Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart by Raven3182

Rating: PG13
Genres: Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 16/06/2013
Last Updated: 05/04/2016
Status: In Progress

During the battle at the Department of Mysteries something unexpected happens and a knight from
a place far, far away suddenly finds himself in the strange world of Harry Potter. How will Harry,
as well as the rest of the wizarding world react to having a paladin thrust into their midst? Evil
closes in on all sides, yet the Light still shines in the Darkness. A/U.




1. I
----

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. 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.

Summary: During the battle at the Department of Mysteries, something strange happens,
and a knight from a place far, far away suddenly finds himself in the strange world of Harry
Potter. How will the wizarding world react to having a paladin thrust into their midst? Evil closes
in on all sides, yet the Light still shines in the Darkness. OC, A/U.

AN to be found at the end of the chapter.

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

I

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!"

The crazed witch sang that refrain over and over as she ran toward the exit from the
amphitheater that was hewn out of the bedrock deep below London in the Department of Mysteries.

With a vicious cry, Harry wrenched himself out of Lupin's grasp and leveled his wand at
Bellatrix.

"Confringo!" he shouted, heedless of the battle raging all around him.
Harry's world had seemingly contracted to simply himself and the fiend that stole his godfather
from him.

"Confringo!" Harry screamed once again. However, his aim was off. Harry's
first spell went wide by several feet, while his second struck the top of the doorway that
Bellatrix was running toward. Showing more awareness than Harry thought possible for such a
deranged witch, Bellatrix quickly changed direction and dove against the wall just as the ceiling
above the doorway came crashing down.

"Looks like wittle, baby Potter came to play!" the witch gleefully shouted as she
regained her feet, "but does the wittle baby know the rules? Incendio!"

Harry quickly conjured a shield to fend off the flames hurtling in his direction but was unable
to dodge the simple tripping jinx that Bellatrix sent following after.

As Harry sprawled out on the floor, Bellatrix took up her chant once again, "I killed
Sirius Black!" and ran toward a different doorway.

"She will not get away because of a bloody tripping jinx!" Harry screamed as he
scrambled off the floor and took off after Bellatrix. In the back of his mind, Harry heard various
shouts for him to wait, for him to stop, but he ignored them all. At that moment, Harry Potter had
only one purpose: find Bellatrix Lestrange.

What he would do with her once he found her, well, he could worry about that later.

The stone corridor that he was speeding down twisted and turned with scarcely a moment's
notice. The torches lining the walls which gave off the little light that was available were few
and far between, making Harry's flat-out run into the darkness that much more dangerous as he
could barely see more than a few feet in front of his face. But the echo of Bellatrix's hurried
footsteps on the cold, stone floor and the taunting refrain of her voice impelled him onward.

A sudden flash of light in the darkness was warning enough for Harry to throw himself to the
ground as a spell crashed into the wall where his head had been just a moment before. Flecks of
stone rained down on his back as he painfully slid to a sudden stop against the hard stone wall in
yet another bend in the corridor.

"Awwww... the wittle baby fell down," shrieked the madwoman from her ambush,
"let's see if we can help him get up again! Reducto!"

Spells began raining down upon Harry's position and he hurriedly rolled to the side,
desperately trying to avoid being hit. Seeing no other option, as Bellatrix kept up her steady
barrage of hexes and curses, Harry blindly pointed his wand in her general direction from his
position flat on the floor and let loose with his own blasting curse.

Suddenly, the spellfire slamming into the ground all him ceased. Harry looked up in desperate
hope.

Did I actually hit her? Harry incredulously thought to himself, only to hear the
witch's insane laughter once again.

"Hehehe, He did come to play after all!" Bellatrix exclaimed from her end of
the hallway. "Catch me if you can, Potty!" she yelled as she once again took off down the
dark corridor.

She's playing with me, Harry thought to himself, I'll teach her to bloody
well play with me!

Harry once again scrambled to his feet and took off after the mad witch. He quickly turned a
corner only to see Bellatrix duck into the first doorway that they had come across and slam the
door closed behind her.

"Confringo!" Harry screamed at the door without slowing his pursuit, causing
the barrier to explode into the room in a shower of wooden splinters. Harry crossed the threshold
and dove to the right, just in time to avoid a dark jet of purple light. The anger that had taken
hold of him in the amphitheater made him disregard his own safety and instead he unleashed an all
out assault upon his enemy.

"Confringo! Reducto! Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!" Harry let loose
with anything and everything he could think of. Amazingly, it seemed to be working, and Bellatrix
was forced onto the defensive.

Harry was so focused on his enemy that he barely noticed what was in the room around him. At
first glance, the room appeared to be floating in the darkness of outer space, as thousands of
tiny, bright stars shone all around. A closer inspection would reveal that the "stars"
were really countless, glowing crystal pendants, each one hanging from a tiny hook on the
pitch-black wall. No other source of light was found in the room besides the strange, shining
crystals.

The two combatants were headless of their surroundings, however, as they continued their battle.
Even though he seemed to have her on the defensive, Harry couldn't land a single spell on his
opponent; she either countered his spells or dodged and twisted out of the way. Soon, the magical
onslaught had the tiny, shining crystals flying and scattering throughout the room. Wherever they
landed, tiny flashes of lightning sparked out, shooting brilliant flashes of light into the
darkness.

"Enough of this!" screamed Bellatrix, fury overtaking the demented glee that had
earlier adorned her face, "playtime is over!" With that she gestured with her wand and
summoned several of the tiny, glowing crystals to herself. The crystals came together in a brightly
shining ball of tiny shards that hovered before her, only to be banished with great force directly
at Harry.

"Protego!" Harry quickly shouted, only to painfully discover that his shield
had no effect whatsoever on the tiny and very sharp crystals flying straight at him. Several of the
tiny missiles sliced open his arms as he instinctively covered his face, and a few even stabbed
themselves into his stomach. Each impact jolted Harry with what felt like an electric charge.

With a grunt of pain, Harry clutched his now bleeding gut with his left hand as he crouched down
to the floor. He looked up only to see another group of crystals floating in front of
Bellatrix.

"Now it's time for the wittle baby to be punished! Depulso!" and
with that, another round of razor-sharp crystals were sent flying toward Harry.

Seeing as his shield proved to be of no use against these missiles, Harry desperately cast a
hurried blasting curse at the center of the group coming his way, hoping to disperse them or
deflect them.

He did not, however, expect the violent explosion that resulted.

With a blinding, white light and a terrifying blast, Harry found himself thrown, arse over
teakettle, and slammed head first into the wall behind him. Meanwhile, Bellatrix, who in the course
of the engagement had maneuvered herself to have her back to the doorway, found herself thrown out
into the hallway and landed in a heap by the opposite wall.

For what seemed like a few seconds, Harry could hear nothing but silence as dust tumbled down
from the ceiling in the aftermath of the explosion. The silence gave way to a high-pitched ringing
as it became evident that the blast was too much for Harry's ears to bear. He groaned in pain
as he tried to sit up, only to see the room spinning around him, and then promptly fell back to the
floor. He desperately groped about him, blindly hoping to locate his wand in case Bellatrix renewed
her assault.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Harry found his wand, miraculously it was unharmed, and he
somehow managed to make the world stop spinning. He was surprised that during this time he was not
subject to a renewed barrage of curses, but peering through the ruined doorway, Harry saw no sign
of Bellatrix other than a small smear of blood on the wall and a slightly larger pool gathered on
the floor.

She must've run off again. Great. Bloody well fantastic! Harry cursed in his head.
With a groan, he somehow managed to get to his feet, intending to take off after his foe once
again. However, he was stopped short by the sight of a figure he found lying on the floor in the
middle of the room.

There, in front of him on the floor in the midst of what would have been the blinding ball of
magic that exploded as a result of Harry's spell crashing into the group of flying crystals,
was the body of a man.

He looked like some sort of medieval knight, lying face down on the floor, covered head to toe
in shiny, metal, plate armor. On his left forearm was strapped a circular shield, polished so
brightly that it could have easily been mistaken for a mirror. A few inches from his right hand
laid a large, ornate looking sword. The knight wore no helm, which allowed Harry to see his
short-cropped, gray hair.

Harry, his mouth falling open in surprise, stared at the man in a moment of confusion. I
must've hit my head bloody hard, he thought to himself, now I'm seeing
things.

In that moment, the knight moved with surprising quickness for someone covered almost completely
in metal. His right hand grasped the hilt of his sword as he lurched to the side and rolled to his
knees. The knight appeared to be around fifty years old. A short, graying goatee matched the hair
on his head, and few small, faded scars marred his otherwise handsome features. One particularly
noticeable scar cut across the bridge of the man's slightly crooked nose. It seemed that the
man's brown eyes quickly took in Harry's shell-shocked state. His mouth opened in what
Harry assumed to be speech, but the ringing in Harry's ears from the blast made any attempt at
communication in that moment pointless.

Overcoming his moment of confusion, Harry growled out, "I don't have time for this!
She's getting away!" and with that, he ran through the door with renewed vigor in pursuit
of his enemy without sparing another thought for the strange newcomer.

Once more in the dark and winding stone corridor, Harry took off in the direction that he and
Bellatrix had originally been heading in the hope of finding her once again. He kept to the
hallway, deciding not to veer off into any of the closed doors that he passed by, lest he get lost
in the maze of mysterious rooms and corridors. He could only hope that Bellatrix had made the same
decision.

After a few moments, Harry could finally see an end to the corridor up ahead. It looked like the
stone wall at the end of the hallway had been blasted apart to make an exit. Multicolored lights
flashed back and forth from the opening, and the ringing in Harry's ears began to fade just in
time to be replaced with the cries of shouted spell incantations. Harry ran full speed toward the
opening and emerged in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, only to find Dumbledore locked in
furious combat with both Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort himself.

"Your little schoolboy is dead!" Bellatrix shouted at the aged headmaster as they
traded spells, heedless of Harry's emergence onto the scene, "I left him in a pile of
blood and broken bones back in the Department of Mysteries!"

"How's this for a pile of bones, you bitch?!" Harry screamed in his rage.
"Reducto!"

His spell took the insane witch by surprise as it slammed into her shoulder. With a high-pitched
yelp, Bellatrix spun around and went crashing to the floor.

Only then, with Bellatrix writhing in agony, did Harry truly register the fact that the Dark
Lord was present in the room.

"Well done, Harry," sneered the high-pitched voice of Voldemort, "I didn't
think you had it in you."

"Go to hell, you bastard!" Harry shouted as he leveled his wand at the Dark Lord and
began furiously casting.

"You can't win here, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly as he continued to engage
Voldemort at a lightning-fast pace. "Give up. You're outnumbered and outmatched."

"I am Lord Voldemort!" returned the snake-like being with a crazed gleam in his eye,
"I cannot be defeated!" And with that, he unleashed a wave of concussive force that
lifted both Harry and Dumbledore off their feet and tossed them tumbling through the air.

Harry landed awkwardly on his left arm, and felt as well as heard a bone snap somewhere near his
wrist. Dumbledore seemed to somehow manage to keep his feet, and hastily erected a shield between
Harry and Voldemort.

"I am the greatest wizard to ever walk the earth!" exclaimed the Dark Lord as he
continued spinning and flicking his wand in intricate and exact movements, "you maggots are
nothing to me. Nothing!"

"Harry! Get out of here!" Dumbledore shouted to the prostrate student. The effort of
trying to both protect Harry while at the same time engaging Voldemort was clearly putting the
headmaster at a disadvantage in the fight. But Harry paid his mentor no mind as saw Bellatrix once
again moving, trailing a steady stream of blood toward the row of fireplaces that would give her
access to the Floo Network and freedom.

As Harry was trying to bring his wand around to prevent Bellatrix's escape, the sickly,
yellow beam of a Cruciatus Curse from Voldemort's wand found him instead. Blinding, white-hot
agony exploded into Harry's mind. The intense pain lasted only an instant, as Voldemort quickly
lifted the curse in order to fend off Dumbledore's next attack, but its effects remained. Harry
could do little else but helplessly curl up on the floor, twitching in pain, and watch as Bellatrix
disappeared in a flash of green flame.

It seemed to Harry that Voldemort's eyes lit up in triumph as he realized that Dumbledore
would be unable to effectively both protect Harry and continue their duel at the same time. Harry
could do nothing but watch in despair as it only took the Dark Lord a few moments to maneuver
Dumbledore to his advantage. The furious spell casting came to an abrupt halt as bright green
chains wrapped themselves around the headmaster's torso and bound his arms to his sides.

Voldemort laughed and bowed grandiosely. "At last... at last I shall put you both where you
belong."

Just as Voldemort was pointing his wand at the helpless figure of Harry Potter, lying bleeding
and broken on the ground, his attention was diverted by a cry coming from the hole blasted in the
stone wall. With a loud shout, the old knight leaped into the atrium, his mirrored shield held
steadily in front of him and his sword brandished over head. Without pausing or slowing his
momentum, the armored knight gestured with his sword in Dumbledore's direction and the chains
that held the headmaster captive shattered with a flash of white light.

With a cry of fury, Voldemort turned the attention of his wand toward the newcomer. A red jet of
light was sent barreling toward him, only to strike his shield and be deflected off into the
ceiling where it exploded in a shower of dust and broken stone.

Dumbledore quickly took advantage of the situation and renewed his assault upon the Dark Lord,
transfiguring the floor stones around Voldemort's feet into quicksand.

While the wizards turned their attention and their wands to each other once more, the knight
took up position between Harry and Voldemort, acting as a shield against further assault.

"Can you move?" asked the knight in a firm, resolved voice.

It took Harry a moment to realize that the knight was talking to him.

"I don't know," Harry wheezed, "I think I can try."

"Make your way back into the corridor from which I emerged," said the knight in a tone
that brokered no argument, "you're in no condition to continue this fight. You can find
some shelter there. I'll cover your retreat."

Harry obeyed, and painfully began to crawl over to the opening that was blasted into the wall
while the old knight kept his shield between Harry and the Dark Lord. A few times Voldemort tried
to cast some spell in their direction, but each time the knight intercepted it with his shield and
sent it ricocheting off in some other direction. Every so often, the knight would gesture with his
sword like he had done earlier, and one of Voldemort's spells, curses or transfigurations would
be disrupted in a flash of white light. Had he been of clearer mind, Harry would have probably
wondered at the wandless magic that the knight displayed.

Once Harry reached the opening, he crawled over the blocks of ruined stone and turned his
attention back to the fight. As soon as Harry had reached some modicum of cover from the battle,
the old knight left his position shielding the teenager, and charged Voldemort head-on.

