumbledore, who handled it lightly, like an expert.

“Where did you find this?” he whispered gravely after making a few practice swishes.

Hermione stepped forward. “Well, Harry found his outside his Aunt and Uncle’s house. I found
mine in a park, Ron got his from his brother Bill, who found it in Egypt, and…where did you get
yours, Neville?”

Dumbeldore looked up. “Then…you each have one of these? Show them to me,” he commanded. They all
pulled out their swords, giving them up for inspection, even Neville, who dared not cross
Dumbledore, especially not with Snape in the room.

Dumbledore inspected them carefully, taking note of every detail. Professor Flitwick and Snape
also looked over them warily, while McGonagall simply stood by watching like a hawk. Dumbledore
eventually handed them all back. He sighed deeply. “It is as I feared. Some weeks ago, twelve
magical objects arrived on this planet from another realm entirely. A…different universe parallel
to our own. Exactly what they were, I was not sure, only that they were extremely powerful. All of
you know the legend of King Arthur, yes?” The all nodded. “Each of the swords you now possess is at
least as powerful as his Excalibur. Any more than that, I cannot say, as I myself do not know the
extent or exact capabilities of each sword’s powers.” He paused. “Can any of you tell me what your
swords have done, so far?”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked sheepish. “Well, other than make sounds, Ron and mine haven’t
done anything. Hermione’s hasn’t done anything at all. Neville’s though…” He looked at Neville. “He
says it seems to bring him luck.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Just what kind of luck?”

Neville looked terrified of answering. “Well…any kind of good luck. Like, the odds are always
100% in my favor. I made a bet with Seamus Finnigan which I was sure I’d lose, just to test it, but
I won. And, whenever something’s about to hurt me, I suddenly notice something and duck, or
something like that.” He fumbled for words.

Dumbledore nodded. “If you would permit me, Neville, I would like to test it.” Neville nodded
meekly. Dumbledore raised his wand. “I am only going to try and Stun you, so don’t worry.” He
opened his mouth, but just then, Snape, who had been pacing, tripped on his robes and knocked
Dumbledore over. His curse missed Neville completely.

Harry stood there, astonished. What were the odds of that? Maybe Neville’s sword truly was
lucky. Dumbledore was equally impressed. “Well, I must say, the odds of Severus knocking me over at
just that instant were low indeed. That sword must give you extremely good fortune, Mr.
Longbottom.”

He turned to the rest of them. “Now, it does not appear to me that these swords have any Dark
Magic, or are currently dangerous. So, I will allow you to keep them. But, if they do start to
exhibit dangerous properties, you must bring them to me at once. Understood?” They all agreed to
this straight away.

Harry started to leave, then realized something. “Er, Professor?” Dumbledore turned. “At the
beginning of the month, a boy was killed by the Death Eaters up North. There appeared to be no
motive. Could they, perhaps, have found a sword near the boy? Or the boy found it? You did say
there were twelve.”

Dumbeldore nodded. “Indeed I did. And I have wondered those same thoughts, Harry. We must be on
guard. Voldemort may have a Sword of Power.” With that, he and the other Professors exited. And
Harry was left to wonder if Voldemort really did have a Sword, and if so, what could his do?

A/N: First off, I’d like to thank all who have reviewed for me thus far: XxKkAnGxX,
perfectmisstake, Thelvyn, Joyce, yurimionepotter, and HerioneGranger 4 ever.

Joyce: Well, credit for the “Song Of Swords” actually goes to Fred Saberhagen, from which I
borrowed his Swords of Power. The man is a genius. But thanks anyways! As for which Swords they
have…Well, you’ll find out soon enough…

Thelvyn: Well, reading the series might spoil it, as you’d figure out which Swords are which and
what their powers and weaknesses are. But if you wait until about Chapter 9 or so, I’ll probably
have it all explained by then.

Xx: I love cliff-hangers. You’ll get plenty of them with me. Muahahahahaha!



4. Chapter 3:  Finding the Way
------------------------------

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter. Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords. I own a few bit characters
plus the overall plot, and the banana I just ate. CHAPTER THREE: FINDING THE WAY

Their classes had begun again. Professor Snape was wary of doing anything to Neville in Potions,
as the absolute power of his Sword would likely help him, even though he left it in his trunk. Even
if it wouldn’t, a fact which Harry had no idea of the truth of, the threat of such was enough for
Snape.

“Longbottom! How many times…” Snape’s anger tailed off as he remembered the Sword. “Apparently,
your extremely good fortune doesn’t enter the realm of your classwork. Most a pity. I would look
forward to a day when you don’t bungle a potion.”

“Please, sir,” squeaked Neville, “if I could bring—”

“SILENCE!” roared Snape. Dumbledore didn’t want anyone else knowing about the Swords. Snape had
come dangerously close already. Then again, everyone had noticed Neville’s great luck of late,
Sword or not.

Harry likewise had left his Sword in his trunk, not just out of respect for the orders of
Dumbledore. Harry was honestly frightened of what his Sword might be able to do. Dumbledore had
permitted them to examine their Swords in his private study after classes, but they had so far
found nothing. Although they had discovered that the Swords seemed unaffected by heat, water, or
most of the curses and hexes they knew.

The only other teachers who Dumbledore had filled in on the Swords were Birmingham, who probably
would’ve figured it out eventually, and Hagrid, who Dumbledore trusted above anyone. Although Harry
wasn’t sure he trusted Hagrid to keep his mouth shut, as he was well-known throughout the school as
a good information source if you got him talking, and he had a tendency to talk too much at the
local pub, Harry knew he could trust Hagrid with his life, and that was good enough for him.

That evening, they all sat in Dumbledore’s study, poring over their Swords. They needed every
scrap of information. They had tried everything so far to try and bring something out of them.

Well almost everything. “How could we be so stupid?” said Hermione suddenly. They all looked at
her. “Well, we’ve all been looking for something complex, but what if it isn’t? Why don’t we try
something simple?”

She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her sheath, muttering a Revealer Spell. At first it
seemed that nothing would happen, and her face fell. Then, slowly, fine words written in a golden
color appeared. It seemed to be some kind of poem. It was in English.

Harry looked at the title. “*The Song of Swords*,” he muttered, scanning down the twelve
verses. One fore each Sword of Power…He grinned, then wrapped Hermione in a hug. “You’ve done it,
Hermione! This is what we’ve been looking for.”

He looked at her suddenly. Her face was just inches away from his, her face a bit red, as her
eyes suddenly locked on his own. He sheepishly let her go. “This could tell us loads.”

They all in turn performed the Revealer on theirs, with the same result. Ron looked at the list
intently. The first verse caught his eye. “Well, Neville’s been having good luck, right? I’d say
his is this Coinspinner, the Sword of Chance.”

Hermione nodded, now looking at her copy, and writing it down on parchment. “Yes, that would
make sense. All odds suddenly in his favor. Chance pointing always towards him. Coinspinner.” She
then looked down. “Well, Ron, yours has a sword over a wall, right?”

He looked. That it did. “Yes…”

“So, it’s protecting something…perhaps…a town? There’s one called Townsaver here. Could that be
yours?”

They all agreed that this made sense; though they had only conjecture, it seemed to make sense
that the symbols would correlate. Looking again at the list, Harry glanced at Hermione’s. An arrow.
Pointing… “Hermione, yours has an arrow, pointing for directions, perhaps? So Wayfinder?”

She looked. That did make sense to her. “I suppose so. Well done, Harry.”

Ron smirked. “Only figures that *you’d* get the Sword of *Wisdom*.”

She gave Ron a look. “Oh, quiet you.” She stood. “Come on, let’s go find Professor Dumbledore.
We have to tell him about all this.”

“But wait,” interrupted Ron, “what about Harry’s?”

She looked over the list fast. “Well, his has a hammer. Maybe Stonecutter, see here? “*The
Sword of Siege struck a hammer’s blow.*” That could also explain the pounding noise. Now, come
on!” She ushered them out.

They ran down the stairs. Strangely enough, Professor Dumbledore was waiting for them. “Ah, and
how is everything, children?” he asked.

Hermione began to explain everything. Harry, meanwhile, suddenly had a headache. It seemed as if
his glasses weren’t working right. He got nudged. Neville was apparently having trouble with his
Sword. “Neville,” said Harry, interrupting Hermione, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s trying to point over there, though.” Harry looked. There was nothing
significant. He and Neville strode that way a few paces. “Just wait for us a moment,” called Harry.
But there was nothing. Nothing except…it was directly away from Dumbledore. *Whichever move he
make*…It was trying to lead him away. Harry cautiously clutched the hilt of his Sword and turned
back, ready to attack if need be.

Only Dumbledore no longer stood there. In his place was Peter Pettigrew, and he was holding a
sword…which looked like their own. “Hermione, Ron, move! That’s not Dumbledore!”

Suddenly, Pettigrew had his wand out. Ron’s eyes widened, and he tried to draw his sword, but
Pettigrew disarmed both of them. He then bound Hermione and Ron, and drew a small watch, speaking
to it. “*Convey!*” Then they vanished.

“Wha-how?” breathed Neville, “I thought Hermione said you couldn’t Apparate or Disapparate
here.”

“A portkey, word-activated, I’m sure of it,” said Harry grimly. He looked at their fallen
swords. Just then, Professor Dumbledore arrived. Harry was sure it was him this time.

“What has happened?”

Harry explained everything, how they had discovered the Song of Swords, which Swords they had,
and then Pettigrew.

Dumbledore nodded. “If what you tell me is true, then I believe he has the Sword you called
Sightblinder. Disguising his true appearance.” He paused, looking at the fallen Swords. “There is
only one thing to do. Someone must take Wayfinder and follow him. If my surmise is correct, it
should tell you where to go.”

Harry nodded, then knowing what to do, he picked up Wayfinder’s sheath. “Professor, if you’ll
permit me, I’d like to try this task.”

Dumbledore sighed. “I knew you would, Harry, but it is very dangerous. Who know what could
happen if…”

“I’ll go with him then,” declared Neville, far more bravely than he had ever sounded,
“Hopefully, the luck of Coinspinner should protect us.” He looked at Harry.

Harry nodded his head in thanks and turned back to Dumbledore, chin held high. “I’d like to try,
Professor. With these Swords, we should be able to do it.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes. “Harry if it were anyone else…Alright. I will give you twenty-four
hours. No more. I cannot risk you out by yourself any longer than that. At the end of those
twenty-four hours, you are to return here.”

Harry nodded. “Come on, Neville. We’re going to need brooms.” He handed Townsaver to Dumbledore
and they were off. Harry ran up to the dormitory to get his Firebolt. On his way down, he heard a
soft gasp. He turned, startled that anyone else would be here right this instant.

It was Taylor Ward. Her eyes were fixed on his Swords. “What are you doing with those?”

Harry swallowed. “I’m going to try and rescue someone. I needed my broom. Neville and I need to
go as fast as we can.”

Taylor looked at him. Her eyes beheld a deep wisdom he had not seen before. “It’s that girl,
Hermione, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead sprinting up to her dorm. She came back
down an instant later with her own Firebolt. “Here. If you two need to go fast, you’ll need another
of these.”

Neville handled it like it might shatter at any moment. “I…I can’t take this.”

“Yes you can. Just go. And good luck.”

Neville smiled slightly at that, some of his fear forgotten. “Luck’s not going to be a problem.”
Harry clapped his shoulder and they were off.

They reached the courtyard. Harry hefted Wayfinder. “Show me where to find Hermione!” he
demanded. The Sword suddenly quivered, and swiveled him around to his right. “How far?” he asked.
It was silent. It still only pointed.

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” said Neville. He climbed aboard Taylor’s broom. “Well, come on
then. What are you waiting for?”

Harry had never seen this side of Neville before. He jumped onto his broom, grinning, and they
set off. Harry had to keep Wayfinder out so it could point them in the right direction, but other
than that he was fine. He turned to Neville.

“Since when are you the type to go rushing in?”

“It’s this Sword. I guess it gives me confidence I didn’t have. All of its powers can take away
all my bad aspects. I don’t need to be as good at magic as you or Hermione, or even Ron when I have
this.”

Harry’s heart jumped at being compared to Hermione’s level of ability. He thought back to what
Taylor Ward had said. And his question to the Sword. He was going after Hermione. He wanted to find
her more desperately than he did Ron. And he wasn’t sure why.

Following the directions of the Sword, Harry and Neville flew for several hours. The skies began
to grow very dark, and if they didn’t come upon Pettigrew soon, they’d have no chance to find them
in time. Suddenly, the tip began to dip of its own accord. They were close.

Harry pulled to a stop. Neville followed suit. “OK, Neville, most likely, we’re going to be
outnumbered. We move in carefully. If all else fails, hopefully Coinspinner can protect at least
you. Here.” He handed Neville Wayfinder. “If you are the only one who gets away—”

“Harry, don’t talk like that…”

“Listen!” snarled Harry, “This could go bad. *If* it does, I want you to have Wayfinder so
you can lead Dumbledore and the others back. Do you understand?”

Neville nodded. He could see why Harry was a true Gryffindor now. He finally understood.
*This* was Harry at his finest. He wished he could have Harry’s courage all the time, not just
when he could hide behind the powers of Coinspinner. He followed Harry to the ground. They left
their brooms hovering. Harry had his wand out now, but did not light it. Neville had Wayfinder held
in front of him, Coinspinner at his belt.

Harry paused, and pushed Neville down. “Shh,” he whispered.

Voices were wafting through the trees from nearby. There was a fire in a small clearing. “I
still don’t understand why you want us.” It sounded like Ron.

“It’s all too obvious. I had originally planned to get just Potter, but when I saw you all had
Swords, I tried to get all four. Unfortunately, Potter somehow recognized me, so I was forced to
take you two hostage. He’ll be along soon enough, and I can deliver him to my Lord.” It sounded
like Pettigrew to Harry. So that was his plan, he thought.

“Scared of saying your own master’s name, are you?” spat a feminine voice that was clearly
Hermione, “and when he hears how you failed to get all our Swords, I’m sure he’ll punish you
anyways, you foul little man.”

There was a loud smack and Hermione shrieked. Blood boiling, Harry risked a glance over the
shrub. Pettigrew had just backhanded Hermione’s face with his silver hand. She lay sprawled on the
ground, clutching her cheek with her bound hands. Ron was spitting with rage, but unable to move as
he, too, was bound.

Harry turned to Neville, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to attack while his mind was
clouded with anger. “Neville, I’m going to distract him. You go in and untie them. Or cut their
bonds if you have too. I won’t be able to give you much time.” Neville nodded gravely. Harry moved
a distance away, then leapt out.

“Hold it there, Pettigrew!” Pettigrew turned, shocked.

“So, here already, are you? This will only make it more interesting.” He went for his wand.

“*Stupefy*!” yelled Harry. Pettigrew managed to catch the red flash on his silver hand. It
knocked him over, but he was otherwise unhurt. He bounced back to his feet, wand in hand.
Meanwhile, Neville had crept around Ron and Hermione and cut their bonds.

“*Expelliarmus*!” yelled Pettigrew. Harry’s wand shot from his hand.

“*Accio wand*!” His wand began to return, but before it could, a resounding, yet dull
pounding noise echoed through the forest, and Harry’s Sword leapt into his hand of its own accord.
The pounding continued.

Pettigrew stared. “What?” He raised his wand, but did nothing else, unsure.

Harry himself was amazed, too. He had remembered the pounding, but hadn’t expected this. Did all
Swords do such a thing? He had never carried one into battle before now.

Neville had Hermione and Ron running now. Pettigrew turned. “Damn you, Potter!” He saw that he
had no chance, as the three had their wands out now too. Pettigrew disappeared with a ‘pop.’ He had
Disapparated.

Harry sighed, and the pounding sound dropped down and ceased. He returned the Sword to its
sheath and put his wand away. He jogged over to the brooms. The three met him there.

Hermione grabbed Harry into a hug, crying into his chest. “Thank Merlin you found us, Harry. I
didn’t know what he’d have done if…” She broke off, eyes watered down with tears. Harry held her
for a moment, before wiping away some of her tears with his hand and giving her a caring smile. His
finger traced a bruise along her face from Pettigrew’s blow.

“You OK?”

She nodded, and he let his hand fall away. She swallowed and back away a bit, eyes still locked
with his.

Ron tightened his jaw, and gave Harry an arm hug. “Thanks, Harry. Just one thing. How *did*
you find us?”

“I’ll explain on the way back. Come on.” They hopped on the brooms, Ron with Neville, much to
his displeasure, and Hermione with Harry. He could feel her head rest on his shoulder as her arms
wrapped themselves tightly about his waist.

Despite his promise, the trip was made in silence. Neville led with Wayfinder held in front of
him. They landed at Hogwarts castle just as the sun began to rise. Just before they touched down,
Harry heard Hermione whisper in his ear, “Thank you, Harry. Thank you for everything.” He felt her
kiss him lightly on the cheek. His cheeks felt hot, embarrassed by all her recent showings of
affection, and he still had an imprint of warmth on his shoulder, but he shoved that thought away.
Waiting for them were Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Madame Pomfrey. They
all strode forward as Harry and the others landed.

“Well done, Harry,” said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, “It really is amazing what you can do at
times.”

Harry smiled back. “Thanks, Professor…but I had help.” He waved for Neville, who came and stood
with him.

Madame Pomfrey interrupted. “I’d like to get this lot to the hospital wing, if I may,
Headmaster.” Dumbledore nodded and they all strode off.

“So, Harry,” interjected Ron, “how did you find us?”

Harry smiled. “Well, there *is* a reason Hermione’s Sword is called Wayfinder. It showed us
the way to you.” With that thought, they all entered the castle, content for now that they had
foiled Voldemort’s plans.

A/N: Well, people, here is chapter 3. This is the only one of the first four installments with
no cliffhanger…Although if you interpret it a certain way it is… Anyhow, I’d like to thank everyone
who reviewed the last chapter: Babygrrl, Hallie, Catark, Misstake, galahav, Dragonlord, and
yurimionepotter.

Babygrrl: Thanks, I know it’s really easy to make Ron suck, but I have plans for him. He gets to
have some fun. Now Neville…Nobody’s done Hero!Neville yet that I can remember…But I will…

Hallie: The H/Hr picks up pretty soon. This is primarily an action/adventure fic, with some
romance sprinkled in. Romance is not my forte.

Misstake: I’m sorry, Miss, but I LOVE cliffhangers…It keeps the audience interested, and
challenges me to figure out what to do next.

Dragonlord: There is a scheme behind who’s getting what. I have it all figured out. And I’m
keeping which Sword is which hidden as long as possible. I’m nasty that way. As for the pace, my
personal style is characterized my its fast pace, though at times it does slow down a lot. Next
chapter will be such an example. But mostly, I keep the story moving very fast. I try to let
actions speak for characters rather than omniscient descriptions.

Yurimionepotter: H/Hr is coming…But they have to go through lost of trials and confusion
first.



5. Chapter 4: Hermione's Problem
--------------------------------

Disclaimer: OK, you know the drill. I own nothing except a couple bit characters. JKR owns Harry
Potter and Co., Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords.

A/N: For everyone who wanted more romance, things start to pick up in that sector…Even though
this chapter is really slow.

CHAPTER FOUR: HERMIONE’S PROBLEM

A week passed after Pettigrew’s attempted kidnapping. There was little doubt that he had to face
his master’s wrath. Harry had speculated as to whether Pettigrew had even told Voldemort that he
possessed Sightblinder. In either event, Hermione was enjoying the use of her Sword. She was able
to use it to find information in the library, as long as she did it late at night or very early in
the morning when nobody else was around. As she stated to Ron when he questioned her use of it,
when it could obviously go to a less, in his words, *mundane* use, “Well, like you said, it
*is* called the Sword of *Wisdom*. Why not use it to gain some?”

So it was that she sat in the library one afternoon, poring over some books she had discovered
earlier that same day. There were books on more subjects than she had ever dreamed there could be
in the Hogwarts library, and more information than one person could ever hope to go through in a
lifetime. She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn’t notice a certain red-headed girl sit
down before her.

Ginny coughed. “Er, hello, Hermione.”

Hermione started. She set down her book. “Oh, hello Ginny. What brings you here?”

Ginny’s eyes traveled over the mountain of books before Hermione. “Well, I know you read a lot,
everyone knows that, but, you are spending an inordinate amount of time in here, even for you. Care
to enlighten me?”

Hermione pursed her lips and searched for a good excuse. She couldn’t tell Ginny about the
Swords. Dumbledore had been explicit about that. No one was to know. “If it’s about the Swords…”
started Ginny, before Hermione cut her off.

“What?” she shrieked, eyes widening. A few people looked at her, and Madame Pince, the
librarian, glared at her. She lowered her voice. “How do you know about that? No one is supposed
to.”

Ginny smiled wanly. “Ron has a big mouth, you know. I overheard him talking about it to Harry a
few nights ago when they *thought* everyone was asleep. I was having trouble sleeping, so I
was going to come down to the common room. Very interesting, these Swords.”

Hermione motioned for her to keep it down. “Don’t start with that,” she hissed. That was all she
needed, for everyone in the school to know about the Swords. Especially the Slytherins, who weren’t
all necessarily evil, but were all ambitious. There was no telling what they would do to try and
possess power of the magnitude granted by a Sword.

Ginny sighed, but nodded. “Then, Hermione, you didn’t answer my first question. Why are you here
so much?”

Hermione just stared at her for a moment. Did she dare tell even Ginny the truth of the matter?
This was not exactly something that one went about blabbing, especially when the potential negative
consequences could be so high. But if she couldn’t trust Ginny with this, then she could trust no
one.

Hermione sighed and stood. “Come on, let’s go somewhere a little more private.” Ginny helped her
gather some of the books and they headed down for the ground around the lake. Though there were
many people around there, too, the lake was thankfully big enough that it was easy to find a
secluded spot where no one would interrupt them.

Hermione sat down and stared across the lake, thinking about the past few years. Her life had
changed so much when she arrived at Hogwarts. She had always been the “smart girl,” and had been
despised for it. The children at her old school had picked on her. She hadn’t had any friends,
except for a chubby boy who reminded her of Neville. She had thought all that would change when she
arrived at Hogwarts, that the people there would appreciate her intelligence. But all she had found
was famous Harry Potter and his sidekick Ron, who could do whatever they pleased and get away with
it. They were the talk of the school with their antics, while all of her amazing academic
achievements only brought her more grief here. This was something that she had secretly heard Terry
Boot in Ravenclaw complaining about, that the “flashy, overbearing Gryffindors” get all the credit
while Ravenclaws got none. Though Harry hadn’t struck her as the arrogant, snobbish boy she had
pictured (that role was filled by Draco Malfoy), he was very prideful. Ron had been just plain
rude. But…Harry had saved her life. She knew it had been Harry’s idea to go after her. It had
amazed her that anyone, especially Harry Potter and Ron Weasley would’ve gone out of their way to
save her, putting themselves in great danger at the same time.

She had realized after the Yule Ball in fourth year that Ron had feelings for her, but she just
hadn’t felt the same way. She adored Ron as a friend, but she didn’t feel he was right for her,
something that their ensuing relationship in fifth year had proven. Despite that internal caution,
it hadn’t prepared her for the terrible way she had felt after their breakup. She thought that she
had been too hard on him, hadn’t given him the chance he deserved. But once again, Harry had been
her savior, lifting her out of the torrent of misery she had inflicted on herself.

“Hermione? You had a faraway look in your eyes. Are you OK?” Ginny’s voice brought Hermione back
to the present. She turned to Ginny slowly.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking. About my life and all.” She took a deep breath.
“Ginny…has anyone ever told you what it’s like to be in love?”

Ginny stared back at her. “Is that a rhetorical question or do you want an answer?”

Hermione’s eyes turned down for a moment. “Just tell me, please.”

Ginny studied her for a moment. She could see the streams of emotion flooding through Hermione
right now. “Well…not exactly. I asked my mum, a few years back, after second year. And she said…”
Her voice drifted off for a moment, remembering that day, when she realized she didn’t love Harry
Potter. “She said, you’ll know when you’re in love. Because it’s something you can’t describe. But
it’ll be something so deep, so amazingly intense, that you’ll know. Love is something you have to
wait to feel.” Hermione’s eyes started to water. So that was it then. That was it. She burst into
tears. Ginny, shocked, reached over and put an arm around her. “Hermione? What’s wrong, what’s the
matter?”

Hermione shook her head. “This is it. This is what I was afraid of. That is was true. That I,
I…loved him.” She cascaded into more tears.

Ginny was unsure what to say. “Er, loved who?”

Hermione choked back more sobs. She wasn’t sure when it happened. But after all Harry had done
for her over the past years…He had saved her life more times than anyone should have to be saved.
Even in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, he had tried to save her, though he didn’t
need to. And he had shown Krum how to do so. She had never seen him as “famous Harry Potter,” save
for when she first met him. She had always seen who he was inside, and now, she knew in her heart
that Ginny’s words rang true. You would know. And she knew. “Harry. I love Harry. And I don’t want
to. For the life of me, I don’t want to.”

Now Ginny *really* didn’t know what to do. This was not good, to say the least. Hermione
had a major problem. “Well, er, why not? I mean, he’s…”

“He’s my friend!” Hermione moaned, “My best friend. How am I supposed to tell him this? Do you
have any idea what it would do? It would destroy what we have. That’s why I don’t want to. That’s
why I can’t tell him. That’s why I’m in the library so much. After…after he rescued me from
Pettigrew…”

“You didn’t want to have to face him?” Hermione nodded. Ginny thought for a moment. “Do you
think he knows?”

“I…I don’t think so, I mean, I haven’t done anything, I think…I don’t know!” she moaned. This
was new to her. Ginny, who was far more knowledgeable in this area, had no idea what to do, let
alone Hermione. Hermione just had no experience in this kind of matter. She’d never felt like this
before.

“Well…” Ginny searched for words to continue. This was getting worse by the second, she thought,
Sooner or later, Hermione’s crying would attract someone, worst case, it might attract Ron…or even
worse, Harry himself! “Er, do you think Harry…er…” Need a word! she thought. “Likes you back?” She
went for the softer side.

Hermione shook her head. “How could he? I mean, look at me. I so…so plain, and…there’s no reason
he’d like me…not the way I like him.”

Ginny knew what to do now. Hermione had left herself wide open for this one. “Oh, Hermione,
you’re not plain, by no means. You’re very pretty. And you’re so smart, and likeable. How can you
say Harry wouldn’t like you?” Ginny truly had no idea what Hermione was talking about. While
Hermione wasn’t anywhere close to the likes of the Patil twins, she had a kind of calm, earthly
beauty to her. Just the way she held herself, the way she could express so much with her eyes, the
way her smile could light a room. Lots of people, well mostly Gryffindors, had noticed it. Hermione
didn’t know it, but she could make most guys at Hogwarts melt with a single smile, Harry had told
Ginny once.

“Oh, I…I don’t know, but…I don’t want to jeopardize what we have now on a gamble like that. I
don’t want to alienate Ron, I just want things to be the way they are.”

Ginny took Hermione’s hand. “Hermione, one day, when you get married, you’re going to spend less
time with Harry and Ron anyways. Things can’t stay the way they are now; that’s just the way life
is. You can’t be too afraid to choose because you’re afraid the other one will get left in the
cracks.” Ginny sighed. “Love is about taking gambles. Besides, if it’s really the chance aspect of
this, maybe you should ask to borrow Neville’s Sword.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “Maybe.” She seemed much better now, and her earlier sobs had
been reduced to an occasional sniff. She stood up, grabbing her books. “Thanks, Ginny. Somehow, I
knew I could count on you to help me out.”

