Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. Keldorn Firecam is owned by BioWare, Atari, or whoever it is that owns the rights to Baldur's Gate 2: Shadows of Amn these days, although I have taken several liberties with his character. I own nothing, and I am making no profit by my little ventures into the shadowy realms of fanfiction. I do so purely for enjoyment. I would, however, like to thank JKR for allowing us all to play in her sandbox.
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Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart
XXI
Classes resumed on Monday, January 6, 1997 at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry had spent the remainder of his Christmas break going about his normal routine with Keldorn - but now with the added burden of wearing thirty pounds of chainmail at all times. The weight was unevenly distributed too; the vast majority of it merely hanging off his shoulders. By the end of the first day, Harry's shoulders had developed a constant ache that had yet to go away. Keldorn laughed when Harry mentioned it and told him that it was to be expected.
Harry's favorite part of the day was returning to the common room at night to meet Hermione. Unlike his mentor, Harry's girlfriend took pity on him, and tried to help alleviate his pain. There, in Gryffindor Tower, she would help strip off Harry's tabard, hauberk, and gambeson, sit him down on the couch in front of her, and proceed to massage his aching shoulders.
The tender and loving attention that Hermione paid to his sore muscles was almost worth the price of carrying thirty pounds of steel on his back all day.
Harry and Hermione enjoyed their little late-night encounters. Even with his added burden, Harry wasn't nearly as tired when he made it back to the common room as he had been during his first few weeks as a squire. His endurance was definitely growing. They found a lot to talk about while Hermione's fingers worked their magic - they laughed at what they saw as the comedic fumblings of Ron and Lavender's romance, as well as at their own tentative steps into the realms of non-platonic affection. Sometimes Hermione would ramble about whatever book she was reading or about one of her assignments. Other times Harry would relate to her the things that he learned from Keldorn or from reading the Summa.
One evening Hermione spent their time together theorizing that Harry's chainmail might offer him a modicum of protection against curses and hexes. After all, cold iron was one of the more magic-resistant materials available, and the steel that Harry's mail was made from was largely comprised of iron. Harry thought that the idea had some merit, but wasn't really anxious to start jumping in front of spells to test the theory.
On other nights, Harry and Hermione merely passed the time in relative silence. Inevitably, once she was finished massaging Harry's shoulders, Hermione would wrap her arms around him, and pull him back against her chest so that the two of them could simply be together in a tangled but contented heap.
The return of the student body disrupted their routine somewhat. They still tried to go about it every evening, but they lacked the privacy that Christmas break had afforded them.
Harry in particular seemed to be getting a lot more attention from the female members of Gryffindor as well as the other houses. They hadn't failed to notice his new physique or the dashing figure that he cut in his new armor and tabard.
"You know, Harry," began Romilda Vane as she approached the young squire and his girlfriend one evening a few days after the term had recommenced, "my mother ran several magical pain clinics before she met my father. She's quite good at easing aches and pains."
Hermione paused her ministrations for a moment as both she and Harry stared at the brazen fourth-year.
"She taught me everything she knows, of course," Romilda continued with a rather disturbing leer for a fourteen year-old girl. "Would you like me to give you a hand? I'm certain that I could massage away whatever is bothering you. When I'm finished with you, I doubt you'd even remember what was wrong in the first place."
"Are you for real?" Hermione asked when Romilda was finished.
Romilda merely glared at Hermione.
"Thanks, um… Romilda, right?" responded Harry, "but Hermione's doing great."
"You sure?" she tried one last time.
"Positive."
"Well, if you change your mind, you only ever need to ask." With that she turned and sashayed back to her friends.
"Harry?" Hermione questioned once the younger witch was out of earshot.
"Yes?"
"Would you mind if I tattooed 'Property of Hermione J. Granger' across your forehead?"
"Ha!" Harry burst out laughing. "I'm your property now, am I?"
"Well no, not really," Hermione stated as she recommenced her massage with bright pink cheeks. "But it would help to keep all these other witches away from my boyfriend."
"Maybe she doesn't realize that we're dating and is only trying to be helpful?"