This tactic caught the Dark Lord by surprise, and he barely managed to avoid having his throat
slashed open by the knight's sword.

"Give up, Tom," Dumbledore calmly spoke in the midst of the battle as his wand
continued moving, "you've lost whatever advantage you thought you had."

"This Muggle is nothing! You are nothing, you old fool!" the Dark
Lord screamed as he continued to dodge both the knight's sword and Dumbledore's spells.

Voldemort then conjured a thick, steel shield between himself and the knight, and banished the
heavy object at the old warrior with great force. The impact of the blow knocked the knight off his
feet and made him fall over backwards onto the floor.

At that moment, Harry heard the sound of rushing flames, and turned to see the green fire of the
Floo Network light up the far side of the atrium. Out of the fireplaces stepped several Aurors as
well as Cornelius Fudge, who gaped in horror at the sight of Lord Voldemort returned from the
grave.

With a last sneer of hatred, Voldemort let loose another concussive wave of force that made
everyone in the room go on the defensive, and then with a deafeningly loud crack,
disapparated, fleeing the Ministry and shattering the battered wards that were straining to survive
the magical battle.

With the excitement finally over, Harry was beginning to a bit feel light headed. He heard the
Minister for Magic stupidly exclaim, "He's back!" into the shocked silence that
followed Voldemort's departure.

In the background, Harry could hear the sounds of Dumbledore, Fudge and the Aurors as they began
hurriedly moving about the atrium, but he couldn't exactly piece together what they were doing.
A sharp jolt of pain made Harry look down to his stomach to see that at some point his hands had
clasped onto his gut.

"Wow," Harry said to no one in particular, "that's a lot of blood." He
began to feel dizzy as he held up a red hand to get a better look. A shadow fell across his line of
sight and made Harry tilt his head back a bit further in order to see the knight standing before
him, sword still drawn, staring down at him with a look that could probably cut steel.

"Oo look awf'ly shinny. Did'ja know 'at?" Harry slurred to the knight.

And then, with his head falling forward, everything went black.

AN: Well, there's chapter one of this new offering. I hope you enjoyed it. The
"old knight" that I've obviously introduced to the Harry Potter universe is based
upon a character from an old video game that I enjoyed many moons ago. However, I don't feel
that his "world" will really impact that of Harry Potter enough to warrant labeling this
as a crossover. However, if you all feel that I should change the labeling to a crossover, let me
know, and I will take it under advisement. Anything that you need to know about him will be
explained in due time. Although if someone can figure out who/what he's based off of from the
little information given in this first chapter, I'll give you a cookie. I suppose that I might
need to include his origins in the disclaimer in future chapters, but for now, in order to keep his
identity more *mysterious*, I'll leave it off. Please don't sue me for
this.

This OC will be a major recurring character for the story. However, I anticipate him
being the only major OC that you'll have to get used to.

I think it's safe for everyone reading to assume that since this clearly starts
during Harry's fifth year during the battle in the Department of Mysteries, most of the canon
Harry Potter events that took place before this chapter and are found in the first five Harry
Potter books remain in effect. However, this is an AU story, changes will likely come up and any
relevant changes to the storyline or timeline will be revealed as the plot progresses.

This story will at no point feature any type of slash.

Updates will come as I find the time to write them.

Thanks to all the authors on this site whose works I have enjoyed for many years. You
make the world a more interesting and entertaining place.

Please leave a review on your way out and let me know what you think. Thanks for
reading!

Note: I've already started posting this over on FanFic dot net, so don't worry,
the double posting isn't plagarizim. However, I just thought that I would contribute my little
efforts to help keep Portkey going. Also, when I was approved as an author, the Mod who gave me the
green light mentioned something that they thought was an error with my dialogue. I believe that
they are mistaken, but since the forums are still down, I really have no way of getting in touch
with them. So, if you're reading this and would like to have a discussion about the proper
capitalization used in dialogue, please get in touch with me.



2. II
-----

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. 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.**

**AN: There’s some strong language in this chapter. I think it still falls within the PG13
rating, but if you disagree, let me know and I’ll consider changing the rating to R.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

II

With a muffled groan, Harry Potter once again became aware of the world. With his eyes still
closed, he found that he was lying down on a firm mattress and that the sharp odor of cleaning
chemicals hung in the air.

*Looks like I’m in the hospital wing*, Harry thought to himself, *why am I here this
time?*

The dryness in his mouth and throat was the next thing to really register in his somewhat
confused mind. He let out a dry, rough cough that stung his throat. Before he even thought of
searching for something to drink, a straw was placed up against his lips, and Harry took a long
pull of cool, refreshing water. Only then did he open his eyes.

The blur that he found sharpened into the familiar features of the Hogwarts hospital wing as
someone perched his glasses on his nose. Harry turned his head to the left to discover that someone
was one Luna Lovegood.

“Hello Harry,” Luna said in her dreamy voice, “it’s good to have you back. We were worried that
the Nargles would keep you for a while yet.”

Harry simply stared at the wide-eyed blonde for a moment before asking, “Luna, how did I… why am
I here?”

“Well, Harry,” Luna replied in a tone that Harry thought she might use for addressing very small
children, “when a mommy loves a daddy very much, and if she doesn’t have a headache at the time,
and if she hasn’t misplaced the key to her chastity belt, then they do what comes natural, just
like the birds and the bees do. Although, now that you mention it, I never really understood why
the birds and the bees would want to have sex with each other, especially since some birds eat
bees. I wonder if it’s normal to kill and eat your potential mates…”

“What?” replied Harry, “what are you…? No, not that, I mean, why am I in the hospital wing?”

“Oh, well that makes much more sense. You’re here because you almost died in the Department of
Mysteries of course.”

Harry drew his eyebrows together in puzzlement for a moment, trying to make sense of Luna’s
statement and the jumble of hazy memories in his head.

And then it all became clear.

Flying to the Ministry.

The Death Eater ambush in the Hall of Prophecies.

Furious spell casting and desperate chases.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Sirius…

“Oh Merlin… Sirius…” Harry breathed out as his eyes began to fill. He felt Luna reach out and
clasp his hand. Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut, not wanting her to see him cry, but a few
errant tears escaped down his cheeks nonetheless. Luna remained quiet, simply allowing Harry the
time he needed to shed his tears for his godfather.

*Sirius, I’m so sorry.*

After a few short moments of silent crying, Harry wrenched his hand out of Luna’s, a sudden
anger overtaking his sadness. With a sniff he wiped his face and cast a glance around the rest of
the hospital wing.

“What about the others?” Harry asked. “Where’s Hermione and Ron?”

Luna didn’t respond, but rather glanced down to the other end of the hospital wing where two
separate beds were curtained off from prying eyes. Her eyes then returned to Harry.

“Neville and Ginny are sitting with them. Neville had it pretty rough for a little while, what
with his being put under the Cruciatus Curse and all, but he’s feeling much better now. Madam
Pomfrey thinks Ron will be alright once he wakes up, but doesn’t really know when that will be.
Hermione…”

Luna’s soft voice trailed off as she once again glanced at one of the curtained-off beds and
something clenched in Harry’s chest.

“What about Hermione?” Harry insisted.

“I’m sorry, Harry, things don’t look very good.”

Harry took a moment to really look at Luna. For the first time he could remember, the dreamy,
unaffected appearance was missing from her face. It was her eyes, he decided, there were tears in
her eyes.

Tears for Hermione.

Harry’s mind went back to the Department of Mysteries. *Dolohov’s wand slashing through the
air as it unleashed a bright purple flame. That violet fire striking Hermione across the chest. Her
mouth forming a quiet little “oh” of seeming comprehension before she collapsed to the floor in a
silent, unmoving heap…*

Harry quickly sat up in his bed and threw off the thin sheet that was pulled up to his armpits.
He ignored the sharp pain in his stomach as he swung his legs around and placed his bare feet on
the cold tile floor. With a new sense of determination in his movements, Harry pushed himself to
his feet, only to find the room beginning to spin around. He closed his eyes and reached out with
his right hand to steady himself against the bed. He stayed like that for a moment to allow the
spinning to come to a stop. And then, clad in his light blue hospital gown, Harry Potter slowly
shuffled over to the curtained off bed that Luna had glanced at.

When he arrived, Harry pulled back the curtain to find a sad scene. Madam Pomfrey was in the
midst of a whispered but serious conversation with Professors Flitwick and Sprout at the far side
of the enclosure. Sitting in a chair and looking very tired was Neville Longbottom. His hair was in
complete disarray and dried blood stained the front of his shirt. He was paler than normal, with
deep, dark circles beneath his eyes. But Harry’s eyes only dimly registered these details as he
stared at Hermione.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her generation, was lying pale and motionless in a
hospital bed.

Her chest rose and fell at an unnaturally slow rhythm. Around her head were several dimly
colored magical lights, no doubt conjured by the matron to help diagnose the girl’s condition.

Harry slowly approached the side of the bed and took Hermione’s hand.

It was cold.

“*Mister Potter!*”

Harry dragged his attention away from Hermione to see the three adults staring at him.

“I said,” began Madam Pomfrey in a stern voice, “what are you doing out of bed? Those wounds to
your abdomen will never heal straight if you go moving about so soon.”

Instead of replying to the matron’s questions, Harry turned his eyes back to Hermione and asked,
“What’s wrong with her?”

In a somewhat softer tone, Pomfrey replied, “We’re not really sure. We can’t seem to identify
the spell which struck the poor girl.”

“When is she going to get better?”

The only thing that met this question was silence.

“I said,” Harry began more forcefully, “*when* is she going to *get better?!*”

“Mister Potter… Harry,” began Madam Pomfrey, “we’re doing everything that we can, but we just
don’t know what’s causing the problem. We’ve been able to slow the progression of the curse and the
damage that it’s causing to her internally, but without knowing exactly what is causing it in the
first place, well, we’re at a bit of a loss as to what to do next.”

“It was a purple flame,” replied Harry. “A purple flame cast with a slashing motion, it hit her
diagonally across the chest.”

“We know, Harry,” said Professor Sprout in a soft voice, “Neville already told us.”

“So you’ll figure it out, right? You’ll be able to stop the curse; you’ll be able to fix her,
right?”

Once again, Harry’s questions were met with silence.

Harry hastily dropped Hermione’s hand as if stung. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his
hands into fists as anger once again filled him. His whole body filled with tension.

“Mister Potter, please, you need to return to your bed…”

Harry spun on his heel to face the opening in the curtain. He was met by Luna and Ginny, who had
obviously come to see what all the commotion was about. Harry pushed his way between the two girls
and began making his way toward the doors of the hospital wing. He would have broken into a run,
but the sharp pain in his abdomen wouldn’t let him.

Just then the doors opened, and in strode Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor!” shouted Harry, irrational hope filling him at the sight of the aged Headmaster,
“thank Merlin! You’ll be able to fix her, right? Please tell me you know what to do.”

Dumbledore looked down at his student with a faint, sad smile on his lips.

“Harry, it’s going to be alright.”

“I don’t care if it’s going to be alright!” screamed Harry, as he continued along his emotional
rollercoaster and anger filled him once more, “I want somebody to fix her!”

“I assure you, we’re doing everything we can to…”

“But there’s got to be something else,” Harry began pleading, “this is Hermione! She has to be
okay. She… it’s… not her too. She can’t die too.”

The old Headmaster approached and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Harry…”

“Don’t touch me!” Harry exclaimed as he violently pushed the old man’s hand away as the anger
came back again. “Do something useful! *Fix Hermione!* Why won’t you do something useful? Why
don’t you *ever* do anything useful?! All you ever do is speak in riddles and avoid giving
straight answers. You’ve been avoiding me all year when I needed your help. Now Hermione needs you,
and what? Are you just going to ignore her too? Do something, you bloody bastard! For once in your
damn life, *do something*!”

All eyes in the hospital wing were staring at Harry in the wake of his outburst. All eyes, that
is, except for the two that Harry wanted to see open more than just about anything at that moment.
But Hermione’s eyes remained closed as she laid in her cold, motionless oblivion.

Not wanting to be around anyone anymore, and hating the way their eyes stared at him in shock,
Harry resumed his motion toward the exit. He threw open the door, slamming it loudly against the
stone wall and made his way out of the hospital wing. He had to just get away from it all.

“Bloody, fucking Dumbledore,” Harry seethed as he wound his way through the castle, heedless of
any sort of direction, or the fact that he was only wearing a hospital gown, not that he really
cared. “Bloody Pomfrey… fucking Sprout… useless, the lot of them… can’t even figure out one damned
curse.”

Harry stopped and suddenly changed direction, deciding to head up to the Astronomy Tower.
Hopefully he could get some air up there. Or maybe just scream at the sky until his lungs gave out.
Within a few minutes, he was trudging up the stairs at as fast a pace as the pain in his stomach
would let him. He didn’t really care about the now constant, sharp pain that emanated from his
abdomen. All he really cared about in that moment was his anger.

“Fucking Bellatrix Lestrange. Bloody Dolohov and his bloody curse. It’s their fault. They did
this to Hermione. I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all. Every last bloody Death
Eater, I’m going to kill them all.”

At last, his anger had worked itself into a rage as Harry reached the top of the tower. He threw
open the door and stepped out onto the roof. But to his surprise, he was not alone.

Standing at the far end of the tower, gazing up at the night sky with his hands clasped behind
his back was the figure of a man. The sound of the door slamming against the wall drew his
attention to Harry. His head snapped over to regard the newcomer, while his hand went to the hilt
of the sword strapped to his hip.

Harry didn’t recognize this strange person at first. Besides the sword, he was wearing some sort
of wide, metal collar over his dark blue but rather nondescript clothing. The collar extended down
a few inches to cover some of his upper chest and back. Attached to the collar were two other
pieces of armor that covered his shoulders. His short, gray hair and matching goatee framed a
handsome face marred by several old scars. Brown eyes peered at Harry with steely intelligence,
seeming to take him in all at once, and measure him against some unknown standard.

In the end, it was the sword that betrayed the man’s identity to Harry.

*It’s the old knight*, Harry thought to himself, *Great*. The memories of his chase
and battle with Bellatrix came back to him: the old knight appearing in a brilliant explosion of
magic; his coming to the rescue during the duel with Voldemort, saving the day. This old man
probably saved Dumbledore’s life as well as Harry’s own.

But honestly, Harry really didn’t care.

“Great! Bloody well fantastic! I can’t even get some bloody space to myself to rant and rave and
scream at the sky! What the hell are you doing here, anyways? Don’t you have a damsel to be
rescuing somewhere?”