Ginny watched her depart, then turned back to the glassy calm surface of the lake. Watched the
girl who she knew was destined for Harry Potter, the boy she had thought she loved. The boy she
still sometimes dreamed of. “What’re friends for?”

Hermione went back up to the library then, and Ginny departed for the common room. The hour grew
late, though, so she trudged up to Gryffindor Tower. She found Harry asleep on a chair next to the
fire, book lying on the floor next to him as if dropped from his hand. There was a note on a nearby
table.

Hermione, I was waiting for you to show up. I guess I fell asleep though. Sorry. You’ve been a
little scarce this past week, and I was just wondering if everything’s OK. Ron’s worried about you,
too. We know you like to study, but not even you’re this bad. Please, if something’s wrong, you
know you can talk to me about anything.

Harry

“Not about this, though, Harry, not this,” she whispered. She was about to wake him, when she
had a sudden notion. She ran up to her room and grabbed Wayfinder. She knew how to work it from
Harry’s description, and she knew that theoretically, it could tell her where to find
anything…anything at all.

Just to test is, she whispered, “Where is Harry?” The blade quivered and pointed straight at
him. She took a deep breath and posed another question. “Where can I find true love?” To her
horror, the blade pointed again at Harry. She collapsed to the floor. Thankfully, Harry did not
wake. “No,” she groaned, “Why?” The Sword could not answer. She thought a moment. She didn’t know
exactly what the Sword could do. She considered the verse from the Song of Swords. *The Sword of
Wisdom lightens loads*…So theoretically it could make her job easier…perhaps by directing her to
those who could help. So maybe Harry could *help* her find true love, and was not it
himself.

Oh, this is foolish, she thought, trying to dissuade myself. She was making up excuses and she
knew it. She was so afraid, though. She stood, still looking at Harry. What if he did love her? Did
she dare tell him the truth? Was she willing to accept the risks, and the possible consequences?
She didn’t know yet. Their friendship was more important to her than anything at all. She had been
afraid that after her and Ron’s break-up that they wouldn’t be friends any longer. It could still
happen with Harry. So she only headed back up to her dorm, leaving Harry to sleep on the chair.

A/N:

OK, tons of reviews to handle this time. Thanks to everyone who did review, btw, that being,
yurimionepotter, HerioneGranger 4 ever, Dragonlord, AnimeFanatic, Brandie, misstake, Hallie,
Batgirl, Old Wolf, lordanhur, msscribe, catark, and kinicky 21. Means a lot to me.

Yurimionepotter: There may be a bit of Jealous!Ron. I’m not sure yet. It depends on how it comes
out. With all the Swords, a person would pretty much be invincible, since they could have so much
power. As far as the appearances of the Swords, they have somewhat a mind of their own, plus since
they were cast back accidentally, they were scattered somewhat. But I do have a scheme of who gets
what, and it largely makes sense…At least to me.

Dragonlord: Your instincts are right, it isn’t that easy. There’s always a catch, and I’ll leave
it at that. As for Neville, you are pretty close on your guesses. I will have the answers to that
in the story as it progresses. As for Harry…Well, the Swords work in mysterious ways. That’s all
I’ll say. And some do have minds of their own. And I do have my reasons for Harry Sword, as will be
revealed later.

Batgirl: Where the Swords are will be revealed later. I am very methodical about this. They only
appear when I think I want them to. And all 12 WILL eventually make appearances, some more than
others.

Msscribe: I’m working on the better language. Give a first timer a break!

Catark: Sorry about your finals. My bad…*slaps self*

Anyhow, as you’ve all noticed, I have thus far raised more questions than answers. But they are
all coming eventually. Trust me.



6. Chapter 5: Soulcutter
------------------------

Disclaimer: I own virtually nothing. I own only the characters of Taylor Ward and Luis Garcia,
though if someone else uses them, I don’t especially care. JKR owns Harry Potter and Company, Fred
Saberhagen owns the Swords.

A/N: One thing I’d like to say before I get to the story. As many of you may know, Msscribe is
in the hospital at the moment, and is now recovering. I’d like to wish her the best of luck, and
say that it’s because of her I put this fic up. Before she pressed me to do so, I probably wouldn’t
have really considered it. I wrote it for myself, but she showed me there was an interest, and even
offered me some writing advice. I’d like to thank her for everything. I’m dedicating this chapter
to her. Thanks Msscribe!

CHAPTER FIVE: SOULCUTTER

It was now mid-October. Harry had to start Quidditch practice soon, especially considering they
needed to hold tryouts. He *had* managed to get Professor McGonagall to waive the first year
rule for Taylor Ward, under the caveat that her marks must not slip a single iota, or she’d sit.
Other than that, Harry had a couple decent Beaters, though not to the caliber of the Weasley twins.
He had one superb Chaser, who had been a reserve, before Ward, one decent one, and one OK one. The
latter had not technically been reserves, but had been working with the team in an attempt to build
for next year. He had Luis Garcia, who had replaced Oliver Wood last year, and was excellent, if
not quite as good as Wood had been. But Luis was a third year, and had plenty of room to grow.

In any event, he headed downstairs to the Great Hall for some food. He thought he’d tell
everyone who wanted to be on the team to meet in the common room immediately following the end of
classes. He found Ron there.

“Hey Ron.” He glanced about. “Have you seen Hermione? She never did come back up to Gryffindor
Tower last night…at least, not while I was awake.”

Ron shook his head and swallowed his food before replying. “No, she may have come down earlier,
I guess. I don’t know. She has been avoiding us lately, hasn’t she?”

Harry nodded. “I wonder why?” Although he was concerned for his friend, he had other things on
his mind at that moment, plus the fact was that Hermione did tend to be the most loner of the three
of them. He wasn’t concerned, yet.

After finishing his meal, Harry asked Professor McGonagall to announce the Quidditch meeting.
There appeared to be great interest. Harry of course, knew that Colin Creevey would try out just
for the sake of trying to be close to his hero. Harry had suspicions, though, that Colin
was…playing for the other team, in the metaphorical sense. It was rather disturbing. But he didn’t
want Colin to get upset if he just went and told him he wasn’t…that way.

Harry saw Hermione in class that day, but she was still avoiding him and Ron. She instead chose
to sit with either Neville or someone from another house. Ron was upset about this. He needed her
help to keep his marks up. Even Harry noticed that he was having more trouble, despite the fact
that he worked harder now. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t there helping him. Or maybe it was
the whole issue was so distracting.

During Herbology, Harry couldn’t help but watch Hermione and try to figure out just what was
wrong. She seemed fine, but wouldn’t return his gaze. It was if she ignored his existence. He was
so engrossed, he didn’t notice that he was cutting his roots all wrong, even when Professor Sprout
was standing…well, not over him, but peering at him from his side.

“Ahem,” she coughed. Harry started and looked about.

“Professor?”

“Potter, you need to pay more attention to what you are doing, and less to Miss Granger.” She
pointed to his ruined roots. Upon her comment about Hermione, he saw her flush out of the corner of
his eye. His own face felt very hot.

A few of the other boys smiled and gave him appreciative nods. He didn’t feel like acknowledging
them, so he went back to his work, this time focused clearly on what he was doing.

The rest of the day seemed to last for an eternity. While Harry managed to avoid staring at
Hermione, he was always thinking about her in the back of his mind. He was very relieved when it
came time to perform his duties as Gryffindor Captain.

Several people had already shown up when he arrived. Both of his reserve Beaters, Jeremy Hanks
and Tony Early were waiting, talking about some amazing flying story they were no doubt
embellishing. Colin Creevey was there, much to Harry’s displeasure. The kid tried hard, but he
really, well, sucked. A few people Harry didn’t recognize had also arrived.

“Well, as you all know, I’m Harry Potter, Gryffindor Captain. We’re just going to wait for a few
minutes for everyone else to show up.” As he said this, Taylor Ward came rushing in through the
portrait hole, along with the three Reserve Chasers.

Harry glanced about. “Well, then, I guess that’s everyone. As most of you know, the only
returning starters are myself and Luis, our Keeper. Jeremy and Tony,” he nodded to them, “were our
Reserve Beaters, and the Weasley twins were working both of them hard, so they’re almost a lock. As
for Chasers, well…” Everyone involuntarily glanced at Ward, who blushed and sunk into her chair
even farther. “We need three new ones. The field is wide open. So, anyways, I wanted to welcome you
all and let you know that, in fact, tryouts start today. So grab your brooms and come down to the
pitch with me.”

They all stared at him for a moment, except Luis, who grinned, and said, “Come on, guys, let’s
do it!” He already had his stuff and stood up to stand next to Harry. The rest ran off to grab
their stuff. “Creevey kid again, huh?” murmured Luis.

“Yeah, looks that way,” muttered Harry back.

“I could, well…explain it to him,” Luis offered darkly.

Harry shook his head. “If he’s improved enough to make it, he makes it.” Luis shook his head,
but agreed. Harry privately thought he was right. Colin was too small to be a Beater, and he
doubted that he’d be good enough to get one of the Chaser positions, especially if Ward was as good
as everyone was saying.

After a few minutes, everyone was back, and they headed down. Harry, walking along, suddenly
noticed a lone figure in the stands. It was Hermione. She appeared to be studying. Harry pretended
not to see her. If she had come to watch, that was fine. If not, well, that was fine, too. He’d try
to talk to her later when he got a chance.

“OK, people, first off, we’re going to run a few…drills. Specifically, evasion. All people
trying out for Beater, over here, all Chasers, over here.” They all shuffled about. Beyond Jeremy
and Tony, there was only one kid who was trying for Beater. Harry figured he’d probably be Reserve
then. No problem. He turned to the Chasers. Six people for three spots. He’d probably keep four so
he could have a backup. The fastest of the extras, so they could have a backup Seeker if need be.
Though he didn’t anticipate any problems, with Voldemort back and all one never knew.

“Alright, here’s what we’re doing. These are normal balls, and will not chase after you. They
do, however, have a hovering charm, so they’ll float, and they are the rough size of a Bludger. The
Beaters will try and hit the Chasers, who will be trying to avoid them. Don’t worry, they can’t
hurt you.” He looked at the people. “Alright, in the air.”

He and Luis floated to the center of the group. He handed the balls to Luis. “Do it.”

Luis threw one at the Beater, who hit it towards the Chaser. They managed to avoid it. This went
on for some minutes, and they all worked up a good sweat. Harry noticed that Ward so far appeared
as advertised, having absolutely no problems with the evasion. She was also extremely fast, being
so slim.

They moved on to shooting next. Harry started as the Keeper, so as not to make it too hard. He
wanted to see which of them could actually put the Quaffle through the hoop, let alone past a real
Keeper. As predicted, Colin was horrible, missing several shots completely and having most blocked
by Harry. Ward, however, was amazing. Harry reflected that Ron had been modest about how good she
was, to say nothing of herself. She had pinpoint accuracy, and excellent moves.

Harry told them all to take a break. He scanned the stands again. Hermione was still there. He
flew over to her. She didn’t look up at first. He hovered there for a moment, and she finally set
her book down. “What is it, Harry?” she asked, sighing heavily and flicking a strand of hair out of
her eyes.

Harry’s stomach seized up for a moment when she did that. Then he found his voice. “Quiet up
here, isn’t it?” Great observation, Sherlock, he thought.

“Mmm-hmm.”

Harry searched for words. “Er, Ron and I have been worried about you lately. You never seem to
be around. Anything wrong, anything I can help you with?”

He didn’t see the begging in her eyes. *Yes, Harry, you can tell me you love me like I love
you*, she thought for a moment. “No, I, erm, I just needed some time to myself. I’m sorry I’ve
been neglecting you. I’ll try to be around more.” With that, she picked up her book again. Harry
could tell she was ignoring him. He stared at her a moment more, a certain bleakness filling his
heart, then flew back to the pitch.

Before they could get started, though, he saw a red-headed figure running towards him. It was
Ron. He gasped at Harry, clearly out of breath. “Harry! You’ve got to come quick!”

“What? What’s happened?”

“It’s You-Know-Who! He’s attacking the Ministry!”

Harry’s eyes hardened. He stepped onto the turf and ran after Ron calling, “Luis, get everything
cleaned up. I’ve got to go!” He followed Ron up to the castle. He was met in the Great Hall by
Professor Dumbledore. They had a real-time report happening, shown from a floating ghostly image in
the center of the Hall.

“…The Death Eaters Apparated in just after. There has been virtually no resistance from the
Ministry. As for the situation inside, there was only that garbled message of a trick before all
communication was lost. Members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad are on their way.” The witch
on the screen peered over the boxes she was hiding behind. “There appear to be about fifteen Death
Eaters. Strangely enough, they are not advancing.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore. “Sir, what happened? What do they mean a message about a trick?”

Dumbledore looked grave, and his light blue eyes were full of steel. “There was a communication
that Voldemort had tricked them somehow, but after that there has been nothing. I fear some kind of
weapon has been unleashed in the Ministry itself.” He turned to McGonagall. “I’ve summoned the
members of the Order. As soon as the Death Eaters leave, we’re heading in to try and see what can
be done, and what happened.”

Harry and Ron stepped up. “We’d like to go too, sir.”

Birmingham, who was there—Snape was curiously absent—fixed them with an intense stare. “Are you
mad? They could attack again at any moment once they leave. It would be just the opportunity
Voldemort needs to finish you off, Potter.” One part of Harry’s mind reflected that Birmingham had
said Voldemort. He couldn’t remember him mentioning the Dark Lord before, though, so who knew?

Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment. “No, I do not think they will be back. By then, there
will be too many trained wizards there…plus they will have done all the damage they need to.”
Birmingham scowled, but acknowledged Dumbledore’s authority in this matter.

There was a small gasp from behind Harry. He turned. Hermione stood there, books clutched to her
chest, eyes scanning the screen. Harry fixed with a gaze for a moment, but she didn’t look at him,
so he turned back to Dumbledore. “I’m going to get my Sword. It might be useful. Neville should
come too. And Ron…” He hesitated. “Yeah.”

Dumbledore inspected him a moment. “And what about Miss Granger?”

Harry squirmed a moment under Dumbledore’s gaze. “Well, er, I’m not sure what use Wayfinder
could do there,” he lied.

Dumbledore continued to look at him. “I see. Come with me for a moment, Harry.” He led Harry off
to a more secluded area of the room. “Now, tell me, what is the real reason you do not wish Miss
Granger to accompany you?”

Harry sighed. He should’ve know there’d be no use hiding the truth from Dumbledore. “Well,
she’s…upset with Ron and me for some reason. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I just
thought it’d be better if she didn’t come.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “I understand, Harry. But we must leave the decision up to her.”

Harry looked down. He was being stupid, and he knew it. He nodded. He went back to observe with
the others while Dumbledore conversed quickly with Hermione. Harry watched out of the corner of his
eyes, and she seemed to be reluctant. Eventually, he saw Dumbeldore nod, and turn away. “Er, is she
coming?” he asked hesitantly when Dumbledore returned. Dumbledore shook his head, and that was
that.

“It seems the attack is over, Harry. Get your Swords and meet me back here.” Ron and Harry ran
up and grabbed their magical weapons, grabbing Neville along the way. They returned, and trailed
Dumbledore, Birmingham, and Flitwick over to a fireplace. “I will go first,” said Dumbledore. He
picked up some Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace.

They all arrived to find a mess before them. There were several members of the Department of
Magical Law Enforcement milling about, and Harry saw several others coming towards him. It was
Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, and Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius was absent. Made sense, though, with all
these Ministry officials about, one slip and he’d be finished.

A Ministry official noticed them and strode over. “Albus Dumbledore. Didn’t expect to see you
here.”

Dumbledore smiled without his usual humor. “Yes, well, I decided that this situation was
slightly more important than the school at this time. Can you tell me what has happened?”

The official pointed to the Ministry building. “There’s been severe damage to the outside of the
structure. So far, no one’s come out. We can’t see why. There appears to be no obstructions for the
exits.”

“Could it have something to do with the trick Voldemort played on them?” asked Harry
impetuously, causing a cringe in most of those about him. He stared into the building. He couldn’t
see any external damage, but wasn’t an expert. He’d have to trust what he was told for now.

“Well, we don’t know. We have no idea what kind of weapon was used.”

Dumbeldore nodded sagely. “I would like to inspect the building a bit closer in, if I may.”

“Well, if it was anyone else…OK.”

Dumbledore walked slowly towards the building. However, as he got within fifty feet of it, he
slowed suddenly, and almost stumbled. He slowly stood, and retreated. He returned to where the rest
stood. “Allow no one to approach the building. I have an idea about what is in there.”

The official looked at the building. “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore sighed, and it seemed somehow to take all his strength. Harry stared into his face,
as white and drawn as he had ever seen it. “There is a powerful weapon in there, one that no human
on this planet can resist. It will rid your mind of its will.” He turned back to the building.
“Until it can be removed, no one must approach it.”

“But, are the people still alive?”

“Not for long they won’t be. They won’t eat, drink, sleep, do anything at all. Eventually,
they’ll die.”

Harry looked in as the Ministry official departed. “There’s a Sword in there. They’ll starve…”
He thought back. *But many left to starve*… “Soulcutter. Soulcutter’s in there. So that’s the
Sword that Voldemort got.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry. “It would appear that way, Harry. There’s little more that we can do
here. We should return to Hogwarts.” With that, they trudged back to the fireplace to return to the
school, more dejected than when they had left. There was nothing to do here. There was only one
chilling thought that was left with them. The Swords overrode all magic they could perform…even
that by Professor Dumbledore.

A/N: Thanks again to all who reviewed the previous chapter: yurimionepotter, Hallie, padawn
leia, lordanhur, Joyce, Brandie, Batgirl, kinicky21, Catark, Nappa, and HermioneGranger 4 ever.

Yurimionepotter: She could’ve asked that, but that would take away the mystery, wouldn’t it?

Hallie: Don’t worry, Chapter 6 is the big action chapter thus far.

Joyce: I know, I liked that bit with Wayfinder. Hermione does worry too much. But it’ll all turn
out OK.

Brandie: Good that I managed the girl talk thing OK. I wasn’t sure how that’d go over. It’s hard
for guys to do this stuff.

Batgirl: All in good time, all in good time. Muahahaha!



7. Chapter 6: Know Thy Own Heart
--------------------------------

Disclaimer: OK, you know the drill. JKR owns Harry Potter and associates. Fred Saberhagen owns
the Swords. I only own some bit characters that show up at random intervals. A/N: This chapter is
the first heavy-duty action one. It gets fairly violent, so be warned. CHAPTER SIX: KNOW THY OWN
HEART

The next few days passed by like a blur. Harry felt in a way that he too had been ensnared by
the awful power of Soulcutter. His classes seemed insignificant. The only positive thing about
Soulcutter being at the Ministry is that Voldemort couldn’t get it either, lest he be overwhelmed
by its powers. However, that, too seemed insignificant. Hermione, despite her promise, still
avoided himself and Ron. She seemed totally wrapped up by her studies and would not be bothered by
anyone. He just needed some way to get through to her, to understand what it was that was bothering
her so much. It wasn’t like her to abandon her friends this way.

Harry sat in the Great Hall pondering this debacle, when he noticed something. Ginny was sitting
not far from him. His eyes narrowed. Of course, why hadn’t he suspected before. Hermione must have
told Ginny, she trusted her like she did Harry and Ron, and if it was about the boys, why of course
she’d tell a girl. Harry stood and walked over to Ginny.

“Oh, hi Harry,” she smiled when she noticed him.

“Take a walk with me?” he asked, forcing a pleasant smile onto his face.

She looked suspicious for one moment, but then it evaporated and she stood. They headed out to
the lake and strode slowly. Harry took a deep breath. Might as well go for the direct approach.

“What’s going on with Hermione, Ginny? And don’t tell me you don’t know.”

He fixed Ginny with an intense gaze. She stood solidly and looked right back into his eyes. She
wouldn’t be intimidated into giving up what Hermione had told her. That had been confidential. “I
can’t tell you that, Harry, if she won’t tell you herself.”

“Look, Ginny,” he said, “I want to know what’s bothering her. We’d always been able to talk
before, and now I don’t even know what’s bugging her. You know something, Ginny. Please, for the
love of Merlin, you’ve got to tell me!”

Ginny suddenly looked angry. “If you don’t know, Harry Potter, I’m not telling you. It’s so
bloody obvious that you must be a blockhead if you don’t know!”

Harry was very confused. He had no idea what Ginny was talking about…until…*Does Hermione know
that I love her? Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it? She doesn’t want that, so she’s avoiding me. Oh
God, what the hell am I supposed to do?* He looked at Ginny. “Er, well, is this about…er…the
state of our relationship?” he finished very fast.

Ginny looked at him. Now it was her turn to be confused. *How could he know that? Maybe he’s
more intuitive than I thought*. “Well…er, yes. So I think you should go and, er, discuss your
feelings with her.”

Harry nodded. “OK then. Thanks, Ginny. You’re a lifesaver.” He ran off for the castle. He headed
up to the common room. He saw Hermione sitting there on a chair, studying. He prepared himself to
go and talk to her, when he heard a soft pounding noise. It was coming from his dorm. Everyone
looked around with puzzlement. But Harry knew what it meant. Every time he’d been in danger, in
imminent battle it had done this. Something was coming.

He ran up to his dorm. The pounding grew in his ears. Ron was up there also. Harry felt Hermione
behind him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s the Swords. Danger’s coming. Ron, get your Sword out. Hermione, find Neville.” Harry
opened his trunk, and his Sword flew into his hands. He rushed down the stairs, the steel glinting
harshly in the light. People gawked at him as he ran to the portrait hole. He reached the Great
Hall faster than he had thought possible. The Sword still thrummed in his hands. Professor
Dumbledore arrived.

“What’s going on, Harry? Why do you…”

“The Sword. It tells me when there’s danger coming. I think Voldemort’s going to attack
Hogwarts!”

At this, Ron came rushing in, his Sword now wailing in his hands. Hermione had brought down
Neville, as well. Dumbledore nodded. The rest of the Professors had arrived now.

Hermione looked to her Sword. “Where are Voldemort’s forces?”

The Sword spun her towards the end of the Great Hall. She led them forward. The party exited the
castle, to see a group swarming at the base of the cliffs. They were clearly Death Eaters. Harry
wondered for an instant how they could have found the castle. But then he reflected that Hermione
never said it was impossible to find.

“Get the students back inside,” roared Dumbldore. McGonagall started to lead Hermione, Neville,
Ron, and Harry back in. “No. They are staying. We will need the powers of their Swords.”

The Death Eaters advanced. They stood, then a hundred feet away, then, they fired curses. The
first few were blocked by the staff. Neville was untouched, but Harry somehow caught them on the
blade and dissipated them.

Harry, suddenly possessed, charged.

One Death Eater noticed him, and spun. “*Avada* *Kedavra*!”

“Harry!” screamed Hermione.

With a pounding note, and a blinding flick, the Sword in his hands broke the spell against its
edge. The green light of the unblockable, unstoppable Killing Curse was slashed into non-existence
somehow. The Death Eater stood, stunned. At that moment, the staff and students felt a rush of
cold. Dementors swarmed in to aid Voldemort’s forces. A group surrounded Harry. Strangely, he was
completely unaffected. One reached for him. In an instant, there was a dull thud, and the Sword
swung with blinding speed, slashing the outstretched arm. It moved of its own volition, almost
dislocating Harry’s arm with its unexpected violence. Another rushed in, but the Sword worked on,
slashing with a blinding arc. More curses were sent against Harry, yet nothing could reach him. The
Sword somehow protected him, with speed, strength and skill beyond his own.

He risked a glance at Ron, who was engaged with some trolls. His Sword was screaming a mill saw
wail, and it seemed to be drawing the air around it in, looking like the oxygen was burning. It
sliced through their clubs, armor and flesh without distinction. Ron looked absolutely terrified,
and seemed to not be in control of his own movements. Worse still, he was clearly wounded, though
much of the blood soaking his robes was off-color, and doubtless from the trolls he was carving up.
Yet despite everything, his movements continued forcefully, fueled by the extraordinary magic of
his Sword. Neville was doing his best, but he wasn’t much of a fighter. Nonetheless, his Sword
protected him against all.

“Enough,” hissed a voice that Harry recognized as Voldemort’s. He reached for his belt, and
began to draw a Sword.

*Impossible!* thought Harry, *He couldn’t have recovered Soulcutter*.

The Sword was drawn, and instantly, something happened. The Dark Forces suddenly fought even
harder. What he saw next was even worse. The teachers had turned against the school. They charged
the doors, maddened looks in their eyes. Ron now sagged to the ground. Neville seemed to be
fighting some inner war. Hermione was trying to hack up Professor Dumbledore, but he disarmed her
easily; the Sword was too heavy for her. Harry couldn’t believe it. He put the enemies surrounding
him down, slashing up their bodies. There was a sound like unholy screaming as each Dementor dies,
and with some streams of gray foggish light burst from them. The souls they had sucked, Harry
reasoned. Still emblazoned with the power of his weapon, he headed for Voldemort.

“Voldemort! What have you done?” he screamed.

The Dark Lord spun to face him. “Harry Potter? Not affected by my weapon? Curious. Perhaps you
are more powerful than I thought. No matter, your friends will all bow before me now.”

*And men and demons knelt down before…* “You have the Mindsword.”

Voldemort smiled maliciously. “Is that what this wonderful item is called? I know it twists men
to my will. And I shall kill you with it, Harry Potter. The last chapter in your family will be
closed for good. And even your sweet Mudblood girlfriend will bow before me.”

Blood pounded in Harry’s ears. He wouldn’t let him get Hermione. “No, she won’t. I’ll stop
you.”

Voldemort sneered. “And how do you plan to do that?” He swung his weapon at Harry. Harry went to
block, but the blade was suddenly coming from the other direction. He knew that this was it, and he
was going to die. But the blade in his hands would have none of that. It swung back around, and the
pounding grew to a crescendo. The blades struck…

There was a titanic smash, and a blast like lightning, and Voldemort’s blade exploded in a hail
of shards, none of which hurt Harry. Voldemort howled in pain, and the effects of the Mindsword
began to cease.

“Argh. Flee!” screamed Voldemort, and he leapt away before Harry could finish him. He turned to
Dumbledore, who was stunning the remaining teachers along with Ron and Hermione. They were all
sprawled on the ground. Ron appeared to be wounded. Dumbledore turned raggedly to face Harry, his
face drawn and looking far more pale and old than Harry had ever seen him.

“Professor? Are you alright?”

Dumbledore waved a hand at Harry, but even this seemed to take all his energy. “I’ll be fine in
a few moments, Harry. The psychic pressure…it was almost unbearable.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore. This man was the most powerful wizard he knew, maybe even the most
powerful he knew of, and the pressure was almost too great for him? “What do you mean, Professor? I
know that was the Mindsword…”

“Is that it then? It would make sense. You could not hear it, Harry. Somehow, I’m not sure why.
But I heard. I heard it screaming in my mind, demanding my obedience to Voldemort. And they heard
it too. And they did not manage to resist.”

Harry looked at the teachers, and his friends. Neville was on the ground in a fetal position,
rocking himself back and forth. He seemed to be the only conscious one. The rest…All the teachers
had succumbed. So had Ron and Hermione. But he hadn’t even felt a thing. “But, how did you resist?
Soulcutter…”

“Soulcutter was different, Harry. It’s effects strike the mind in a different manner which makes
it more difficult to resist. The Mindsword can be fought…for a time. However, I see that it has
been destroyed…” Dumbledore paused. “You shattered his Sword, Harry. Do you know what that
means?”

Shattered sword? Why did that seem so familiar? He thought back…And there it was. *I shatter
swords and splinter spears, none stands to…* “Shieldbreaker! I have Shieldbreaker, not
Stonecutter like we thought. But…none stands to it…There is no defense against Shieldbreaker. All
weapons are rendered useless by it…”

Dumbledore nodded. “Even another Sword I would suspect. That is why you were not affected.
Shieldbreaker protected you.”