"Harry, the entire world knows that we're dating. It was on the front page of the Daily Prophet the day after Slughorn's Christmas party."
"Oh. Right."
"They even had a moving picture of me assaulting you with my lips right in front of Skeeter."
"Yeah, that was awesome," Harry said with a chuckle. "I need to get a copy of that for my scrapbook."
Hermione responded by lightly smacking him on the back of the head.
"Hey you two," greeted Ginny as she plopped down beside them on the couch. The youngest Weasley child was sporting a smugly satisfied grin once again. She had been wearing one ever since she returned from break.
"What are you so happy about?" asked Harry.
"Oh, I just love it when my plans come to fruition."
"What plan?"
"Operation Quidditch, of course," the red-head answered.
"What?" Harry asked in confusion.
"Ginny…" Hermione growled.
"Oh it's just a little something that Hermione, Luna, and I cooked up over the summer," Ginny replied, ignoring the older witch next to her. "You see, Harry, all good witches, present company included, are concerned about the wizards that are most dear to them. And everybody knows that a wizard without a good witch is just a disaster waiting to happen. So the three of us put our heads together to plan out how to get my thick-headed brother Ron together with Lavender."
"Oh," said Harry. "That kinda makes sense."
But Ginny wasn't finished.
"We also decided to make you open your eyes and notice that you and Hermione were perfect for each other."
"What?"
"Ginny…" Hermione continued to growl.
"I mean, when I saw your pictures in the Daily Prophet, snogging like there was no tomorrow, I must have danced around the Burrow all afternoon…"
"This is so embarrassing," Hermione moaned as she buried her face in her hands.
"You two really should have done that years ago. But like I said, wizards left to themselves… disasters."
Harry turned around to face the witch behind him.
"Hermione?"
"What, Harry?" she said from behind her hands. Harry reached out to lower them so that he could look at her. Hermione reluctantly met his eyes.
"Did you really get together with Ginny and Luna to make a plan for… well… us?"
"Yes, but, oh, I'm sorry Harry! I didn't really mean to manipulate you like that, that wasn't my intention at all, I was really just looking out for what was best for us, you know, and you know that I've liked you for a while which should be rather obvious by now and I was pretty sure that you liked me too but I didn't know how to get you to make the first move so I thought that Ginny might know something…"
Harry abruptly silenced his rambling girlfriend by placing his index finger against her lips.
"Brilliant!" he said.
"You're not mad?" asked a worried Hermione once Harry's finger was removed.
"Not at all. Like I said, you're brilliant," he then punctuated that statement by giving her a quick peck on the lips. "Now get back to work!" he said as he turned around again. "My shoulders aren't going to rub themselves!"
"You don't realize how good you've got it," Hermione replied with a smile.
She then turned to Ginny who was grinning smugly at them once again.
"You're going to be impossible to live with, now, aren't you?"
"I know!" Ginny exclaimed with excitement.
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A few days later found Harry, Hermione and Keldorn in the Room of Requirement. Hermione had explained to the paladin her theory that Harry's armor might afford him some limited protection against spells, but that the idea needed to be tested. Keldorn agreed that the notion had merit, and so, later that evening after Harry had finished his usual routine, they made their way to the seventh floor corridor.
Once inside the room, Harry took up a position about ten feet from Hermione while Keldorn stood off to the side to watch.
"Let's start off with something simple," said Hermione. "How about a Tickling Charm?"
"Okay," replied Harry.
"First, I'll cast it against an unprotected area, to establish a baseline of how you normally react."
"Alright."
Hermione readied her wand and aimed for Harry's feet.
"Rictusempra!" she shouted with a swish of her wand.
Harry quickly doubled over with laughter.
"Finite," Hermione cast, removing the effect.
"Alright," she continued once Harry had recovered, "now I'll cast it at your chest. Ready?"
"Ready."
"Rictusempra!" this time the bright flash of light struck the chainmail Harry was wearing, leaving him unaffected.
"Huh," said the wizard, "I guess you were right."
Hermione broke out into a wide smile.
"Oh, this is wonderful! Imagine the possibilities! This could revolutionize the way we approach Defense…"
"Calm down, Hermione," Harry interjected, "It was only a Tickling Charm."