The old man just raised one eyebrow and continued to regard Harry in silence.

“Typical,” continued Harry, “just stand there and stare at me like all the other bloody idiots
downstairs. They can’t do anything either… useless, the lot of them… just like bloody useless
Lestrange. I’m going to kill that bitch when I find her.”

Harry paced back and forth on the rooftop, ranting and raving in his rage and anger, almost
oblivious to the presence of the old knight watching him.

“I’ll make her pay. I’ll make Dolohov pay. I’ll kill them if Hermione dies. I’ll kill them for
taking her away from me…”

As Harry continued his diatribe against anything and everything that came to mind, the demeanor
of the old knight shifted.

“What’s this you speak about someone dying?” the knight asked.

Harry stopped and spun on his heel, facing the man.

“What do you care?” Harry spit out venomously, “Why would you give a damn about my friend, lying
on her death bed downstairs because some areshole put her there? Bloody Death Eaters curse a
sixteen year old girl an inch from death just because she followed me to the Ministry…

“*Oh* *God*…”

Harry gasped and leaned against the parapet, his rage evaporated only to be replaced by
despair.

“She’s going to die because of me. She followed me there, even though she knew it was a trap.
It’s my fault. It’s all my fault… Sirius… Hermione… dead because of me…”

Tears began to fill Harry’s eyes once again, but he was quickly distracted by the two strong
hands that gripped his shoulders and shook him.

“Look at me,” said the old knight in a voice that spoke with authority. He moved his hands up to
hold the sides of Harry’s head and looked him in the face. “Snap out of it and look at me!”

Harry quit fighting and looked into the intense brown eyes of the old man’s face, just a foot or
two away from his own.

“Who’s dying?” queried the knight.

“Hermione,” answered Harry, “my friend Hermione. She was cursed in the battle, and the Healers
don’t know how to help her. She’s going to die.”

“Take me to her,” ordered the knight.

But Harry didn’t respond; he was once again beginning to gaze off into the distance, wrapped up
in his own emotions.

“Boy! *Snap out of it!*” said the knight more forcefully and with an added little shake
that managed to recapture Harry’s attention. “Take me to your friend this instant.”

Harry was confused, dumbfounded really. But the tone with which the old man spoke brokered no
argument, so Harry found himself complying with the order he was given. He turned and led the
knight down the stairs and back through the castle toward the hospital wing. The two figures walked
in silence, except for the occasional hiss of pain that emerged from between Harry’s lips. There
really didn’t seem to be anything to say.

Harry reentered the hospital wing a few minutes later with his new companion in tow to find
Dumbledore in the midst of a serious discussion with Pomfrey, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape, who
seemed to have come onto the scene during Harry’s brief absence.

“I must notify her parents,” Dumbledore was saying as they entered the room, “they should really
be here should the worst…”

These words stopped Harry in his tracks.

*It’s my fault that she’s going to die*.

But the old knight didn’t pause in his stride, but only continued forward to address the aged
wizard.

“Headmaster.”

“Sir Keldorn,” replied Dumbledore, “what brings you to our hospital wing this evening? Is there
something you need?”

“No,” said the knight, “I thought I might be able to offer my assistance. This boy happened upon
me and I learned of his injured friend. He said she was cursed and dying. What is the nature of her
ailment?”

“I seriously doubt that a dressed up Muggle like you has anything to offer in the healing of a
witch, no matter how polished your choice of clothing might be,” drawled Snape before anyone else
could respond.

“Peace, Severus,” said Dumbledore, “we haven’t been of much help ourselves. Poppy, would you
please fill in our guest on the nature of Miss Granger’s condition?”

“She was struck in the chest with an unknown curse by one of the Death Eaters,” replied the
matron. “We have been unable to identify the particular spell used, but it appeared to be a purple
flame that slashed across her chest. The curse passed through her clothing without disruption and
caused no damage to her skin or muscle tissue. But underneath, it has been severely damaging her
internal organs. We’ve managed to slow the effects of the curse and have kept her breathing and her
blood flowing with charms, but if it isn’t reversed soon, her organs will begin to fail. We’ve sent
for assistance from St. Mungo’s and were just about to notify the girl’s parents when you walked
in.”

“Take me to her,” said the knight, “I may be able to help. I can, at the very least, try.”

With a skeptical look, Pomfrey led the knight to Hermione’s curtained off beside. The other
professors came behind and Harry followed last. Inside the private area, Luna and Neville were
sitting to one side of the bed, seemingly surprised by the presence of the knight, or perhaps it
was at Harry’s sudden return. Harry noticed that Ginny was missing, but assumed that she was
sitting with her still unconscious brother.

Keldorn unsheathed his sword only to be pounced upon by Madam Pomfrey, “Now see here! I don’t
know what you were thinking when you said you could *help*, but I assure you, your barbaric
*weapons* won’t be doing any *helping* in my infirmary!”

“Peace, Madam,” replied the knight with a tinge of amusement in his voice, “I mean no harm. The
sword of a paladin is not merely an instrument of war. And *Carsomyr* is no mere sword. You
have my word that I will not harm the girl with my *barbaric* weapon.”

With that, he grasped the blade with both hands near the hilt, and held it so that the tip was
pointed down to the floor. The knight then tilted the handle in Hermione’s direction and there was
a small but brilliant flash of light. Harry, as well as everyone else present save for the old
knight, squinted and instinctively looked away.

Harry turned to see Ginny now standing at his side, taking in the strange scene. He turned back
a moment later to see the knight sheath his sword and approach the bed.

Gingerly sitting on the side of the bed near Hermione’s shoulder, the knight placed his hands on
her head, closed his eyes, and slightly bowed as if in prayer.

Suddenly Hermione gasped for breath, and drew in a great lungful of air. Her back arched off the
bed for an instant as if she was in pain. Harry was about to lunge forward and pry the old man off
of his friend when Dumbledore’s hand stopped him.

A moment later the old man was back on his feet, but he now seemed a little dizzy with one hand
raised to his temple. Hermione was once again lying still on the bed. Harry darted forward past
Dumbledore and grabbed for Hermione’s hand.

It was warm.

Harry stared, eyes almost popping out of his head at his best friend who was supposed to be
lying on death’s doorstep. It seemed to him that her breathing had become more normal, and that
some color had returned to her face.

“Out of my way!” spoke Madam Pomfrey as she pushed her way to Hermione’s bedside, her wand
already moving in intricate patterns. “Everybody out this instant! I need to see to her.”

Harry was about to argue when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to see the old
knight.

“Come, boy, she’ll be alright. I give you my word.”

As everyone filed out of the curtained off area, Harry found his voice, “I don’t understand. How
did you…?”

“The blessings of the Light have been entrusted to me to dispense as I can. It is part of my
sacred task to bring healing to those in need, especially to those injured in the fight against the
Darkness. But it was not really I who worked this miracle. I merely allowed the Grace of the Light
to work through me.”

“What? That’s nonsense,” interrupted Snape, “You clearly cast some sort of wandless spell.
There’s no sense in trying to spin your tales of miracles and Grace and other ridiculous hogwash.
Stop trying to sound mysterious and tell us, *what did you do*?”

“I do not appreciate being called a liar,” replied the old knight, standing a bit straighter
with his hand once again resting on the hilt of his sword, “especially when I have given you no
cause to do so.”

“Why you…”

“Peace!” interrupted Dumbledore, “peace, please! Severus, it seems to me that we should be
thanking our guest for his priceless assistance in tending to Miss Granger. I do not doubt that
without him here, things would still be looking quite grim right now. Sir Keldorn, you once again
have my thanks, and the thanks of all Hogwarts for what you have done today.”

The knight bowed his head and shoulders in acknowledgement of Dumbledore’s words and then
relaxed his posture. Snape, on the other hand, looked as though he had eaten something rather
sour.

The emotional toll of the past hour suddenly began to press down upon Harry and he found that he
was quite exhausted.

“And if I may say so, Harry,” continued the Headmaster, “I would like to see you back in bed, if
not for your own sake, then for the rest of us. Madam Pomfrey will be quite put out with us if she
were to have one patient miraculously recovery only to have another collapse on his own two feet
and do more damage to his already serious wounds.”

Harry made to protest but Dumbledore cut him off, “And don’t fret, we will talk soon, as soon as
you’ve recovered enough strength to do so. I promise.”

And so, with one last, long look in Hermione’s direction, Harry found himself heading back to
his hospital bed. He really didn’t have the energy to fight about it and thus acquiesced without
further argument.

A few moments later, after several hushed words, the adults, including the knight whom Harry now
knew to be called Sir Keldorn, left the hospital wing to go about their business.

A short while later, Madam Pomfrey approached Harry’s bedside with a Sleeping Draught.

“Alright, Mister Potter, bottoms up.”

Harry took the goblet without a fuss, but before downing the undoubtedly foul and horrid tasting
potion, he asked, “Is Hermione really going to be alright?”

Pomfrey’s lips quirked up in a slight smile as she said, “Yes, Mister Potter. Whatever that man
did has worked a true miracle on Miss Granger’s condition. In a few days time I dare say she will
be right as rain.”

OoOoO

**AN: Please let me know whether or not you think the language is too strong for a PG13 rating.
It seems like a fuzzy line to me.**

**Please leave a review on your way out. I’d like some feedback on this and want to know what
you all think, even if it’s just “Good story, write more,” or “You suck, knights are
stoopid.”**

**Thanks for reading!**



3. III
------

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. 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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

III

The next morning, Harry was able to convince Madam Pomfrey to release him before Ron or Hermione
regained consciousness and also before Luna, Neville, Ginny or anyone else for that matter, thought
to come and pay a visit.

After he had changed out of his hospital gown and into some of his normal clothes, Harry was
making his way out of the infirmary when he saw another occupied bed near the door. In his frenzied
and chaotic state the night before, Harry never even noticed that someone else had been injured in
all the fighting and admitted to Hogwarts’ medical wing. The sight at first made his blood run cold
as his mind quickly ran through the most likely candidates to be lying motionless in one of Madam
Pomfrey’s sickbeds.

*Hermione and Ron are already here,* thought Harry, *Luna, Neville and Ginny were
released last night. It could be Lupin or Moody, Tonks or Shacklebolt. Surely Dumbledore wouldn’t
have brought any of the injured Death Eaters back to the school for treatment.*

Then his eyes widened as a new thought struck him.

*Maybe he didn’t die, maybe they found Sirius and they brought him back…*

With a new sense of energy coursing through him, Harry hurried over to see just who was lying in
the bed in question. His hopes were dashed, however, when he discovered the squat figure and
toad-like face of Deloris Umbridge.

“Bitch…” Harry whispered to no one in particular. Umbridge was unconscious, unaware of her angry
visitor. For a moment, Harry couldn’t think of why Umbridge would need to be recovering in the
hospital wing, but then he remembered the centaurs carrying her off to who knows where.

“They should’ve killed you,” Harry spat at the unconscious witch, “you don’t deserve to be here
when Sirius isn’t.”

With that, Harry left the hospital wing and made his way to Gryffindor Tower. It was still
pretty early in the morning, and he managed to make his way up to his dorm room without running
into anyone, a fact that Harry was very grateful for. He went to his trunk, and so as not to
disturb his slumbering roommates, silently rifled through its contents in search of two particular
items. Once he found his invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map, Harry quietly made his way out
of the dorm and exited Gryffindor Tower.

He made his way to the Great Hall, hoping to grab a quick bite to eat without running into
anyone he knew. He was just placing a few pieces of toast into a napkin to be carried off elsewhere
when an unwelcome voice addressed him from behind.

“Potter,” began the oily drawl of Harry’s least favorite professor, “the headmaster desires to
speak with you. You are to make your way to his office at your earliest convenience.”

Harry simply turned and glared at Snape for a moment before nodding his head in silent
acknowledgement of the message before turning back to gathering his toast.

With a dramatic swirl of his cloak, Snape left the Gryffindor table. Harry followed suit a few
minutes later, albeit in the opposite direction, leaving the Great Hall and the interior of the
castle altogether.

He made the long trek to the far side of the lake before throwing his cloak over his head and
sitting down to eat his meager breakfast. Harry stayed in that spot for several hours. He passed
the time by either staring out at the lake and the castle beyond, or watching the various members
of the population of Hogwarts go about their business on the Marauder’s Map.

He noticed the new name ‘Keldorn Firecam’ on the map a couple of times and assumed it to be the
old knight that he kept running into. Once, Keldorn was in the Headmaster’s office along with
Dumbledore, and another time Harry found him near the Gamekeeper’s hut along with Hagrid.

Harry also noted that ‘Hermione Granger’ and ‘Ronald Weasley’ stayed put in their places in the
hospital wing.

He found Neville and Ginny visiting the hospital wing and its current occupants, and it seemed
that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had also made the trip to Hogwarts to visit their injured son.

Luna seemed to occupy her time walking in circles around the Whomping Willow or hiking through
the edges of the Forbidden Forest.

Glancing upon names like Malfoy or Umbridge often served to ignite Harry’s capricious anger, at
which point he would throw down the map and stare out at the lake. In his calmer moments, Harry was
curious as to how the mere thought of such loathsome people could now drive him into a rage. Malfoy
was definitely a git, and Umbridge was just about as bad as they came, but the mere thought of them
had never garnered such a reaction from him before.

It was well past lunchtime when Harry finally stirred himself from his position and made his way
back toward the castle. He had no real desire to meet with the Headmaster, but he knew that there
was no way that he could put the meeting off for long. Harry was sure that Dumbledore could find
him no matter where he tried to hide if the Headmaster really wished to do so.

And so, as the hour was nearing dinnertime, Harry found himself removing his invisibility cloak
as he stood before the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s office. Harry scratched
his head, at a loss for what the password might be when the statue simply moved aside.

Apparently he was expected.

The rotating stairway delivered Harry to the inner doorway, which was already open. Harry slowly
walked into the room to find a serene Albus Dumbledore seated behind his desk with elbows resting
on the tabletop among the many oddly shaped silver instruments which were spinning and twirling in
every direction while simultaneously emitting strange noises and puffs of multicolored smoke. The
old man’s fingers were tented before his chin.

“Harry, my boy,” began the Headmaster with a kind smile, “do come in and have a seat. Would you
like a lemon drop?”

No mention of Harry’s delay in answering his summons was made.

“No, thanks,” replied Harry as he took his seat in the large armchair across the desk from one
of the world’s most famous and powerful wizards. Harry simply stared at the Headmaster in
silence.

