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
IV
The next morning, Harry decided against saying goodbye to his friends, relying instead on McGonagall's promise to let them know that he would be staying at Hogwarts for the summer. Harry watched from underneath his invisibility cloak as the students left for Hogsmeade Station. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny took the last carriage after waiting around the entire morning. Harry caught Hermione grumbling as Ron and Ginny finally convinced her to get into the cart.
"I'm going to burn that cloak of his when I finally see him," Harry thought he heard her say.
Later that afternoon, Harry was walking along the border of the Forbidden Forest toward Hagrid's hut, when a figure stepped into view in front of him. It was the old knight, with his sword belted to his side and his armored collar and a few other pieces of metal strapped to his neck and shoulders. Harry got the feeling that the knight had come looking just for him.
"Well met," began the knight. "This is the third time we have come across one another, and yet we have not been introduced. I am Sir Keldorn Firecam, paladin and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. Who might you be?"
"What do you care?" Harry replied in annoyance. "Can't you see that I'd rather not be bothered?"
"Do the elders on the world not bother to teach proper courtesy to the young?"
"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to be rude, now would I? I'm Harry James Potter," he replied in a tone clearly meant to mock the old knight's own introduction, "student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Fate's all-around bitch. Happy?"
The old knight pursed his lips as he continued to study Harry.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll continue with what I was doing," said the young wizard.
With that, Harry resumed his walk and quickly passed his unwelcome visitor. The old knight's next words, however, stopped him in his tracks.
"I saw what you did the other day."
Harry straightened his back and turned to face the knight once more.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play dumb with me, it won't work. Casting such a dangerous spell at that tree was a damn fool thing to do."
"Yeah? And just what would you know about it?" replied Harry as his anger began to surface once again.
"Tell me this, then," countered the knight with a calm voice, "what would have happened if your little blonde friend was in that part of the forest when you so blindly cast your spell? I happened upon her in just about that area earlier that very same day. I believe she said she was hunting for snore cakes or some such thing. Did you even look to see where or perhaps at whom you might be aiming before throwing such a deadly spell?"
As the old man spoke, Harry's eyes widened, and his anger, as well as most of the color in his face drained away.
I could have hurt Luna. I could have killed Luna too…
"I thought not," the knight said in answer to his own question. "Come with me."
Since Harry couldn't think of anything to say in reply, he simply found himself following the knight's order. Within a few moments, they approached the side of Hagrid's hut; there they found the tree that Harry had so carelessly felled a few days before.
"It does not take a prophet to see that you are full of anger. That anger is controlling you, making you do some rather stupid things." Harry silently glared at the old man. "Unless you learn to control your passions, to channel your energy into something besides destruction, and instead into something productive, you are going to end up hurting either yourself or someone else. And as Saint Tomus the Black Friar has taught us, there are few things more dangerous, not to mention more pitiful and shameful than a man ruled by his passions."
"Yeah, and what do you know about my passions?" replied Harry in an angry and petulant tone.
"Believe me, I know enough." The knight then walked over to the side of the Gamekeeper's hut and picked up a bow saw and a hatchet. "Instead of throwing another tantrum again today, you are going to put your energy into cleaning up the mess you have already made."
At this, Harry sucked in a quick breath. The mess that came to Harry's mind at that moment had nothing to do with the tree lying on the ground, but rather with two people who were recently lying in the hospital wing.
Hermione… Ron…
Sirius…
"Nothing helps us to learn to put some reins on our stronger passions more than good, hard work," continued the knight as he gestured with the tools toward the fallen tree.
"And what if I don't want to?"
"Then you will likely do something foolish once again. But tell me, what else have you to do today?"
Unable to come up with a counter argument, and realizing that hacking at a tree was just as good as wandering around the grounds, Harry stripped off his robe, rolled up his sleeves and extended his hands for the tools.
"Good," replied the knight. "Start with the hatchet and clear off all the branches from the trunk. When you are done with that, use the saw to cut the trunk into sections, each about a foot to a foot and a half long."
Harry went to work and after a few minutes, his arms were covered in sticky pine sap, likely ruining his shirt. Hacking at the branches was no easy job, and Harry was rather tempted to just use magic to get the task over and done with. But something made Harry think that the knight would not take kindly to such an action. So, Harry continued working.