"Right. Well, let's try something else. How about a Stunner?"
"Okay."
"Ready, Harry?"
"Fire away!"
Hermione once again took aim at Harry's chest and cast, "Stupefy!"
The bright red bolt of light struck Harry in the center of his chest and threw him backwards. He landed sprawled out on the floor.
"Harry!" cried Hermione as she rushed over to make sure he was okay.
Harry groaned, before rolling over and coughing. Hermione knelt down beside him and helped him sit up.
"Well," Harry said with a wince, "That hurt like hell. I feel like Hagrid dipped his fist in acid and then punched me in the chest."
"Oh, I'm sorry Harry… I didn't think it would…"
"It's okay, Hermione, I'll live," he responded while giving the anxious witch a pat on the shoulder. "I'm still awake though."
Harry stood back up to see that Keldorn had come closer to see if he was alright.
"Are you injured?" queried the old knight.
"Nothing that a little rest can't cure," Harry replied.
"Can you continue? I still think it is worthwhile to find the limits of this effect."
"Sure."
"Are you sure, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"I'm fine Hermione. Let's just keep it to spells with less power than that Stunner. I don't need another one of those."
"If you're sure…"
They continued to test different spells against the armor for another hour. They found that most simple, low-powered offensive jinxes and charms like the Tickling Charm and the Jelly-Legs Jinx could be stopped by the armor, while more moderately powered charms had their effects somewhat mitigated. For instance, Hermione's Full Body-Bind failed to make Harry's go completely rigid, but it did make his joints rather stiff and significantly slowed his movement. And while her Tarantallegra failed to produce the crazy, all-out dancing it normally caused, Harry did find himself slowly hoping from one foot to the other. They decided not to approach anything near the power level of the Stunning Spell, nor did they try anything that might cause significant injury, like the Piercing or Blasting Hexes, as those were simply too dangerous.
"Well, it seems this test was a success, I would say," said Keldorn as the three of them left the Room of Requirement. "We now know that you have some moderate protection from simple spells, but in the end, I think it would behoove you to simply get out of the way."
"I agree," said Harry as he rubbed his bruised chest. "It's much better to simply wake up from a Stunner than to feel one of those hit you."
"I will disagree with you there, Harry," said the knight, "in battle it is better to be winded but aware than to be unconscious and helpless."
"Good point."
They abruptly halted their movement when someone rounded the corner in front of them.
"Malfoy," Harry almost spat the name when he recognized the platinum-haired Slytherin.
"Potter," the snake replied, "out for a late night snog with that girlfriend you pulled out of the gutter?"
Harry narrowed his eyes but then realized that Keldorn had gone eerily still upon seeing Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy," began the old knight in a tone that spoke of complete seriousness, "what are you doing out of your dormitory so late at night? Besides hurling unwarranted and juvenile insults at your fellow students, that is."
"None of your damn business, you trumped-up Muggle!" Draco responded with a sneer.
"But it is my business," Keldorn replied as he took a step forward. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to empty your pockets."
Tension seemed to fill the hallway as the paladin stared down the wizard in front of him. It did not escape Harry's notice that Keldorn's hand was resting on the pommel of his sword. Harry surreptitiously eased his wand into his hand, and glanced over to see that Hermione was doing the same.
"I'll do no such thing! I don't need to take orders from filth like you, even if you are masquerading as a Hogwarts professor!"
Keldorn took another slow step forward while Draco took a tentative step backwards.
"I ask you again: empty your pockets," commanded the old knight.
Draco paused for a moment, his eyes flicking between the three individuals standing across from him.
Suddenly, he moved, bringing his wand to bear and aiming at the paladin.
But Harry and Hermione were faster.
"Stupefy!" cried Hermione.
"Expelliarmus!" shouted Harry.
Draco managed to dodge Hermione's stunner, but couldn't avoid Harry's spell. He could only watch in impotent rage as his wand went flying through the air and was deftly caught by Harry.
Keldorn advanced two steps and slowly drew his sword from its scabbard, the blade seemed to hum at a low, otherworldly pitch.