Harry looked again at his friends. “But the rest…Will they get better?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “Alas, I do not know whether the Mindsword’s effect will be permanent
or temporary. But there is one thing that you could do. You will have to prepare greatly, Harry, as
it will be a very difficult task.”

Harry took one look at Hermione. The thought of her being a loyal servant to Voldemort
forever…He thought he might retch. “What must I do?”

“You, Harry, you and Neville must take Wayfinder again. And you must use it to find Woundhealer.
If I am right, it alone can cure them of the Mindsword’s touch.”

Harry nodded and went to collect Neville. He was still sprawled on the ground. “Neville, you
OK?” Neville started and looked up at Harry. He was pale and his eyes held a shock Harry had never
seen before.

“I…I could hear it in my mind. You-Know-Who’s Sword. It was screaming, like a thousand tortured
souls, demanding my allegiance, demanding that I follow him. But, I didn’t want to. I couldn’t…”
His voice trailed off as his eyes stared at something only he could see. He slowly and shakily
stood. Harry helped lead him back to the castle as Dumbledore moved the teachers along with
Hermione and Ron.

They burst into the castle entryway, and found the corridor lined with students, who had heard
the sounds of battle outside. There was a collective gasp as the three burst in, with everyone else
unconscious. Madame Pomfrey, who had not joined in the defense, came forward quickly to assist
Professor Dumbledore. “We must get these people to—”

Dumbledore cut her off. “I’m afraid there’s very little that you can do, Madame Pomfrey. They
have been afflicted with magic beyond even your abilities to heal. Mr. Weasley will need some
attention, for I fear he is losing blood rapidly. Come, I am afraid they all must be locked in the
dungeons for now.”

Harry was in his dormitory, rapidly trying to pack all that he would need on his journey.
Neville was in the Hospital Wing while Madame Pomfrey made sure he was fine. Harry was so focused
in on what he was doing, he didn’t hear the door open.

“Harry.”

He spun, startled. Ginny stood in the doorframe. She had a sad look upon her face which spoke
volumes for what she was feeling. Ron’s wounds had been tended to, but he was still very weak. He
remained unconscious like the rest. There was no telling what he would do when he awoke. “What are
you doing here? I have a lot of work to do,” said Harry, far more harshly than he had intended, his
voice ragged. He struggled to contain what he was feeling. “I’m sorry. Is there something I can
do?”

Ginny just looked at him for a moment. “I think you should sit down, Harry.”

“I can’t, I have too much to do before I go.”

“This is more important. We need to talk about your feelings.”

Harry cut her off with a savage wave. “What I’m feeling isn’t important! That I get these people
help is!”

Ginny stood and took his verbal abuse silently. “What you feel *is* important, Harry.
Because I think I know why you are so worked up about this. It’s not because you feel it’s your
responsibility as a Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. It’s because of what you’re feeling. Everyone
can see it. You’re troubled.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, then sighed heavily. “Ginny, I…” His voice broke off, and he
looked away. “Voldemort, in control of them. My friends. I can’t stand it! I have to help them. I’m
the only one who can.”

On sudden inspiration, he grabbed her wrist and led her away. “Come on, I’ll show you
something.” They trudged down to the dungeon. All of the prisoners’ wands had been taken away, and
Dumbledore had personally sealed every cell. Harry took Ginny to the cells holding Ron and
Hermione, which were next to each other. “You see this? I saw my friends following the wishes of
Voldemort. I saw Hermione try to hack Professor Dumbledore to pieces. I saw Ron trying to crawl
forward to attack, despite his injuries. I don’t want to see them like that again.” In his mind, he
could still see them, doing what he thought was impossible. He had never felt rage like he had
then, rage directed at Voldemort and wishing, desperately praying for his death.

Hermione stirred just then. Ginny held her breath. They had no idea how long the effects of the
Mindsword would last. Hermione slowly rose. She looked about, as if confused. Then she saw
Harry.

“Hermione,” he began, “are you—”

She snarled and leapt at him as soon as he approached. Her hands desperately reached for his
neck. “Kill you! I’ll kill you! Oh, My Lord, my Master, give me the strength to kill him!” She
screamed in frustration and gripped the bars, trying to break them away. “Kill you!” she howled
again.

Harry backed away, stunned. This is what the Mindsword had done to his friend. He couldn’t bear
it. He pulled out his wand. “*Stupefy.*” He Stunned her, and she slumped to the floor. Then
Harry dropped his wand and slid slowly to the ground. He placed his head in his hands.

“Harry, are you OK?” Ginny bent down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hermione,” he moaned. “Why?”

Ginny glanced about. There was no one else present. “Harry, it’ll be fine.”

He looked up at her. His eyes were brimming with tears. He wiped them away with his sleeve.
“You’re right, it will. Because I will make it better. I’ll save her. I’ll save her.” He stood.

Ginny looked after him. “You love her, don’t you?”

Harry stopped, and his body tensed suddenly. He turned slowly. “How did you know?” His emerald
eyes bored into hers. It was as if she could see through her now, not just her through him.

She staggered for a moment under the weight of his intense gaze. “Everyone can sense it now,
Harry. Likely the only one who didn’t know was Hermione herself. Everyone can tell you have
feelings for her.”

“Of course I do! She’s my friend,” he snapped. He didn’t want to talk about this, not now. He
wanted to bear his pain in silence and in secret. It was his, not the world’s.

Her face darkened, her countenance suddenly fierce and lacking that innocence that had been
there only a moment before. “Don’t you tell me that like I’m an idiot, Harry, because that is a
complete lie. You love her, not just as a friend, but as a woman. Don’t gape at me like that,” she
barked firmly, “You know that she’s a *woman*, now, not just some little girl with a lot of
hair. She’s a woman, and you love her. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

Harry tried to stare her down, but suddenly found he could not; her eyes had borne an force and
strength he had never seen in her before. His gaze lowered and his shoulders, so resolute a moment
before, drooped. “You’re right, Ginny. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t say it. Because to do that would
be to throw away everything I have. She’s the only girl who’s ever mattered to me. I couldn’t just
throw away my friendship with her because of something so silly as—”

Ginny interrupted him again. “There is nothing silly about love. Love is the strongest force in
this world Harry. Love can bring down mountains, topple governments, and bring two people together
from across a world. Love conquers all and unifies all. Don’t tell me love is silly. You should
know how powerful love is. It saved your life.” She pointed at his scar.

Harry clutched his forehead for a moment, fingers tracing the scar that was a reminder everyday
that his parents died for him. “How did you know?”

“I’m not exactly an idiot, Harry. I figured it out for myself. Love *is* magic, and they
work the same. The more you give, the more you get. Two people bringing themselves together are
stronger than they each could ever be apart.”

Harry glanced at her quizzically. “Since when were you so wise?” He remembered suddenly that he
had been asked the same thing by Ron only a month ago. He burst with laughter. Ginny inspected him
for a moment, before a grin began to upturn the corners of her mouth as well. “What is it, Harry?
What’s so funny all of the sudden?”

He calmed down a bit. “Nothing, Ginny. Nothing at all.” He looked at her again, his face more
alive than it had been the past day. “I’m going to save her. I will save her. Because I love
her.”

Ginny looked at his retreating back. “I know you will, Harry. And nothing is going to stop you;
love conquers all.”

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I love getting reviews, can’t get enough
of them. Anyhow, thanks to: Takeda Lee, Hallie, Brandie, Misstake, Batgirl, kinicky21,
yurimionepotter, AnimeFanatic, padawan leia, HermioneGranger 4 ever, and last, but definitely
nowhere near least, SamanthaMarie.

Questions…

Hallie: I know, I’m sorry…I’ll work on Chapter 8 this weekend, I promise…

Misstake: Muahahahahaha! If you hate my cliffies, you’ll hate this chapter even more!

Batgirl: Only certain Swords do that… You could summon one I suppose… But that would be no fun…
Plus you wouldn’t want a drawn Soulcutter anywhere near you…

Yurimionepotter: Well, the Swords all work their magic in different ways, as I’m sure you can
see… 3 on 1 doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Which Sword does. Hermione… She’s not sure what
she’s feeling right now. Understandable. Other Swords…Maybe… Quidditch, I dunno. At this point, I
don’t think so, but I might just sneak some in if I can. I like writing Quidditch scenes. Harry is
being dense. He’ll come around. Mr. Weasley in the Ministry… Probably.

AnimeFanatic: They are each immensely strong in their own way.

Padawan leia: *sigh* Unfortunately there won’t be real H/Hr for another little bit. Sorry.

HermioneGranger 4 ever: All in good time.

Sammie: I know you didn’t ask anything, but hey. I will most definitely try to do my best. I got
some great stuff planned for late I think you’ll really like!



8. Chapter 7:  Woundhealer
--------------------------

Disclaimer: You should have it down by now. JKR owns Harry Potter and Company. Fred Saberhagen
owns the Swords. Whatever characters which have virtually no bearing on the plot and appear only
randomly are mine.

**CHAPTER SEVEN:** **WOUNDHEALER**

It was next day when Harry and Neville departed. Wayfinder had directed them south, so that was
the direction they were heading. However, even with two Firebolts, as Taylor had again agreed to
let Neville borrow hers, they would only be able to cover limited ground before dark. Using a
broomstick as a traveling device for such a distance drew fatigue which Harry had never imagined.
The weight of carrying two Swords, one always held out, was also taxing. Neville worried Harry,
though, more than the travel. He had a haunted look in his eyes that he had never seen before. It
was like a mixture of the white-knuckled terror he had displayed after Barty Crouch in the guise of
Alastor Moody had shown them the Cruciatus Curse, and a deep despair that was commonly on his face
when he had failed at some endeavor. Harry knew that Neville, despite everything, still wanted to
impress everyone and live up to his family’s expectations. Living up to the expectations of parents
who would never know him was something Harry was familiar with all too well.

It was growing dark about three hours into their journey. With the days growing shorter and the
time of their departure, Harry had expected no less. Tomorrow would be grueling, he suspected. He
couldn’t count on Woundhealer—the other name for the Sword of Mercy Dumbledore had used—to be in
Britain. That so many of them had been in England thus far was nothing short of amazing. However,
with Townsaver being found in Egypt…Harry didn’t even want to think of traveling that far by
broomstick, to say nothing of the dangers of being spotter inherent in such a journey. The two of
them set down in a small clearing in the woods. Harry lit a small fire, and they set up camp.
Dumbledore had provided them with magically condensed food and sleeping bags, so they could hold
all they needed in their pockets.

Harry sat thinking to himself about all that had occurred in the past month. That it had all
happened in that length of time astounded him. He glanced up at Neville, who was staring into the
fire, fingering Coinspinner all the while.

Harry frowned. “Neville, do you ever let that Sword out of your sight? I mean…You always have it
with you.”

Neville started for a moment, as if he hadn’t quite heard Harry. “Oh, well I…” His voice trailed
off for a moment. “Well, do you remember exactly what it said about Coinspinner in the *Song of
Swords*?”

Harry thought for a moment. He couldn’t quite recall everything. “No, Neville, I don’t. I mean,
it gives you great luck, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes. But it’s all dependent on the flip of a coin, you see? Coinspinner could leave me at
any moment, somehow. It said that it would ‘slip from him like a snake.’ Somehow, it’ll leave me
eventually. I don’t want that to happen.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Well, yes, I can see that. Who would *want* their Sword to
leave them, unless of course they had Soulcutter maybe. But really, Neville, in the end, it’s only
a Sword. It’s a piece of metal that, yes,” he said, waving a hand upon seeing Neville’s look of
umbrage, “it has amazing powers. But that’s just it. It has power we can’t override. If it leaves
you, it’ll do that.” Harry sighed and stood for a moment, looking up at the night sky, stars
shimmering in the dark. “Hagrid once told me something, Neville. ‘What’s coming will come, and
we’ll face it when it does.’ That’s all we can do, Neville.”

Neville looked up at him, his face looking hollow. “No, Harry. Maybe for you. You’ve always been
a good, even great wizard. You can do things I could never do. This,” he said, hefting Coinspinner,
“this is the only thing that’s making it so I can come with you on these quests now. Coinspinner’s
powers, not mine. Without them, I’d be a mindless worshipper of You-Know-Who like the rest of
them…” He stopped suddenly then.

Harry had rounded on him, pure fury raging in his eyes. There was something etched in every line
of his face that spelled murder. Suddenly, Shieldbreaker began beating its drum, the dull pounding
echoing in the intense night.

Neville quaked beneath Harry’s gaze. “I’m…s-s-sorry, Harry. I wasn’t thinking. You know I didn’t
mean…”

Harry’s dark expression lightened a fraction. “I know Neville. But that doesn’t take the pain
away.” He sank to the ground, his thought miles away resting on a brown haired girl. “You didn’t
see the way they were. Hermione, she…” His voice cracked, and his body seemed to fold in on itself.
Shieldbreaker’s beat ceased. “She…was shouting out prayers to Voldermort, asking him to give her
the strength to…to kill me.” He looked up, his eyes boring into Neville’s. “I don’t ever want to
see her like that again. Or Ron that way. Or anyone. I have to save them, Neville. And I’ll do
anything to save them. Anything.”

Neville looked at Harry. Harry really *was* special, despite everything he tried to say.
Neville didn’t think there could possibly be many wizards as determined and brave as Harry
Potter.

The next day, the sun was bright in the sky, and the heat from its rays beat down on their
backs. After a few hours of travel, the heat, combined with the terrible concentration required to
fly a broom over the country while actually scanning the terrain below, forced them to take a
break. They landed in a small field, which was thankfully concealed from the surrounding area.
Neville groaned, stretching and massaging his muscles. He then noticed that Coinspinner was
quivering slightly. It pointed out to his right.

“Harry, I think someone’s coming!”

Harry stood quickly, and drew Shieldbreaker. Strangely, its pounding did not begin. This could
mean only that the approaching person as yet meant them no harm. Harry frowned. He could see the
outline of a man walking towards them from the edge of the field. He appeared to be wearing
robes.

“I think he’s a wizard.”

Neville squinted slightly. “Yeah, it does look that way.” He lowered Coinspinner, but did not
sheath it. Harry likewise, lowered Shieldbreaker.

The figure approached faster now, and Harry could see that they had pale blond hair. He squinted
his eyes, trying to make out the figure. A shock of realization hit him. “No…”

“Surprised to see me, Potter?” It was Draco Malfoy. He stood there with a smug look on his face,
carrying a broomstick in his right hand. Harry recalled that he hadn’t been present in the Great
Hall watching news of the attack on the Ministry.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry asked, trying not to sound too poisonous. He hated
Malfoy, but there was no reason to suspect anything…yet.

“Why, I’m here to help you, Harry,” he answered, with mock surprise. “As you can see, I have my
own equipment. When I heard what had happened, I knew I had to help you find Woundhealer.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He doubted Malfoy’s word, but he had no evidence this was not the truth.
Then he saw it. A black sheath belted at Malfoy’s side.

“What’s that, Malfoy?” he demanded.

Malfoy looked smug. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to notice, Potter.” He set down his
broom and drew the sparkling blade. As Harry had suspected, it was one of the Swords. He inspected
it as close as he could. He couldn’t see a symbol, but they were only on one side. Had Malfoy drawn
Soulcutter, the only Sword with no symbol…Well, they’d all be collapsing with apathy. Except for
Harry. However, seeing as how to the best of his knowledge, Soulcutter was still at the Ministry,
and Malfoy and Neville were showing no ill effects, it must be one of the others.

“Which one is that, then?” Harry asked, managing somehow to keep his voice calm. Neville looked
suspicious. Harry surreptitiously waved a nugatory to him.

Malfoy grinned sickeningly. “Why, Potter, you haven’t figured it out, yet? It’s Doomgiver, Sword
of Justice.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at that thought. Doomgiver…Which gave “eye for and eye” justice…What could
that mean? Would everything he did to the person who held Doomgiver be also done to him? Or
something more heinous than that? Either way, it was the only weapon Harry feared might be
effective against Shieldbreaker. He had to tread cautiously.

“OK, Malfoy, you can come,” Harry said grudgingly, “But I’ll be watching you. One toe out of
line…”

Malfoy held his hands in defense. “Whoa, calm down there, Potter. I’m only here to help. I want
those people to be cured as much as you.” He sheathed his Sword and sat down. “So, what’s out next
move?”

Neville glared at Malfoy. He hadn’t forgotten about the constant taunting Malfoy had delivered
to him, apparently. Not that Harry faulted him. Neville had suffered much over the years, not all
of which was known to the rest of the Hogwarts population.

“Our next move is to rest. Neville and I have been traveling for a long time. But we will find
Woundhealer.”

“How can you be so sure?” pressed Malfoy.

Harry, still suspicious said only, “We have our ways.” He didn’t dare let his gaze drift to
Wayfinder. Bad enough that Malfoy probably knew about the swords possessed by Harry and Neville. He
didn’t want him knowing about the precious bounty they carried. Harry had no doubts, that with the
powers of and one of these Swords, a single person could command great power.

Later that day, the now trio took off again, still heading south. The fact that they had not
been spotted, traveling by day, could probably only be accounted to the luck Coinspinner granted
Neville. Wayfinder still lead the way. Harry knew Malfoy would become suspicious, and probably had
found the *Song of Swords* himself. He would figure out that they had Wayfinder as well.

They had traveled for what seemed like hours, with the sun directly overhead beating down on
their necks and backs. Holding out Wayfinder at intervals to determine their path further tired
Harry. They needed to rest.

Discovering a good secluded wood to temporarily set down, they broke out the rations.
Fortunately, it did seem that Malfoy had come prepared with his own supplies; Harry and Neville
would not have to share. Their quick meal was virtually silent, and Malfoy sat on an opposite side
of the clearing from Harry and Neville. The distrust in all of them was abundantly clear.

Still, they journeyed on together. It never crossed Harry’s mind to try and lose Malfoy. For all
he knew, Doomgiver could prevent that. So he could only tolerate his presence. As they traveled on,
the countryside became more dotted with cities and populated areas. Harry turned to Neville.

“We’re getting closer to the south of the island. I hope we find it soon or else we’ll have no
place to hide!”

Neville nodded. Suddenly, though, the point of Wayfinder pointed straight down. Harry hauled his
broom to a stop. “It’s right below us,” he cried, “follow me down.” Harry took off in a slow dive,
following Wayfinder’s directions all the way down. After a few moments of descent, he arrived at a
small wood outside a town. There was a run-down looking small house sitting there. The trio
landed.

They all dismounted their brooms and approached the house. Neville, Harry noticed, had drawn
Coinspinner. Malfoy had his wand out, with his fingers on Doomgiver’s hilt. Harry still held
Wayfinder in front of him.

Quite suddenly, the doors burst open, a robed man stepping out, holding a wand. He had
prematurely gray hair, and a young face. Harry almost dropped Wayfinder.

“Professor Lupin?” he gasped. It indeed was ex-Professor Remus Lupin. He looked slightly more
haggard then when Harry had seen him last at the Ministry, but it definitely was him. Harry had no
idea he lived in this area…Then again he had no idea where they were.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” He looked around at the three of them. “And why are they with
you? What’s happened?”

“Perhaps we’d better come inside and explain, Professor.” Lupin nodded and ushered them inside.
They all walked slowly in, and Harry glanced about.

He wasn’t sure what to expect in Lupin’s house, but it resembled the way his office had been. A
little messy, with a few Dark Creature cages about. There was a fire in the fireplace, despite the
warm day. Harry had learned this was not so unusual in the Wizarding World. He did notice a large
black dog sitting on the couch. He smiled.

They all sat around a small table. Harry unbelted his weapons, placing them next to Sirius. He
was relieved to be able to get their weight off him. Neville and Malfoy, however, remained armed.
Harry pretended not to care.

Lupin set tea in front of all of them before sitting himself. “So, what is it that brings you to
my doorstep?” He seemed completely calm.

Harry cleared his throat and began to speak. “Professor, a few days ago, Voldemort launched an
attack on Hogwarts. He possessed a very special weapon. Not unlike Soulcutter. I assume Professor
Dumbeldore has filled you in on the essentials?” Lupin nodded, and Harry continued. “The Mindsword
was what Voldemort carried into his attack. It causes people…Every living being to be under the
control of the one who carries it. And now, most of the staff, plus…” His voice trailed off. It was
still painful. Every time he thought of Hermione, screaming her animalistic rage at him, he cringed
and felt an emptiness. “Plus Ron and Hermione, are under his control. I saw Hermione under it’s
influence. She…she was rabid. She wanted to kill me. She called out to Voldemort for strength. And
now…We have to save them. There’s one Sword, called Woundhealer. It can heal any wound. We need
it.” Harry looked at Lupin, who was gazing at Harry intensely.

“I see Harry. Well, it’s getting late now. I suggest that you and your comrades get some food an
rest.”

“But, Professor!” protested Harry. “Woundhealer is here somewhere. I know, Wayfinder led me
here!” He realized suddenly that he had revealed the existence of that Sword to Malfoy. He decided
he didn’t really care.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. “Well, Harry, we’ll deal with that later. Now, get some rest. You’ve
earned it.”

Later that night, Neville approached Harry while they were all supposed to be sleeping. “Harry,”
he whispered, “I don’t like this. The Sword has to be here, right?”

Harry thought for a moment. He supposed that Wayfinder didn’t necessarily have to lead them to
their target, perhaps only to what could help them. It did, after all, “lighten loads.” “Well,
maybe Neville. Maybe not. It all depends on whether or not we have everything we need to complete
this task.”

Neville stared at him. “Harry, we have *three* Swords. That should be power enough! Power
enough for anything.”

Harry felt that Neville was probably right. But he might not be. Who really knew? Only the
Swords, he guessed. He suddenly spotted someone moving. A small light flared on. It was Lupin.

“Harry, you should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Harry nodded. “I know, Professor,” he tried to make an excuse, “but it’s so bright; it’s a
full…” His voice trailed off. It was a full moon. Yet Lupin stood before him, normal as you please.
It seemed impossible. There was no cure for werewolfism that he knew of that could cure someone at
Lupin’s stage. Nothing except…

“You *do* have Woundhealer.”

Lupin stared at him a moment, then nodded. “I didn’t know what it was at first. However,
Snuffles accidentally nicked himself with it once, and suddenly, the pain from a sprained wrist he
had disappeared. And it left no wound. He then experimented, cutting himself lightly at certain
points, trying to heal all of his aches and pains. And it all worked. And so, one day, when we got
up the courage, I stabbed myself with it.” Harry sucked in a breath. Lupin waved a hand. “It didn’t
hurt at all. In fact, it was rather pleasant. In either case, the next full moon brought no
transformation. I am cured, Harry.”

Harry could only stare. He sat up then. “Well, if you have it, we have to get back! We have
to…”

“Patience, Harry. They will still be there tomorrow. And Woundhealer will have the same effects
tomorrow. No matter what the physical *or* mental damage to a living body, Woundhealer can
repair them.” Harry could only stare at him. With a healing device this powerful…It could be
possible to ease the suffering of hundreds, if not thousands. He glanced at Neville. Neville’s
parents, driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse, could be cured with Woundhealer. Neville himself seemed
to have realized this, and was looking as deep in thought as Harry had ever seen him.

“But, Professor, the quicker we move the more people we can help,” noted Harry, “The world could
do some good by this Sword.”

“I know Harry. But the danger is great. Mr. Malfoy found you, did he not? If he could do so,
then anyone could.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust Malfoy, but as yet had no evidence to any wrong-doing.
But if he waited too long, that sign would be Voldemort bursting through the door. He didn’t want
to take any chances. But he really had no choice at the moment. He resigned himself to sleeping
through the rest of the night.

The next day, he woke fresh and renewed. Harry stood and stretched, surveying the surroundings.
Then he froze. The couch, upon which Malfoy had been sleeping, was utterly empty. And there was no
trace of Malfoy anywhere. Harry was instantly fully alert. He leapt to his feet, wand out, and
shook Neville awake.

“Wha, what is it?”

“It’s Malfoy, he’s gone. And if my guess is right, he’s on his way to warn Voldemort. We have to
move fast.”

He awoke Lupin, who immediately grasped the urgency of the situation. In minutes, they were
packing everything they needed. Harry shunted Neville aside for a moment. “Professor, how are we
going to get Sirius out? A dog can’t exactly ride a broom, can they?”

Lupin nodded. “No, I don’t suppose they could, Harry. We will have to tell Neville.” He walked
over to Neville. “Sit, down Neville. There’s something important that you must know before we
leave. And I beg that you will not draw this out with questions, because we simply do not have the
time. You must trust that Harry and I are telling you the truth.”

Neville nodded. “I understand, Professor. Besides which, Coinspinner can tell me if you’re lying
or not.”

Lupin acknowledged this gravely. “Neville, Sirius Black is innocent.”

Neville stared blankly for a moment. His Sword did nothing, not rejecting this claim at all.
Neville could only look at Lupin, his eyes wide with disbelief and his jaw sagging in shock. “But,
how? I mean—”

“Neville, he is innocent. How is not a matter of importance right now. I tell you this, because
Sirius is here in this house, and he is coming back with us. You can tell no one of this, do you
understand? The Ministry still believes that he is guilty. Until we can prove otherwise, Sirius’s
identity must remain a closely guarded secret.”

Neville, lacking anything else to do, simply nodded. In an instant, Sirius appeared in the room
from a doorway. Neville quaked in slight fear at the sight of this most dreaded of killers. But
Sirius did nothing besides pack a small bag.

Soon, they were all ready to move out. They mounted their brooms, Lupin in the lead with
Wayfinder, Sirius holding Woundhealer, and sped off towards Hogwarts.

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing and for putting up with my fiendish delays in writing.
Sorry this chapter was so boring, I promise the next one will have a bit more excitement. Thanks
to: Batgirl, Takeda Lee, Brandie, Dragonlord, XxKkAnGxX, yurimionepotter, Hallie, PR,
HermioneGranger 4 ever, Blazefury, Palana, Emma, Catark, and Misstake.

Questions:

Batgirl: He was hearing the Mindsword screaming in his mind. Like he said, a thousand tortured
souls. Make of that what you will. Ginny… Well, Ginny just seems to be the one I chose to have know
about love and stuff… Someone has to, I mean.

Dragonlord: Shieldbreaker protects from the effects of ANY weapon. Even the mind-altering
affects of the Mindsword, as it is a weapon. Theoretically, you could nuke Harry, but if he has
Shieldbreaker he’d be fine. Wayfinder has it’s own power to find anything, anywhere. Well… I could
explain ARDNEH… But that’d ruin it if you wanted to read the Swords Series. Mindsword cannot be
repaired. It’s shards were vaporized by the blast, but Voldemort was close enough to be hurt by
them before they were gone. The Woundhealer thing… Yeah, my bad. Woundhealer is another name of the
Sword of Mercy. I had forgotten about that.



9. Chapter 8: Returning Light
-----------------------------

Disclaimer: OK, you should hopefully have this down by now. JKR owns Harry Potter and Company.
Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords. I own virtually worthless bit characters, plus a T100 truck.
;)

A/N: I know she’s not expecting this anymore, but I promised. This chapter is dedicated to
SamanthaMarie. Thanks for just being my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better buddie.

CHAPTER EIGHT: RETURNING LIGHT

It was in the dawn’s gray hours that the foursome finally came within sight of Hogwarts Castle.
Harry hadn’t noticed when he had left, but there were several chunks taken out of the front of the
castle, doubtless from the attack by Voldemort. It was in that moment when he realized there must
have been more casualties than he had originally realized. Death Eaters wouldn’t have attacked with
just Stunners, Disarmers and Hexes. They would have used Unforgivables. Including the Killing
Curse.