After a few moments, Harry glanced up to see that the knight had found a wooden chair and was seated near the hut smoking a pipe and reading a book. He had unbuckled his sword and had it propped up and leaning against the chair beside him. He was even wearing a pair of small reading glasses on the tip of his nose. For some reason the sight struck Harry as rather comical, not exactly the image of a knight in shining armor that often came to mind, and he snorted in amusement before turning back to his work.
It was slightly past lunchtime when Harry finally finished chopping all of the branches off the tree trunk. The knight had disappeared earlier, likely going to get something to eat. Just before Harry was about to pick up the saw, though, the old man reappeared carrying a canvas sack.
"Time for a break," said the knight. "You cannot work all day without eating. Come."
He tossed the sack to Harry, who opened it to see a small loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese and an apple as well as a large bottle of water.
"Eat. You'll need your strength in order to cut up that tree."
There was no more conversation as Harry ate his simple meal and then went to work on the tree once again.
By the time Harry was finished sawing the trunk and the larger branches into sections, the sun had fallen quite low in the sky. His right arm, shoulder and back ached with soreness. Even thinking back to his time at the Dursleys', he could scarcely remember ever physically working so hard. His palms had blisters the size of Galleons and his clothes were drenched in sweat and covered with sticky tree sap.
He felt rather good however, in a tired sort of way, like he had accomplished something worthwhile.
"I think that's enough for today," observed the old knight. "Come back tomorrow morning at an hour past dawn and we'll continue."
Harry wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he nodded his head in agreement. That night he slept like a rock.
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The next morning, Harry was awakened by an incessant tapping at his window. He reached to his nightstand, put on his glasses and then looked to the window to see Hedwig as well as the lightening sky which meant that dawn was approaching. Harry got out of bed and opened the window to let in his owl. He removed the letter tied to her leg and spied the small, neat script of Hermione Granger. Harry paused for a moment, considering whether or not he wanted to read the letter, but in the end curiosity got the better of him.
Harry!
Where in the world are you? What's going on? Why are you avoiding me?
Leave it to Hermione to get right to the heart of the matter without beating around the bush.
I know that things were pretty bad at the Department of Mysteries, but please, don't shut us out like this. It wasn't your fault, Harry, you must see that. You were tricked. You're not alone in being tricked by Voldemort, he's done it to lots of others. It's not your fault. Please talk to me. I've been going spare with worry since I was released from the hospital wing and couldn't find you anywhere. Ron's been beside himself as well. If Professor McGonagall hadn't warned us that you wouldn't be on the Hogwarts Express I don't know what I might have done. Please, Harry, talk to me. Let me help. At the very least, please write back so that I know that you're okay.
Love,
Hermione
Harry put the letter down on his bed and stroked Hedwig's feathers for a moment before getting dressed and leaving for breakfast. As he was heading for the door, Hedwig let out a loud bark which made Harry stop and turn back toward his owl. The bird in question nodded at Hermione's letter and then stuck out her leg.
"Sorry, Hedwig, I just… not now. Maybe I'll write back later."
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An hour and a half later found Harry and Keldorn once again standing near Hagrid's hut. Harry had come better prepared than the day before, wearing and old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt. Hagrid was also present this morning, and Harry noticed him carrying a rather large piece of wood. It looked like a cross section of the trunk of an oak tree, about a foot tall and perhaps three in diameter. He set it down near the cut-up tree that Harry had worked on the day before.
"There yeh go, Harry. Tha' there should do yeh jus' fine."
Harry was slightly confused, but did not reply since Keldorn approached from the hut at that moment a large axe.
"This," said the knight, "is a maul. It is not an axe. Axes are for cutting and chopping. Mauls are made for splitting wood. As such, they are rather heavier and have a thicker head. Normally, you should wait for the wood to season before splitting it, but splitting green wood, while a bit more difficult, works just as well."
With that, he handed the heavy maul to Harry.
"Have you ever done this before?"
Harry simply shook his head in reply. The knight unbuckled his thick leather belt from which hung his sword as well as an assortment of leather pouches, and propped the weapon up against the chair by the Gamekeeper's hut. He then took the heavy tool back from Harry and walked over to the cut-up tree, picked up a log and stood it up on the large oak cross section that Hagrid had carried over.
"Plant your feet about should width apart," the knight began while demonstrating the proper position, "hold the maul with your left hand near the end of the handle and your right near the head. Bring it up over your head and swing it down in an arc onto the log. As you swing, let your right hand slide down the handle to meet your left at the bottom."