"Now then, Mr. Malfoy," said Keldorn with a note of deadly seriousness, "you have one last chance. Empty your pockets. Now."
Harry could see the rage building behind Draco's eyes, but without his wand, he knew he was helpless. Slowly, and with a snarl on his face, Malfoy began emptying his pockets, throwing the contents onto the floor in front of him.
"There, are you satisfied, you overgrown goblin?"
"Everything, Mr. Malfoy," Keldorn replied coolly, "I know what it is you are hiding."
Shaking with fury, Draco reached into his robe and slowly took out a bundle of cloth. He seemed to consider his actions for a moment before carefully placing it on the ground.
"Stand back against the wall," Keldorn commanded.
When Draco reluctantly complied with the order, Keldorn swept forward and without hesitation plunged his sword down into the bundle, piercing it through completely, his blade continuing into the stone floor.
"No!" cried Draco, but he was drowned out by a bright flash of light and the sound of something shattering within the fabric. When the light cleared, there was a faint trail of black smoke rising from where the sword was still lodged in the floor. The smell of sulfur permeated the air.
"Miss Granger," Keldorn said turning to the witch in question, "please go and find the Deputy Headmistress. Bring her here with all haste."
With a concerned glance at Harry, Hermione left to do as she was instructed.
While the paladin's attention was elsewhere, Draco made his move. He lunged forward with a quickness that Harry didn't know Draco possessed, and wrapped his hands around the hilt of Keldorn's sword.
"Look out!" Harry shouted in warning.
But as soon as Draco's skin came in contact with the sword, a loud bang reverberated through the hallway and the young Slytherin was thrown violently against the wall, landing in a crumpled heap at its base.
Keldorn remained standing in his place, a fierce look of deadly seriousness upon his face.
"Check him," the knight ordered Harry.
Harry moved forward cautiously, and found that while he was unconscious, Malfoy was still breathing. Harry didn't notice any blood, but saw that his left arm was resting at an odd angle and his hands were badly burned.
"He's alive," Harry said after a moment, "but knocked-out."
Keldorn did not respond, but merely nodded.
"What is going on here?" asked the voice of a concerned Minerva McGonagall a few minutes later when she arrived at the scene with Hermione in tow.
"We should speak with the Headmaster," Keldorn replied as he finally removed his sword from the stone floor and the mysterious object that he had impaled. "This," he gestured to the still smoking bundle, "was a highly dangerous dark object that young Mr. Malfoy was carrying for malicious purposes. I have destroyed it, but I suggest caution in handling it still. Perhaps you might levitate it, Minerva?"
McGonagall stood with an expression of shocked surprise on her face.
"Mr. Malfoy, will likely need medical attention as well," continued Keldorn, "thus he will be unable to join us in the Headmaster's office. But I believe the threat is passed - for the moment," he said as he sheathed his sword. "I trust that my squire and Miss Granger can see to bringing Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing while we take this abomination to Professor Dumbledore."
"Well…" McGonagall sighed as she levitated the dark object. "Let us go then. Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, please see to Mr. Malfoy." With that, she and Keldorn made their way off to see the Headmaster, while Harry and Hermione were left alone with the unconscious Draco.
"Should we go get Ron and write some foul words on his face?" Harry asked his companion with a grin.
"This is serious, Harry!" Hermione admonished him.
"I know that, Hermione. I was only trying to lighten the mood."
Hermione looked down at the Draco's crumpled form.
"It would serve him right to wake up and find 'Inbred' tattooed on his forehead…" Hermione mumbled under her breath before shaking her head and casting a charm that levitated the unconscious wizard.
"Come on, Harry," she said turning to her boyfriend, "the sooner we get this ponce to Madam Pomfery, the sooner we're rid of him."
"True. And the sooner you can start on my massage."
Hermione shook her head again, but with a smile.
"Besides, you owe me extra tonight after you hit me with that wicked stunner."
"You said you were fine!"
"I will be - after your loving care, that is."