The silent staring contest went on for a few moments before Dumbledore finally broke, “I asked
you here today to talk about what happened at the Ministry yesterday.”

At this, Harry’s eyes left the old wizard in favor of examining the floor.

“I figured you might have some questions for me. Or perhaps you just might want to talk about
what happened.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Harry questioned with some heat in his voice, “I stupidly led my
friends into a deathtrap. Now Hermione and Ron are lying in the hospital wing and Sirius is…”
Harry’s voice trialed off as his throat closed up. “I don’t think there’s much to talk about.”

“Harry, what happened yesterday was not your fault…”

“Save it!” interjected Harry, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Voldemort has fooled many…”

“I said *save it!*” erupted Harry, rising to his feet. “I don’t want to hear it!”

Dumbledore fell silent and resumed staring at his student as Harry fumed, breathing heavily. A
few moments later, Harry slowed his breathing and retook his seat.

“Well then,” started Dumbledore, “what would you like to hear?”

“You’re the one who asked for me to come up here. You tell me.”

The old Headmaster let out a longsuffering sigh and removed his half-moon spectacles with his
right hand.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I truly am. If I could take back what happened yesterday I would. If I could
undo this entire past year I would. But, alas, such things are beyond even my capabilities. I
believe I have failed you this past year more times than I can really count, and for that I am
truly sorry.”

Harry just remained silent, staring down at his own hands clasped in his lap. The silence
stretched on, broken only by the noises made by the Headmaster’s ridiculous silver instruments.
With no response forthcoming from Harry, Dumbledore moved on.

“I thought you might want to know about the prophecy that you retrieved from the Department of
Mysteries.”

At this, Harry’s head snapped up and he looked intently into the old wizard’s eyes.

“You once asked me why Voldemort came after you on that Halloween night so many years ago.”
Harry’s heart began racing as Dumbledore continued, “Well, I believe the answer is found within the
prophecy that you retrieved but ultimately lost last night.”

“But it was destroyed,” responded Harry.

“Well,” replied Dumbledore, “there just so happens to be another copy of this particular
prophecy. Would you like to hear it? You, above all, have the right to know what it contains.”

Harry simply nodded his head, and Dumbledore waved his wand to summon his Pensieve, which in
turn floated over to land upon the desk between Harry and the professor. Several of the silver
instruments scurried out of the way on their own.

“Before I show this to you, Harry, I just want to say once more that I am utterly and truly
sorry.” And with that, Dumbledore tapped the surface of the silvery liquid in the Pensieve with the
tip of his wand.

An ethereal, miniature version of Professor Trelawney emerged from the Pensieve and began to
speak in a deep, ominous voice.

*“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice
defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he
will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for in this
world such Light and Darkness cannot both long survive.... The one with the power to vanquish the
Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...”*

As the figure of Trelawney sank back into the Pensieve, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and
clenched his fists.

“You knew,” Harry growled out between clenched teeth, more as a statement than a question.

“Yes,” replied the old man in a weary voice.

“How long?”

“Professor Trelawney fell into a trance and spoke that prophecy to me during a job interview
shortly before you were born. A spy managed to obtain the first two lines of the prophecy and
reported them back to Voldemort. That is why he attacked you as a child. But he has never learned
the rest of its contents, and his desire to do so led to last night’s chain of events.”

Harry simply remained silent as he processed this new information. The last day and a half had
been nothing but a series of blows to the fifteen year-old boy, one after another, and he wasn’t
sure how he was supposed to react to this.

“It may be of interest to note that you were not the only possible child that the prophecy might
have referred to.” Once again Harry’s eyes met the Headmaster’s. “Your friend Neville Longbottom
was born the day before you were, and as such, could have been the subject of the prophecy. It is
why his parents were attacked by the Lestranges as they were. It is also the reason why you’ve had
to return to Privet Drive every summer. I was able to extend the protection that your mother’s
sacrifice gave you by tying it to the blood of her sister, your Aunt Petunia. The wards this magic
created kept away any Death Eaters that might have come after you, as they came after the
Longbottoms. Your return each year kept the wards charged and active.”

Harry’s right hand reached up to his forehead and rubbed his scar.

*Marked as his equal*, Harry thought to himself.

Once again, anger began to boil within him.

“Good,” said Harry, “I’m glad it’s me.”

“Harry…”

“I’m glad because I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that bastard any everyone who follows
him.”

“Harry,” hastily interjected Dumbledore, “don’t go down that road, it only…”

“*I’m going to kill them all!*” screamed Harry, leaping to his feet. “And you don’t get to
tell me no! You knew this the whole time, and you never said anything! You never *did*
*anything*! This entire year you’ve ignored me, stood by as the Toad tortured me, or pawned me
off to that bastard Snape. You knew about the dreams, you knew he was after the prophecy. All it
would have taken was for you to say, ‘Harry, don’t go to the Ministry, Voldemort needs you to steal
a prophecy.’ But no! You never did *one fucking thing!*”

With that, Harry spun around, picked up the armchair he had been sitting on, and threw it with
all his strength against the wall where it knocked into a cabinet which in turn spilled out several
unidentifiable and apparently fragile magical objects.

Harry remained still and silent for a few moments, breathing heavily and looking at the
over-turned chair and the crushed and broken belongings of the Headmaster that littered the
floor.

“You’re just as bad as they are,” Harry whispered without looking at the old wizard. “And you
don’t get to tell me no.”

After a moment, Harry finally turned back to look at Dumbledore. Gone was the visage of the
powerful, omniscient wizard and in his place sat a tired, weary old man. Tears stained his cheeks
as they ran from his anguished blue eyes down into his white beard.

There didn’t really seem to be anything left to say, so Harry left the office, slamming the door
shut behind him. He had no idea where to go next. He wasn’t hungry and had absolutely no desire to
join his classmates in the Great Hall for dinner, so he once again went out onto the grounds,
heading in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. He passed Hagrid’s hut and stopped about twenty
paces from the edge of the forest.

All of a sudden, Harry’s wand was in his hand, and before he really knew what he was doing, he
had pointed it at the trees and cried out, “*Reducto!*”

Harry put so much power into the spell that when it struck the base of a fifty foot tall pine
tree, the bottom of the trunk exploded as if it had been hit with an artillery shell. The great
tree toppled to the side and landed in the clearing before the forest with a thunderous crash. The
effort of putting so much power into a single spell left Harry bent over with his hands on his
knees, panting for breath.

“Blimey, Harry,” the surprised voice of Hagrid came from behind and to Harry’s left, “what’d yeh
go an’ do tha’ fer?”

“Don’t ask, Hagrid,” the now weary young man replied, “just don’t ask.”

“Alright Harry, alright. No harm done. But yeh can’t jus’ go about blowin’ up them trees like
tha’. Yeh could’a hurt someone.”

Harry straightened up and closed his eyes.

“I won’t do it again.”

Without another word, Harry wandered off, leaving the Gamekeeper puzzled. Harry drifted
aimlessly for a while, not bothering to keep track of the time, until well after darkness had
fallen. He pulled out the Marauder’s Map once more and a quick promise to do no good had him once
again looking after the occupants of the castle.

Dumbledore was in his office, pacing back and forth.

Keldorn was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, standing motionless.

Harry discovered that Professor McGonagall had returned to the castle and was walking through
the halls, likely on patrol for students out past curfew.

Hermione and Ron hadn’t moved from their places in the hospital wing.

With a sigh, Harry cleared the map and put it away. He then ducked under his cloak and began the
long trek back to Gryffindor Tower. If he was lucky, he would be able to barricade himself within
his four-poster bed without having to speak a word to anyone else.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next morning, Harry once again rose early and after a brief stop in the Great Hall just long
enough to steal a few pieces of toast, he once again found his way out onto the grounds. Unlike the
day before, Harry was not content to sit and stare out across the lake. Instead, he found himself
aimlessly wandering around the boundaries of the grounds away from everyone else. He counted
himself lucky that he had no classes to attend as O.W.L.s were finished and the term would be
coming to a close in just a few day’s time.

Harry spent the rest of that day as well as the next few days either wandering about the grounds
or sitting in some secluded spot, generally avoiding all contact with any other human beings. The
little food that he ate was had either out on the grounds, like his morning toast, or taken in the
kitchens by himself. Going to bed late and waking up early helped him avoid his housemates.

With ever-growing frequency Harry found himself getting angry. Sometimes the smallest things
would set him off. A word or a mere thought were enough to throw him into a lather and have him
ready to start cursing whatever was in range. Thankfully, he had had no further explosive outbursts
since he blew up the pine tree near Hagrid’s hut, but it was probably only a matter of time.

His thoughts dwelled on the battle at the Department of Mysteries, on the serious injuries that
his friends had received, and on Sirius. Rather than make him sad, Harry only found anger. He
wanted to break either something or someone.

Hermione and Ron were eventually released from the hospital wing. Harry knew this because they
had come looking for him on the third day of his self-imposed exile from the Hogwarts community and
each day thereafter. Any time he heard them coming or spotted their approach on the Marauder’s Map,
Harry simply slipped under his cloak and waited for them to leave.

He wasn’t really sure why he was doing this, but he did it all the same.

On one such occasion, Harry was hiding under his cloak down by the lake when his two best
friends walked by.

“Give it a rest, Hermione,” said Ron as the two students came into view, “Harry’ll show up when
he’s good and ready.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron,” replied the brown-haired girl, “we have to keep looking. We’re his
friends and Harry needs us.”

“What Harry needs is a break from all the trouble that’s nagging him.”

“Oh really? Is that what I am then?” Hermione shot back as her eyes glinted dangerously. “I’m
just out here to nag him and heap more trouble on his back, am I?”

“Come on, Hermione, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh? Then how did you mean it? All you ever do is complain about how I *nag* you and Harry
to do your homework or finish your reading assignments. Who else am I supposed to think you’re
referring to when you say someone’s *nagging* Harry?”

“Just because you nag us about homework doesn’t mean I’m talking about you every time I use the
word, you know.”

“Gah! You’re such, such a… Why don’t you just go back to the castle and play Exploding Snap with
one of the other idiots in the common room? Get away from the big bad nag!”

Hermione then stormed off, leaving Ron standing there shell-shocked. After a few moments, Ron
began moving once again, but instead of turning back to the castle, he followed after Hermione.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of the exchange, but in the end, he chose not to reveal himself
to his worried best friends.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The day before the Hogwarts Express was set to leave, Professor McGonagall managed to trap Harry
in the entrance hall of the castle. Harry was a bit lost in his own thoughts and reentered the
castle without first concealing himself with his cloak. McGonagall was waiting for him.

“Mr. Potter,” barked the stern voice of Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmistress.

Harry was startled by his Head of House’s appearance, but once he recovered, he simply walked
over to her, resigned to whatever punishment he would receive for being out so late past
curfew.

“Come with me.”

Harry followed obediently as McGonagall led him through the hallways to her office. Once inside
the spartan and rather sparsely decorated room, McGonagall seated herself on the hard, wooden chair
behind her desk and motioned for Harry to have a seat on one of the wooden stools clearly meant for
student use. Harry took his seat and simply waited for the professor to begin.

“Mr. Potter, first of all I would just like you to know that contrary to whatever you may be
thinking at the moment, you are not in trouble.”

This statement left Harry more confused than anything else. He drew his eyebrows together in
puzzlement.

“Then why am I here?” Harry questioned.

“I am well aware of the events which took place during my absence from the school and that role
that you and your friends played in them.”

Mention of the battle at the Department of Mysteries, even in this cursory way, put Harry on the
defensive, but he remained quiet and listened as McGonagall continued.

“For that reason, the Headmaster has asked the staff to be rather lenient with the six of you as
you all deal with the repercussions of that night. As such, you are not in trouble for staying out
past curfew tonight or during the past few days.

“But that is not the reason I asked to speak with you. The Headmaster believes that it would be
in your best interest to stay here at the castle for the summer holidays. He has even gone so far
as to preemptively obtain permission from your relatives. The decision however, is up to you. If
you would prefer to return home for the summer, you may do so, but the Headmaster thought that you
might prefer an alternative.”

“Oh, so now he thinks it will be that easy for us to kiss and make up, does he? Just offer poor
Harry a carrot and he’ll be back on the Dumbledore bandwagon!” Harry replied spitefully.

“Do not take that tone with me, young man,” McGonagall returned with without pause. “Whatever
your quarrel with the Headmaster, you will remember your manners and show proper respect when
speaking to me. Understood?”

Harry was instantly cowed by his stern Head of House.

“Yes, Professor.”

“That’s better.”

A few moments later, Harry had another question, this one without his earlier petulance.

“What about the wards, the blood protection that needs to be renewed?”

“The Headmaster believes that you are now old enough to make your own decision as to whether or
not the benefits of the wards at Privet Drive are worth the ordeal of returning there. After all,
they did not prevent the events which recently took place. The wards here at the castle should be
sufficient to keep you safe. Some of the staff will also be staying for the summer, Hagrid and
myself included, as well as the Headmaster of course.”

Harry sat and thought for a few moments. Staying at Hogwarts really was a better alternative
than returning to the Dursleys. And he didn’t really feel like staying at the Burrow; that just
seemed, well, awkward to Harry for some reason. But did he really want to be within such close
quarters with Dumbledore for the entire summer?

In the end, the decision was rather easy; Hogwarts would win out over Number Four any day of the
week.

“I think I’d like that,” replied Harry.

McGonagall nodded her head once, but showed no further emotion at having Harry around for the
summer.

“In that case you will still reside in your dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. You may have free
reign about the normal areas of the castle, but are expected to adhere to the rules, especially
curfew starting tomorrow night. You must also remain within the castle grounds at all times. If you
should need to leave at some point, you will need permission from either myself or the Headmaster,
as well as an escort. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Professor.”

All in all, Harry thought he was making out pretty well in the exchange. A summer free of the
Dursleys and he would be able to use his magic since he would be on school grounds. He had no real
desire to venture beyond Hogwarts’ gates anyways.

“Good,” replied the Deputy Headmistress. “I have one more item to discuss with you, however.
Normally I would not interfere with the social life of my students, but I believe this to be a
rather special case. To put it bluntly, your friends are very worried about you.” Harry squirmed in
his seat as McGonagall continued. “Miss Granger in particular is quite concerned. She came to me
twice in the last two days, worried that she hasn’t been able to find you anywhere in the castle.
Might I ask why you’ve been avoiding them?”

Harry simply remained silent.