After he had finished explaining, the knight demonstrated the technique and with a quick swing, cleanly split the log in two.
"Tha's a good stroke there, tha' is," commented the Gamekeeper.
"Easy enough once you get the swing of it. Each log should be split into probably six or more pieces, depending on how big it is. You want nice, thin wedges, not something that's too large to easily burn. Here you go, get to it. I'll stay over here to make sure you don't bleed to death if you manage to chop off your foot."
With that, he handed to tool back to Harry, and gestured for him to have a go.
Splitting wood, decided Harry, was much more difficult than sawing it. He kept missing the log or he would bring the maul down with the head slightly turned so that it would glance off to the side and send a painful reverberation through the handle and up Harry's arms. When he did manage to hit the log straight on, he couldn't manage much more than to get the blade stuck in it.
All the while, the old knight and Hagrid sat side by side in two wooden chairs offering occasional advice.
"Bend yer knees, Harry."
"Don't swing so hard. It's not about strength. Let the maul do the work; it will wear you out long before you wear it out."
"Aim fer the split in the grain."
And so forth. Eventually, after what seemed like forever to Harry, he managed to split one of the logs and after that, he managed to get into a rhythm. He would swing at the log and actually managed to split it on every third try or so, and then reposition it for the next stroke. After the piece he was working on was done, he would carry the pieces over to Hagrid's wood pile, and then place another log onto the chopping block.
Splitting wood, Harry decided, was hard. After only a few minutes, he was breathing heavily and sweating like he was standing in a furnace.
Meanwhile Hagrid and Keldorn seemed to get along well enough. Both were smoking their pipes and they seemed find mutual enjoyment in telling stories of different dangerous creatures that they had come across. Hagrid tended to remark about caring for the poor, misunderstood 'little darlin's,' but Keldorn's tales focused more on fighting them.
"I had just escorted my squire Ajantis north to investigate the iron crisis, when we were waylaid by a colony of ankhegs, which burst out of the ground in front of us."
"Err, wha's an ankheg? Ain't never heard o' summat like tha' before."
"They're large, insect-like monsters, covered with a thick, brown shell that's very difficult to pierce. They live underground and prey on cattle and other livestock. Sometimes they'll attack people if they get hungry enough."
"Blimey."
"So there we were, three of the beasts staring us down, foul smelling acid dripping from their jaws. We drew our swords, ready to defend ourselves when Ajantis looks over at me and says, 'You told me the girls were prettier up north!'"
"Ha!" replied Hagrid as he slapped his knee in mirth.
"Turns out we found a blacksmith who was willing to pay handsomely for the shells. Used them to make rather some nice armor I recall."
They took a break around noon and retreated into Hagrid's hut for lunch.
"Don' worry," Hagrid turned to Harry with a wink, "I had the elves bring us down a bit o' summat."
Harry smiled at Hagrid's swipe at his own cooking.
The house-elves provided a hearty meal of roasted chickens, potatoes, green beans and fresh rolls and butter. Harry was so hungry from all the hard labor that he ate an entire chicken himself. Ron would have been proud. Hagrid put away six.
Harry only managed to split less than a quarter of the wood that day. It was rather taxing physically, and Harry still hadn't managed to get the proper technique down on every swing. He went to bed that night with two sore arms and a promise to return once again in the morning.
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Harry made his way down the stairs of Gryffindor Tower's boy's dormitory just after dawn. He had received another letter from Hermione, much the same as the last one, asking for a reply to be penned soon. It currently sat unanswered in Harry's trunk along with the one from the day before.
As he entered the common room on his way to breakfast, Harry noticed that he had a visitor: Dumbledore.
"Ah, there you are," said the old Headmaster from his seat in one of the many armchairs in the room. "Please, have a seat for a moment; there is something we must discuss."
Harry warily approached the aged wizard, all too aware of how their last conversation had ended. Dumbledore, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease.
"You may not like hearing this, but it can be put off no longer. The last will and testament of Sirius Black will be read this afternoon in Gringotts."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut when he heard his godfather's name.
"I'm sorry that we have not managed to hold a memorial service for him as of yet, as that might arouse some unwanted questions. Perhaps we might hold something less formal and more private in the future. Be that as it may, the goblins are getting rather restless and are demanding that the will be executed. As you are apparently named therein, you have the right to be present during the reading."
Harry remained silent, breathing heavily with his eyes closed and his fists clenched.
"Harry, would you like to go to the reading?"