"Boys…"
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The next day started off normally, but after lunch Keldorn, Harry, and Hermione were summoned to the Headmaster's office to discuss the incident that took place with Draco the prior evening. So, together they made their way past the gargoyle, up the spiral staircase, and into the eclectic office of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
"Please, take a seat," the Headmaster said from behind his large, ornate desk. With a flick of his wand, three comfortable armchairs appeared. They were all quickly seated.
"Would anyone care for a lemon drop?" Dumbledore graciously offered. The three guests all declined the offer, but Fawkes perked himself up and trilled from his perch in the corner.
"Yes, of course, my friend. I wouldn't leave you out," Dumbledore answered the bird. He then tossed one of the candies over to the corner and the phoenix deftly snatched it out of the air.
"Fawkes and I have been together for a long time. It seems my sweet tooth has rubbed off on him. In any event, I did not call you here to discuss my phoenix's predilections for confectionaries. I have already spoken at length with both Professor McGonagall and Sir Keldorn regarding the incident with young Mr. Malfoy last evening. I was hoping that you might share your versions with me as well."
The next several minutes were devoted to first Harry and then Hermione recounting what they saw and did the previous evening. After they were finished, Hermione took the opportunity to ask some questions.
"Professor Dumbledore, what's going to happen to Draco now?"
Dumbledore sighed, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. In that moment, the Headmaster appeared to look very old and tired.
"I'm afraid that Mr. Malfoy has made some very poor choices over the past several months, and he can no longer be shielded from the consequences. Once he sufficiently recovers, the Aurors will arrive to escort him to Azkaban."
"Azkaban?!" Harry questioned in disbelief. "Really? I mean, I know Malfoy's a git… but Azkaban?"
"After you delivered him to the hospital wing last night, Madam Pomfery discovered that Mr. Malfoy had taken Voldemort's Dark Mark."
Hermione's eyes widened at that revelation.
"Draco is an actual Death Eater?" she asked in disbelief.
"I'm afraid so."
"I didn't think he had it in him," Harry mused aloud.
"It seems as though he was given a mission to accomplish here in Hogwarts as well," Dumbledore continued as he reached into one of his desk's drawers and pulled out a familiar bundle of cloth. He placed it in the middle of his desk, causing the various silver instruments already there to scurry as far away from it as possible. He lifted the covering to reveal a broken and twisted piece of jewelry. It had obviously once been a necklace of dark metal and black stones, but the damage wrought upon it by Keldorn's sword had destroyed it beyond repair.
"This necklace," said Dumbledore, "is what Sir Keldorn sensed on Mr. Malfoy's person. It is a terrible thing of the darkest magic, meant to inflict immense suffering and to destroy the soul of the one who wears it. I do not know what Mr. Malfoy planned to do with it, but for him to simply bring it here…" Dumbledore trailed off as he closed his eyes.
"Do you think he could have been under the Imperious Curse?" asked Hermione.
"No," answered Keldorn. "He was acting of his own free will."
"As I said," continued Dumbledore as he opened his eyes once again, "Mr. Malfoy must now face the consequences of his choices."
"There's one thing I don't understand," Harry began as he turned to his mentor after a moment of heavy silence, "what exactly did you do to him that put him in the hospital wing? I didn't see you move a muscle."
"Ah," responded Keldorn, "well that's because I didn't do anything. It was Carsomyr that brought down the villain."
"Your sword did that by itself?"
"Yes. I told you before that Carsomyr is no mere sword, did I not?"
Keldorn looked around the office to find three sets of eyes intently focused upon him.
"Very well," he said rising to his feet and turning to the Headmaster. "With your permission?"
Dumbledore merely nodded.
Grasping the hilt of his sword, Keldorn slowly drew the blade. As it was unsheathed, all of the various silver instruments and odd knick-knacks in the Headmaster's office stilled their motion and silenced themselves, as if in reverence. In such close quarters, Harry could feel the hairs on his arms rise as the power within the blade made itself known.
"Carsomyr," began Keldorn, "is the greatest tool of the Light known to my Order. Its exact origins are lost, yet it is known to be ancient. It is a sentient blade, yet its sentience is not like our own. It exists for one purpose only: to destroy the works of the Darkness. You have all seen me use it in battle to unravel the curses of our enemies.