After a few moments, McGonagall went on, “Whatever the problem is, avoiding them is likely not
the answer. You cannot run away from your problems forever, Mr. Potter.”

“They’ll be fine,” Harry quietly responded to his Head of House without looking directly at
her.

“At the very least, I think you should consider wishing them farewell tomorrow, as you won’t be
traveling on the train with them. I imagine that Miss Granger might become quite distraught if she
were to be unable to find you. Merlin only knows what her imagination might lead her to conclude
about your unexplained absence from the train.”

“I…” began Harry, “could you tell them that I’m staying here for the summer for me? I just…
could you? Please?”

At that, McGonagall’s face softened as much as Harry had ever seen.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, just this once. But I will not have one of my lions running away from his
problems forever. Whatever is off between you and your friends, I expect you to deal with it
soon.”

Without anything else to discuss, Harry was dismissed and returned to his dormitory for the
night.

OoOoO

**AN: Phew! I had a lot more planned for Chapter III, but it ended up being twice as long as it
should have been. I’m trying to keep the chapters within a manageable size, so I decided to split
the monster.**

**Note that the exact wording of the prophecy has been changed, so if you skipped over that
paragraph, go back and look again. Remember, this story is AU, so not everything is the
same.**

**Thank you to all who added this to their favorites this or put it on alert. It’s humbling to
know that a few of you enjoy what I have to write enough to come back for more.**

**Extra special thanks to everyone who left a review. You’re all wonderful.**

**Keldorn** **Firecam is from the game *Baldur’s Gate 2: Shadows of Amn*. If you want
to know what Keldorn looks like, just Google his name and you’ll find his portrait from the old
video game.**

**Now for the begging.** **Please leave a review on your way out. I want to know what you
think.**

**Thanks for reading!**



4. IV
-----

**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.**

OoOoO

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.

OoOoO

OoOoO

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.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

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.

OoOoO

OoOoO

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.

OoOoO

**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.**

**Thank you to everyone who favorited or put the story on alert, it’s nice to know you’re
enjoying it.**

**Special thanks to those who reviewed; I appreciate the feedback. Please keep it up.**

**Finally, please take a moment and leave a review. Even if it’s not an in depth analysis of
the story, I still want to know what you think, good or bad. So please review.**

**Thanks for reading!**



5. V
----

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

V

*Thunk!*

The log that was on the chopping block split in two. Harry repositioned the larger of the two
resulting pieces and then raised the maul for another swing.

*Thunk!*

Harry had spent several days after his conversation with Keldorn splitting wood and thinking.
While swinging the maul and moving the logs around was physically exhausting labor, the repetitive
nature of the task also provided Harry with ample opportunity to reflect on the past couple of
weeks and the things that he had said and done.

He decided that Dumbledore really didn’t deserve the treatment Harry had given him. Yes, the
Headmaster could have acted differently, but then again, Harry should have acted differently too.
It seemed that for all his power, learning and mystique, Dumbledore was just a man after all. And
like all human beings, he was prone to sometimes choose the wrong course of action and make
mistakes. Harry tried to see things from Dumbledore’s point of view; if he had knowledge of a
secret prophecy about the most evil and dangerous wizard in the world, and if he knew that the dark
wizard needed the information in that prophecy at all costs, would Harry have been willing to share
that secret with a fifteen year-old schoolboy? Probably not.

But it was just so *easy* to be angry with Dumbledore. He was supposed to be in charge; he
was supposed to make sure that everything worked out alright in the end. And now, when things had
gone to Hell and would never be the same again, it was easy to blame the man who was supposed to
stop that from happening. But how, exactly, was Dumbledore supposed to stop Voldemort all on his
own or with the support of only a small group of civilians and a few schoolchildren? The old wizard
was caught between a rock and a hard place, and Harry had held him to impossibly high
standards.

Each swing of the maul forced Harry to realize that Dumbledore did not deserve his anger. It
hurt to realize that Dumbledore wasn’t all-powerful after all, that he couldn’t solve every
problem. But Harry supposed that realizing that your idols were just mere human beings was a part
of growing up.

*Thunk!*

Harry looked over at the old knight sitting by the hut with his feet propped up on a log,
reading and smoking as always. Sir Keldorn Firecam was somewhat of a curiosity for Harry. Sir
Firecam, as he insisted on being called by one as young as Harry, had spent each day with him down
by the Gamekeeper’s hut. While Harry worked himself to exhaustion, the knight would read, trade
stories with Hagrid, or sometimes just close his eyes. Harry didn’t think he was sleeping at those
times, as he still seemed to be aware of what was going on around him. It was more like he was
meditating.

Harry always thought that knights and warriors would spend more time fighting or training or
whatever it was that soldiers did. He never thought of knights spending as much time reading as
Keldorn did.

*I bet Hermione would like to be in his army.*

*Thunk!*

That thought brought to mind his other favorite topic to dwell on: one Hermione Granger. She had
continued to send him letters everyday, each one a little more frantic than the last.

And each one went unanswered.

Harry read all of the letters of course, and then placed them in his trunk with the others with
a mumbled, “I’ll write her back later,” and that was it. He wasn’t completely sure why he was
putting off penning a response, but he knew it had to do with the guilt and the anger that he still
felt. He knew it was wrong for him to ignore his friends like he had, but he just didn’t know what
else to do. Like he had told Keldorn a few days ago, Hermione should be dead and it was his
fault.

Harry was partly convinced that the girl genius would wise up and realize that fact sometime
soon, and then she would want nothing to do with him if he was lucky, and would likely kill him if
he wasn’t. Harry just couldn’t think of anything to say that would repair the damage he had caused
to their friendship. You can’t take back leading your friends into a deathtrap.

*Thunk!*

Speaking of death, when he wasn’t too angry to see straight or absorbed in his thoughts about
Hermione, Ron and the others, his mind would come back to Sirius. Hermione was lucky; she was
miraculously pulled back from the brink of death. Sirius wasn’t. He really was dead and he wouldn’t
be coming back. Thinking about Sirius didn’t make him sad but angry. The only problem was he didn’t
know *who* he was supposed to be angry with.

*Thunk!*

Harry had already worked out that it wasn’t Dumbledore’s fault; the Headmaster was doing the
best he could to fight the Dark Lord. But was Harry supposed to be mad at Kreacher for lying to him
and thus convincing him to go to the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix Lestrange for casting the
spell that threw his godfather through the veil, or Voldemort for masterminding the whole thing?
Harry just wasn’t sure. He couldn’t really make his anger *stick* with any of them. He would
try, he tried to *hate* them, but he couldn’t do it. Harry was certain that he would go after
them for what they’d done. He knew that he would stand up to Voldemort if only because the prophecy
dictated that he had to, but in all honesty, Harry wasn’t really *angry* with them.

Harry had brought up his confusing anger with Keldorn the night before as they were preparing to
head back to the castle after a long day of splitting wood.

“Anger is a tricky thing,” the knight had replied, “sometimes it is right and just for a man to
be angry, and yet at other times it leads him to the very worst things imaginable. Saint Tomus the
Black Friar would say that anger is a response to a perceived insult. When someone insults you,
it’s not really correct to say that you’re angry with the person, it’s more that you’re angry with
the insult. We often get angry with people not only when their *words* are insulting, but more
often when their *actions* are perceived as an insult. You would likely be angry if one of
your friends did something to betray you because their actions would be unexpected, at odds with
your previous beliefs about that person, and therefore insulting to you and your beliefs.

“It is not unheard of for a man to find it much harder to truly become angry with one’s enemies,
since we already expect and believe them to be likely to take actions against us. More often,
people become insulted and therefore angry when an enemy offers some gesture of peace or kindness.
Just think, if your so-called Dark Lord were to suddenly offer to pay for the funeral arrangements
of your godfather, you would likely become rather angry, yes? Such an offer would go against the
beliefs that you hold about the Dark Lord, and thus you would conclude that he is mocking you,
insulting you, and you would be angry.

“However, as unpleasant and terrible as the reality of war is, we expect our enemies to try and
harm us, try to kill us and our comrades on the field of battle. Thus, for some, like yourself, it
can be difficult to be angry with your enemies for such actions.”

Harry wasn’t really sure of what to make of the old knight’s explanation. It seemed right and
yet wrong at the same time. Perhaps Harry just wanted to find a convenient target for his
anger.

*Thunk!*

Because the more he thought and reflected about it, the unhappier he was with the person with
whom he found that he was *really* angry.

Himself.

Bellatrix might have cast the spell, and Voldemort might have set the trap, but it was Harry
that blindly charged into an unknown and dangerous situation. Even if his vision was right and
Voldemort was torturing Sirius in the Ministry, what exactly had Harry hoped to accomplish by
running off to confront him? Did he really think he could take on the most feared dark wizard in
history with just his wand and a few friends?

Running off to the ministry was stupid. Leading his friends there was doubly stupid. And Harry
was *insulted* by the sheer stupidity of his own actions. He expected better of himself. Thus
he realized that the anger he was flinging in every direction, at everyone and everything that
presented themselves to him as an easy target, was really meant for himself.

This realization made Harry feel kind of sick.

“Sir Firecam?” Harry asked as he carried an armful of split logs to the woodpile, “is there any
way to, well… is it possible to *stop* becoming angry?”

Keldorn paused his reading and looked at Harry over the small spectacles that were perched on
the tip of his nose.

“Well,” replied the knight, “what did we learn from Saint Tomus yesterday? Where does anger come
from?”

“From being insulted, yes I got that much. But I want to know if we can stop ourselves from
becoming angry entirely. It’s… well, the last couple of weeks haven’t been very fun, what with my
being angry all the time…”

“I see. Well, in truth, the answer is rather simple.”

Harry looked up in surprise at this, not expecting a simple answer.

“If you desire to never be angry, you simply need to stop perceiving things as insults. Actually
*doing* that, however, is anything but easy. You must grow in humility. Insults attack our
pride; if you become truly humble, and remove all stain of pride from your soul, then you cannot
perceive something as an insult, and thus you will never become angry.”

Harry let out a sigh of disappointment at that.

“However,” continued the knight, “I do not think such perfect humility is really possible for us
in our fallen, darkened nature. Instead, work on becoming as humble as you can, and when you do
find yourself becoming angry, recognize it, try to understand who or what you are really angry
with, and put the energy you get from your anger into something productive.”

“Like splitting wood?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“Indeed,” replied the knight as he turned back to his reading. “Like splitting wood.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later that evening after dinner, Harry found himself standing in front of the gargoyle that
guarded the Headmaster’s office.

“Err… I don’t suppose you’d just let me in?”

After a moment of silence, during which Harry scratched his head trying to think of a likely
password, the gargoyle simply moved to the side accompanied by the loud sound of stone grinding on
stone.

“Thanks.”

Harry rode up the stairs and knocked on the wooden door at the top.

“Come in, Harry,” came the reply from the other side of the door. It seemed that Dumbledore
already knew the identity of his visitor.

Harry entered the office and quietly shut the door behind him. A quick glance around the room
saw that the armchair had been put back in its proper place and that the cabinet had been repaired.
Its shelves, however, contained the broken and smashed pieces of whatever those mysterious items
once were.

“Please, have a seat,” Dumbledore said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

As Harry approached the desk and sat down, several of the silver, whirling, noisy *things*
on the desktop scurried back out of Harry’s reach. Harry blushed with embarrassment.

“What can I do for you this evening?” Dumbledore asked.

“I err…” Harry started, “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Dumbledore smiled. “That’s quite alright, my boy.”

“No, err… it isn’t.” Harry quickly responded. “Please, just let me say it.”

Dumbledore simply raised his eyebrows and nodded once.

“I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or broken your things like I did. I had no
right to take my anger out on you. You might have made a few mistakes, but so have I. We’re only
human after all. You’ve always looked out for me, tried to help me as you could. So I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “And I’m afraid I must apologize as
well. This past year hasn’t been the best for you, and that is largely my fault. I avoided you,
afraid that Voldemort would use the connection you share to attack me. I denied Professor
McGonagall’s recommendation for you to be one of the Gryffindor prefects, as I thought you had too
much on your plate already. I did not realize that doing so would serve to isolate you from your
friends as it did. I could have told you about the prophecy sooner, but, well, I’m afraid I simply
wanted to spare you the burden for as long as I could. For these, Harry, and for all my many sins
that have hurt you, I am truly sorry.”

Harry was kind of embarrassed by the Headmaster’s frank admissions. Harry’s upbringing didn’t
exactly make him familiar with accepting apologies. Having *Dumbledore* apologize to
*him* was just weird.

But, like he had come to realize, Dumbledore was merely human after all.

“Umm… that’s okay, err… apology accepted.”

“Thank you, Harry. That means very much to me.”

The two wizards smiled at each other for a moment before Dumbledore brought up a different
topic.

“Tell me, Harry, have you been finding your time with Sir Firecam to be beneficial?”

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked in surprise.

“You will find that there is very little that goes on in this castle that I am not aware of.”
The twinkle in Dumbledore’s blue eyes had finally returned.

“Oh. Well, he’s okay, I guess. He’s helped me kinda work through a few things. By chopping up a
tree no less.”

“Excellent. I am very pleased to hear that. I believe that Sir Firecam could prove to be a very
valuable ally for us in the coming days. I am confident when I say that I believe you can trust him
without worry.”

“Do you know, err, where exactly he came from?”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before returning
his gaze to his student.

“If you desire to know of his home world, I believe you would be better off asking him in
person. If you instead want to know how he ended up in the Department of Mysteries, that is another
question, one to which we don’t have a very satisfactory answer.

“The room where you were fighting Bellatrix and where Sir Firecam first appeared is known as the
Multiverse Room.” Harry listened to the Headmaster’s explanation with rapt attention. “While it is
not common knowledge, it is a proven fact, nonetheless, that our universe is only one of many,
perhaps even an infinite number of parallel universes. Each of the small crystal pendants that
adorned the walls of that room could allow a person to travel to one of those alternate universes.
In my many long years, I’ve had occasion to visit one or two of them, purely out of curiosity.
These worlds can be very similar to our own, differing, for instance, in only what you might have
chosen to eat for breakfast that very morning. Or they could be wildly different to the extent that
you might never have existed there at all, or perhaps all of England was missing, or perhaps the
earth never formed. The possibilities are seemingly endless…”

Dumbledore was now staring at a point somewhere behind Harry’s shoulder, lost in wonder as he
described the multiverse. A quick shake of his head brought his attention back to his pupil.

“Where was I? Oh yes. In any event, during the course of your battle, something reacted with the
crystals which caused Sir Firecam to be pulled out of his world and dropped here in ours.”