He shuddered, in part from the cool morning breeze, in part from the thought that perhaps some
of the staff had lain dead when he had left, and he hadn’t even thought about it. He suddenly felt
sick in his stomach as he was gripped by a terrible feeling of helplessness and remorse. While the
Sword of Mercy, Woundhealer, could heal any living being, it could do nothing for the dead.

They were met outside the entrance hall by Professor Dumbledore, who looked somewhat ragged
still. Sirius turned back into a dog after handing off Woundhealer to Harry and giving Dumbledore a
respectful nod. Harry sheathed Shieldbreaker and gripped Woundhealer firmly. For the first time he
noticed its marking: an open human hand. With grim resolve he spoke up.

Dumbledore grasped Lupin’s hand. “Remus, so it was you who had it all along?”

Lupin nodded softly, his eyes deepening. “Yes, Albus. I’m sorry I’ve been out of contact; if I
had known…”

Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. “What is important now is that we have the Sword. That is
all that matters.”

Neville spoke up. “Er… Professor… Actually there’s one other thing.” Dumbledore turned to him,
respectfully waiting for Neville to continue. Neville seemed almost strangled, speaking in such a
manner to Dumbledore. “We encountered… Draco Malfoy… He had a Sword.”

Lupin cut in. “Yes, I almost forgot to mention. Young Mr. Malfoy met these two on their way. He
apparently was armed with Doomgiver. This morning, he had vanished. We suspected then that he might
be off to warn Voldemort, so we made haste to escape.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “This turn of events is dangerous indeed. If Voldemort has the Sword
of Justice, we all are in severe danger.”

Lupin surveyed the scene. “Casaulties?” he muttered, in a tone far more casual than Harry could
have imagine was possible for such a question.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “None killed, fortunately. Several wounded. Almost the entire staff
is locked in the dungeons.”

Harry was growing impatient, the thought of those in the dungeons turning his mind to Ron and
Hermione, and cut in. “I’d like to get this done as soon as I can, Professor.”

Dumbledore gazed down on him with a calm demeanor, brightness finally returning to his twinkling
blue eyes after they had been so dull and lifeless the last time Harry had seen him. “Yes, Harry of
course. This way.”

Dumbledore led Harry back down to the dungeons. Harry could barely contain his excitement,
wanting to get this all over and done with. He wanted Hermione back the way she was. He wanted to
tell her everything. He felt bursting at the seams, emotions threatening to force their way through
the cracks of the walls he had built about himself over time. The anticipation was killing him.

Hermione’s cell was one of the furthest from the door, so she would be one of the last. Harry
wanted to hurry, so much he felt himself shaking slightly. He stepped to the first person,
Professor Flitwick, and paused. He turned to Lupin. “Er… You are sure about this, right?”

Lupin nodded. “Thrust the Sword into them, Harry. I swear it will do them no harm.”

Harry looked at the Sword glittering in his quivering hands. He found it impossible to believe
this would work. Still, he had to trust Lupin. He moved closer to the bars and drove the blade into
Flitwick’s unconscious body. There was a gasping sound, like a human sighing. Harry was puzzled for
a moment; he hadn’t seen Flitwick’s lips move. Then he realized this was the Sword making that
sound. Harry looked at Flitwick. There appeared to be no change.

“He doesn’t look any different.”

Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “That is because the damage is in their minds, not
their bodies. Should you wish to see the powers of this Sword with your own eyes, I suggest that
you touch Mr. Weasely with it.”

He gently pushed Harry further down the way towards Ron… And Hermione. Harry eagerly stepped
forward, not wanting to run, but quickening his pace. He slowed and stopped before Ron’s cell. He
looked deathly pale.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Do you know what’s wrong with him? Shouldn’t Madame Pomfrey be able
to heal him?”

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “I think I know some of it. Ron’s wounds were grievous, Harry. He
very nearly died. He had been impaled many times, several of his limbs were broken, half his ribs
were cracked, and there was vast internal damage. Not even Madame Pomfrey could heal all his
injuries. We were not sure if he would survive long enough for you to come.”

Harry suddenly became angry. His friend was mortally wounded, yet remained here with the rest of
them. “But shouldn’t he be in the hospital wing then? If he’s so hurt…”

Dumbledore waved a hand gently. “Harry… There is nothing Madame Pomfrey could have done. It
would also be easier to prevent him from hurting himself or others were he here.”

Harry thought back to the battle. Ron hadn’t seemed so hurt then. He had fought like a madman. A
man possessed. He couldn’t have done what he did so harmed. “But, Professor, I don’t understand. He
was bleeding bad, I mean, but he didn’t seem…”

Dumbledore sighed heavily, and his aged face looked at Harry. “It was the magic of Townsaver,
Harry. As long as he fought to save innocents in a held place, he could not be killed while he held
it. No matter how dreadful, how severe his injuries, it’s magic kept him fighting. But after he
ceased to be protecting them… It’s magic left him. Now, Harry, touch him with the Sword of
Mercy.”

Harry stared in at his friend. He couldn’t comprehend then what Ron must have gone through. Why
couldn’t he have controlled the Sword, to help save his own life? But then… Harry couldn’t control
his own Sword. It controlled him. He turned to face Ron lying on the cold bench, pale as death, his
shirt still soaked with blood, visible injuries only half-healed. And he pressed the razor sharp
point into Ron’s belly.

Instantly, there was the sighing sound, and before Harry’s eyes, Ron’s wounds sealed themselves.
Harry removed the Sword and dropped it from his quaking grasp. He went to Ron, lifted his shirt.
His wounds, all of them were sealed. Ron’s breath didn’t rasp like it had when Harry arrived.
Instead, he seemed to be in some eternal peace. His face was fixed in a look of utter
contentment.

“Ron,” he whispered. Ron didn’t stir. Harry grasped his friend’s shoulder tightly and stood,
picking the Sword back up where he had dropped it. No one else had moved. Harry exited the cell and
stared into the one next to it. There lay Hermione.

Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. But her eyelids quivered, and her face
seemed to be going through some inner turmoil. Harry could only imagine what she dreamt of. Harry
stared at her for a long moment, gazing upon his friend, the girl he loved. As his mind turned to
when he saw her last, a tear dripped down his cheek. He was suddenly aware that his eyes were
burning. Ashamed, he quickly wiped his face and stepped into the cell. He paused before her, blade
pointed at her chest.

And he stopped. He had seen what the Sword had done fore the others, true… But somehow this
seemed different. He was pointing as razor-edged steel blade at Hermione, preparing to thrust it’s
metal into her unsuspecting body. Somehow it didn’t seem right. Hesistation wracked him. But his
thoughts turned back to what she had said…

*Kill you! I’ll kill you!*

His eyes watering again, her maddened voice echoing in his mind, he squeezed his eyes tightly
shut and pushed his hands forward. He heard a gasp; not the one from the Sword. He looked. A small
gasp had escaped Hermione’s lips. Her eyes fluttered for a moment, then lay silently still.

Harry was suddenly aware of the blade lodged against her ribs, and withdrew the Sword. He stared
into her face, and tentatively reached out a hand, stroking her cheek lightly. She sighed
contentedly, twisting slightly. Harry swallowed hard and stood very slowly. He handed the Sword off
to Dumbledore. “I… I have to go… I can’t finish. I’m sorry, Professor.” He didn’t even wait for
Dumbledore’s assenting nod, though he caught it in his peripheral. Harry ran out of the dungeon and
out to the lake.

He stood there for long moments, staring out across the pristine waters, remembering all the
times he had with Hermione. He wanted her back so bad. He was sure he had cured her, but he was
afraid of breaking down in front of them all. He had always been able to hold back before, and
hadn’t cried in so long.

“Harry?” murmured a tentative voice. He turned his head. It was Ginny. She stepped down to stand
beside him. “You’re back,” she said simply.

He nodded. “I’m back.”

“And did you find what you were looking for?”

Harry pondered that thought for a moment. His mind flew through his entire life in those silent
moments as the water sloshed quietly in the background, a slight breeze in the air, and the sun
casting rays of warmth across his face. What was he looking for? All his life he had wanted only
one thing… He turned to her. “I found what I was looking for before I left. But while I was gone, I
found what I needed to save it, and bring it back to me.”

Ginny looked at him, her eyes flickering across his face, studying his expression. “I
understand.”

There was little more to say. So they stood there together, watching the waves beat slowly
against the shore.

Ginny left him after a few minutes. He hardly noticed. His gaze still looked into eternity
across the smooth waters, watching the sun slowly rise higher into the sky. It was nearly midday by
the time he finally made his way across the grass back up to the castle. His mind was still a
thousand miles away when he entered the Great Hall. But as he did, there was suddenly a hush as
loud as anything he had ever heard. He stopped.

Everyone was staring at him, standing there in the doorway. Then slowly, as a unit, they all
began to rise and applaud. One part of Harry’s mind reflected that there certainly were a lot of
people in the Hall at the moment. He wasn’t sure what to do or say. So he said nothing at all. His
feet were planted on the spot. It took more than a minute for the clapping to quiet down. Professor
Dumbledore rose from the head table to speak.

“I took the liberty of informing the students and staff who it was who accomplished the task of
retrieving the Sword which heals all wounds, Harry. And you will be happy to know that all who were
afflicted by the Mindsword are now awake and fully healed.”

Harry started for a moment. He looked at the staff table. Sure enough, there was Professor
Flitwick, and McGonagall, and Birmingham. His heart seized as he knew what that also must mean. He
looked to the Gryffindor table. A tall lanky boy with fiery red hair, and a girl with curly brown
hair slowly stood, smiling at him like they were seeing him for the first time in years. And he
reflected that in a way they were.

Harry’s own face broke into a huge grin, and he started walking towards them, slowly speeding to
a run. Ron and Hermione both seized him in one massive hug, practically squeezing the air out of
him. He didn’t care. He had them back from the darkness. Ron clapped him heavily and the shoulder
after withdrawing, while Hermione clung to him still, her eyes watered, tears streaming down her
cheeks.

Ron looked at him, as if unsure what to say. “Harry… Thanks. For everything.”

Harry looked at his friend. “Ron, there’s no need to say anything. I did what I had to do. And I
had help.” Harry looked pointedly at Neville, who flushed.

Hermione gazed at Harry, her eyes reddened. “Harry… I… I remember everything that happened while
we were being… influenced… I…” Her voice cracked and broke off.

Harry, on impulse, took her into his arms, holding her close. She rested her face against his
shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. Harry suddenly felt as if the world around him was
disappearing.

He stared into Hermione’s eyes for a long moment. “Hermione… I… I don’t know how to say
this…”

She stared back at him, not daring to take her eyes off his. For once in her life, she wanted
not to look away when he looked into her eyes. She wanted to lose herself in them. “Then just say
it.”

He swallowed hard. “Hermione, I…” He broke off.

But somehow she already knew. She knew what it was he wanted to say. “I know Harry. And I love
you just the same.” Her mind reached back—was it only a week ago?—to when Ginny and she had sat by
the lake discussing love. She had known then that Harry was the only one for her. And now, as she
held him tightly in her arms, she saw that he felt the same way. She hadn’t believed it possible,
but it was there, etched on his face, in his eyes, in his soul.

Harry’s hand reached out tentatively to stroke her cheek. She held it there with one hand. “I
love you Hermione,” he whispered, and he held her, as if he let her go now, she would fade from him
forever.

Harry suddenly heard a whisper in his ear… And it sounded somehow like his parents’ voices that
he had heard last year… *Kiss her already…*

And so Harry leaned in, eyes fluttering, lowering his head so his lips could meet hers. And she
responded instantly, curving her neck upwards, lips pursed to meet his. And when their lips
touched, it was like lightning passing between them.

Harry reflected for only an instant that how could something that only weeks ago have seemed so
wrong now felt so right. That in fact nothing else in the world could feel more right. And as they
both leaned into the kiss, desperately needing the others touch, they didn’t even notice the
thunderous applause around them of the still-crowded Great Hall.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. BTW, I hope I didn’t make anyone cry… Misstake did when she
beta-read for me, so… OK, reviewers. Thanks to: Msscribe, XxKkAnGxX, Batgirl, yurimionepotter,
Spencer Nassau, Brandie, Takeda Lee, Misstake, HermioneGranger 4 ever, Hallie, AnimeFanatic, Quis,
Emma, Sandra, Soulshine, Blazefury, Catark, Ranma, Betemagus Prime, kinicky21, and padawan
leia.

Questions, and hopefully answers:

Yurimionepotter: Yes, Lupin is healed for all time. I suppose he could be a Professor, but I
lack a spot for him. The Sword of Justice only influences the individual under certain instances.
It has a very archaic “eye for an eye” sense of justice. Malfoy didn’t think he could get away with
it. Remember Neville had Coinspinner which can warn against duplicity at times. No one’s holding
Soulcutter, but it being unsheathed there is enough. Harry could do that, I suppose…

Spencer Nassau: No, the Swords Series is a series of books written by Fred Saberhagen, a very
popular Fantasy writer. Like I said, I don’t own them.

Quis: You can’t use it without suffering its effects, unless you also have Shieldbreaker. It’s
an evil Sword. That’s why Voldemort put it in the hands of his enemies.

Blazefury: Unfortunately, yes I had to make him evil. Sorry. ;)



10. Chapter 9: Splintering
--------------------------

A/N: OMG!!! I am SO sorry for how long it took this chapter to get out… I was having some, erm…
Difficulties. But, here it is. Thanks to Batgirl, who is my #2 Fangirl, for checking over this
chapter and correcting some stupid mistakes that I made along the way.

Disclaimer: As you all know, Harry Potter and associates are owned by the esteemed JK Rowling.
The Swords Series is owned by Fred Saberhagen.

CHAPTER NINE: SPLINTERING

Indeed, all those afflicted by the Mindsword had now been returned to normal. Further
celebration ensued when it was learned that Professor Lupin had been cured of his lycanthropy by
the touch of the Sword of Mercy. The Gryffindors had convinced Dean Thomas, an excellent artist, to
make a congratulatory banner for him, as Lupin had been extremely popular in the year he had taught
at Hogwarts. Although there were no spots open for Lupin, Professor Dumbledore had asked him to
remain on the castle grounds for the time being. Only a few knew this was because of the growing
threat of attacks by Voldemort, now that he almost certainly had Doomgiver in his possession.

Of another matter of consternation was the fact that Professor Snape was still missing. Harry
presumed he had been with the attack on Hogwarts, and could not return at this time. However, that
didn’t do anything to assuage the worry which for some reason gripped him. He didn’t much like
Snape, but had no wish to see him dead by Voldemort’s, or anyone’s hand. Harry had come a long ways
from wanting to murder Sirius Black for his parents’ deaths.

Harry sat on the hill overlooking the Quidditch pitch, sitting next to Hermione, both simply
staring out across the hills surrounding them. Every moment since he had entered the Great Hall
yesterday seemed a blur, except for when he was with her. The funny thing was, now that they had
admitted what they felt, both were unsure where to go from there. They had envisioned that day so
much, and focused so much on just *saying* it, neither had considered what happened next.

“We’ll figure that out as we go, I guess,” Harry had murmured to her. So they sat there,
Hermione’s head on his shoulder, his arm around her slender body, just staring, taking in the
pristine beauty about him.

Harry was alerted by soft footsteps behind him. He slowly stood up and turned around. Professor
Dumbledore approached him through the thick grass.

“Harry, I know you’ve only just returned, and there is much you would like to do now that you
are back. Unfortunately, circumstances do not permit this.”

Harry stared blankly at Dumbledore. He wasn’t quite sure what the man was getting at. Until he
remembered… The Ministry. They were still gripped in the awful power of Soulcutter. And no one
could enter it… No one but…

“You want me to go to the Ministry of Magic and destroy Soulcutter, don’t you Professor?”

Dumbledore’s face was drawn, and somehow tired looking again. Exactly what had Soulcutter done
to him? Harry wondered. At every mention of the weapon, Dumbledore seemed older. Like Soulcutter’s
touch, however brief, was like an itch just under the skin that he knew was there, and couldn’t
quite reach, and couldn’t quite ignore.

“Harry… The people in there. They’re dying. No one else can enter the Ministry building without
succumbing to the degenerative effects of Soulcutter. Shieldbreaker should protect you, as it did
against the Mindsword. If you cannot do this, Harry… Then I fear those trapped inside have no hope.
I could not possibly withstand Soulcutter for the time it would take me to find its center and
sheath the weapon.”

Harry’s heart grew heavy. Dumbledore was the strongest wizard he knew, able to somehow withstand
even the might of the Mindsword, so powerful even Voldemort feared him. And he was saying flat out
that he could not do this. “But, if I could get inside, recover it, then why destroy it? We could
use it to—”

Dumbledore cut him off as harshly as he had ever witnessed. “No,” he whispered fiercely, “Harry
do you not see? Soulcutter is an evil blade. It is a terrible thing, something which you would wish
only upon your enemies… And perhaps not even then. It must be destroyed, now, before it is too
late. There are those who would use its powers again. And how would a weapon such as this be used
for good? I cannot say, Harry. It *must* be destroyed.”

The raw vengeance etched on Dumbledore’s face was daunting. This was an attitude Harry had never
faced in the benevolent old man before. He felt a light touch on his arm, and started. He had
forgotten that Hermione was there. She gazed up into his eyes, her own face expressing something…
Harry couldn’t put it into words. And he suddenly understood.

“You’re right, Professor,” he said raggedly, “it has to be stopped. I’ll do it. When do I
leave?”

Minutes later, Harry stood before the Ministry of Magic building, having just been Flooed in to
a fireplace a short distance away. Beside him stood Professor Dumbledore and Lupin. How Dumbledore
had managed to get permission for Harry to enter the building, Harry had no clue. In fact he had no
clue if the even *had* permission. Things were spiraling out of control. He just wanted to
rest and be with Hermione. This wasn’t supposed to be his job. He was a 16 year old wizard in
training, not the savior of the world. He had seen far too much these past few days. And he had
realized something else. These Swords, for all their stupendous powers, were dangerous indeed. But
now he needed to concentrate. He pushed everything else from his mind, because, in the back
recesses of it, he still feared that not even Shieldbreaker would protect him from Soulcutter.

Dumbledore looked down on him, a steely hardness in his eyes. “Well, Harry… Off you go. Good
luck.”

Harry reflected that was a rather odd thing to say, but shrugged it off and drew Shieldbreaker.
Instantly, somehow, all his doubts, all his fears, everything was wiped away. He felt invincible.
An indescribable feeling of power flowed from the black hilt into his body. His eyes narrowed, and
his face drew into a grim smile. He did not fear Soulcutter now.

Harry strode slowly forward, gripping Shieldbreaker all the time. It did not announce the
presence of a threat with its pounding echoes, just glinted in the now-dimming light.

He stepped past the spot in which he recognized as being where Dumbledore had been forced to
stop and turn around. He felt nothing as he went beyond that point. Glancing about, Harry noticed
that there were no other people at the Ministry tonight. It made a perverse sort of sense. What was
the point in guarding a building no one could approach or leave?

Harry tentatively approached the door. It had been hit by a curse, apparently, and was hanging
off its hinges a bit. Harry stepped up and kicked it over. It didn’t budge at first, and several
more blows were necessary in order to break down that barrier. Pausing for a moment, he looked at
the Sword in his hands, realizing he probably could have used it. He sighed momentarily, as much
out of annoyance at his stupidity as with the momentary weariness that kicking down a door had
brought on.

He stepped inside kicking up dust from the floor which had not been cleaned in days. As his eyes
adjusted to the gloom, as all the lights seemed to have faded to a dim glow, the sight he saw
shocked him. There were multiple wizards, collapsed over desks, chairs, and lying on the floor.
They looked horribly thin from days without any sort of nourishment. Although they all seemed to be
alive, not all were conscious.

“Are… Are you all alright?” Harry asked tentatively. The absolute silence which greeted his
timid question was somehow numbing and brought on a chill. It was quieter than a tomb in here, and
the atmosphere was just as stale. He didn’t want to stay here for longer than he needed.

Harry stalked slowly through the corridors, somehow half-expecting someone to leap out of the
shadows at him. He knew it was lunacy to expect such, but in a place like this, his mind was
running rampant. Strangely enough, the hairs on his neck lay flat, even though he sensed a subtle
evil in here. The powers of Shieldbreaker would not allow him to be threatened though.

Harry reached the interior of the Ministry now. He stepped into an open room with cubicle like
structures dotting the area. He supposed this was an office complex of sorts. If his surmise was
correct, Soulcutter would be somewhere in this room. He began his search, eyes roaming over the
bodies of those who were the victims of its awful power. The remained stationary, barely blinking,
and giving no indication that they even knew Harry was there.

Harry reached a secluded corner of the room. A balding red-haired man lay slumped on his worn
desk. Harry sucked in his breath. It was Mr. Weasley. He had been at work, of course, that day. And
he had fallen under Soulcutter’s power. Harry stepped over to him, laid one hand on his shoulder.
Mr. Weasley didn’t move at all. His breathing was quiet and even. Harry glanced about the room
again. He was no expert, but he knew these people needed help, and soon. They were all dying,
slowly, from the sheer lack of will.

A sudden though entered his head. Was this how people who had their souls sucked from them by
dementors behaved? As if nothing existed and nothing mattered. He thought of Sirius. They had meant
to suck his soul. Would he have just sat there then, staring into absolute nothingness, unable to
react to anything at all? The thought didn’t bear dwelling upon. He shook it off and continued his
search. And there.

Harry saw at one desk, a figure now slumped over, clutched in one hand a Sword. But it was so
unlike any other Sword Harry had seen thus far. It did not shine like the others. It lacked luster,
and seemed to dull the light about it. He stepped closer. Inspecting the handle carefully, he saw
that there was no symbol on either side. The emptiness Soulcutter inflicted, he mused.

Harry drew the blade from the man’s willing grasp and set it on a table before him. Then,
thinking of all the people who were pained by the power of this weapon, he lifted Shieldbreaker.
Its pounding began and rapidly increased in speed and strength. Harry brought the Sword crashing
down. A crescendo of the pounding, magical steel met magical steel, there was a tremendous flash
and explosion, then quiet as Shieldbreaker beat down into silence. Harry glanced about. Nobody in
the room moved. They were still under the continued effects of the weapon, much as the Mindsword.
Woundhealer would have to be brought here as well. And the sooner the better.

Harry paused, turning towards Mr. Weasley. But he realized there was nothing that he could do.
He stepped back across the dusty floor, breathing once more the dank, slightly foul air and made
his way out. He slowly passed by those still collapsed in apathy on the floor, face hardening to
keep from retching at the thought of it all. The Swords had to be controlled. They had to be
brought together and not used ever again. This couldn’t be allowed to happen. Though Harry had
destroyed Soulcutter, and now held the cracked hilt in his hand, he felt no peace about it. There
still existed 10 Swords of Power, including the one he now held.

People would fight for these, he realized. Fight for them, and possibly die for them. How many
did they currently know the whereabouts of? And how many others did they know lay in the possession
of Voldemort? He held Shieldbreaker, Hermione had Wayfinder, Ron held Townsaver, Neville with
Coinspinner, while Woundhealer resided in Hogwarts as well. Soulcutter and the Mindsword had been
smashed into shrapnel, but Voldemort still had Sightblinder and Doomgiver. What was the other?
Dragonslicer, he remembered. He would worry about that later.

Harry stepped out of the gloom, past the bodies of those in the outer reaches of Soulcutter’s
power, who were actually beginning to move a little. Harry said nothing as he walked past. He met
Dumbledore outside the Ministry, and handed him the cracked hilt which was all that was left of
Soulcutter.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice like granite. He did not feel like discussing his journey into the
Ministry at this time. Dumbledore seemed to sense this, and followed silently.

Harry sat in the darkness of the common room late that night. The fire still burned, but Harry
found no comfort in its heat. He stared into the flames, eyes looking beyond them into something
stirring in his mind. Soft footsteps broke his reverie. He turned his head slightly, and his eyes
focused on a figure descending the staircase. It was Hermione, looking sleepy, hair framing her
face.

“Harry? Are you alright? You haven’t been the same since you came back today.” She came and
kneeled on the floor next to him, hand resting on his own. Her touch was warm, but not even that
could begin to heat the utter bleakness he was feeling.

“I don’t think I ever will be quite the same. You didn’t see, Hermione. You didn’t see what I
did. All those people…” His voice cracked, and his words trailed off. “They were caught in such a
terrible power. I freed them from it, but… they still…” he felt himself breaking down. He wanted to
cry, but was so afraid of not being strong for other people.

Hermione inched closer, now gripping his hand, her other palm running slowly up his arm to his
shoulder. “Harry, I know you have feelings, too. You’ve had to be so strong. But I know you do
feel. I’ve seen it before. Please, tell me.”

Harry moved his jaw, trying to settle with himself. “I’m getting tired of it all, Hermione.
Tired of fighting Voldemort. It’s all I’ve done my entire time here at Hogwarts. I want to be a
normal kid. Is that too much to ask for?”

Hermione’s eyes locked on his, flashing with sudden anger. “Don’t you tell me you want to be
normal, Harry Potter. Normal is for scared little boys who can’t deal with the simplest challenges
life thrusts at them. That’s not you. That will never be you. And that isn’t who you want to be,
truly. It’s better to be interesting than a carbon copy of somebody else. Trust me, I know.”

Harry stared at her, sensing the bitter truth in her words. Hermione wasn’t normal. Neither was
Ron, nor really anyone he knew. He smiled for a moment, remembering indeed that the Dursleys
considered him as abnormal as humanly possible. And that for the longest time, he had wished to be
different. This was the life that had been handed to him. He had thought he wanted to be more
normal now that he had reached this point. He had saved the girl he loved, and was with her. He had
thought that had been enough. But it wasn’t. Voldemort *did* have to be stopped. And he’d do
what he could. He owed to everyone, but most of all, himself. How could he ever know who he truly
was if he didn’t take the chance to find out? So he would. It was the least he could do.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that chappie. It was a long time coming. Thanks to those who reviewed:
Ranma, Takeda Lee, Batgirl, Hallie Marie, Soulshine, padawan leia, Blazefury, Betemagus Prime,
meme30, kinicky21, Sandra, SamanthaMarie, HermioneGrangerSongHarryPotter, Chelsea, Joyce, Spencer
Nassau, Clair, and Emma.

Questions…

Soulshine: Well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we?

Blazefury: lol, at least he’s not really, really evil…

Joyce: Doomgiver has a very…er… Archaic sense of Justice. It really depends on who wields it to
whether it’s good or evil.

Spencer Nassau: 10 is indeed the highest rating.

Clair: There will indeed be more. I’ve only covered about half the material I’ve come up
with.



11. Chapter 10:  Saving Grace
-----------------------------

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and associates are all owned by the filthy rich JK Rowling. I own
nothing, and do not make one Turkish Lira. The Swords Series is owned by Fred Saberhagen.
A/N: Sorry for the delay, had some other things to do, plus I actually have a bit of a social
life now. Yay! Thanks to Misstake for beta-reading this chapter. I promise not to write “Garry”
again.
CHAPTER TEN: SAVING GRACE
It had thus been three days since Harry had returned from the Ministry of Magic. Three days in
which Woundhealer had been carried to the sight and reversed the damage that had been done; to the
extent it could. Some had already died from lack of hydration. They had been in the Ministry for
over five days before Harry had entered it. Five days before they had determined what could be done
to save them. Five days too long, in Harry’s opinion. Had they known the powers of Shieldbreaker
then, he could have ended it decisively the first day. But then again, he counseled himself. They
had believed his weapon to be Stonecutter, which would have afforded no protection at all against
the powers of Soulcutter. He wondered again why Dumbledore had not sent him after Woundhealer in
order to save the Ministry first. It would have made more logical sense to try and save the people
who were dying first, would it not? But then again…who was to say which was a more dangerous
situation; many trained wizards fanatical about serving Voldemort, or hundreds who were doing
nothing, most of whom could be saved from death. While Harry cursed himself for not being able to
save everyone, he realized he couldn’t have expected that all would live. He wasn’t all-powerful,
despite all the strength that Shieldbreaker gave him. And yet… he had failed it seemed. After
everything he had done, he hadn’t saved everyone.