"It was the power of this sword," he said, turning his gaze to the only witch in the room, "that broke the dark curse placed upon you last year, and saved your life."
The office was utterly quiet as they all, including Dumbledore, listened to the old paladin with rapt attention. Harry found that he was even holding his breath, and had to remind himself to breathe.
"Carsomyr will only allow itself to be wielded in a truly just cause, and only then by a consecrated servant of the Light - by a paladin who proves himself to be worthy. Anyone else who attempts to wield the blade will find themselves unable to do so. A slave of the Darkness that dares to touch this holy sword will find themselves suffering its wrath. Mr. Malfoy, after allowing himself to be branded for evil, after bringing a deadly artifact into this school, after filling his heart with hatred, could not hope to touch it and walk away unscathed."
"Fascinating," Dumbledore uttered quietly.
Keldorn smiled at the old wizard before crossing over to his side of the desk, and presenting the sword to him, hilt first.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, before reaching out with his right hand and grasping the hilt. Keldorn let go of the blade, and immediately the tip of the sword swung down to the floor where it impacted with a soft clank.
"Interesting," remarked the Headmaster, the twinkle returning to his eyes as he struggled to hold the weapon, "it feels like it must weigh a hundred pounds."
"Servant of the Light you may be, Headmaster, but you are not a paladin. As such, the weight of duty intrinsic to the sword is too heavy for you to bear. As you can see though, Carsomyr is willing to allow you to hold it, and likely even transport it."
"Harry," said Dumbledore, "Why don't you give it a try?"
Harry glanced at his mentor for permission before rising to his feet and reaching out to take the blade from Dumbledore. Like the Headmaster, Harry found that the sword was much too heavy to ever hope to use in battle. It did indeed feel like it weighed close to a hundred pounds.
As he held the sacred blade, Harry took a moment to look it over. The hilt was made from what looked like silver that was ornately interwoven with strands of gold. There was one large, red jewel set into the hilt where the handle met the cross-guard that, when Harry looked closely, seemed to shine with a faint inner light. The blade itself was made of some sort of steel that was so bright, it appeared to be almost white. There were little ripples on the blade that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be some sort of unknown writing that covered its entire surface.
As Harry stared at the sword in his hands, time seemed to slow down, and the world contracted until it was only he and Carsomyr that remained. He felt exposed - naked and vulnerable before some powerful, otherworldly presence. He no longer felt the unwieldy weight of the blade in his hands, but rather he felt the overwhelming weight of responsibility bearing down upon his shoulders, threating to crush him. He felt undeserving, as if he was stained - dirty, like a dark spot of grease on an otherwise clear window with the sun shining through it.
He felt an alien intelligence in his mind - bright and terrible and burning like the dawn. Harry was helpless before it. He was completely vulnerable, stretched out and laid bare as the thunder of a gathering storm broke upon his soul and enveloped it. His senses were overwhelmed by a silent scream of fury.
UNWORTHY
Harry shivered and wrenched his eyes away from the sacred blade as he extended the hilt to Hermione so that she might inspect it. He had to get it away from him.
As she took it and began to minutely go over the sword's details, Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He closed his eyes and fought to control his breathing. His pulse was pounding in his ears. He felt slightly nauseous, like he might be sick, but he fought against the need to empty his stomach and focused on his breathing.
When he opened his eyes, he found his mentor's piercing gaze studying him intently. He glanced at Hermione and Dumbledore, who had Carsomyr laid out on the desk. They were bent over the blade, pointing at it, discussing it in low, excited whispers, wide smiles present on their faces.
Keldorn came to stand beside him.
"They do not understand."
"Sir?"
"It is no fault or failing of their own, but they do not see."
Harry shivered.
The silence between Harry and his mentor stretched out as they watched the elderly wizard and the young witch propose theories to each other over something that was utterly beyond their comprehension.
"Is it always like that?" he asked softly, his eyes downcast.
"Yes," the paladin replied in a tone that said he knew exactly what Harry meant.
"It is always like that."
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AN: The idea that chainmail armor could be used to protect against minor spells comes from Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality by Less Wrong on fanfiction dot net.
So, thanks for your reviews. And thanks for reading!