Harry’s face paled.

“I err… I think I did it.”

“Indeed?”

“Well, Bellatrix was banishing groups of the crystals at me, and my Shield Charms had no effect
on them. So I cast a Reductor Curse at the next group, hoping to scatter them. Instead they
exploded in a white ball of magic that knocked me out. When I came to, Sir Firecam was on the
floor.”

“Most interesting,” said the Headmaster. “The sheer amount of magic released in that room has
rendered any of the Ministry’s attempts to recreate the exact reaction that took place to be quite
hopeless. That it was such a random occurrence from a basic spell is even more intriguing. I quite
doubt the Unspeakables will ever be able to figure it out.”

“So, does that mean he’s stuck here?”

“Quite.”

Harry’s heart began racing. *Sir Firecam’s stuck here and it’s my fault! I didn’t even
realize… I’ve been so caught up in everything else… I basically kidnapped the man away from
everything he’s ever known and I didn’t even notice!*

“I wouldn’t worry about him too much though,” continued Dumbledore, “he seems to be taking it
quite well. He says that it’s all up to Providence.”

The Headmaster looked straight into the eyes of his student who seemed to be nearing
hyperventilation.

“Don’t worry, Harry. He and I have talked about this at great length. He doesn’t blame you. And
even if he did, he is not the type to hold grudges.”

Dumbledore then moved to change the subject.

“I am glad that you stopped by to see me, because there is something else I need to tell
you.”

Harry focused on the Headmaster as he brought his breathing under control.

“I know you might not want to hear it, but I need to tell you the contents of Sirius’ will.”

Harry simply nodded for the old wizard to continue.

“You were named as the primary beneficiary of Sirius Orion Black, and aside from some small,
almost insignificant bequests, you have inherited the entire Black fortune as well as the his old
home: the Order’s current Headquarters at Grimmauld Place.”

Harry didn’t know exactly how he should feel about that.

“Err… exactly how much…?”

“You’d have to ask the goblins to be sure, but I’m quite confident in saying that you need never
worry about money again, as long as you keep a level head about you. There was some excitement at
the reading when Narcissa Malfoy challenged the will, claiming that everything should go to Draco
as he is the nearest male relative by blood.” Harry felt his anger beginning to stir hearing that.
“But don’t worry, Sirius and the goblins left no loopholes for the Malfoys to exploit and their
claim was rejected. To that end, I have a question for you.

“I would not presume to make use of Number Twelve without its owner’s consent. So, Harry, would
it be acceptable to you for the Order to continue to use it as our headquarters?”

“Oh,” Harry replied, “that’s fine.” In truth, the whole topic had Harry feeling a bit out of
sorts. He’d *never* have to worry about money? Harry knew that his parents had left him a tidy
sum, but he figured most of that would be spent on his education. To now suddenly be
*wealthy*, well, it was a strange concept.

“Well,” said the Headmaster, “if there’s nothing else you would like to discuss, I’m afraid I
must bid you goodnight. I’m an old man and I need my beauty rest.”

Harry rose from his chair at the dismissal.

“Right. Thanks for seeing me. Goodnight, Professor.”

“No, Harry,” returned the aged wizard, “thank you.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next day saw Harry once more splitting wood. He figured that he would probably manage to
finish the job that day. Sir Firecam was in attendance as always; at the moment he was smoking his
pipe and watching Harry’s labors. Harry’s mind was occupied with thoughts of the old knight. He
felt sorry for him, stranded in a foreign world with apparently no hope of returning home.

*How can he be so calm about it?* Harry thought to himself. *Why isn’t he trying to find
a way home?*

Harry paused in his work, and turned to address the knight.

“Sir Firecam, I err… well…”

“What is it, boy?” the knight asked with his characteristic desire to speak plainly.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry before he had a chance to have second thoughts about it.

“Oh? And just what are you sorry for?” queried the knight as he raised his eyebrows.

“For getting you stranded here. It was my spell that brought you here, and Professor Dumbledore
says that they have no idea how it happened or how to send you home. I’m not sorry that you
*are* here, I mean, if you weren’t, Hermione would be, well, you know. But I’m sorry that
you’ve been dragged here without a choice.”

“I do not believe,” began the knight, “that you have anything to apologize for in this instance.
However, since you think that you do, I accept your apology. Thank you for your concern. But, like
I said, my being here is really no fault of yours. Did you mean for your spell to bring me
here?”

“Well, no.”

“And there we have it. The reaction was an accident. Such things happen. It is not the first
time I have been caught up in circumstances beyond my control.”

“And you’re okay with that?” questioned Harry.

“Yes,” replied the knight in his usual calm tone, “my life, like the lives of all paladins, is
at the service of the Light. I go where I am needed. I do not believe that I am here by chance,
even if it was an accident that brought me here. Providence is at work here and time will reveal
*why* I have been brought here.”

Harry just nodded and went back to work. If the old knight didn’t want to be upset with his
situation, well, that was his choice. As he raised the maul and took aim at the log on the chopping
block, Harry posed another question.

“So what are you going to do now?”

Sir Firecam tapped out the ashes and burnt remnants of tobacco from his pipe as he answered.

“Well, right now I will continue to make sure that you don’t bleed to death if you happen to
chop off your foot,” the knight said with a smile. “After that, I believe that your Headmaster is
trying to cook something up for me.

“In any event,” he continued as he fished around in one of the pouches on his belt looking for
his reading glasses, “I shall ultimately do what I was born to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“I will stand against the Darkness.”

OoOoO

**AN: The Multiverse Room and the crystal pendants that allow travel though the different
universes are made in homage to *Shadow Walks* by lorien829. If you haven’t read it, go do so
now. Read everything she’s written for that matter.**

**Not the most exciting of chapters, I know, but it was necessary. Things start to get a bit
livelier in chapter VI, so stay tuned!**

**Thank you to everyone who added this to your favorites or put it on alert. It’s nice to know
you’re enjoying it.**

**Special thanks to everyone who reviewed; I love hearing what you have to say about the
story.**

**Please take a moment to leave a review on your way out.**

**Thanks for reading!**



6. VI
-----

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

VI

Harry found life to be a bit boring after he finished chopping up the tree. Every day started
the same way with another letter from Hermione, which would be duly read, and then placed in his
trunk unanswered. Harry would then try to find something to occupy his time. Unfortunately, there
just wasn’t much to do.

He spent a bit of time flying each day; he had gotten his Firebolt back with the assistance of
Dumbledore. But it was difficult for him to just be carefree and soar through the sky like he used
to. So much had changed in the last few weeks that flying and Quidditch, while still fun, just
didn’t have the same attraction as they used to.

Harry had no summer assignments to spend his time on since he had just taken his O.W.L.s and he
first needed to know his scores before he could select classes for the next year. That meant he
couldn’t pass the time doing homework.

*I wonder if having no homework is driving Hermione round the bend?* Harry thought to
himself at one point. He supposed that he could always write to her and find out, but that would
mean that he would have to answer her increasingly frantic letters. Besides, Harry just didn’t know
what to say to her. Replying to her serious and concerned messages with a light-hearted, “so are
you surviving without any homework?” just didn’t seem right.

He tried to spend some time in the library reading, but being in that room with all the books
brought his mind back to Hermione and made him feel guilty about not answering her letters.

At least his anger had mostly abated. It wasn’t gone completely, but now that he knew that he
was angrier with himself than anything else, Harry was able to process it better. He *hoped*
that Sirius, Hermione and the others would be able to forgive him one day for what he had done to
them, but he doubted that they ever would.

Harry also hadn’t seen as much of Keldorn since he finished splitting the wood. He still ran
across him on the grounds every once in a while, or in the Great Hall during meals since there were
so few people currently staying at the castle, but it wasn’t the same as spending the day working
together. Harry found that he missed the old man. There was something about him that Harry simply
liked. Perhaps it was his direct way of speaking, or that he never shied away for explaining the
reasons why he did something or why he gave a particular piece of advice.

In any event, Harry was bored. And he was a bit worried that he might soon go stir crazy, or
even worse, that his anger might come back with a vengeance now that he didn’t really have an
outlet to pour his energy into.

So, it was with this in mind that Harry set out to find Keldorn late one night after dinner. He
had searched the Marauder’s Map and found the old knight standing at the top of the Astronomy
Tower.

Harry made his way up the stairs of the tower, and gently pushed open the door at the top.

The old knight was standing at the far end of the rooftop with his hands clasped behind his
back. He turned his head to identify the newcomer, but then went back to gazing at the stars.

“Good evening, Harry.”

“Good evening. You seem to spend a lot of time up here,” Harry said in reply.

“I suppose I do,” the knight responded as he continued to look into the vastness of the night
sky. “Even though your stars are different, I still find looking upon them to be soothing. Such
bright points of Light, boldly standing out amidst the Darkness all around them.”

Harry tilted his head back to look at the stars. He’d never given them much thought aside from
his astronomy classes.

“I suppose they give me hope,” continued the knight. The two figures stood in silence for a few
minutes. To Harry, the way that the knight spoke of light and darkness seemed to make the words
carry much more meaning than they normally did. That moment, with the way the two of them were
silently gazing at the bright stars in the dark, night sky seemed weighty, almost sacred.

But eventually Harry broke the silence and brought up the reason why he came.

“I was wondering, err… if you might, well, have any other ideas for things for me to do.”

Sir Firecam turned and focused his attention on Harry.

“It’s just that, ever since I finished the tree, I’ve been a bit, well, bored,” continued
Harry.

“Am I to be your entertainer now?” the old knight asked with one eyebrow raised.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Harry answered. “It’s just… I don’t have any school work for the
summer, and I’m stuck here on the grounds with almost no one else around.”

“Take up some reading.”

“I can really only do so much of that,” Harry replied, failing to mention that he had no desire
to spend time in the library because it brought up unpleasant thoughts about Hermione. The knight
furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Harry intently; it almost seemed like he could tell that he was
leaving something out of his reply.

“And like you said,” Harry went on before the knight called him out on his omission, “I need
something physical to do, something to focus my energy on.”

“Well, I can’t really fault that reasoning. Perhaps a bit of exercise would do you some good.
Very well, meet me tomorrow morning, after breakfast in the clearing outside the doors of the
castle. We’ll see what strength swinging Hagrid’s maul has given you.”

With that, the knight turned his attention back to the stars and Harry left him to it.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next morning Harry made his way to his meeting with Keldorn feeling slightly off kilter. He
as anxious to find out just what the knight had in store for him, but he was more worried about
something that he found to be missing that morning.

For the first time since the day after the Hogwarts Express had departed, Harry did not have a
letter from Hermione waiting for him when he woke up.

Perhaps she got fed up with his lack of response and simply stopped writing. Maybe she finally
realized that it was his fault that she was nearly killed and no longer wanted anything to do with
him. Perhaps Harry should have written back while there was still some chance of salvaging their
friendship…

Harry tried to put those thoughts out of his mind as he saw Sir Firecam waiting for him. The
knight was waiting just outside of the gate and off to the side on a stretch of level, grassy
ground. What he was holding made Harry stop in surprise. On his left forearm was strapped a round,
wooden shield while his right hand held a wooden sword. His actual sword had been removed, and was
propped up against a nearby bench. On the ground next to the bench was another wooden shield and
sword.

“Don’t stand there gawking, boy, come and pick up your arms.”

The knight’s words stirred Harry to movement once more and he quickly gathered the sword and
shield and awkwardly picked them up. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said he was
looking for something to do. He was thinking of some other sort of manual labor, something basic
that would occupy his time without much further concern. Sword fighting never even crossed his
mind.

“Now then,” began Sir Firecam, “You were looking for something to do. Well, I think some sword
training might be just what you need. It will help teach you some discipline, which you seem to
need, and it will definitely use up your excess energy. At the very least, it should alleviate your
boredom.”

“Are you sure about that?” questioned Harry. “No one’s had much use for sword fighting for the
past couple hundred years in this world.”

“The sword is more than just a weapon for war. The point here is not to prepare you for entering
a melee, but rather to strengthen your mind, your body and your will. Like you said, it is unlikely
you will ever wield a sword in battle; I would think that as a wizard, you would be much more
likely to wield your wand. Nonetheless, learning the sword might benefit you even there.

“If you would rather find something else to occupy you, please feel free. But remember, you came
to me looking for some task. This is what I have chosen for you. Take it or leave it.”

“Alright,” replied Harry, “I’ll give it a go. What do I do?”

“First, take the shield in your left hand, put your arm through the loop and grasp the handle
like so. Now, hold the sword with your right hand. Not too tight, it’s not a club. You’ll use your
fingers to control the finer movements of the blade.”

“It’s a bit heavier than I expected for a wooden sword,” Harry remarked.

“Yes, it’s weighted to be even heavier than the real thing. Sword work requires strength.
Strength demands that you exercise your muscles. The weight of the sword will help with that.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

“Now then,” continued the knight, “look to your feet. Keep them shoulder-width apart and bend
your knees. Put you weight on the balls of your feet with your left foot forward. Present your
profile to your opponent and hold your shield firmly in front of you. Hold your sword up to the
right in a guard position. Point the tip toward your opponent’s face…”

The knight continued on in the same vein, pointing things out, repositioning Harry’s arms or
legs when they were incorrect, and making observations.

Eventually, once he was pleased with Harry’s stance, he proceeded to having Harry move forward
and backward, as well as side to side, all with deliberate, precise motions. He kept a sharp eye
out for even the slightest imperfections and was quick to point them out and correct them.

“Don’t cross your feet.”

“Is that where your thumb is supposed to be? I thought not.”

“Keep your knees bent!”

The hardest part, Harry quickly discovered, was keeping his knees bent. After only a few
seconds, his thighs would begin to burn with the strain. Constantly holding the heavy sword and
shield with his arms bent was no picnic either.

When he agreed to the knight’s plan, Harry had initially thought that learning how to sword
fight would involve more, well, sword fighting. After what must have been two or three hours, all
he had done was footwork and trying to keep his arms, back, head, fingers, and the rest of his body
in the correct positions. Harry was beginning to see how this could teach him some discipline.

“Alright, take a break.”

Harry sighed in relief as he dropped his weapons and flexed his arms and legs, trying to work
some of the soreness out.

“Is that how you treat your equipment? Just drop it on the ground like a sack of bricks when
you’re done? Does this look like a pig farm?”

Apparently even taking a break could be done incorrectly.