Harry had been amazed at all that Woundhealer could do. He had seen mental transformations in
his friends, had seen Ron’s grievous wounds healed, but nothing could have prepared him for what
happened to those at the Ministry. As soon as the cold steel of mercy touched their flesh, the
sallow complexion faded, their cheeks became full again, and the dead look in their eyes lifted. It
was like each man had aged a decade in their time there, and Woundhealer had gifted it back to
them. Soulcutter really did steal one’s life, Harry reflected. He got a certain satisfaction when
he remembered smashing it’s dull metal into oblivion.

Harry returned from the locker room from Quidditch practice, very glad to have gotten the season
back finally, after the delay. He knew it seemed morbid with all that had been going on to worry so
much about sports, but they could be useful in times like these. Helped to keep his mind off other
things like…

He felt a sudden chill, despite the just finished workout. Whenever he thought of those people
in the dank gloom of the Ministry that day. He hadn’t felt that way since he had first encountered
the dementors. Like all the happiness he had ever had was suddenly bereft of him.

Harry found the common room occupied by several other students, the younger of which stared at
him openly, in awe. His fame as the Boy-Who-Lived had only been accentuated in the recent days
which his quests to find Woundhealer, defeating Voldemort again, and saving the entire Ministry of
Magic, including Cornelius Fudge himself. Although there had been no official acknowledgement from
the Ministry of Harry’s actions, everyone knew what he had done.

Harry didn’t really want to talk with anybody at that moment, so he just headed up to his
dormitory, and decided to hide out there until supper. He didn’t much care about the homework he
still had left to finish for his classes. He felt like he was starting to lose himself again. Every
time he thought about what had happened there at the Ministry, and what had happened during
Voldemort’s attack… He felt so lost.

There was a gentle tapping on the door. Harry turned, staring almost blankly at it. He realized
who it would be a moment before the door creaked open. Hermione stuck her head in, her face looking
curiously sad.

“Harry… What’s the matter?” She stepped inside, walking slowly towards him.

His eyes darted about, not wanting to have to meet her gaze. He didn’t want to worry her. But he
knew that she already had felt it… She had always been able to look through him. “Hermione…have you
ever felt just…I don’t know, lost? Like you’re not sure who you are anymore or why you’re here or
what you’re even doing?”

She looked at him for a moment, slightly puzzled, then sat on a bed, inviting him to sit beside
her. He did so, resting his head against her shoulder. She stroked his neck gently.

“Harry, this is about the Ministry, isn’t it.” It was not a question. “I know you’ve seen things
which no one should, especially not at the age that you are. I know it’s hard, because I’ve had to
face some of these dangers with you. Harry,” she turned to face him, holding her hand against his
cheek to force him to look at her, “know that you are not alone at all. We are all here for you.”
She drew Harry to her and hugged him tightly. When she released him, she was stunned to see tears
in his eyes.

“I wanted to help them, Hermione. I wanted to so much. But I couldn’t do anything. All I could
do was smash that fucking piece of metal into splinters. But it wasn’t enough.” He breathed deeply.
“I never told anyone… But I saw Mr. Weasley in there. He was… Just like the others. Lifeless. Like
they were dead.”

She started for a moment at his use of such language. But she realized at the same time the
enormous stress he was under. He was carrying them all on his shoulders.

“Harry, please. Don’t disconnect. We need you to stay strong for us all, just for a while
longer.”

He stared at her, and his eyes burned in their sockets it seemed. “But I need you to stay strong
with me, too.”

In response, she held his chin and kissed him softly, and it seemed like her energy passed from
her to him in that instant. Like somehow her love was supporting him. “You know I will, Harry. I
always will be with you.”

Harry held on to her, and didn’t let go.

They reached the Great Hall for supper a few hours later. People had still stared openly at
Harry, but he had ignored them this time, Hermione hanging on his arm, her body pressed against
his. Whenever she was with him, he felt like he had not a care in the world.

They took seats across from Ron, who had already arrived. He also had in front of him an issue
of the Daily Prophet. As Harry reached for the potatoes, his eyes caught part of one article in the
corner. *…was found dead, the apparent victim of a sword thrust through the heart. There was only
one witness, who said the victim fell, and a cloaked man Apparated in and removed the sword from
the body…*

“Odd…” he muttered.

Ron looked up at him. “Isn’t it though? The Chief of Magical Law Enforcement murdered, without
anyone seeing it. His assistant has taken everything over. He’s actually the one who discovered the
body, too.”

Harry looked at him, a visage of black puzzlement washing over him. “The Chief of MLE is dead?
But… How?”

“Strangest thing… Sword thrust, straight through the heart, but they didn’t find anything in the
office.”

Harry, now deeply suspicious, turned to Hermione, who seemed confused. She glanced between both
of them. “What is it Harry?”

Harry pointed to the other article. “There, see?” Ron and Hermione both studied it. After a
moment, they both looked back at him, faces sick with dread.

“Don’t you get it? They were both killed by Death Eater by Apparition, I’m betting, and then the
weapon removed again by Apparition of that same Death Eater! Ron, do you know if it’s possible to
Apparate inside the Ministry?”

Ron nodded. “Of course. If there were Apparition wards, it would make transit a lot more
difficult for those who work deep within the building. I suppose it would be possible to Apparate
inside the office, kill the Chief and escape. But it’d be hard to catch him unawares like
that.”

Harry thought for a moment, trying to think about how this would be possible. And what possible
motive for the other murder was there? There seemed to be nothing indicating that he was anyone of
importance.

But Hermione seemed to be muttering to herself, a sort of rhythmic mantra of sorts. Harry leaned
in closer.

“…for thy heart! For thy heart! Who hast wronged me,” she murmured. She looked up at Harry,
seemingly startled by his sudden appearance. “A Sword, Harry. One of the Twelve. Farslayer. Don’t
you remember?”

Harry thought back for a moment, then heard Ron whispering from across the table. “*Farslayer
howls across the world, for thy heart! For thy heart! Who hast wronged me? Vengeance is his who
casts the blade, yet he will in the end, no triumph see.*” He looked backed at Harry darkly, and
his face seemed almost sinister. “Farslayer. The sword that can kill from across the world.”

The three looked at each other, dreading what this meant. Anyone, anywhere could be struck down
without a chance to defend themselves. Except maybe…

“Harry, do you think that Shieldbreaker could protect you?” Hermione asked quickly.

Harry looked at her. “It’s worth a try. I would be Voldemort’s most likely target it would seem.
I’ll go get Shieldbreaker. Ron, go tell Neville to get Coinspinner, we may well need some luck.
Hermione, do you know if Woundhealer is still here?”

Hermione nodded. “I believe so. Everyone at the Ministry was healed, and Professor Dumbledore
had it brought back here to Madame Pomfrey I think. I’ll go look.” She ran off, and Harry shoved
himself from the table, racing up to Gryffindor Tower.

He passed through the portal and grabbed his Sword sheath, buckling it to his belt and running
back out. He passed Neville on the stairs.

“Harry, what’s happening? Not another attack?”

“Not yet, Neville. But there’s danger out there. And it could strike anyone, anywhere, at any
time. We have to be vigilant, and cautious. Get you Sword. I’m going to talk to Professor
Dumbledore.” Harry ran back down the stairs, leaving Neville about as confused as before. The blood
was pounding in Harry’s ears, either from the running or the fear, he wasn’t sure.

Harry arrived back down in the Great Hall. There was a moment of shocked silence as he burst
back into the room, grim look of determination etched on his face, posture that of an aggressive
warrior ready for battle. Harry barely noticed the looks as he strode fast up to the head
table.

“Harry, what is the meaning of this?” Dumbledore started with a clip to his questioning
tone.

“Professor, I think, no, I *know* that Voldemort has Farslayer. Too many coincidences have
been happening.”

At this, Neville came in through the doors, still struggling with his own Sword. Dumbledore
nodded gravely. “Harry, while I have no idea about how you came to this conclusion, I shall trust
your judgment for the time being. What would you suggest we do?”

At this, Harry was momentarily deflated. As far as he knew, there was no defense against
Farslayer, besides perhaps Shieldbreaker, or maybe Doomgiver.

Harry opened his mouth to say this, but at that moment, heard a howling, screaming noise. In an
instant, Harry saw something spectral pass straight through his body and connect with Dumbledore’s.
It materialized suddenly then, and Dumbledore was thrown backwards, knocking over his chair.
Embedded deep in his chest was a Sword. Farslayer.

People began to scream. Harry didn’t hear them. He felt absolutely numb. Dumbledore had been
killed right in front of him, and he had been powerless, despite holding Shieldbreaker at his side.
It didn’t seem possible. Harry collapsed to his knees.

“He’s not dead!” came the cry.

Harry lifted his head. He managed to stand. The Professor was clinging to life, but even Harry
could see that life slowly draining from him. Only moments now.

The doors flew open a third time. Hermione stood there, Sword in hand. Woundhealer!

Harry didn’t think twice. She would never make it in time, running with that Sword. “*Accio
Hermione!*” She flew towards him. He deftly caught her.

“No time to explain, the Sword, quick!”

Hermione instantly realized the gravity of the situation and immediately drew Woundhealer,
stabbing it deep into Dumbledore’s body. He gasped out loud.

“Now, remove the other Sword first.” Harry was surprised at how calm he sounded. Hagrid pulled
Farslayer out and tossed it aside.

The healing powers of Woundhealer instantly restored Dumbledore. He groaned slowly and began to
sit up. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a student lifting Farslayer.

“No!” he croaked, “Do not—”

But his words were lost as the student, blinded by his sheer anger and desire for vengeance
against this attack on his Headmaster, cast the blade towards the person they knew must have sent
it: Voldemort. Trailing spectral light and howling, the blade leapt from the boy’s hands and phased
through the castle wall. It would reach its target in an instant. No one moved. But then, something
went wrong.

Harry felt Neville tug at his sleeve. “No. It’s too late!”

Harry turned in time to see Coinspinner quiver in warning. The howling sound returned, too
quickly for the blade to have been cast again. *Voldemort had Doomgiver!* Harry
remembered.

He moved, but not fast enough. The gray steel of Farslayer returned, striking down he who had
cast it. Returning the action on the one who acted. Instantly, Hermione was at the dying boy’s
side. She plunged Woundhealer into his flesh, and removed Farslayer. His mortal wound disappeared
almost as quickly as it had come, leaving pinkish skin over the where the gaping gash had been.
Instead of tossing aside Farslayer, she carefully picked it up and held it, looking at the
blade.

There seemed nothing unusual about it besides the mottling that all the Swords had. On it’s hilt
were three concentric circle… A target. Harry stepped in closer to her, eyes fixed on the gleaming
metal which had claimed two lives already, and had almost claimed two more. He could see now, why
he who cast it would see no triumph. The weapon could be thrown back at them. That was why the
Death Eaters had Apparated in to recover the weapon. But Dumbledore had been too good of a target,
apparently. Voldemort had been willing to risk losing Farslayer to kill his arch-nemesis.

“I thought so,” Harry murmured.

Hermione turned to him. “What was that Harry?”

His eyes flashed dangerously, as he considered what might have been had Hermione not arrived in
time. “I knew that Voldemort probably had Doomgiver. And I also suspected that Doomgiver might
protect a user from Farslayer here. He intended this to happen. Dumbledore dies, we try to kill
Voldemort, and someone else here dies. Then we could try killing someone else there. But then it’s
only cast back here. Massacre on all sides, but we don’t know all of Voldemort’s followers. He has
the advantage.”

An older student stepped up. “But why not cast it back at one of the Death Eaters? At least we
take them out?” There were murmurings of approval in the crowd.

“No,” murmured a low, weak voice. Dumbledore struggled to stand. “We must not. This is a weapon
of vengeance; it says so in the verse. There is an old saying in the Muggle world. ‘When setting
out on vengeance, dig two graves.’ At least one will die on both sides. I will not allow this. This
is a weapon far too dangerous to remain in existence.” He gazed directly at Harry as he said this
last. Harry’s hard eyes bored back, and he nodded swiftly.

Harry drew Shieldbreaker from his scabbard, feeling its power ebb through him. “Hermione, set
down Farslayer and step away. Everyone step away.”

All surrounding him looked around incredulously. They could only wonder at what was happening
truly. They knew what Harry had done, but not how. The powers of Shieldbreaker and its fellows were
still a guarded secret. But at the urging of the teachers, they backed away.

Harry stood over Farslayer, gazing upon its glittering surface that seemed to mock him with its
invincibility and its powers. He smiled grimly, knowing that its power wasn’t a match by any means
for that which he currently held. He raised Shieldbreaker, and the pounding began, like a might,
unstoppable piston beating out an irregular rhythm.

He focused himself and brought the Sword down hard against its brother, the beat echoing up and
up, faster and faster, until the magical steel blades met, and the Sword of Vengeance passed from
existence with a mighty boom.

The students stood or sat stock-still, in utter disbelief at what they had just witnessed. The
mighty power of Shieldbreaker. An awesome power to destroy, even that which they had believed
indestructible. Harry took one look at them, and brushed past, back up to the dormitory. Again, he
did not want to face their scrutiny. And he knew now, there would be some who would try and take
Shieldbreaker from him, now that they knew its power.

Hermione trailed him out, holding Woundhealer in her hands, while the shards of Farslayer smoked
upon the floor, its blade shattered by the matchless magic of Shieldbreaker.

A/N: OK, time to thank all you reviewers! Thanks to: Takeda Lee, Batgirl,
HermioneGrangerSnogsHarryPotter, Stacey, Ranma, yurimionepotter, Alexia Potter, Emma, misstake,
SoulShine, Sarahkitty, Spencer Nassau, Clyde, Da Krittik, and Clair.

Questions…

Yurimionepotter: Voldemort figuring out Snape? That’s a good question. I haven’t decided yet.
I’ve pretty much just put him out of the way for now. Yes, some people are going to die. Main
characters? I don’t think I’ll kill any of them. I will be putting in some more H/Hr as it comes
along. Draco… You’ll find out very soon.



12. Chapter 11:  Secrets of Steel
---------------------------------

A/N: AUGH!!! I’m sooo sorry this chapter took so long. I was pretty busy, then my computer
broke, it was terrible. But hopefully, I should be writing more, so the next chapters will come
faster. It gets bloody in this chapter, so be warned.

Disclaimer: JKR owns Harry Potter and company, Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords Series. Me? I own
nothing, and get no money whatsoever.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: SECRETS OF STEEL

Strangely enough, there were no attempts by anyone to even get a look at Shieldbreaker. Harry
figured they were too scared of its abilities and what it might possibly be able to do. After all,
most of the students knew virtually nothing about the Swords. Most of what they knew was that they
had strange powers, and couldn’t be destroyed or damaged.

Harry had his face buried in his pillow when Ron shook him roughly awake. Harry groaned and
rolled over, a dribble of drool escaping his mouth. He barely noticed as he blinked his eyes,
staring at the blurry form in front of him, which was nonetheless recognizable as his lanky
red-haired friend.

“Wha? What is it?” he mumbled with a slur of sleepiness. He fumbled for his glasses and placed
them on his head, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Ron waited for a moment for Harry to clear his head of weariness and began. “Minister Fudge is
on his way here. The attack on the Ministry, while he doesn’t believe it to be the work of
Voldemort,” said Ron with a dark look on his face which told Harry everything he needed to know
about what Ron thought of that particular view, “he does believe that a certain item the Ministry
has in its possession would be safer from attack here.”

Harry stared at him, the effects of sleep dulling his thoughts momentarily. “Item? A Sword?
Which one?” He was fully awake now.

“Stonecutter, Dumbledore tells me. They want to lock it in the deepest parts of the dungeons,
protected by various enchantments and so forth. Dumbledore wanted you down in the Great Hall. Oh,
and I’d wear your Sword. If Malfoy could support Voldemort the way he did, others might… We can’t
take risks.”

Harry rolled out of bed and went about tossing on his robes. Ron had already descended to the
common room by the time Harry had everything on, and strapped Shieldbreaker to his belt. It was
dark in the dorm, with the sun hidden behind darkened clouds. He turned on a light, checking to
make sure everything looked alright, before he went down the stairs to the common room. He found
Ron and Hermione there. Also present was Neville, who looked rather haggard and sleepy, with
bloodshot eyes. He also gripped Coinspinner’s hilt tightly, as if it might flee from him at any
moment.

Harry glanced at them all for a moment, before heading for the portal door. They followed him
out, striding softly behind him and speaking no words. Harry’s mind was racing as he paced silently
through the corridors, despite the hard, unflinching look he wore on his face. Nothing seemed to be
making much sense at this point. Minister Fudge hadn’t even acknowledged Harry’s actions in the
Ministry only a few days ago, and had publicly lambasted him last year, and had bought into the
rumors of Harry’s supposed insanity the year before that.

Harry and his companions burst into the Great Hall momentarily, finding the tables against the
walls with many Ministry officials standing in the center, including Cornelius Fudge, and a few
people who were clearly Aurors. Also present was Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Flitwick. Snape still
seemed absent. Harry’s stomach dropped for an instant, thinking it was most likely at this point
the Potions Master had been discovered by Voldemort and was dead. He shook off that feeling,
knowing he had to ignore it for now. There were more important things to do. Harry strode
imperiously right up to Fudge and Dumbledore, not looking in any direction but forward. There was a
disdainful look on Fudge’s face, as if he was stricken between collapsing in fear or showing open
contempt.

“Well… Harry Potter. And what are you doing down here?” said Fudge in a voice that sounded
braver than he looked.

Harry didn’t allow himself to glare at Fudge, just maintained his icy cool expression. “I came
here to ensure that that Sword doesn’t fall into the wrong hands and safely is placed where it
needs to be.” *Especially since you’re too stupid to realize Voldemort is back, and he will want
that weapon.*

A Ministry official Harry didn’t recognize cut in savagely. “And what makes you think you have a
say in such matters?”

Dumbledore raised a warning hand. “I suggest we all calm ourselves immediately. Harry, while I
am glad of your interest in this matter, you must aware that there is no danger, and very little
that you can do at this time. Please return to your dormitories, all of you.”

The new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement stepped in. “If you don’t mind me
saying so, Headmaster Dumbledore, Mr. Potter has proved himself to be quite resourceful in the
past, and I daresay he understands You-Know-Who better than anyone but yourself. I believe it’d be
best to let him stay.”

Fudge glared at the mention of Voldemort, and began to say something heated.

Just then, Neville let out a yelp. His Sword had leapt into his grasp and was now focusing at
something in the distance. Ron, standing next to him with a startled glance looked along the blade.
“What is it Neville?”

Neville screwed up his face. “I dunno, Ron… I think… Somebody’s coming.”

The party moved to a courtyard behind the school to see a multitude of shapes approaching over
the lake. It was Dumbledore who first determined what they were.

“Wizards riding brooms. They appear to be from Durmstrang.” A wave of whispers rippled through
the crowd of wizards standing around him.

“But… What are they doing here? Did you receive word Dumbledore?” inquired Fudge.

Dumbledore shook his head. “No. This is unexpected. But something tells me they are not here on
a peaceful errand.” The shapes grew larger and eventually landed in the distance. Three figures,
clearly older than the rest trudged towards the assembled body of wizards. They all wore grim looks
on their faces. Dumbledore looked them over. “And what brings you here Graff? Or more correctly,
what brings you here without your headmaster?”

The middle one peered up at Dumbledore in what he obviously thought was a shrewd manner. “He
unfortunately did not see things the vay ve did. Sadly… This meant that many of our supporters
remained behind. But ve still have plenty.”

Harry quickly surveyed the crowd. He guessed over 200 wizards, all looking like they were at
least in 5th year. Most of the crowd of Britons here were fully trained wizards, but
there were less than 50. He self-consciously fingered the hilt of Shieldbreaker and felt a coursing
of power from it, calming his nerves.

Dumbledore was speaking again. “Plenty for what?”

The wizard he had called Graff smiled toothily. “Oh, I think you know. You have brought the
reason with you.” He pointed amongst the crowd. Harry followed his hand, and was shocked to find it
directed at Neville.

“Neville?” he whispered, “Why?”

Hermione grabbed his arm and spoke in a hushed voice back to him. “No, not Neville. His Sword.
Don’t you get it?”

Harry heard a coughing from behind him. It was the Chief of Magical Law Enforcement. “She’s
right, Harry. This could get ugly. I’m going for reinforcements.” He smoothly made his way out of
the crowd for the exit. Harry touched Hermione’s hand lightly. “Hermione, whatever happens… Be
careful. I don’t like this one bit.”
She gripped his hand in her own. “I will. You be careful too.”

Fudge suddenly began to understand what Hermione had already determined. “You… You want a
Sword?” he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

Graff smiled unconvincingly, with a dark shadow hiding just behind his eyes. “Why, yes Minister
Fudge. You see, ve have heard of these… veapons in our home country, yet ve find it very
suspicious, shall ve say, that all of the Swords of Power have thus far turned up in England.”

Fudge began to bluster. “Are you accusing me of something?” he demanded, pompously swelling
himself up.

Graff laughed, although it was not a friendly one. “No, not at all Minister. We simply… Request,
yes, that one of these Swords be placed in our custody, as a sign of magical cooperation between
our countries, yes?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. Fudge would give in, he knew it, anything to avoid confrontation. He
began to step forward, but felt Hermione place a light pressure on his arm. “Harry, please don’t,”
she pleaded quietly.

Fudge’s eyes scanned quickly over the opposition facing him, all of whom seemed to be toting
glinting steel weapons of their own. Hermione, garnering Harry’s attention again, nodded to them.
“They’ve placed their wands in their swords. They can cast spells and use them as weapons.”

Fudge gulped and began to speak, but Dumbledore interrupted him. “Cornelius, I’m not sure that…”
He was viciously cut off by an angry gesture from Fudge.

“I’m in charge here, Dumbledore, and I’ll thank you to remember that.” He turned back to Graff.
“Of, of course we would be willing to give you one Sword. In fact, we happen to have one, I believe
called Stonecutter right here.” He motioned for the Sword bearing Auror to step forward.

Harry tugged against Hermione’s arm. “Please, Harry just let it go.”

He looked sharply at her. “I can’t Hermione. Please… Stay back. I love you.” And when he said
it, Hermione suddenly had a feeling it might be the last time. He broke free of her grip and
stepped in front of the man who was bringing Stonecutter forward.

“Minister Fudge,” he began, “I may not have any authority here, but I do know one thing. We
cannot let these Swords be spread across the globe. They are far to dangerous to be handled idly.
In fact, I would personally be willing to give up my own Sword so that it might not be used for
good or ill.”

Graff stepped forward quickly. “If you vould give it up, then might I—”

“I didn’t say give it up to you,” Harry said coldly. “The only way you are getting Stonecutter
*or* Shieldbreaker is if you pry them from my cold, dead fingers.”

Fudge made a soft gurgling noise of terror, while Graff’s falsely jovial face turned to cold
fury. “If that is the vay you vish it, Mr. Potter.” He and his companions spun away, returning to
their group.

Fudge noticeably relaxed a bit. “Well, maybe they won’t fight after all.”

“I would not count on that, Cornelius,” murmured Dumbledore, pulling out his wand. “I would
advise you to prepare to defend yourself.”

All around Harry, wizards were pulling their wands. Harry lifted Shieldbreaker, as its pounding
began. He could see the Durmstrang wizards stiffening and placing their weapons at the ready. Harry
tensed.

All at once, hundreds of curses and jinxes exploded across the clearing. Harry could hear a dull
rush of magical energy flowing about him as his side fired back. The Durmstrang students charged,
blasting all the while.

Dozens of jets of light arced towards Harry, yet none could come within the arc suddenly drawn
by Shieldbreaker. With a furious measure of hammer strikes, it dissolved their energy upon its
blade, spinning and twirling with impossible speed. Harry could feel his hands binding to the hilt
as the energy of the Sword moved him forwards.

More spells burst about him, yet none came close to hitting him. Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Neville somehow avoiding all attacks with the luck of Coinspinner, while Ron seemed
unaffected by any spell which actually struck him as the mill saw wail of Townsaver pierced the
air.

Harry was given pause for just a moment when he glanced to his right. Dumbledore was under
constant assault, yet somehow, the old man moved with the speed of a jungle cat, deflecting spells
this way and that, simultaneously firing his own curses back at the attackers. The sheer force of
some of his spells sent a wave of energy washing over Harry.

Harry turned back to face the attackers and found one standing right in front of him. The boy
pointed his sword point directly at Harry. “*Stupefy*!” Shieldbreaker, almost disdainfully
Harry imagined, batted the spell away. The other boy, who could not have been more than 17 gaped
openly at Harry for a moment, then rage clouding his face, struck. Shieldbreaker instantly parried
with a note, and the next strike shattered the boy’s blade into shrapnel, the breaking wand inside
exploding in a coruscating wave of light and sound. Before Harry could even think about stopping,
Shieldbreaker swung back around, slashing through the other boy’s torso, spilling his blood on the
grass. With a horrified look on his face, the boy collapsed to his knees and fell head first and
did not stir.

Harry would have stood stock still for a moment in absolute shock, but Shieldbreaker
remorselessly pulled him forward into the fray. He was met by two other boys, who raised their
weapons harshly and moved to strike. Harry leapt back, trying to keep them out of Shieldbreaker’s
reach. “Don’t come any nearer,” he pleaded, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

That gave the two pause for a moment. One noticed the scar on his forehead. “You may be the
famous Harry Potter, but you’re still just a man,” he sneered, and began to move forward again, the
other just behind him.

*On the contrary*, thought Harry bitterly, *with this Sword in hand, I am far more than a
man, but also far less. I am a killer. A brutal, merciless, invincible killer.*

The first boy fired a curse, which was deftly blocked by a swipe of Harry’s Sword, the
backstroke parrying a thrust from the other boy. The Sword snapped up to guard a slash by the
first, swinging back around to block the next, the force of that blow knocking the second back.
Then Shieldbreaker went on the attack, and swung a blinding arc at the first boy, who brought his
gleaming weapon to meet the slash. But where the two met, only one remained. Harry screamed in
utter horror as the Sword swung back around, slicing off the boy’s arm at the elbow, wrenching
through flesh and bone alike. His cry of pain was cut short by his gasp as the great Sword
transfixed his body. The life drained from his eyes as he slid off the blade.

The second boy lay on his back on the ground, eyes wide with terror. He fumbled for his sword,
sending curses at Harry. But nothing could penetrate Shieldbreaker’s pounding swipes. Shieldbreaker
slowly pulled Harry forward. “Run,” Harry panted, trying to hold back, “just run.” The boy stared
for an instant, and then scrambled to his feet and stumbled away.

All around Harry the battle seemed to be a dull roaring sound. He stood for moment, not wanting
to do anything, not wanting to kill again. But then he saw it. Hermione was being backed up, faced
with five Durmstrang students. Thus far, she seemed to be alright, but she couldn’t hold them off
for long. His blood was pounding in his ears and he didn’t even notice his legs carrying him at a
sprint for her. Just before he reached the first student, his mouth opened in a horrible battle
scream, seemingly of its own volition. The boy turned, yelped a short warning, before he was cut
down by the blinding flash of Shieldbreaker’s edge. The others turned to face him and leapt to the
attack. The slashed as a unit, but somehow, none could come close to Harry. The Sword flashed all
around his, drawing an arc of gleaming steel, blasting their weapons into twisted fragments,
carving up their bodies indistinguishably. In seconds, it was over. Harry stopped and turned to
Hermione, when he realized his robes were spattered with blood.