"No." Harry spat as he glared at the Headmaster.
Without another word, Harry rose to his feet and stormed out of the room.
He decided to skip breakfast so as to avoid the other people in the Great Hall, and instead made his way directly to Hagrid's hut. There he quickly got to work on the woodpile.
Sometime later, Harry was interrupted by the voice of Keldorn.
"Skipping breakfast before a day of hard labor is not a very wise decision."
Harry simply glared at the knight.
"Ah. I see the angry boy has returned. I was wondering when he would make an appearance."
"Piss off!"
"Make me," returned the knight with some amusement.
Harry merely turned back to the chopping block and swung the axe which met its target with a satisfying thunk, splitting the log down the center.
"Tell me, who is it that has roused such anger in you? There aren't very many people staying in the castle these days."
"Why do you care?" Harry asked as he positioned a piece on the block.
"Let's say that it gives me something to talk about."
Thunk!
"Dumbledore. The man's an arse."
"Really?" queried the knight, "he did not strike me as such. And I'm normally a decent judge of character."
"Yes really. If he would have just told me what was going on, none of this would have happened."
"Ahh, so you speak of the battle waged a few days ago."
"Yes, I speak of the battle," Harry said mockingly, throwing the knight's words back at him. "If Dumbledore would have just told me about the damn…" Harry was at least cognizant enough to avoid letting his knowledge of the prophecy slip out, "the damn thing that Voldemort was after, Sirius and Hermione wouldn't be…"
Silence reigned for a moment.
"Your friend Hermione seems to have recovered just fine."
"She should be dead!" Harry screamed, throwing the maul down to the ground. "If it wasn't for you, miraculously appearing out of thin air, Hermione would be dead! And it would be my fault! Just like Sirius is my fault!"
Harry stood there, ramrod straight, breathing heavily, while Keldorn simply looked at him with unbreakable calm.
"She knew it was a trap. She told me, tried to convince me not to go. But I went anyways and she followed," Harry said in a much quieter voice. "And now Sirius, my godfather, my only family is dead and Hermione should be too. And it's all my fault."
Silence stretched on for a long moment.
"And what does the young lady have to say about this?"
Harry shook his head and looked down to his feet.
"I don't know. I've been avoiding her. I couldn't… I just couldn't stand to have her look at me and…"
"Hmmm… If you truly are guilty of the charges you lay against yourself, which, I might add, seems unlikely…" Harry appeared about to interrupt, but the knight raised one hand, asking to continue. Harry relented. "If you truly deserve the anger that you are levying against yourself, then there are only two ways for you to receive absolution.
"First, there is penance. Make up for the damage you have done. However, this will only take you so far, as any penance we undertake can never truly atone for our misdeeds."
Harry nodded in understanding.
"The second, and the only true source of absolution, is forgiveness."
When Harry didn't respond, Keldorn continued, "Tell me, if she was here, now, and you could not hide, but instead made a heartfelt apology for the grievous hurt that you caused her, what would your Hermione do?"
Harry looked at his feet and stayed quiet for a moment. Instead of answering the question, Harry tried to redirect the conversation as a tear escaped down his cheek, "Yeah, but Sirius isn't here any more. I got him killed. I can't ask him for forgiveness."
"Yes," replied the knight, "sometimes it is impossible to ask for or receive absolution. Sometimes there are those who, in hardness of their hearts, refuse to forgive. In such times we must remember that we all need to be forgiven, we are all guilty of transgressions of one sort or another. What you really need is to be able to break the hardness of your own heart, and forgive yourself.
"Ultimately, remember that the Light is merciful. To withhold mercy and compassion is a weapon of the Darkness. You will be forgiven if you so desire it. Your godfather, if he was a good man, and I do not doubt that he was since he gave his life fighting against the Darkness, now lives in the Light. In such Light, there can be no Darkness, there can be no hardness of heart.
"Harry, Sirius has already forgiven you. Hermione will forgive you. You must work toward forgiving yourself."
The old knight gave Harry a moment to collect himself and wipe away his tears before speaking again.
"Come, get yourself some breakfast. The elves will provide for you. It will do none of us any good if you collapse from exhaustion due to hunger. Your penance will keep until you have eaten."
Harry merely nodded and walked back toward the castle. He had a lot to think about.
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AN: Can anyone come up with an onomatopoeia better than thunk! for the noise made by a maul splitting wood? I've been trying but I'm stuck. Suggestions will receive my eternal gratitude.
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