“A warrior is only as good as his equipment,” the knight continued as Harry scrambled to pick up
his sword and shield and carefully place them down by the bench. “Treat it well and it will take
care of you. Neglect it, and it will fail when you need it most. You might not be training for
combat, but you *will* act like you are as long as I’m teaching you. I’ve made squires muck
out stables with their *bare hands* for doing less than what you just did.”

It seemed that Sir Firecam as a drill sergeant could be a bit demanding.

After lunch they got right back to it. Keldorn brought out a wooden dummy from the DADA
classroom for Harry to use as a target.

*Finally,* thought Harry, *I’ll at least get to swing the sword around a bit.*

“While the type of longsword you’re using can and is used to cut, for now we will focus on
thrusting. So no silly sword-waving.”

*Or not*, thought Harry.

The knight then positioned himself in front of the dummy while holding his own wooden sword and
shield.

“With your shield held at the ready, take a half step forward with your front foot and at the
same time thrust your sword arm out, across your body to full extension.” He demonstrated the
proper technique. “Strike hard, with force behind it. The dummy is on a spring, so it will yield
without you having to worry about breaking your sword or your wrist. Now then, you try.”

Keldorn got out of the way and Harry moved into position. Once he was set, he stabbed the dummy
with his sword resulting in a quiet *tap!*

“Strike it like you mean it, boy! Again!”

*Tap!*

“Fix your thumb. Again!”

*Tap!*

“Don’t lower your shield. Again!”

*Tap!*

And so it went for quite some time. The knight varied things a little bit by having Harry aim
for different areas on the dummy, but after two hours of standing in the guard stance, repeatedly
stabbing the wooden dummy, Harry’s thighs and arms were aching, and his mind was getting a bit numb
as well.

“Well, what have we here?” said the knight rather unexpectedly.

Harry was a bit confused when this question replaced Keldorn’s expected “Again!” He was about to
turn around to see what could have distracted his teacher when a loud, feminine voice pierced the
air.

“*HARRY POTTER!*” shouted Hermione Granger, “*what the bloody hell is wrong with
you?!*”

Harry dropped his sword in surprise and spun around to see the irate witch storming directly at
him with her wand drawn. Harry’s eyes widened and his face paled as he swallowed hard. If he was
closer, he was sure he would be able to see fire in her eyes.

“You… you… *Accio wooden sword!*”

Harry’s forgotten sword flew into Hermione’s waiting hand as she continued to stride toward him.
Harry had just enough presence of mind to raise his shield above his head as the livid witch
stepped up and began raining blows down upon him. Harry was certain that the shield was all that
stood between him and a fractured skull.

“*You! Bloody! Inconsiderate! Git!*” Hermione punctuated each word with a hard and fast
swing of the sword which made a loud *thwack!* upon his shield. “*What. Is. Wrong. With.
You?!*”

*Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!*

“Did you forget how to write?!”

*Thwack!*

“I’ve been going out of my mind!”

*Thwack!*

“How could you ignore me like that?!”

*Thwack!*

“Me?!”

*Thwack!*

“After everything we’ve been through!”

*Thwack!*

By this point Harry was forced down onto one knee, holding his shield up with both hands,
praying that it held together under the sheer weight of Hermione’s fury. Luckily for him, Hermione
seemed content to simply beat him over the head. If she decided to change the angle of her attack
and, say, swipe at him from the side, he was in for some trouble, and probably quite a few broken
bones.

Finally the assault stopped, and after a moment Harry peaked out from behind his shield.
Hermione grabbed the wooden barrier, threw it to the side, and pulled Harry into a vice-like
hug.

*Perhaps she’s given up on trying to beat me to death and wants to try suffocating me*,
thought Harry.

When she pulled back from the hug a few moments later, Harry noticed there were tears in her
eyes.

“You are *such* an *ass!*” Hermione screamed at him before pushing him away, spinning
on her heel and storming off to the castle.

Harry, dumbfounded, simply dropped onto the ground and watched Hermione stomp her way into the
castle.

“You deserved every bit of that for dropping your sword,” said the knight from his position a
few feet away.

“Thanks.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her. I’ll clean up.”

“Go after her? Are you daft? She’ll kill me! And you said she’d forgive me.”

“Well, I’ve been wrong before. But you’ll never know until you’ve actually apologized.”

When Harry remained seated on the ground, Keldorn tried a different tactic.

“I didn’t know you were a coward. She’s just a girl.”

Harry glared at the knight.

“Just a girl who happens to know more curses and hexes than the rest of the school put
together.”

“If she wanted to hex you, she probably would have done so already. She had plenty of
opportunity. Now go after her before I show you how to really strike with a wooden sword.”

Harry reluctantly got to his feet and made his way to the castle. He surreptitiously drew his
wand and held it against his leg just in case Keldorn was wrong about Hermione’s desire to curse
him.

She wasn’t in the entrance hall, so he decided to try the Gryffindor Common Room. If she wasn’t
there, he could stop by his dorm to find her on the Marauder’s Map. Either that or lock himself in
and barricade the door…

As he crawled through the portrait hole, Harry heard the sound of sniffling, and once he emerged
into the common room, he found his best friend sitting on one of the couches. She looked like she’d
been crying. Harry cautiously approached and sat down with her on the couch, although leaving
plenty of space between them.

He had no idea what to say, so he just remained silent. He figured Hermione would say something
eventually.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Hermione whispered after a moment.

Whatever it was that Harry had expected her to say, this wasn’t it.

“Err… that’s okay,” he replied. “You didn’t really even hit me, so…”

“Not about that,” interrupted Hermione, “I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t what
you needed when you needed me most…”

Now Harry was really confused.

“Err… what? What in the world are you talking about?”

Hermione finally looked up at the young wizard. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she had a look
of determination on her face.

“The Department of Mysteries. You needed me; you needed me to keep my head and figure things out
and fight by your side. But I got careless and sloppy and wound up getting hurt and I was useless
to you and then everything went to pieces and now you’ve been ignoring me because you’ve finally
realized that you don’t need me after all and…”

“Hermione,” Harry interjected into her rambling, “you’re not making any sense.”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, and the witch in question glared at him. He
hurriedly continued before she decided to unleash her fury again.

“I mean, why on earth would I be mad at you because you got hurt? *You’re* the one who’s
supposed to be mad at *me*.”

Hermione looked at him like he just told her that he’d fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and was
having his lovechild.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous!” shouted Harry as he stood from the couch, his anger starting to
rise. “I led you into a death trap and you know it. If it weren’t for the miraculous appearance of
Firecam, you would be *dead* right now! You should be *dead!* Just like Sirius is
*dead!* And it’s *my fault!*”

“Harry…”

Hermione reached out to him only to have her hand swatted away.

“No! I just… *Merlin*, Hermione, how can you even look at me?” Harry fell back down onto
the couch and dropped his face into his hands.

“I just couldn’t face you afterwards,” Harry continued in a softer voice. “I just couldn’t bear
to see the look on your face when you realized that I should have gotten you killed. That’s why I
avoided you and didn’t write back. I just couldn’t.”

“Oh Harry!”

Hermione practically leapt from her side of the couch to engulf Harry in another bone-crushing
hug.

“I don’t blame you, Harry. That thought never even entered into my mind.”

Hearing those words made something break inside of Harry.

“I’m so sorry…” he mumbled into her hair as he started to cry. A few tears quickly became sobs.
Harry cried for Hermione, for his friends and for Sirius. He also cried for himself, for the guilt
and blame that he had forced himself to bear. It took him a while to realize that Hermione was
crying too, sobbing just as hard as he was. The two remained there for a long while, clinging to
each other and crying for past mistakes.”

When they finally calmed down and separated, Harry wiped his nose and then looked into
Hermione’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Oh Harry. I suppose you’re just going to keep apologizing until I forgive you. Well I do. Of
course I forgive you, Harry. And I’m sorry too, for everything.”

“Err… that’s okay,” Harry replied before forming a little smirk, “I’m just glad you kept hitting
the shield instead of my skull.”

Hermione flushed red, embarrassed by her earlier actions, but she then met Harry’s eyes with a
smirk of her own.

“Yes, well, just you remember that the next time you try to avoid me instead of talking to
me.”

That comment made both of them break into full-blown smiles.

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t forget, especially since you actually *swore*.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes you do,” Harry’s eyes danced with mirth, “you swore a whole bunch of times. Just wait
‘til I tell Ron!”

“Harry James Potter! Don’t you dare!”

“So you admit it?”

Hermione glared at her best friend.

“Fine. But just wait until *I* tell Ron that *you* got beat up by a girl.”

“Oi!”

“And I didn’t even have to use my wand either. It was all muscle. Pure, unadulterated Granger.
And I beat you into the ground!” Hermione then flexed her biceps for added emphasis.

Now it was Harry’s turn to glare at his best friend.

“Truce?” offered Hermione.

“You don’t tell anyone about you beating me up, and I won’t tell anyone that you swore.”

“Deal.”

The two teenagers smiled at each other, glad to be back on familiar footing after the past few
weeks.

“Merlin,” muttered Hermione as she wiped at her eyes and nose, “I must look absolutely
dreadful.”

Harry might have been clueless around girls, but he wasn’t going to touch that comment with a
ten foot pole.

“Not that I’m not glad that you’re here, but what exactly are you doing at Hogwarts anyways?”
Harry asked instead.

“Well,” answered Hermione, “when *somebody*, who shall remain nameless, refused to answer
my letters, I kind of started to go a bit spare, what with being stuck in my house, unable to find
anything out. So last night I wrote Professor McGonagall and I asked if you were still here and if
so, if I might be allowed to come visit. She wrote back and this morning I took the Knight
Bus.”

“Ah.”

“My turn. What exactly were you and Sir Firecam doing with those wooden swords and shields when
I arrived?”

“You already know him?”

“He introduced himself to me while I was still in the hospital wing. Now answer the
question.”

“Yes, ma’am. He was teaching me how to sword fight.” Harry could tell that this response had her
a bit puzzled, so he explained further. “During the past few days I’ve had some, well,
*issues* with anger. Sir Firecam said I needed an outlet. He first had me splitting wood, but
since I finished that, we’ve moved on to sword fighting. He says it will teach me discipline as
well as help use up some energy.”

“Well good luck to him,” Hermione cheekily replied.

“Oi!”

“Why did he start you off with chopping wood?” Hermione asked after a moment of thought.

Harry blushed and looked away.

“I kind of got really angry and then sort of… blew up a tree.”

“You did *what?*”

“I cast a really strong Reductor Curse and knocked over a tree.”

“Harry that was really dangerous, someone…”

“I know!” Harry interrupted before she could start a full-blown lecture. “I know how dangerous
and stupid it was. I’ve got the blisters and sore arms to prove that I’ve learned my lesson. It
won’t happen again.”

Hermione nodded sharply, like she’d just finished disciplining an unruly first-year.

“Good.”

Silence fell once again for a moment. Before Harry spoke up again.

“Thanks, Hermione. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.” She smiled in reply. “You’re welcome.”

OoOoO

**AN: Well, there’s Chapter 6. Not much else to say here.**

**Thanks to everyone who added this to their favorites or put in on alert. Special thanks to my
wonderful reviewers. Reading your comments really helps with the writing process.**

**Please leave a review on your way out; I want to know what you think.**

**Thanks for reading!**



7. VII
------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

VII

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner.

“So how long are you staying?” Harry asked as they passed through the corridors.

“I suppose I’ll leave either tonight or tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Harry responded, a bit dejectedly.

“Coming here was kind of a spur of the moment thing. I didn’t even bring a change of clothes
with me.”

“Well, I suppose you have to go back home anyways, spend time with your parents and all
that.”

“Would you rather I stayed?” Hermione questioned.

“Well, err… I mean, it has been a bit lonely around here, what with everyone gone. Dumbledore
and McGonagall are around, but I don’t really fancy hanging around with them too much. I’ve spent a
lot of time with Hagrid and Sir Firecam, but, well, I have to admit, it would be nice to have a
friend around.”

Hermione smiled at him.

“Well, I’ll at least have to go home to get some things, and I suppose I’ll need permission from
Professor McGonagall, but I think I could manage to pay you a visit.”

“But don’t you want to stay with your parents?” Harry asked a bit confusedly. He couldn’t really
fathom that anybody who actually had parents wouldn’t want to see them all the time.

Hermione looked away.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”

They arrived at the Great Hall and entered. They passed by the long, empty house tables and made
their way to the staff table. With so few people currently in the castle, everyone was invited to
sit together during meals at the same table. Professor McGonagall and Sir Firecam were already
present, but Dumbledore’s chair was conspicuously empty.

The old knight rose from his seat and politely bowed his head as the two students
approached.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said, addressing Hermione.

“Good evening, Sir Firecam, Professor McGonagall. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a proper
hello earlier, but I was a bit preoccupied,” Hermione said with a quick, sideways glance at
Harry.

“I trust that everything is settled in that regard then?” McGonagall asked, her eyes skipping
back and forth between the two Gryffindors as everyone took their seats.

“Err… yes,” answered Harry, “everything’s fine now.”

“Ha!” laughed Sir Firecam, “I should hope so. After the walloping that this young lady gave you
earlier, I would fear for your sanity if you didn’t mend things right quick. Even the most
dimwitted of fools knows to keep his skull intact.”

Harry and Hermione both flushed crimson while McGonagall raised an eyebrow in question. They
were saved from further embarrassment in front of their Head of House by the arrival of Hagrid.

“Evenin’ you lot,” He greeted as he pulled his massive chair up to the table. He then spotted
Hermione at the table and broke into a smile. “Hermione! What’re yeh doin’ back here at the castle
so soon?”

“Oh you know,” the young witch replied, “someone has to keep Harry out of trouble.”

“Ain’t tha’ the truth. Right, Keldorn?”

“I would have to agree,” replied the old knight as he returned to his meal. Harry merely
grumbled under his breath as he filled his plate.

“Professor McGonagall,” began Hermione, “I was wondering, would it be alright for me to come and
stay at the castle this summer?”

“And just why, Miss Granger, would you want to do that?” countered the Deputy Headmistress.

“Well, we do have N.E.W.T.-level courses starting this fall and I figured I could use the
library to get a head start. I could also start my research into the enchantment project that we
talked about last year. Besides, Harry mentioned that it’s a bit lonely here with everyone gone. I
figured we could keep each other company.”

McGonagall looked back and forth between the two teenagers.

“I trust nothing untoward would be taking place in Gryffindor Tower during your stay?”

Harry was a bit confused by that statement, but Hermione seemed to recognize what the professor
meant as she turned a bright shade of red.