She stared up at him, mouth slightly open, a silent gasp escaping her lips. Harry could see how
he was reflected in her eyes, and he felt like he wanted to retch. He tried to throw away the
Sword, but it was magically bound to his grip. He felt like falling to his knees, but somehow
couldn’t.

He spotted movement in the corner of his eye. Graff had just blasted back one of the English
wizards and had turned for Harry. There was a manic glint in his eye. “You may have defeated some
of my students, Potter, but you vill not defeat me.” He sent spells flying at Harry.

Harry, helpless to do anything, let Shieldbreaker’s magic flow as it slashed apart the jets of
light fired by Graff. Graff’s eyes narrowed as he closed on Harry. Just then, Graff was struck by a
Disarming Curse, sending his wand flying. He stood for a moment dumbly, and went diving for his
wand. He missed it by several feet, and found Harry blocking his path.

“You did this,” Harry muttered darkly, “It was because of you all these people are fighting and
even dying today. Your fault.” He let Shieldbreaker’s magic take him and slashed at Graff with all
his might. But something happened. Or rather, nothing happened. The steel of Shieldbreaker had
passed harmlessly through Graff’s chest, leaving no mark.

Graff started with intense shock. Harry blinked, and attacked again, but once more, the blade
had no effect. Graff, seizing his opportunity, attacked Harry barefisted. Hermione screamed nearby,
but seemed rooted to her spot. Harry felt his energy being sapped somehow, growing weaker and
weaker as Graff wrestled with him. Suddenly, there was a flash of steel behind Graff and he
screamed, releasing Harry and dropping to the ground. Ron stood behind him, Townsaver in hand.

“You looked like you needed a hand, mate,” he said, with a sardonic smirk.

Harry breathed heavily. His fight with Graff seemed to have drained him. All around them, the
fight seemed to be dying down. Harry spotted Dumbledore in the midst of it all, disabling opponent
after opponent effortlessly. The pounding of Shieldbreaker slowed and quieted, eventually stopping
a minute later. He let it slip from his hands, the point resting in the dirt.

Harry felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder. “Harry, are you alright?”

He turned to her, swallowing hard. “I thought I was going to die there, when Graff attacked me.”
He stared hard at her, his eyes filled with what might have been. She looked back, lower lip
trembling slightly, before she reached out and embraced him. He held her tightly and bent to kiss
her. He heard her sob softly as their lips parted contact, and looked to see her eyes brimming with
tears.

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” she whispered.

“I don’t ever want to leave you,” he murmured back. He held her tight, robes soaked with blood
on that open field, dark clouds filling the sky with gloom.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed, and who will review THIS chapter! Thanks to: Sarahkitty,
HermioneGrangerSnogsHarryPotter, yurimionepotter, Hallie, SoulShine, AnimeFanatic, padawanleia,
slyphiad, micah, Alexia Potter, Batgirl, Eric Wilke, XhaLe, and akcutten.

Questions:

Sarahkitty: I have plans for Shieldbreaker ;)

Yurimionepotter: Draco is not there. He’s off with the baddies. He’ll be back later, though

AnimeFanatic: Well, as much as I’d like to say, I must keep up my streak of ambiguousness and
say you WILL find out eventually.

Batgirl: Sorry, not much Hero!Neville right now, but there will be some later. A couple things
have to happen first.S



13. Chapter 12:  Crossing the Line
----------------------------------

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and his associated characters in any way shape or form. I
wish I did. Having all that money would be nice. The Swords of Power are owned by Fred Saberhagen.
I’d like to have his money too.

A/N: A long time coming. Yet I wrote over half of it in three nights. Stupid me. Thanks to
VirtualFaerie/MalfoyMyFerret for the beta.

CHAPTER TWELVE: CROSSING THE LINE

Harry stood slowly, taking Hermione’s hand and pulling her up. He saw Neville approaching him.
His Sword, too, was bloody. Ron looked at him.

“You alright Neville?”

Neville looked rather pale, but nodded. “I… I’m fine. I dunno about the… the person I stabbed
though.” He gulped and looked sick. “They could die.” He turned a plaintive and almost panicking
look towards Harry. “I didn’t want… I never wanted to be a killer.”

Harry could only nod, as he looked down at Shieldbreaker, its blade covered with the blood of 7
people, all, he was sure, now dead from their wounds. It suddenly hit him in the stomach to realize
what he’d done, and he felt again like vomiting again. Instead, he only fell to his knees, shaking
hard.

“Harry?” It was Professor Dumbledore. “What’s happened?”

Harry was silent for a long time, unable to speak, to tell Dumbledore what he had done. “I…
Professor… I’ve done something horrible.”

Dumbledore studied him for a moment. “You struck down some of the Durmstrang students, yes?”

“Struck down?! I *murdered* them!” Harry screamed, collapsing in on himself. Hermione was
instantly at his side, holding and rocking him gently. He tried to hold back his tears, but they
could not be abated. As the salty drops flowed down his cheek, he imagined they tried to wash the
blood from his being, but failed.

Ron looked down at Harry, unsure. “There was nothing you could have done,” he offered. “The
Swords they…they control you somehow. They direct you with a mind of their own.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look his friend in the eye, for fear of what Ron might see in
his own. “Do you think that matters?” he whispered. “Does it make a difference?”

Hermione looked at him solemnly, her face as drawn as he had ever seen it. There was an aching
sadness behind her eyes, a look that told him she shared in his pain. “It makes all the
difference,” she said softly.

There was silence for a moment as they all stood in a loose circle. Ron spoke up. “Harry, do you
have any clue why you couldn’t hurt Graff? I mean… Shieldbreaker can bloody kill anything, why not
him?”

Harry shook his head. “No idea. It just… It wouldn’t hurt him.”

Hermione furrowed her brow in thought. “Harry… What was the verse in the *Song of Swords*
for Shieldbreaker?”

Harry shook his head slowly, wondering for a moment how this could be important. He thought back
to that day in Dumbledore’s office when they had discovered the writing on the sheaths. “I shatter
swords and splinter spears, none stands to Shieldbreaker, my point’s—”

“Wait,” muttered Hermione. Her forehead crinkled, and she thought hard. “Harry, did Graff have
*any* weapon at all?”

Harry stared at her momentarily, confused as to how this was important. “No, not that I could
see.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she stared at Shieldbreaker as it glinted in the soft light
filtering through the gray clouds. “None stands… Don’t you get it Harry? None is *able to
stand*. As in no weapon. If you’re unarmed, Shieldbreaker can’t hurt you!”

Harry stared dumfounded at the weapon, as a slight trickle of water began to fall from the sky.
For all its power, Shieldbreaker did indeed have a weakness, and a terrible one at that. Harry felt
a trembling as he recalled again how close he had been to dying. Black spots had appeared in his
vision; his limbs had felt so numb. He felt as if his strength had been sapped away from his body
slowly. His face stared off into an infinite distance, barely hearing Ron speak.

“And because it seems to bond to your hands during battle, you can’t throw it away under those
circumstances.”

“For a Sword with so much power, that certainly is a glaring weakness,” came a soft voice from
behind them. Harry turned his ashen face towards the figure. It was the chief of Magical Law
Enforcement, returned with several more Aurors. “Sorry we didn’t get here in time to make a
difference. But it’s a little hard when you can’t Apparate onto the Hogwarts grounds.”

Dumbledore turned to him. “Quite alright Reynolds. The situation has resolved itself… Albeit in
a much more brutal fashion than we would have preferred.” He turned to look at the bodies dotting
the field. “We took as many of them alive as possible. Unfortunately, there were some who did not
survive…On both sides.”

Reynolds set his jaw and nodded. The breeze rippled his cloak about him. He turned to the Aurors
he had brought along with him. “Help get the wounded out of here and to St. Mungo’s.”

They nodded at his orders and helped carry the figures off. Reynolds moved off to help,
returning a short time later. Within 10 minutes, the plain had been cleared of the casualties and
only a handful of people were left; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dumbledore, Reynolds, Fudge and
about a dozen others.

Harry looked about once more, then stood as the wind picked up and a light rain began to fall
from the gray skies, sunlight reduced to a trickle filtering through the clouds. Harry shivered as
he plucked Shieldbreaker from the earth, turning the harsh steel over in his hands, eyes piercing
to the core of its terrible magic.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go Harry. No need to remain here any longer.”
He nodded slowly to Dumbledore’s words. He began to turn away, back to the weathered castle, pacing
after the retreating figures before him.

A hammer struck.

Harry froze instantly. Another hammer blow rang out.

Hermione spun to gaze at him, her eyes wide. Dumbledore looked grave, eyes casting about the
sky. Another strike of the hammer.

Shieldbreaker thrummed its power in Harry’s hands. His grip was still loose, he noted. His hands
had not yet bonded to the hilt. More important at this moment was that there was an enemy nearby.
It seemed impossible. Just minutes after a previous attack, with their strength drained already,
another attack on its way? Harry narrowed his eyes, had to blink them to rid the raindrops from his
sight. There was some sort of treachery afoot.

Harry’s eyes cast about, desperately trying to find the opponents Shieldbreaker told him must be
there. Then he saw it. Movement just 100 yards away. Visibility was down to virtually nothing in
the now driving rain pelting him. But through all the dank gloom, he saw the eyes. The red eyes of
his most terrible enemy.

“*Voldemort*.”

The black figures which rose from the field were indeed Death Eaters, new and old. Harry counted
at least 40, against the score of Aurors and others that stood with himself. And Voldemort himself
was there.

Suddenly, Harry spotted a smaller figure. He caught a glimpse of hair so blonde it was
practically white. Malfoy. It had to be.

Harry growled low in his throat, started to move forward, only to find a soft yet firm hand grip
his shoulder.

“No, Harry, you can’t. You have to help the rest of us. Malfoy isn’t worth it, not now.”
Hermione’s brown eyes stared wide into his own. She was frightened, he could see it etched in every
inch of her face. And he knew she should be; he had seen what Voldemort could do.

But there was something else. Voldemort, for all his power, was nothing against Harry in this
instant. With Shieldbreaker, he was invincible. Voldemort would never attack him unarmed. He could
end it now.

As if reading Harry’s mind, Ron spoke up. “She’s right Harry. You may be almost invulnerable
with that, but that can’t protect us all. We need your help.” There was only the slightest quaver
in Ron’s voice that betrayed his own fear. Harry cast a glance over the assembled company. Many
wore a look he had never seen before, and it sent a chill down his spine. (Impossible! He was
invulnerable!)

They looked like men preparing themselves to die. Most of them did not expect to survive this
battle. Death hovered about them in the air, a stink that would not go away. And Harry felt their
bleak manner leaking onto him.

“Dumbledore!” A hissing voice rang out across the drenched field. “It ends here, old man!” And
Voldemort brandished before him a Sword… Harry knew which it must be. Doomgiver, the Sword of
Justice.

Dumbledore appeared the only calm person around them. “We stay together. Attack only when you
have an opening. If they start using the Killing Curse, scatter. Remember you can’t Apparate.” He
lifted his wand, ready to do what must be done. “Good luck.”

Just then, a limp shape was thrown from the front ranks of the Death Eaters. Even at this
distance, Harry recognized the hook nose and sallow face.

“Professor Snape? Merlin…”

“I think he’s still alive,” whispered Hermione, “His chest is still moving.”

Harry spun, looking for a likely candidate. “Er…” His eyes landed on someone and he made a snap
decision. “Neville, I need your help. I’ll cover you, and you get Snape out of there.”

Neville looked at him, eyes darting, face flushed. He nodded. Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Can
you give us a little cover?”

It was Reynolds who answered. “We’ll do what we can. Good luck Harry.” He directed his wand
towards the oncoming Death Eaters, now less than 50 yards distant.

They all had their wands out and ready, faces obscured behind their hooded robes. Voldemort
hissed his order without further preamble. “ATTACK!”

The air was suddenly alive with curses of all shapes and sizes. These were no mere students now.
These were all highly trained wizards doing battle. There was a return volley from the Ministry
side. The bolts of light blasted across the field with the intensity and speed of a machine gun. It
would be impossible to block them all.

But not for Harry. Dodging curses where he could, and blocking them with Shieldbreaker when he
could not, he and Neville moved towards Snape’s unconscious figure, off to the side of the battle.
They were almost there. Harry checked; his hands were still free of the blade. He hadn’t drawn
blood yet this battle. He cast a quick look back. And it wasn’t good.

Several Aurors were down, how many dead, he couldn’t tell. Before them, many Death Eaters had
also fallen. Dumbledore stood in the thick of it all, doing what he could to keep the others from
breaking, disabling Death Eaters left and right. Ron himself stood in the center, just to
Dumbledore’s left, unharmed by even the Killing Curses which came his way. The shriek of Townsaver
rose as he slashed through the attackers. Harry could see his face holding the icy concentration
and heated rush of combat. He’d regret it later as well, Harry knew. He saw Hermione creeping
carefully up behind Ron, Sword in hand. She held it horizontal and… *stabbed Ron in the
back!*

“Bloody hell!” Harry yelled. Then he realized what it was. Hermione still held Wayfinder. She
had run Ron through with Woundhealer. It would keep him from dying when the battle was over, and
Townsaver’s power left him. He turned his attention back to his task. Neville had reached Snape and
grabbed his collar. He started slowly dragging him away from the battle. He looked and Harry and
nodded. With a curt nod and a grim face, Harry turned back to the scene….

And found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

“So, Potter,” he spat, “we meet again.”

“You need new lines, Malfoy. That’s got to be the oldest one in the book,” Harry said with a
sneer of his own. “I don’t want to kill you, but if you force me, Merlin help me, I’ll do it.” And
it suddenly stunned him how easily the words came. He would feel no remorse in killing Malfoy. None
at all. An almost imperceptible shiver ran down his spine.

“Oh no, Potter, you won’t be finishing me off today, I assure you. You see,” he lifted his wand,
“I happen to be unarmed.” And with that he tossed it aside. An evil smile creased his narrow
face.

Harry’s eyes widened. *How could he know?* He had no time for that. He tried to throw away
Shieldbreaker, to find his right hand was sticking to it. It drummed out its beat, insisting on
combat. Harry did not listen. As Malfoy approached, he tried to leverage his hand off. Finally, it
slipped away, and he cast the weapon aside as quickly as he could. Just as Malfoy leapt on him, he
delivered a fist to the other boy’s face.

“Oomph!” Malfoy was knocked down, but sprang to his feet quickly. He looked at Harry with a
bloodied lip. “You’ll pay for that, Potter.”

“I don’t think so!” Hermione was suddenly close by and she tossed Wayfinder at Harry. Harry
deftly caught it, and shifted to face Malfoy. “Unarmed won’t help you now. And don’t think I don’t
know how to use this. Surrender.”

Malfoy cast a look at his wand, only to find it coming to rest in Hermione’s hand, having just
summoned it. She pointed her own wand at Malfoy.

His face was twisted sickeningly, as if he couldn’t believe his situation. He dropped to his
knees.

“*Stupefy*!” Hermione Stunned Malfoy. “Don’t want him running away later, and we can’t
bother guarding him.” She looked around quickly. “Where’s Shieldbreaker?”

Harry looked around too. He wasn’t sure where he had thrown it, in his panic to rid himself of
the weapon. Had it been his left, his right? He wasn’t sure. “Well, it has to be nearby, doesn’t
it? I couldn’t possibly have thrown it too far.”

He was interrupted though, by the shadow that fell across him. He whirled. It was Voldemort
himself. And he clutched in his grip Shieldbreaker.

Harry froze for a moment. This was something he was unprepared for. He had barely a thought of
defending himself. But then he saw something. The Voldemort did not wear a Sword belt as the one he
saw earlier had. He had one shot; he’d have no chance against Shieldbreaker or Voldemort in either
case.

“Show me Voldemort!” he commanded of Wayfinder. It spun him away, to show Voldemort standing
behind his minions.

Harry barely dodged the first thrust then, its leading edge biting through the damp air. He
aimed his own wild attack, aiming to take off the man’s head, but missed, slipping on the muddy
ground. Hermione shot a curse at the man, whoever he was. The man apparently deemed Hermione a
greater threat, because he dodged her spell and leapt towards her.

And was suddenly struck in the back by a blast of green light. Harry spun. A Death Eater had
tried to use the Killing Curse on Hermione. But this Death Eater had inadvertently got in the way.
The man fell and the Sword, sure to be Sightblinder, fell from his grasp. Its illusion faded,
revealing a short, fat bald man. Wormtail. His shocked expression stared blankly out of dead
eyes.

Harry scanned the battle again. The fight was pretty much at a stalemate by this point. The
Death Eaters couldn’t get by Ron to destroy the rest of the Ministry forces, and Ron couldn’t use
Townsaver on attack effectively. Harry and Hermione rushed back to the group, forgetting for the
moment about Shieldbreaker, pausing only to scoop up Sightblinder.

“Professor,” breathed Harry, “what’s our next move?”

Dumbledore turned a face dirtied from the battle to him, dirty yet still with those twinkling
blue eyes. “We wait Harry. The Order is on its way. They will be here shortly.”

Harry’s eyes widened for a moment. In the midst of all this, Dumbledore had managed to get word
to the Order? But what about all those other witches and wizards who had just been here? Surely the
battle was making a ruckus. Harry pointed this out to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head. “They’re deep within the castle. The hospital wing is on the opposite
side of the grounds. Nobody will have heard anything. And we can’t spare a single man to go as a
messenger.” With that, he let loose a rapid quartet of spells, knocking down another Death
Eater.

The battle seemed almost as if at a standstill. People were being disabled now and again, but
both seemed to have moved to defensive postures. Voldemort’s main Sword, Doomgiver, was limited in
its uses as an offensive weapon. As long as they did not direct attacks against Voldemort, they
were safe from its power. Townsaver, likewise, was defensive. The Death Eaters dared not approach
Ron and his blood-streaked Sword, but they couldn’t get past him to face the others. All efforts
were frustrated.

Harry peered through the pounding rain, shivering uncontrollably. He was soaked through, and his
glasses fogged somewhat. Suddenly he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned. It was his
godfather, Sirius Black. “Didn’t expect us to miss the fun, did you?” he asked with a wolfish grin.
Right behind him was Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

They drew their wands and let loose. The blasts of light coruscated through the rain, striking
enemies and sending Voldemort’s forces falling back. One of them tripped, though not hit. He looked
down and grabbed at the ground, then ran over to Voldemort. Voldemort took one look at the
man...And the Sword he carried. “Retreat! We have what we came for!” The Death Eaters didn’t have
to be told twice. With that, they turned tail and fled into the gloom, picking up as many of their
fallen as they could, but leaving most.

The Ministry wizards broke out in cheer. Harry could hear Fudge stammering an apology to
Dumbledore for ever doubting him. But Harry barely paid attention. He felt Hermione grab him and
pull him into a hug. “We made it Harry! We…” Her voice trailed off at his sullen expression.
“What’s wrong?”

“We lost Shieldbreaker. I know it. There’s no other reason for him to have left. They have
it.”

He cast a look around. Saw Neville, crumpled on his knees. He was Swordless. And he was in
terrible grief. Yet there still seemed a flicker of his earlier heroism. Harry blinked, and jogged
over, Hermione behind him with Ron approaching from the other side, removing Woundhealer from
himself as he went.

“Neville, what—”

“It left me. I only let go of it for a moment. Slipped in the mud while carrying Snape back,
almost got hexed while I was down. But… it had disappeared.” He turned his round face up to them.
“Coinspinner’s gone. And so is its luck.”

Harry felt his own knees go weak. He fell to the ground, letting Sightblinder fall from his
grasp. They had won the battle, but at a terrible price. He had become a killer this day. Who knows
who now lay dead. Coinspinner had abandoned Neville for parts unknown. And now the mightiest of all
Swords, Shieldbreaker, lay in the hands of Voldemort.

A/N: If you’re confused why Hermione still saw him as Harry while he was holding Sightblinder,
it’s because she trusts Harry, so saw him for true. Reviews. Thanks to: Eric Wilke, micah,
VirtualFaeria/MalfoyMyFerret, gdssofdarkness, padawanleia, Batgirl, WhiteLight, weatherbee,
yurimionepotter, Xhale, SoulShine, akcutten, perenelle, and slyphiad.

Questions:

Xhale: Admittedly, yes, I’ve made a couple errors. They are nobody’s fault but my own. But I’ll
try to satisfy you. The thing with Harry, well, he was planning on staying down there until she
showed up or he fell asleep. So his note would say so. If he was still awake, the note wouldn’t
have been seen. With Lupin…You’ll recall that he was at the Ministry. However, he wasn’t in contact
with Dumbledore after that point. Which is why they didn’t know.

SoulShine: Brass knuckles are a weapon. No weapon at all is the only thing that works.



14. Chapter 13:  Shatterpoint
-----------------------------

A/N: Well, it’s finally here. I got this done while sitting in the airport. Exciting, no? Thanks
to VirtualFaerie/MalfoyMyFerret for beta work.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: SHATTERPOINT**

Harry sat in the still darkness of his dormitory, chests full of the other boys’ belongings
pushed up against the door. He knew Ron had tried to get Harry to let him in numerous times, but he
didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything at all anymore. He couldn’t feel anything; every time he
tried, he only experienced an aching numbness that would not leave him. There were moments when he
doubted it ever would.

The thoughts, images, and memories roiled through his beleaguered mind. The aftermath of the
battle, the dead being tallied, Malfoy being taken to the dungeons, Hermione holding him tightly
and crying, begging him to say something. But he had barely felt the cold stinging of her tears
against his skin, barely felt the subtle warmth of her lithe figure gripping him forcefully. It all
didn’t seem to matter.

Why, why had things gone this way? It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. He had done it all out of
justice and right, and the need to protect humanity from *itself*. Power, it was all about
power, getting it, keeping it, and acquiring more and more. Didn’t anyone care about what was
*right* anymore? Or was he the only one?

Shieldbreaker was *his*! It had chosen him, he knew it. It had come to him, and he had
wielded it with efficiency. But in his time of greatest need, it had abandoned him. Its utter
invulnerability left him, leaving only glaring weakness behind in its wake. He didn’t deserve
this.

And all at once, as that thought was bereft of his mind as quickly as it had formed, he felt the
urge to vomit. The boy, not much older than him, a gurgling cry as the blood fountained from his
chest, coloring the grass red, falling dead to the ground. Life had left his eyes before he’d even
had a chance to consider he could not win. Had he even seen his end coming before Shieldbreaker’s
steel had slashed through his flesh? Harry didn’t have the answers. He didn’t want to have the
answers to that.

*He had killed*. People’s lives had just ended because of his actions. Because of his
foolish pride. That’s what it was, not some noble aspiration to keep the Swords from spreading. His
pride that he could not be defeated. Drunk with the power of his Sword, he had challenged all,
never expecting to be overcome. But it had happened. He had made a mistake.

Dully, he realized someone was pounding on the door. He ignored it. It was probably Ron again.
He didn’t want to face Ron, not now. But as a voice called out from behind the door, he raised his
head slightly.

“Harry, please let me in. Please, I just want to talk to you. You don’t have to be alone right
now!” pleaded Hermione. Harry was torn. He had this urge to just *stay there* and stew in his
utter bleakness… But this was Hermione. If he couldn’t talk to her, who could he talk to?

Slowly, he rose from the bed and shambled over to the door, lethargically moving the chest away
from it and lifting the lock. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, revealing her tear streaked
face.

The sight of her almost broke Harry down. His knees felt like jelly. How could he have neglected
her like this? And Ron… He made a mental note through the haze to talk to Ron.

Silently, she stepped past him and sat down on his bed, waiting for him to come and sit next to
her. He pushed the door closed again and collapsed next to her, his whole being feeling tired.

She leaned against his shoulder in stillness for a long moment, letting the quiet reign. Then
she angled her head towards him slightly.

“What are you thinking, Harry?”

*A fair question*, he reasoned. After all he had been pondering, all that had been leaping
through his mind, he wasn’t quite sure himself.

“I’m thinking… Why me? Why did this all have to happen to me?”

She sat up, biting her lip, gazing at him. “I don’t know why it seems to be your lot in life to
be involved with all this. But, Harry… I do think that everything happens for a reason. You got
Shieldbreaker for a reason, and you lost it for a reason. You were involved for a reason too.”

Harry stood up violently, facing the wall for a moment, before spinning back to her. “A reason?
And what reason is that? To become a murderer?” he yelled angrily. “I *killed* people! I split
their bodies open with the steel of Shieldbreaker, watched their blood drain from their bodies the
same way I saw the life drain from their eyes! I saw that same dullness in their eyes that I saw in
Cedric’s. And it was *my fault*!”

Hermione lowered her eyes slowly. Harry was instantly sorry for yelling at her. She didn’t
deserve this. “I’m sorry, Hermione, I just… I *killed* them… How am I different from
Voldemort? I’m a killer.” He breathed raggedly, and felt the urge to vomit returning. He swayed on
his feet, and collapsed into a heap on the floor, leaning heavily again the wall, eyes beginning to
burn.

Hermione stood and knelt next to him, cradling his head against her shoulder. “You are
different, Harry. I know you are. Many people couldn’t do what you’ve done. They forget that he who
fights monsters must take care that he does not become one. That’s what makes you different,
Harry.”

He looked up at her, her eyes seemingly stretching into infinity. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you see, Harry? You *care*. That’s what separates you from Voldemort. Every death is
weighing down on you. You care so much you are in agony for it, you feel as if it was your blood
being spilled out there. Those weren’t callous killings, Harry. You didn’t want to. But you
*had* to.”

He swallowed hard, looked at the floor. “That doesn’t make it right.”

She lifted his chin to look into his eyes again. “And that, Harry, is what makes you who you
are, and not Voldemort.” With that, she brought his face close to hers and kissed him softly,
holding him against her, as his tears began for real.

Harry staggered out of the boy’s dormitory half an hour, after Hermione had reluctantly departed
to dinner, leaving him behind momentarily at his request. He had expected the common room to be
quiet by now, but found that he was in error. Huddled in a chair near the fireplace sat Neville. He
stared blankly at the flames, shivering slightly despite the warmth from the hearth.

Blinking with puzzlement, Harry slowly approached. Neville was hunched over, eyes half closed.
“Neville? What’s…What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. When he spoke, it was in a low, broken voice. “It left
me.”

Harry grew more confused, before recalling that Neville had lost Coinspinner earlier in the day
in the brutal fight. “You… You just lost it, Neville. It was an accident.”

Neville shook his head. “No, Harry. I knew that Sword inside and out. It left me, on its own. It
was waiting for the opportunity to slip away. You know the verse.”

Harry reflected that yes, he did know it. *Coinspinner**, to please the gods, slips from
him like a snake*.

“Neville, please listen to me. I know how you feel. I just lost Shieldbreaker, to Voldemort’s
own hands no less. That’s something *I* have to live with. It’s not something I can accept
easily. But I have to. And figure out a way to defeat it, defeat Voldemort.”

Neville slammed his fist down on the arm rest, bolting to his feet to face Harry. “No, you don’t
bloody understand! You think you do but…” His visage was contorted in pain and anger. “You can’t.
You’ve always been… You’ve always been a better wizard than I have. I don’t even have my own wand.
This is my dad’s. All my life I’ve never been good at anything. I’m practically a squib!”

“Now what…the *hell* does being a better or worse wizard have to do with this?” Harry
regretted the anger in his tone as soon as he spoke. But Neville didn’t back down, or deflate at
all.

“Coinspinner gave me something I never had. It gave me power, strength, ability. I was better
because of it. But now… It’s gone, and I’m back to *this*. To me. To nothing.” He cast his
gaze down, and he seemed to retreat within himself, falling to the floor on his knees.

Harry immediately dropped to his own knees in front of Neville. “That’s not true, Neville. It
wasn’t just Coinspinner. You have to realize that. It may have given you an advantage, but you had
the guts to use it. When I looked at you when we went after Hermione and Ron, I saw why the Sorting
Hat put you in Gryffindor, Neville. I saw courage in your eyes. I saw the strength to do it, the
will to win against any odds.”

Neville snorted. “Odds. Of course I could beat the odds. I had luck.”

Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t luck that made you set off that night, or agree to go with me
to save Snape today. It was heart, Neville. It was *you*.”

Neville hesitated, but continued to resist. “But without Coinspinner I never would have. I
needed it.”

Harry smiled, recalling something Dumbledore had told him what seemed like a lifetime ago. “But
you made the choice to use it the way you did. You didn’t have to.”

Neville looked confused. “Of course I had to. It was the right thing to do… Even if I’m
terrified of Professor Snape.”

Harry continued smiling. “Exactly. You *chose* to use the power for good. Not everyone
would have made that same choice Neville. It’s our choices, not our abilities that define who we
are. Professor Dumbledore told me that. And I believe it. You showed me something of yourself there
Neville. The true you. You *are* a Gryffindor. Your parents would have been proud of you,
Neville.”

Harry immediately realized he had revealed too much. Neville raised his head to look at Harry.
“You know.” It was not a question.

Harry closed his eyes. “Yeah… I found out, by accident last year. I’m sorry, I…”

Neville shook his head. “It’s alright… I… My grandmother has always been proud of what my mum
and dad did for us, fighting against You-Know-Who. I just… I didn’t want to tell anyone. But maybe…
It’s part of who I am, whether I want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s time.” He reached out a hand
to tentatively clap Harry on the shoulder. “Thanks, Harry. For everything.”

Harry gripped his forearm. “We have to stick together, Neville. That’s what friends are for.”
Neville grinned, and they both stood up.

“Are you coming down to dinner then?” asked Neville, glancing towards the portrait hole.

Harry shook his head. “Go on without me. There’s one more thing I need to do first.” *Even
though I don’t really want to*.

Harry stopped at the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Even here, he could hear the groans of
injured men. Madame Pomfrey could heal most of the wounds, but some of the curse wounds were nasty
ones that would not be easy to heal.

He took a deep breath before stepping in. He was met with the sight of every bed filled, with
some people having to sit on the floor. Many were unconscious, many other lay awake. He had never
seen so many people in here at once. After two massive, bloody battles, he supposed it was to be
expected.

Professor Dumbledore stood near Madame Pomfrey, Fudge, and Reynolds, who appeared to be
conferencing. Harry knew he had been throwing around enough weight for today and reluctantly held
back, itching to get in and listen to what was being said. Soon enough, the meeting broke and
Professor Dumbledore turned to leave. Spotting Harry he strode slowly over, looking down at
him.

“Harry… What brings you here?”

“I, er… I wanted to see how… How bad is it?” he blurted out.

Dumbledore studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “11 of our people are dead. Several
others may not survive. At least 50 are wounded,” he stated frankly.

Harry swallowed hard. 11 dead, maybe more. Because of him, part of him whispered harshly.
Shaking that thought from his head, he spoke again. “I also… I wanted to see Professor Snape.”

Dumbledore again kept his gaze on Harry for a time, before gesturing over to one bed. Harry
looked past Dumbledore, seeing the sallow faced teacher lying in one of the hospital beds, staring
blankly at the ceiling.

He stepped around the tall headmaster, angling for Snape, who gave no indication that he had
noticed Harry. As Harry stopped next to the bed, though, he spoke up. “And what have you come here
for, Potter?” The voice was a weak croak, lacking the menace that normally was its staple.

“I just wanted to…I don’t know…sir…”

Snape blinked slowly, then sat up slightly, turning to look at Harry with his black eyes. “You
perhaps were curious as to how I was captured, Potter? Or have you come to gloat over saving me? I
assure you, I care not. I accepted the dangers of my work before you were born.” The old edge
seemed to be returning.

“I just. Why?”

“Why what, Potter?”

“Why turn spy? Why help Dumbledore?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, as his gaze bore into Harry’s emerald eyes. “The first thing to
understand about *that,* Potter… Is that you do not understand. Do you believe I enjoy causing
pain, Potter? That I am a sadist?” His lip curled slightly. “You would be very wrong yet again,
Potter. All I will tell you is this, Potter. Sometimes we do things we don’t understand the reason
for. But sometimes we’re given another chance. Professor Dumbledore saved my life. He saved me from
myself.” Snape lay back down. “It’s possible that one day you might actually understand that,
Potter. Right now though… You have no comprehension.”

Harry looked at Snape for a moment. “I know more than you think I do.” When Snape gave no
response at all, Harry clenched his jaw, turning to leave. At least he was closer to the truth than
he had been before. He headed down to the Great Hall.

Walking in the doorway, he found it quieter than it ever had been before. Information spread
like wildfire around Hogwarts he knew, and no doubt the entire student body by this time knew what
had transpired today. The fighting, the deaths… And the appearance of Voldemort. The noise level
dropped a bit more, towards grave-like, when he made his way in. He avoided their gazes. He was so
tired of people staring at him for one reason or another. Locating Ron and Hermione, he took a seat
next to her. She grasped his hand, squeezing it softly, before returning to her meal. She looked
pointedly at Ron, who coughed slightly from all the food he had been consuming, and turned to
Harry.

“So… You better then?”

“Better than I was. And, Ron… Thanks for at least trying.”

A smile tugged at Ron’s mouth. “You’re not the easiest person to deal with sometimes. Bloody
hero.”

Harry chuckled despite himself. “Next time, you can be the hero.”

Dean Thomas spoke slowly. “Well… At least it’s over, right?”

Harry was about to answer when Reynolds burst in, followed closely by Dumbledore. They
practically ran up to the main table, where Cornelius Fudge was sitting, looking sullen. They
whispered a few words, then Dumbledore turned to address the students. His face was grave, a
condition Harry reflected that he had seen far too often lately.

“I regret to inform you all that there has been another attack. Voldemort… And his Death Eaters
have struck the Ministry again. This time in a far more brutal fashion.”

Shocked murmuring erupted throughout the Great Hall. Stunned, Harry turned to look at Dean,
whose face had fallen. Hermione just sat there, staring at her plate, disbelief written on her
face. Ron was shaking his head, hands covering his face. “No… It’s only just begun.” *Where it
ends… Only Merlin knows*. One thing Harry did know, though… The days ahead would be dark.
Unbearably dark.

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers: slyphiad, Eric Wilke, Padawan Leia, Kai_Lun_Mau, Midknight,
SoulShine, Ryusuken, harryherm84, Cris, and tiredone. Apparently no questions this time, sooo…



15. Chapter Fourteen:  Chances and Choices
------------------------------------------

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company are owned by the illustrious JK Rowling. The Swords of
Power are owned by Fred Saberhagen. A few bit characters from other chapters are more or less my
own.

A/N: Yes, I know, it took forever for this chapter to come out. It’s not like college is easy,
you know. But in the end, the pokers and prodders got the best of me. And thanks to Nic for
beta-ing for me. You’re the best, “sis.”

This chapter is dedicated to those determined souls who managed to get me to update. Thanks
guys… I think.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CHANCES AND CHOICES**

There was a muted silence in the Gryffindor Common Room that evening. Dumbledore, Fudge,
Reynolds, and a few members of the Order had gone to check conditions at the Ministry. They hadn’t
yet returned, after being gone for over two hours already. Harry sat, a stony look of despair
etched on his face, staring into the fire. All this pain, all this destruction, all this
*death* in the past several weeks. All because of these pieces of magical steel.

He recalled the words of Mr. Ollivander, who had sold Harry his wand. The Swords had great
power. But the way they were being used, leveraged for simple human ambition and greed; that was
terrible, horrific. These tools which could be put so such great use, benefit humanity so much were
pawns in a shell game being played between good and evil. And as he pondered, he really had to ask
himself if such power was something humanity was meant to possess? He wasn’t sure. Earlier, he had
been so drunk in the power they had given him, but now, he found himself realizing that was the
true danger behind them, that they did give one such a feeling of power. How then, did he stop
himself, prevent himself from becoming that evil he despised? Did that condemn him, no matter what
Hermione said?

“*Sometimes we’re given another chance.*”

Harry blinked. As much as he did not wish to admit it, Snape had actually been right for once.
Hermione knew he wasn’t evil, wasn’t like Voldemort. So did Ron, and Dumbledore. They had given him
another chance.

Hermione sat beside him. “Hey,” she said, grasping his hand. He turned to look at her, smiling
slightly. She smiled back at him. “Well, that’s an improvement at least. You should smile more,
Harry.”

“I know. It’s just hard sometimes, with everything that’s happened. The waiting isn’t helping
either. I mean… I just want to know what happened. How can he keep hitting us like this, so fast?
It doesn’t seem possible.”

“He’s no doubt feeling pretty confident right now. He does have Shieldbreaker and Doomgiver now,
after all,” commented Ron.

Harry nodded. “That’s true. But you’d think he’d need time to recuperate from his losses. We hit
him pretty good here, didn’t we?”

Ron looked down for a moment. “You-Know-Who doesn’t exactly care about other people’s lives,
Harry.” Harry had to agree with that. Voldemort certainly didn’t care about other’s lives at all.
Ron cleared his throat. “So, Malfoy was evidently pretty deep into the Death Eaters, wasn’t
he?”

“I think it’s more that… You wouldn’t be able to take Doomgiver from him,” said Hermione,
thinking deeply. “If you did, it’d reciprocate, and not allow itself to be taken anyways, wouldn’t
it? He probably got to go in exchange for the Sword. Whether he cares about life or not, he doesn’t
spend his followers utterly needlessly.”

Harry pursed his lips, weighing this. “Yeah, that seems fairly reasonable. I guess it doesn’t
really matter, does it? We’ve got him locked up.”

Indeed at that very moment Draco Malfoy was locked up in the Hogwarts dungeons, which were
getting quite a bit more use lately than it had in some time.

Ron grunted his assent, as the portrait hole swung open, revealing Remus Lupin. Harry stood up
as he approached, as did Ron and Hermione. Harry noticed Neville hovering a distance away, and
beckoned him over. Neville hesitated, then approached.

“Harry,” began Lupin, “I know you would want to be notified as soon as possible, so I got
Dumbledore to allow me to come tell you. Come with me.” With that, he led them out into the hall.
They trailed him to a nearby office. Lupin closed the door behind them.

“Well, I won’t try to sugar coat it. The attack was bad. Really bad. We’re still not sure how
many have been killed or wounded, but it’s a lot. Your father’s fine, Ron, so don’t worry about
that. Voldemort was there, with Shieldbreaker. He alone caused an extreme amount of damage. Nobody
was able to get close enough unarmed to attack him, not with his Death Eaters around him. Doomgiver
protected the core of his forces, too. It was a straight out slaughter.”

Hermione closed her eyes, her hand reaching for Harry’s and gripping it tightly. He held on
tightly, setting his jaw. Ron stood there stonily, eyes cast downward slightly. Neville reacted
with bitter silence.

“It gets worse.”

Harry looked at Lupin. “Worse? How could it possibly get worse than *that*?”

Lupin had a tired look on his face. “You’d be surprised. Voldemort has apparently trained some
dragons to follow his will. He’s assigned dragon riders to lead them into battle. As you know, it’s
almost impossible to kill a dragon. They’re far too magical, their scales too thick and
sturdy.”

Hermione nodded. “Historically, Dragonslayers have had the highest casualty rate of any
profession, even higher than Aurors or other highly dangerous work.”

“Whoa, wait a minute, what did you say?” asked Harry incredulously. “Dragonslayers? There are
people who kill dragons for a living?”

Hermione nodded and Ron chimed in to the conversation. “Yeah, it’s kind of one of those things
kids dream about doing, but in actuality, it’s really tough work. There aren’t many dragons that
need to be hunted down, but there’re enough, and the money’s good… If you survive.”

Lupin nodded. “Which is why our situation is becoming much more dire. Voldemort knows he has the
power to counter face the Ministry head on. Although all the Aurors who were injured in the battles
at Hogwarts have now been healed thanks to Woundhealer, several have been killed, and we have no
weapon against Doomgiver or Shieldbreaker. And these dragon riders…” Lupin shook his head.

Harry cursed, turning away from Lupin. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. How was Voldemort
focusing all this power here and now? How had he rebuilt his forces so quickly?

But Harry knew, in the back of his mind, what the truth was. Voldemort had not assembled so
massive an army. Rather, he now had the backing of the Swords, weapons which there was no counter
to. His losses must have seemed irrelevant compared to the gains he made. Now he was concentrating
on causing all the carnage he could. They themselves still possessed Woundhealer, Wayfinder,
Townsaver, Stonecutter, and now Sightblinder. An enormous cache of power right there. But against
Shieldbreaker, they were reduced to nothing but well forged swords. Any weapon was rendered useless
in the face of its hammer blows.

All this death, destruction, pain, and grief over these items of extreme magical power. He
shuddered as he thought about what the Swords had done to him, to all of his friends. He had become
a killer. Ron had killed too… *Why wasn’t he all broken up?* his mind wondered. And yet again,
the greatest question of all swirled in his thoughts.

Were the Swords—was this power—something humanity was meant to possess? Could humans resist the
temptation of this ultimate power that they represented? Or would they simply succumb to the evil
lurking in the dark places of men’s hearts? Harry didn’t have all the answers. But he did know one
thing; that he hadn’t handled the power. That to simply be able to do something did not mean that
one should. No matter how much power one had, that did not give them the right to use it to
subjugate all lesser people to their will. That was where Voldemort stood, and Harry was no
Voldemort. Hermione knew this, Harry mused. That indeed was a difference between him and the Dark
Lord. That he regretted the deaths he caused, and he appreciated that power alone was not a
license.

He turned his attention back to Lupin, quieting his emotions and suffusing himself with calm.
“So what do we do now?”

Lupin breathed deeply. “We don’t know yet. There’s so many variables, so many things that have
to be taken care of first. Dumbledore’s calling the Order together to try and work out a plan, but
truthfully Harry, I have no idea what we’re going to do. We just have to hope a solution presents
itself.”

Ron spoke up. “Is the Order coming here?”

Lupin nodded. “This is the most secure facility. Normally the Order is spread. Were we all to
congregate in one place too often, we would be easy prey if Voldemort ever found out where we hid.
We have our safehouses around the countryside, obviously. But as far a permanent headquarters,
we’re better off mobile.”

Hermione frowned, deep in thought. “Wouldn’t it be possible to protect someplace with the
Fidelius Charm though? Even Voldemort couldn’t penetrate that if you chose someone he could never
coerce.”

“That is true, Hermione. Dumbledore did consider that, and in fact, many of our safehouses are
protected by that Charm. But Dumbledore appreciates that even he might be able to be forced into
giving up information. He didn’t want to take that risk.” Lupin paused. “In any case, I had better
be going. I have some work to do, and the Order will be arriving tonight. I’ll try to see if
Dumbledore will let you sit in,” he added with a small smile. With that, he turned on his heel and
departed, leaving the four of them alone.

They stood in silence for a moment, considering all that Lupin had told them. Harry noticed Ron
leaning against the wall, arms folded and brow scrunched in deep thought.

“What’s on your mind, Ron?” he asked.

Ron looked up, jolted out of his thoughts. “Well… Why can’t we just use Wayfinder to find
Voldemort and take him out, you know? You used it to find me and Hermione,” he added, jerking his
chin at her.

Hermione frowned. “I don’t think that would work, Ron. Shieldbreaker, which we can presume
Voldemort has with him at all, overrides all the other Swords as far as we can tell. It simply
wouldn’t work. Besides which, I don’t know if we even have the available manpower at this
moment.”

Harry grimaced. “You’re probably right, Hermione. All the injured Aurors are back on their feet…
But the numbers we’ve seen Voldemort throw at us are pretty impressive too… And he has
Shieldbreaker and Doomgiver.”

“Those damn Swords,” Ron growled, “are dictating our actions at every bloody turn. It’s like
they’re ruling our actions instead of the other way around!”

Grimly smiling, Harry nodded. “Exactly… Which is the reason why when this is over, I’m giving up
whichever Sword I have in possession. And I encourage the rest of you to do the same.”

Ron blinked. “What was that?”

Neville swallowed. “I think you’re right Harry… If… If I get another Sword, I’ll give it up in
the end, too.”

Harry traded a grateful look with Neville. “Don’t you see, Ron? I don’t think we were meant to
have things of this nature. They’re too powerful for mankind to be trusted with them. They should
be buried. And buried deep.”

Ron looked at his feet, scratching his head. “I can see your point, Harry, it’s just… I guess it
made me feel special, having a Sword.”

“Oh, Ron,” said Hermione quietly, “you don’t need a Sword for that. You were you. That’s enough
for us.”

Ron looked up at her, his old grin returning to his face after a moment. “You mean that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I mean that, Ron. We’re your friends, and you’re special to us,
even when you’re being a prat.”

“Now, when am I ever a prat?”

“Frequently.”

Despite himself, Ron laughed loudly, joined by Harry and Neville a moment later. Hermione
visibly tried to hold back, but a grin crept onto her face, and soon enough she joined their
chuckling.

“Alright then,” said Harry with a sigh, “we had better get some rest. It’s been a long few
days.”

“Yeah, and besides, isn’t Quidditch starting soon?”

“How on earth can you think of that at a time like this?”

“Well, it’s better than thinking about how behind we are on homework.”

They busied themselves with work for the rest of the night, the quiet in the common room lending
itself to intense concentration, though Harry did notice the silence was still rather unnatural.
People started turning in around 11 at night, Neville departing at near midnight. Eventually it was
only Harry, Ron and Hermione in the common room, although Ron was unconscious, facedown in his
Charms book.

Harry glanced over at Ron, a small smile creeping over his face. “Do you reckon we should just
leave him there?”

Hermione smiled back. “Perhaps. He does look rather peaceful there.” She looked up, to find
Harry staring at her. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I was just thinking… About how beautiful you are.”

Hermione blushed faintly. “Well, thank you, Harry.” She paused. “We really haven’t had much time
together lately, have we?”

Harry sighed slightly. “No… It’s just been so… I don’t know, hectic I guess is the word. With
Voldemort and all… I really have wanted to spend time with you, Hermione. I love you… But there
just—”

“Hasn’t been time, I know. And I love you, too, Harry. But there’ll be time. We have our entire
lives ahead of us. We were lucky, you know… Things like this, what’s happened between us… They
don’t happen often.” Her hand sought his, gripping it tightly. He squeezed back, leaning in to kiss
her. She bent forward, their lips meeting, lightly, before pressing more firmly. Her hands ran up
his arms to rest on his shoulders. He was just reaching across the table to wrap his arms around
her waist when the portal door swung open.

Standing in the entrance was Remus Lupin, a shaggy black dog beside him. Any irritation Harry
might have felt at being interrupted vanished as a grin spread across his face at the sight of
Sirius. Hermione smiled as well, and gave Ron a poke in his side, startling him awake.

“Wha? What happened?” he said in a yawning sort of fashion. “What time is it?”

“You fell asleep, Ron. It’s past midnight,” Hermione informed him before turning back to Lupin
and Sirius.

Clearing his throat, Lupin wasted no time. “The meeting’s about to start. Dumbledore agreed to
let you all come; we’re here to collect you and bring you up.” He looked around. “Did Neville go to
bed?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he was dead tired… He’d want to be there, I think, but we’ll let him
sleep.” The others assented and got up to follow Lupin and Sirius, who wagged his tail and took up
the rear.

Lupin led them down from Gryffindor Tower, to a part of the castle near Dumbledore’s office,
heading into a door Harry was sure he had never noticed before. Seated around a conference table
were over a dozen wizards of varying ages. At the head of the table was Dumbledore. Harry
recognized only a few of them, including McGonagall, Birmingham, Mrs. Figg, and Mundungus Fletcher,
who appeared to be asleep. Sitting in one corner, arm in a sling, was Arthur Weasley.

“Dad!” cried Ron, running over to him. “Are you alright? We heard about the attack, but no one
said anything about—”

“I’m fine, Ron. Now, please, sit down and pay attention. Dumbledore decided you three should be
here, and I think you should listen to what goes on here.”

Ron nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off his father. Harry noticed that he appeared to be
rather worse for wear, face dirtied, fresh cuts bandaged. Remembering what Dumbledore had announced
about the attack, he knew even so Mr. Weasley was one of the lucky ones.

He sat between Ron and Hermione, fixing his gaze on Dumbledore. Sirius had transformed back and
was sitting across from him. Dumbledore looked at Harry for a moment before beginning.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, Voldemort launched an attack against the Ministry of Magic
earlier today. Many lives were lost. Final tallies are still coming in, but it doesn’t look good,
to say the least. Some of you might already know that Severus Snape, our principal intelligence
asset within Voldemort’s organization, was discovered and is currently in the Hogwarts medical
ward. This leaves us seriously in need of knowledge about Voldemort’s activities. To add further to
the current crisis, Voldemort has trained several dragon riders. Now, there are some options with
dealing with these situations, but some are less viable than others. Are there any suggestions,
first of all?”

Lupin leaned forward. “Did Snape make contact with any potential double agents before being
captured? I think at this point, it’d be impossible to recruit any new contacts within Voldemort’s
circle unless they’ve already been approached and might help us.”

Sirius nodded. “Though now, Voldemort certainly is checking his ranks, and we have to consider
Snape might have been under observation for some time before now. Anyone who might claim to be
interested could also be trying to infiltrate the Order.”

“Yes, I have considered all this. I need you three,” he said, indicating Lupin, Sirius, and
Mundungus, who was still sleeping, “to make a few very discreet inquiries for me. I’ll talk to you
after the meeting. As for the dragon riders…”

A tall wizard Harry didn’t know spoke up. “If I could, Dumbledore?” The old headmaster nodded.
“I’ve been hearing rumors of a dragon hunter in the Ukraine region, who took down a few dangerous
dragons recently escaped from the preserve in Romania. I haven’t been able to find out much about
him, but what I’ve heard is that he’s the best there is. He might be able to help us.”

Mr. Weasley sat up. “My son Charlie works at the preserve. I could ask him to check around, see
what he can sniff out.”

Harry’s head was so spinning with information that he barely noticed Dumbledore making a few
other announcements. He felt Hermione’s hand squeezing his own, and he turned and smiled at her.
The next thing he knew, chairs were clattering, and people were standing. The meeting was over.

“That was fast,” commented Ron.

Sirius grinned at him. “Well, we don’t have all day to sit around eating tea and crumpets, now
do we? Come on, I’ll fill you in on what you missed,” he said, winking at Harry.

Harry flushed a bit at having been so blatantly not paying much attention. He followed Sirius
and Lupin out the door. “So, er… What did I miss then?”

“Sirius and I are heading to the Ukraine. We need to contact this dragon slayer and get his
help, and quick. Arthur’s coming along too, so he can get in contact with Charlie to help us, who
knows the area a lot better. Hopefully it won’t take long,” added Lupin.

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, people like that are always talking about their glorious kills and so
on.”

Lupin appeared to struggle to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “Which is, of course, why we
don’t know who he is, Padfoot.”

“Oh, shut up, Moony.”

“Wait.” They looked at Hermione, who had her eyes closed in thought. She looked up, opening her
eyes. “You might try looking for someone carrying a Sword.”

“A Sword? Why is that; Dumbledore never did fill us in on all the details.”

Harry saw Ron’s face dawn with realization a second after his own. “One of them is called
Dragonslicer,” said Hermione. “And from what we know of it, it would certainly make hunting dragons
far easier.”

“And it could also explain why we’ve never heard of him before; if he just acquired the Sword
and learned its powers, we’d not have known,” remarked Lupin thoughtfully.

Sirius looked at the three of them. “Well, anyways, it’s late, and you three should probably get
to bed. Oh, and Harry? Don’t worry.”

Harry started. “What’s there to worry about?” he asked sardonically, “It’s not like Voldemort
has weapons of unbelievable power or anything.”

Sirius gave him a devil-may-care grin. “Well, it’s not like it can get any worse, right?”

Despite himself, Harry laughed. “Alright then. Good luck.”

Dumbledore’s voice came from behind them. “Yes, luck is always good to have, I’ve found. Failing
that, it’s always nice to have a backup plan, too.” His eyes twinkled as he held out Wayfinder to
Lupin. He took it and nodded to Dumbledore, and he and Sirius left.

“Harry?” Harry turned to look at Dumbledore. “You godfather is quite right you know. Things
cannot possibly get much worse… And I do not think that they will.”

Harry frowned. “Why is that, Professor?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Why, because I believe, Harry. And you will find that when things look their
bleakest, it is always important to believe. You may find someday, that belief will be enough to
get you through the most difficult of trials. And if I remember correctly… It already has.” His
gaze shifted to Hermione.

*I’m going to save her. I will save her.*

It seemed eons ago he had spoken those words to Ginny in the dungeons, before embarking on his
mission to find Woundhealer. He had believed then… More than that, he had known.

He looked up at the Headmaster. “I do believe, sir.” He gripped Hermione’s hand tightly, drawing
strength from her touch. “I won’t fail. I can’t fail.”

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed, SoulShine, XhaLe, harryherm84, Rain, ariene phoenixfyre,
NiaSphinx, slyphiad, akcutten, and iwpotter.

XhaLe: About Woundhealer… Well, sometimes I forget things. And give them a break, they were in
the middle of a massive battle. The Nietzsche quote… Well, I would have, except it was in dialogue
and seemed a bit inappropriate. I might go back and change that later though.

Ariene phoenixfyre: Yep, Mr. Weasley was there, slightly injured in it.



16. Chapter 15:  Dragonslicer
-----------------------------

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and pretty much everything else related to it is owned by JK Rowling. I
own pretty much nothing.

Author’s Note: OK… It’s been a veeeeery long time since this has been updated. That being said,
in this universe, Sirius is alive, Dumbledore is alive, Snape’s been discovered by Voldemort as a
spy, Lupin was healed of werewolfism by one of the Swords of Power in an earlier chapter… And a lot
of other stuff. I’ll try and update much more often, and just get this thing done, so I can
concentrate on Destiny’s Call, which is my new fic, and features a character which I borrowed from
another story I’m writing, which is completely original. That’s about it. Thanks to everyone who
reads. Please review!

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: DRAGONSLICER**

Two days had passed, with no word yet from Sirius, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley about the Dragon
Hunter they were pursuing. While there had been no new attacks in the days since the last
devastating strike on the Ministry, Reynolds believed it was only a matter of time until the next
one. Under duress from the Minister, he had pulled back most of the Aurors into the area around
London itself, to protect the Ministry from further attacks.

Harry had raged about this decision. “It won’t make a bloody bit of difference whether they have
a dozen Aurors or a hundred! Voldemort has Shieldbreaker *and* Doomgiver. That gives him the
edge he needs!”

Hermione had tried to calm him, saying that even though Voldemort did indeed have those weapons,
they could only protect a few of his people at a time. He would be loathe to lose almost all of his
followers in an attack on a heavily defended target. Harry had been forced to grudgingly agree to
the logic in that. Voldemort was vicious, but he was far from stupid.

Still, the quiet following that attack unnerved him. He knew Voldemort was planning something.
Snape had fully recovered, along with the rest of the injured, thanks to the powers of Woundhealer,
but he unfortunately knew nothing about Voldemort’s latest plots.

“It seems he rather suspected me for some time now,” Snape admitted, “so I’m afraid I don’t know
too much about what he’s planning. You could try asking Mr. Malfoy, though I doubt he knows much
either.”

His words rang true. Draco turned out to know very little about Voldemort’s overall plans. He
seemed quite willing to talk about what he knew now that he had been captured.

“Well, it’s not like you can stop the Dark Lord anyhow, so what’s the hurt in talking?” he had
sneered.

Harry had also noticed that many students seemed to be studying Defense Against the Dark Arts
outside of class far more often than normal. While he knew Birmingham was a difficult teacher, the
load that everyone seemed to have was rather enormous, and he knew that his class had not received
any additional work. He asked Ginny, who was practicing Stunning with a few friends in the
courtyard about it.

“Oh, well…” she fiddled with her wand for a moment as she answered, “you see, Harry, it’s just
that… Well, people are scared, y’know? I mean… You-Know-Who’s not only back, but he’s doing a lot.
I don’t think any of us imagined it could be this horrible.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, neither did I, really…” He paused, looking out over the lake. “There are
times I wish these Swords had never come here, you know. They seem to have caused nothing but pain
and suffering.”

“Pain often accompanies joy, Harry. And nothing really worth doing is ever easy. You should know
that better than most.”

Harry looked at her and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Still, so many people have
died. I wish there was something I could do to stop it.”

Ginny hesitated, then patted his arm softly. “You’ve already done so much, Harry, more than I
think you know. And if it makes you feel better, I know you’ll do everything you can. Never doubt
that there’s anything more you can do; you always do your best, even if you don’t think so.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do. And I think you’ll find most of those who know you best believe it, too.”

Despite himself, Harry had to smile. “Thanks, Ginny. That does mean a lot to me.”

He decided to head back up to the common, lacking any particular reason to continue wandering
the castle grounds alone. Hermione was there reading a rather large book, and she smiled warmly at
him as he entered. He headed over to her, smiling in return, but was intercepted by Ron halfway
there, who smiled at him as well.

“How about a game of chess, Harry?”

Harry blinked and started. “Chess, Ron? Now? Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

“Why not? Look Harry, I know you’ve been pretty down lately, what with the war and all. But if
you dwell on that, it’ll only get worse. Isn’t it important to remember that we are, after all,
still alive, and remember that therefore we have to live, regardless?”

Harry couldn’t help it, he blinked again. “What?”
Ron sighed and smacked his forehead. “What I mean is, we’ve mourned the dead, and we still do. And
worrying about things we can’t currently control isn’t going to help anything. And while people
have died, we are still alive, and have to choose life. I don’t want to spend mine moping about,
and I don’t think you do, either. So… How about a bit of normalcy?”

Harry looked at his friend, saw the earnestness in his eyes. He nodded slowly, finally
understanding. “OK.” He was grinning now. “Alright, but I just hope you go easy on me.”

Ron grinned back. “We’ll see.” He got out the chess set, and Hermione, her eyes looking brighter
than they had for a while, joined them at the table. And for a few hours, with all the turbulence
around them, the three friends were just teenagers again.

The next day was the most normal Harry had had in quite some time. Rather than racing to save
someone’s life or fending off Voldemort’s forces, he actually went to class and did homework. “You
know,” remarked Ron, “I had almost forgotten we were at school with all that’s been happening.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, me too. And you’re right, you know, Quidditch is supposed to be starting in
another week, and I haven’t even really trained the team at all, or practiced myself… Though
really, I don’t know how much time I can devote to that. Not until this is all resolved.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll be over sooner rather than later,” said Hermione. “Things are bad now,
but all we need is one major break. And Voldemort can’t be in two places at once. We take things
one step at a time.”

Harry breathed heavily. “Yeah… It’s still strange, though. Our lives have changed so much in the
past couple months. The way we were at the end of last year seems like an entire lifetime from
where we are now.”

Ron grunted. “I know what you mean. Hard to believe it’s only November, isn’t it? So much has
happened, I can scarcely imagine it. And you know we’ll have to fight again, as soon as Dad, Sirius
and Lupin get back.”

Harry and Hermione nodded grimly. Hopefully that trio would be back any day now, with the
Dragonslayer who, hopefully, bore the Sword Dragonslicer. While neither of them particularly looked
forward to having to fight once more; they had seen far more death than they’d ever cared to see,
they understood that Voldemort needed to be stopped, so that more people didn’t die.

At that moment, the portal opened, and Neville climbed into the common room. “Hey guys,” he
said, making his way over to them. “Professor Dumbledore wanted me to tell you, Mr. Weasley,
Sirius, and Professor Lupin are back, with the Dragonslayer. You’re never going to guess who it
is,” he finished with a grin.

The three friends looked at each other, then stood to follow Neville. “Well, let’s go, then,”
declared Harry.

The followed Neville back out the portal and down the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, whereupon
Neville spoke the code to get inside. Standing in the office were Dumbledore, a few members of the
Order, and a man who must be the Dragonslayer. He was tall, and somewhat haggard looking, and had a
Sword, which must be Dragonslicer, belted at his hip. Dumbledore looked up as the four entered.

“Ah, yes, come in. I’d like you all to meet the man who will hopefully be able to stop
Voldemort’s dragonriders.” The man turned about, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron gasped.

“Hey there, little brother. Been a while,” he said with a grin. It was none other than Charlie
Weasley.

Ron stood shocked for a moment before bounding forward and pounding his brother on the back.
“Charlie! Why didn’t you tell us about all this, huh? You could’ve saved us a load of trouble!”

Despite his admonishment, a grin had spread across Ron’s face. Smiling themselves, Harry and
Hermione closed in, giving their own greetings to the second Weasley child.

Charlie clapped Ron’s shoulder. “Well, Ron, you see, in the midst of fighting massive,
fire-breathing dragons, I just up and forgot to send a memo. And how was I to know there were 12 of
these things?” He slapped a hand on the Sword hilt.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, while I’m sure you all have some catching up to do, I’m
afraid we do have some more pressing matters to attend to.”

The four nodded. “Of course, Professor. What’s our next move, now that we have Dragonslice?”
asked Harry.

Reynolds spoke. “We’ve already got a plan laid out. While it’s true You-Know-Who has got
Shieldbreaker and Doomgiver already, he won’t pass up a chance to get his hands on another, or
destroy one he can’t have. We’ve laid a little trap for him. Stonecutter is being sent back to the
Ministry. Once there, we’ll make sure Voldemort hears about it. With any luck, we can draw in some
of his forces and take them out. We’re working on some tactics to bypass Shieldbreaker if Voldemort
himself is there.”

Harry nodded. “Alright. When is this happening?”

Dumbledore answered. “Tomorrow. However, Harry, it will still be very dangerous. I can’t ask you
to come, especially as now you do not have the powers of Shieldbreaker to guard you.”

Ron interrupted. “Professor, I think we’re past that. We’ve got to stop Voldemort, or it won’t
really matter in the long run, will it?”

Harry nodded, clapping Ron on the back in solidarity. “We were involved in this from the start,
Professor. We’d like to see it through to the end. For better or worse, we have some responsibility
in this who situation.”

Hermione gripped his arm, giving him a smile as she stood with her two friends. Neville, too,
stepped up on a level with them, surprising everyone, including himself. Sirius gave a small smile
as he looked on from where he leaned against the wall.

Dumbledore nodded. “I see. Very well then. I shall have you notified when we’re leaving. For
now, you all could use some rest for the night. Remus, Sirius, could you see them back to their
common room?”

The four allowed themselves to be led back Gryffindor Tower. Saying quick goodnights, they
headed up to bed, and readied themselves for tomorrow’s new battle.

The next morning, Harry heard a voice whispering to him, as he was shaken awake. “Time to get
up, Harry. We’re heading to the Ministry now.” It was Sirius. Harry pulled himself out of bed as
Sirius went to wake Ron and Neville. In a few minutes, they headed down to the common room.
Hermione was waiting for them.

“Professor McGonagall woke me up. You all sleep well?” she asked.

Harry grinned. Despite the severity of their current crisis, he couldn’t help but give her a
little ribbing. “Would’ve slept better if you had been with me.” Hermione smacked his arm with a
laugh.

“You are a very naughty boy, Harry,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “This is a very serious
occasion!” Despite herself, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The two linked arms and
headed downstairs, with Sirius and Ron shaking their heads in their wake.

Dumbledore, Charlie, Lupin, Reynolds and a few other Order members were waiting for them in the
Great Hall. The fire was already lit. “There you are. Well, into the fire, then, Harry. We’re
expecting that we’ll be starting shortly.”

Harry nodded, and holding Sightblinder at his side tightly, stepped into the flames. He was
immediately spat out from another fireplace at the Ministry. A few Aurors he had seen before and a
couple more Order members awaited him. They pointed him off to the side as more people came
through. A few minutes later, the group was complete. On hand were two dozen Aurors, a dozen
members of the Order, including Dumbledore, along with Charlie and the four students.

“We’re all set here,” remarked one Auror. “Now we’ll just have to see if he took the bait.”

They had all taken up hidden positions. Sirius stood next to Harry, peering out a small window.
“Don’t worry. We’ve got more people scattered about the square. Voldemort won’t know what hit him.”
He laid a steady hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry smiled at his godfather, and returned the gesture.
Next to him, Hermione favored him with a quick smile before returning her eyes to watching.

After what seemed like a tense eternity, Harry heard the flapping of great wings. He had heard
it before, during the Triwizard tournament. “Dragons,” he whispered.

Sirius nodded. “Just one of them. That’s strange, though, there’s nobody else.” He Apparated,
then reappeared a few moments later. “Nobody else has seen any more forces, either. Hold on. We’re
going to cover Charlie while he takes out the dragonrider.”

Harry and the others watched as a lone figure strode into the square. Holding Dragonslice in
front of him, Charlie fixed his eyes on the dragon and its rider.

The rider laughed. “You must be very brave, or very stupid to face a dragon single-handedly.
Either way, you’ll shortly be dead.” With that, the dragon lurched forward, astonishingly fast for
a creature of its size. Charlie dodged to the side, and a Dragonslicer seemed to emit a low hum,
swung through the dragon’s front foot. The mighty Sword sliced clean through scale and bone,
severing the foot and leaving the forearm a bloody mess. The dragon howled in agony, nearly bucking
its rider before swinging around in fury, trying to kill the human who had hurt it so. Charlie
managed to avoid its tail, but his robe caught fire from its breath. He quickly tossed it aside
before charging back in, dodging another attack and swinging Dragonslicer into the dragon’s chest
with a mighty battle cry. The Sword immediately plunged through the dragon’s supposedly
impenetrable skin and seemed to almost jump in Charlie’s hands, thrusting true into the beast’s
heart. With one massive jerk, it slumped to the side, dead.

The rider was thrown off. He didn’t even have time to scramble away before the dragon’s body
fell on him, crushing him to death. Charlie, breathing hard, pulled the Sword away from the carcass
and stumbled towards Dumbledore, who was now also in the square.

Harry ran the short battle through his head. Charlie had, in seconds, killed what he had had to
use all the skills he had in 4th year to just get past. While he knew that Dragonslicer
had to be powerful in its ability to slay dragons, he hadn’t expected anything quite that decisive.
He was startled out of his reverie by Sirius cursing beside him.

“Damnit,” growled Sirius.

Harry turned to him. “What’s wrong? We won, didn’t we?”

Sirius stared out the window. “Voldemort must have known it was a trap. To only send the one
dragonrider, and nothing else? There’s been no activity anywhere else in the Ministry. And if he
didn’t take the chance to seize Dragonslicer with Charlie all alone out there, he’s not here at
all.”

Hermione looked at him. “Maybe he just got suspicious.”

Sirius shook his head. “No way. Even if he suspected, he still would have come. He desires power
over anything, and he never would have shorted himself on this unless he *knew* something was
up. Somebody tipped him off, somehow.”

That statement chilled Harry to the bone. Someone within their ranks was passing Voldemort
information. Somebody high up enough to know about this trap, which Harry doubted more than 20
people knew about before this morning, and all of whom knew virtually everything the Order and
Ministry was doing to fight Voldemort. With information like that, Voldemort would know every move
they made.



17. Chapter 16:  Inner Nature
-----------------------------

Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Scholastic own Harry Potter and associated characters and materials.
Fred Saberhagen owns the Swords of Power. While I… Well, I own a couple bit characters, plus the
computer I’m writing this on. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that.

A/N: Yeah, I know, this chapter took a really long time to get up, too. It’s been a really tough
quarter in school for me, though, but now that I’m nearing the end of it, I actually found a little
spare time to write, and lo and behold, I finished most of this chapter in a single night. I’m
terrible, I know. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, because it’s a mighty important one!

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: INNER NATURE**

Dumbledore gathered the members of the Order along with Cornelius Fudge, Reynolds, and another
couple senior Aurors. Harry, Hermione and Ron were also attending the meeting. Neville hadn’t felt
well after the revelation that someone was helping Voldemort, and had gone to rest. Harry sat next
to Sirius, who occasionally mumbled rather colorful metaphors, speculating on the ancestry of the
traitor, whoever they were.

“That son of a bitch,” he was now muttering, “when I get my hands on him, I’ll tear his throat
out.”

Lupin glanced at him. “Calm down, Sirius. We need to solve this problem, and to do that, we need
you with a clear head.”

Dumbledore nodded to them. “Indeed, that is what we need. A review of who knew what, who’s been
where, and who can be accounted for and who can’t. I cannot say that I enjoy being paranoid about
those whom I trust, but I am afraid such measures are going to be necessary for now. Lupin, Sirius,
you’ll be in charge of this. Work with Reynolds. He has access to much more information than we
about the myriad Ministry personnel involved.”

The three nodded. Harry sighed inwardly. This would probably get them nowhere. And if Snape had
known something about this, no doubt he would have already mentioned it. Harry still didn’t like
the man, but did have to admit he was at least good at what he did.

While Dumbledore discussed other implications, Harry fingered the hilt of Sightblinder. As he
gazed up from the table, he almost fell out of his chair. Everyone looked… Different somehow. It
was like he perceived a slight haze about everyone that looked something like an aura. It was a
little different for everyone, though. Looking about the room, he saw, oddly enough, that he
perceived Sirius, Hermione, Lupin, Dumbledore, and Reynolds completely different from all the
others. He shook his head and removed his hand from Sightblinder. He’d worry about that later.

The meeting was breaking, and after a couple quick goodbyes, the three headed up to their common
room. Harry found Luis Garcia and Taylor Ward chatting idly near the fire, and they waved him over
as he entered. “Give me a moment, guys. I’ll be right back.” He wandered over to the two Quidditch
players. “What’s up?”

Luis shrugged. “Good question. I know you’ve been busy doing a lot of other stuff, Harry. Really
important things… But still, it helps to have a few normal things go on, to sort of help people get
on with their lives, right? And we were wondering, what with you so busy and all, do you want
someone else to temporarily take your spot as Captain, try running practices? I mean, I have no
clue if the season will be canceled or anything, but if it isn’t… I know this must sound horrible,
with everything that’s happened, but if it isn’t, I’d like the team to be ready.”

Taylor nodded. “It’s just… You’re out doing all this, and there’s nothing we can do about that.
But we can do this, to try and help people feel like their lives can still go on, even after the
horrible things that have happened.”

Harry gazed at the two for a long moment, trying to wrap his head around what they were saying.
He remembered the chess game he had played with Ron not long ago.

*What I mean is, we’ve mourned the dead, and we still do. And worrying about things we can’t
currently control isn’t going to help anything. And while people have died, we are still alive, and
have to choose life. I don’t want to spend mine moping about, and I don’t think you do,
either.*

Harry looked back at Ron and grinned. Ron stared at him for a moment, before Hermione elbowed
him, and he smiled back hesitantly, not quite sure what was going on. Harry turned back to Luis and
Taylor chuckling slightly. “Sure, guys, I understand. Luis, I know I can count on you to take care
of things. And it looks like you’ve already figured out that Taylor’s got a good head on her. You
two look after things for me, alright? But I promise I will be there for our season opener, not
matter what.”

Luis grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Good luck.”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “You too.” He walked back over to Hermione and Ron,
surprising her by sliding his arm about her waist and kissing her head.

“What was that for?” she asked, smiling up at him.

He shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just a little bit of normalcy.”

Ron made a gagging sound. “If you’re going to act like that normally, I think I’ll hang myself.”
Hermione and Harry laughed, Ron joining them a moment later.

* * *

Harry tried to remain calm and free of tension the rest of the day, but he found his mind
wandering back to the events of the morning and the subsequent meeting of the Order. He couldn’t,
however, figure out for the life of him who the traitor might be. Hermione and Ron had no thoughts
on it either.

“Well, it obviously has to be someone fairly high in the Order, or in the Ministry, hasn’t it?”
Hermione said, frowning, as they sat around a table in the empty common room, everyone else having
long since headed for bed. “Nobody else would have known about what was going on that day at the
Ministry. Unless of course, it was one of the Aurors who was there, but that just doesn’t seem to
be consistent with the facts.”

Harry shrugged. “I really don’t know. I mean, obviously, Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin,
Charlie, and we three couldn’t possibly be the traitor. Who else is there, then?”

Ron frowned. “Well… The only other people who knew about it were Reynolds, Fudge, a couple other
Order members, and a few high ranking Aurors. But Harry, I don’t think we can go around accusing
the Minister of Magic, or the head of Magical Law Enforcement of being spies for You-Know-Who.”

Hermione sighed heavily, leaning back into her chair and staring at the ceiling. “It just
doesn’t make any sense at all. And you’re right, Ron, I don’t see how we can just accuse Minister
Fudge or Mr. Reynolds, or anybody else without any sort of proof, other than we can’t be completely
certain they’re innocent.”

“This isn’t going to be something can be solved in just one night, and probably not even by a
mind as sharp as yours, Hermione,” interrupted Lupin’s voice. He and Sirius walked into the common
room, looking forlorn. “We’ve spent the entire day with Reynolds, poring over the files of everyone
who knew about what was happening with any prior notice. So far, there’s been nothing. They run
checks on these Aurors very close in the first place, and so we haven’t seen anything at all
suspicious.”

Sirius nodded, collapsing into one of the chairs. “Incredible as it sounds, the only remotely
possible people, looking at the files, would be Fudge, Reynolds, this Auror named Whitaker, or one
of us,” he finished, gesturing about the room.

Ron looked up at him. “Whitaker? I’ve never heard of him. And why was he slightly
suspicious.”

Lupin shrugged. “Ah yes, well, there are a few months of his life we can’t account for in his
files. But he was with Reynolds that morning; he’s one of his top deputies. Like Sirius mentioned,
that’s the only remote possibility. But it’s so farfetched; I can’t it being very likely at all.
Certainly nothing to start doing any questioning on. And Fudge may not be the smartest person in
the world, but a traitor? I can’t see that.”

The five of them sat silently for some time, the fire crackling beside them. Their minds all
churned over the past days events. Nothing at all seemed to fit in their thoughts. Harry suddenly
recalled their fourth year.

“Well,” he started slowly, “maybe it’s not a traitor at all, but… Voldemort has some sort of way
of listening in on things that are happening within the Ministry? Something that allowed him to
know what we were planning?”

Lupin crinkled his brow, deep in thought. “It’s possible,” he conceded, “but also highly
unlikely. I’m not sure how he might have managed to charm an object to alert him of things being
said in the Ministry, not with the security there. However… It may bear some looking into.”

Sirius nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll have to check that out tomorrow then. But for now, it’s
getting a little late, and like it or not, you three do have class tomorrow, do you not?”

The three teenagers grinned sheepishly. “Yes, that’s true,” admitted Hermione. “We had better be
off to bed. You’ll let us know if you find anything?”

Lupin nodded. “You can count on it. Good night, you all.”

The next day, the three of them attended class again. It seemed almost normal, going to class
for the past couple days, rather than running around England trying to save the world. Still, Harry
found it difficult to concentrate on what was going on in his academic life, with all the events of
the past few months prodding at his mind. Still worse, he couldn’t help but notice the whispers and
glances thrown in his direction. Though he hadn’t been aware of it until just now, he realized that
people had been doing that a lot. When he asked his friends about it at lunchtime, they all just
shrugged helplessly.

“Well, it’s kind of like, you were already something of a hero, Harry, and now, with everything
else, and they keep hearing how you’re involved in it all… Well, it’s hard not to be impressed, I
guess,” explained Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan nodding next to him.

Harry scowled. “The last thing I want to be is some sort of hero.”

Hermione poked him in the ribs. “Probably should have thought of that before you told Professor
Dumbledore we were in this until the end, then?”

He gave her a sardonic look. “OK, mistake on my part, I’ll admit to that. What can I say?”

“That you have a really good sense of dramatic timing, but not much else?” commented Ron.

Harry laid his head on the table. “The world is about to collapse around me, and you guys make
fun of me. Well, I suppose I was the one who wanted a little normalcy, wasn’t I?”

Hermione smiled at him, patting him on the back. “Yes, you were, and a little thing called
having fun being around friends is part of that, silly boy. Now, cheer up. You can’t save the world
if you’re gloomy all the time.”

Despite himself, Harry had to smile at that. The rest of them laughed as they collected their
things and headed off to their next class. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt a little
of the weight lifting off his shoulders.

*That’s right, these people are my friends, and they’re here to support me, and be there for
me. I don’t have to do everything alone. They’re right here beside me.*

That afternoon, Harry even managed to get in some Quidditch practice with the team, finding that
he was a little rusty, but then again, so was everyone else. The sheer excitement of flying around
on his broom, playing the game he loved, nearly made him forget about everything else that was
surrounding his world. Still, by the time evening came and Neville came in to tell them Professor
Dumbledore wanted to see them, he was eager to learn what Sirius and Lupin had found out that day.
On impulse, he buckled Sightblinder to his belt once again.

The four headed into Dumbledore’s office, finding Sirius, Lupin, Reynolds, and Dumbledore
waiting inside. They all had rather grim looks on their faces. Harry frowned.

“Don’t tell me. You still have no idea who the spy is? Or how Voldemort is spying on us?”

Lupin shook his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t, Harry. We went over the entire Ministry with a
fine tooth comb. Nothing suspicious at all. We got back some reports we had asked for about various
Ministry officials. Nothing there either. It looks like a total dead end. This one has completely
stumped me. Whoever this traitor is, he’s buried deep.”

“I’m surprised we didn’t at least find a decoy or something. Wouldn’t they have set up someone
else to look like the traitor?” asked Ron.

Hermione sighed heavily. “That kind of thinking is exactly why we didn’t, Ron. Finding someone
so easily would have been too suspicious, and we’d know it was a diversion. And something like that
might have led us to the real person. Hence, there was no decoy. There’s just nothing.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “That is precisely correct, Ms. Granger. However… Even the lack of
evidence may be evidence. Clearly we are dealing with a very skilled, intelligent opponent who has
anticipated all of our moves. All the more reason to be increasingly cautious. I cannot say to
suspect everyone; that would be madness and would disrupt our functioning. However… It might be
necessary to suspend operations for the time being and debate our next move.”

Harry looked glum, fingering Sightblinder, considering this course of action. At once, his
senses were again assaulted, seeing various auras surrounding the room. All at once, he was aware
of footsteps sounding someplace. They sounded hollow and distant somehow. Casting his glance about,
he suddenly realized that he was hearing footsteps outside Dumbledore’s office, in the hall. He was
suddenly aware of various other goings on around him he hadn’t noticed before, that he could
perceive if he so chose. Sightblinder not only would cause illusions, but it was enhancing his
senses.

He turned back to the people in the room. He still perceived the auras, though they were
indistinct. Again, as before, he only saw auras surrounding Dumbledore, Lupin, Sirius, Hermione,
and Reynolds. On a whim, he drew an inch of Sightblinder’s blade, vaguely aware the others were now
discussing whether they should suspend operations or continue on another line.

Immediately as Sightblinder’s blade was exposed, the auras became clearer. As he studied them,
looking at the nature of the auras surrounding those in the room, he realized he was looking at the
inner nature of everyone. Everything about themselves that was not evident to the outside world. He
glanced around. Reynolds’ aura was black as the night sky, quite different from the hues of
everyone else. He looked even closer. Suddenly, the image of a coiling snake seemed to burst from
the center of Reynolds’ aura, and the image began to burn his eyes. His knees gave out, and he
snapped Sightblinder back into its sheath.

Hermione was instantly at his side, gripping his arm. “Harry, are you all right? What
happened?”

Dumbledore had moved around his desk, kneeling in front of Harry. Harry looked up at him. “I’m
fine… Just got a little dizzy suddenly. I’ll be ok.”

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. Sirius, Remus, Reynolds,
would you please see if there might have been anything you missed? I shall consider what we
discussed. Please report back to me soon.” The three nodded and departed. Dumbledore turned back to
Harry. “Now, Harry, what is it you wished to tell me, but could not in front of the others?”

Harry looked up at the old man, feeling his throat tighten. He didn’t want to believe what he
was about to say, but didn’t see how he could have been wrong. Sightblinder had given him insight
into what lay within everyone he looked upon. He had seen what had lay within Reynolds’ heart.
“Professor… I know who the spy is. Sightblinder… It doesn’t just disguise you, it… Somehow, it
allows you to see inside someone’s heart. I can’t really explain it, but… Just now, I drew it, just
a little. And I saw.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, Harry, that means that the traitor was one of those
three? That’s impossible!”

Harry shook his head. “No… It’s… It’s Reynolds. I saw, he was the one. He’s Voldemort’s
spy.”

Dumbledore stepped back, a look of genuine shock on his face. Ron gaped at Harry. “The head of
Magical Law Enforcement? A spy for You-Know-Who? I can’t believe it! He’s been with us almost since
the very beginning!”

Dumbledore had stepped over to his Pensieve, and was currently staring into it. A few moments
later, he looked up. “No… It all fits. How did I not see it before?”

The four turned to him. “What do you mean, Professor? I don’t understand,” said Hermione in a
quavering voice.

Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief. “I should have seen it, but… The former head of Magical
Law Enforcement, he was killed by a sword thrust, while in his office. Clearly the work of
Farslayer, yet how was the blade removed? In fact, it is not possible to Apparate into his office,
as wards were set up some time ago. However… Reynolds was the person to find the body.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Which means he could have removed it before anyone else knew about
it.”

“Exactly,” agreed Dumbledore. “Further, if you will recall, Reynolds left shortly after Graff
arrived, ostensibly to get help from the Ministry. However, he must have also during the time
alerted Voldemort. You will also recall, he left to help tend to the wounded just before Voldemort
arrived.”

Hermione frowned, thinking back. “That’s right, he did. He wasn’t actually there for either
battle.”

Dumbledore continued. “Also, he was intimately aware of every single plan that we had conceived.
You’ll also recall that Whitaker, his aide, was his alibi. However, Whitaker himself has some time
which was not accounted for. Undoubtedly, Whitaker is actually under the control of other Death
Eaters, or Reynolds himself.”

Neville collapsed into a chair. Ron stood still, looking shell-shocked. Hermione turned to
Dumbledore, still looking astonished, a chill running down her spine as she ran all of this through
her brain. “That means… All this time… Every single thing we’ve done… Voldemort’s known all of it.
He planned it like that since the beginning, by assassinating the head of Magical Law Enforcement,
ensuring that his own agent would take his place.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely, slowly seating himself. “That’s correct. However… Now that we are
aware of this, we have the advantage. I believe that it’s time we set another trap for Voldemort.
This time… A real one.”

Harry looked up, setting his jaw and nodding his agreement. This was their opportunity. They
finally had a chance to strike a real blow, and catch Voldemort unawares, to force him out where
they might have a chance. “Surprise has always been their best weapon, hasn’t it? Now… It’s
ours.”