“I… of course not!” replied Hermione, “I mean, we’re not…” Hermione gestured back and forth
between herself and Harry while trying to find the right words. “We’re just friends.”

*Oh!* thought Harry as he finally cottoned on to what McGonagall was referring to. Now it
was his turn to do his tomato impersonation.

“Very well. You’ll need permission from your parents of course. And I’ll have to speak with the
Headmaster before making a final decision. But I have no reason to believe that he would object.
Students have stayed over the summer before in order to work on special assignments. You’ll also
have to abide by all the normal rules, including curfew, and will require permission as well as an
escort should you wish to leave the grounds.

“And just so we’re clear, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, if I detect anything going on that I
would deem to be improper, you can kiss your chances of being Head Girl or Quidditch Captain
goodbye. Am I understood?”

“Yes, professor,” the two embarrassed teens responded in unison.

*Great*, thought Harry, *I hadn’t even thought of Hermione that way before. Good luck
getting that out of your head now. And we’ll be staying in the tower by ourselves too. Bloody
hell!*

Dinner went on in silence for a while. The two students were too embarrassed to really say much,
while Hagrid and Sir Firecam seemed highly amused by the situation and were content to watch the
teenagers squirm in their seats. Eventually, Hermione had had enough and decided to move the
conversation onward.

“Sir Firecam,” she addressed the old man, “when you introduced yourself to me, you mentioned
that you were a paladin and a knight. What exactly did you meant by that?”

The question caught Harry’s attention and he looked up and over to the old man. Harry hadn’t
really given Sir Firecam’s status much thought. To Harry, being a knight either meant you were a
Muggle who had been honored by the Queen for some kind of achievement, or you were a soldier that
wore armor and carried a sword. It probably had something to do with horses as well, but it didn’t
seem all that important. Harry had no clue what a paladin was.

“Well, Miss Hermione, a paladin is a warrior who has been consecrated in the Light.”

“What do you mean by ‘consecrated’?” the young witch asked.

“Someone who is consecrated is set apart; they are entrusted with special blessings and graces
by the Light. The actual consecration of a paladin takes place during a ritual wherein the Light is
invoked and called down upon the candidate, filling him or her, and transforming him into an
instrument and servant of the Light.”

“‘Transforming?’ Is there an actual change that takes place?” Hermione continued her
interrogation.

“Yes,” replied the knight. “The Light grants its paladins special blessings, abilities and
benefits unknown to others. There are of course duties and requirements that go along with
consecration as well.”

Hermione looked ready to ask another question but Harry beat her to it.

“What is the ‘light’ that you keep talking about? I’ve heard you mentioned it before, several
times, in fact,” he asked.

“The Light is the source of all life, of all creation, of everything that is good. But it is
more than just a source; it is *alive*, it is truth and mercy and faithfulness and above all,
it is charity and love.”

“So it’s some sort of divinity then?” questioned Hermione.

“Well, I don’t know if I would use that word. Where I come from, the false gods, demons who are
really slaves of the Darkness, are sometimes referred to as the ‘divine ones’ by their subjects. We
tend to avoid that word due to its associations.”

“And what is the Darkness, then?” McGonagall interjected into the conversation. “Is it the
opposite of the Light? Two forces holding each other in balance?”

“No,” Sir Firecam answered definitively. “The Darkness is not equal to the Light. It is not a
balance. The Light is the creator; the Darkness is a part of creation that has become warped,
twisted and perverted into evil. You see, the Light created a whole hierarchy of beings, we men and
women fall somewhere in the middle of that order. Above us are the luminous guardians of the
heavens, beings of radiant power who live closest to the Light. Long ago, the highest, the greatest
of these rebelled against the Light. He was not content to serve his brethren as the Light
intended, and so he and those he had seduced were cast out of the Light to forever after dwell in
Darkness. The demons now live only to destroy, to sow hatred, lies and evil. They cannot harm the
Light itself, so instead they try to corrupt or destroy those who are of the Light.”

“So, yeh’re some sorta holy warrior, fightin’ this Darkness, then?” asked Hagrid.

“I believe that sums it up nicely, Hagrid.”

“That sounds a lot like some of the religious creation myths that exist here in this world,”
Hermione observed. “How do you know that the Light really exists? And if it does, do you think it
exists in this world too?” It seemed to Harry that Hermione’s inherent curiosity had found a new
specimen to examine during her stay at the castle for the summer.

“Well,” replied the knight with a smile, “I should think it obvious; after all, I was able to
heal your injuries through the grace of the Light.”

“Right, but perhaps what you would call ‘the Light’ in your world is just what we would call
‘magic’ here,” Hermione argued.

“That could very well be the case, Miss Granger,” said Albus Dumbledore. Everyone was startled
by the voice of the newcomer and turned to see him standing a few feet away from the table.

“Please forgive my eavesdropping, but this is a fascinating topic, and I did not wish to disturb
the conversation. I would like to note, however, that in our own investigations of the multiverse,
it seems that what *we* might call magic is treated and can even work differently in other
universes. I think it likely that our magic is related to Sir Firecam’s Light.”

“But magic isn’t alive,” countered Harry.

“Isn’t it?” responded Dumbledore as he took his seat at the table. “In truth, what is more
magical than life itself?”

“Indeed,” continued Keldorn, “Further evidence would be that I have felt the presence of the
Darkness here as well. Your so-called Dark Lord reeked of it during our brief battle. Some of the
spells that he cast were like dark holes opening into the void.”

“We do speak of the difference between everyday magic and the dark arts for a reason after all,”
Dumbledore said. “It is not just the intent of the spell that matters, as some would have you
believe; some magics are dark in themselves. Using them twists your soul, deforming you and binding
you to evil.”

“In any event,” said Keldorn, “we paladins vow to defend the good people of the world from the
encroachment of the Darkness and its slaves who, because of their hatred, constantly try to tear
down whatever is good. Most paladins operate on their own. Those who recognize that they are called
to serve seek out a master who forms them and when and if he deems them ready, consecrates them.
However, in my homeland, there is a special order of paladins: the Most Noble Order of the Radiant
Heart. Over three thousand years ago, the founders of our Order, seven paladins who were so
immersed in the Light that their hearts were said to shine from within their bodies, banded
together to fight the Darkness as one. Those of us who are found worthy to be admitted to this
Order are known as the Knights of the Radiant Heart.”

“Fascinating,” commented Hermione with a gleam in her eyes. “Imagine, three thousand years of
history…”

“Ha!” laughed Harry. “Sorry everyone, but Hermione was eyeing Sir Firecam like she would a first
edition of *Hogwarts: A History*.”

“I was not!” protested the witch while she took on a shade of red.

“Don’t worry, my girl,” said the knight, “I’ll look through my things later on. Perhaps I can
find something interesting for you to read.”

“Now you’ve done it,” laughed Harry as Hermione turned back to the knight, her brief indignation
forgotten, “Hermione and a book that no one in the world has ever read before. Well, it was nice
knowing you for a little while, Hermione!”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Hermione stayed the night in Gryffindor Tower and left the following morning. She promised Harry
that she would return soon, probably the day after next with permission from her parents to remain
at the castle for the summer.

Harry spent the morning doing sword work with Sir Firecam. He refused to call it ‘sword
fighting’ as there wasn’t any actually *fighting*. The old knight seemed content to have Harry
practice his footwork for what must have been at least an hour before moving on to poking the dummy
with his wooden sword. Actually learning how to use a sword seemed to have little to do with the
swashbuckling seen in the movies.

That evening he wrote letters to Ron, Neville, Luna and Ginny, apologizing for avoiding them
during the last week of school and letting them know that he was staying at Hogwarts for the
summer. He kept the letters short, merely wishing them a pleasant summer holiday, and sent Hedwig
off to make a round of deliveries.

Hermione returned to the castle as she promised with her school trunk in tow. Harry went down to
meet her at the gates so that he could help her carry the trunk up the pathway to the castle.
Hermione smirked when he moved to pick up the heavy container and pulled out her wand.

“We’re at Hogwarts, Harry,” she said as she levitated her trunk. “We can do magic here,
remember? Although the thought was very sweet of you.”

They quickly fell into a routine over the next few days and weeks. Harry would spend the
mornings with Keldorn doing sword work. Harry was surprised and amazed when his teacher changed
things up a bit a few days in and had him begin to whack the dummy with the edge of the wooden
sword instead of merely stabbing it all the time. Harry thought he was doing rather well, but the
old knight was always able to find something wrong with his technique.

After a while, Harry’s thighs stopped burning from constantly being in his on-guard stance, and
his arms got used to bearing the weight of the sword and shield. He figured that he was probably in
better shape than he’d ever been before, not that that was really saying much. Hogwarts did provide
a first-class magical education, but it left a lot to be desired on the physical side of things.
Casting spells could be physically demanding as it took up a lot of energy, but it didn’t exactly
help build muscle tone or endurance. And riding a magical broom for Quidditch didn’t exactly
require physical fitness either.

Hermione spent her mornings reading either in the library, or if she felt like it, out on the
grounds while Harry practiced what she teasingly referred to as “poking the wooden dummy with his
overgrown stick.” Harry had tried to get her to join him in the sword lessons, but she had
categorically refused, citing her need to prepare for N.E.W.T.s or the reading that had to be
done.

“Harry, if you want to spend your time learning to sword fight, that’s fine, just leave me out
of it. I’d rather read a good book during my time off. After all, Harry, I’m a lover, not a
fighter.”

Harry wasn’t really sure what to make of that statement.

Hermione did tell him that she found the book that Keldorn had loaned her to be absolutely
fascinating. The *Codex Luminis*, as it was called, was part history, part moral code of
conduct, and part theological treatise. Hermione was enthralled by the strange and foreign culture
that she found within its pages, and often had to be cajoled by Harry into taking a break for
lunch.

The two friends spent their afternoons out on the grounds, either visiting with Hagrid or
wandering about. After everything that had happened at the end of the previous school year,
including their frenzied revision for O.W.L.s, even Hermione was happy to have a bit of time to
relax.

OoOoO

OoOoO

About half-way through July, Harry approached the Headmaster after dinner one night with his
desire to hold a memorial service for Sirius. Dumbledore agreed and so late one night down by the
lake, Harry gathered along with Hermione, Dumbledore, Hagrid, McGonagall and Keldorn to remember
his godfather. Hagrid had built a sizable bonfire that burned brightly and reflected off the glassy
surface of the water.

They decided not to invite anyone else in order to keep word of the gathering from getting out.
Sirius’ status as a wanted criminal was never overturned and they didn’t want anyone to start
asking any unwanted legal questions.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid all took a moment to say a few things in memory of Sirius.
McGonagall surprised Harry with the fondness with which she spoke of one of the Marauders’ infamous
pranks.

“I never told him, but I thought that it was simply marvelous when Sirius and his friends
charmed all of the suits of armor in the castle into Gryffindor red and gold after we won the
Quidditch Cup during his sixth year,” the normally stern Deputy Headmistress said wistfully. “And
for the week that followed, whenever someone tried to return one of them to normal, all of them
would merely start to sing the Gryffindor fight song.”

After they had all finished speaking, Harry cleared his voice.

“Sirius was my godfather, and even though I barely got to know him and hardly spent any time
with him, he was the closest thing to a real family that I’ve ever had. Sirius, I hope you’re in a
better place now. I’m going to miss you. And I’m sorry.”

With those simple words, Harry waved his wand and a small envelop address to Sirius Black
floated over to the bonfire and was consumed by the flames.

“Eternal rest, grant unto him, we pray,” began Sir Firecam, “and let perpetual Light shine upon
him. May his soul rest in peace. Amen.”

Hermione simply held Harry’s hand through it all.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry awoke bright and early on the morning of July thirty-first. He was excited for the day,
not only because it was his sixteenth birthday, but also because a few of his friends were coming
to Hogwarts to celebrate with him. They would be arriving for lunch and then staying for a few
hours in the afternoon.

Harry rose from bed and quickly went through his morning routine. Bounding down the stairs, he
was met by an excited Hermione Granger.

“Happy birthday, Harry!” she exclaimed as she practically jumped onto him to give him a hug.
“How does it feel to be sixteen?”

Harry laughed. “You should know, you’ve been sixteen for almost a year now.”

“Yes, well… are you excited to see everyone?”

It seemed to Harry that Hermione was more excited for his birthday than he was.

“Sure, it should be fun.”

The two Gryffindors went down to breakfast and then made their way outside for Harry’s daily
appointment with Sir Firecam. All the while, Hermione kept up her happier than usual demeanor.

“What’s got you so cheerful today?” Harry asked as he set up the wooden dummy for his training
session.

“Can’t a girl just be happy that it’s her best friend’s birthday?” Hermione responded with a
smile.

“I suppose.”

“Besides, I guess I’m just looking forward to seeing everyone. Not to say that I haven’t enjoyed
the last few weeks just you and me, because I have, but I think it will be nice to catch up with
the others. You may or may not know this, but I *am* a girl, and you, Mr. Potter, are sorely
lacking when it comes to girl-talk.”

“I’m well aware that you’re a girl, Hermione. And besides, isn’t it a good thing that I can’t do
girl-talk?”

“Maybe.”

Hermione seemed to drop the conversation, so Harry let it slide. Keldorn showed up a few moments
later, but instead of his normal clothing and scattered pieces or armor, he was wearing what looked
like a thick, quilted jacket as well as a padded glove on his right hand.

“Good morning, Harry, Miss Hermione, I trust you are well rested?” said the old knight in
greeting.

“Good morning, sir,” responded Harry while Hermione simply waved.

“I thought we might progress a bit further today, if you can manage not to trip over your own
two feet too much during the footwork, that is.”

“Sounds good to me,” responded Harry.

Hermione conjured herself a simple, wooden stool as Harry picked up his sword and shield and
took his guard position. He noticed, however, that the witch hadn’t yet produced a book to
read.

“Erm… aren’t you going to read or something?” Harry questioned her.

“Oh, I thought I would just watch this morning. See if there’s anything worth-while to observe,”
replied Hermione.

“Alright then.”

Harry managed to make it through the round of footwork drills with minimal correction needed.
Keldorn eventually halted the exercise and instructed Harry to put down his weapons. Harry did so
carefully, having learned his lesson about not taking proper care of his equipment.

The old man then reached into a small pouch on his belt and pulled out another thick, quilted
jacket like the one he was wearing.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Hermione, “do you have an Undetectable Extension Charm on that pouch?” she
asked in a moment of unrestrained academic curiosity.

“Well, I’m not sure what you would call it here,” responded the knight, “but where I am from, we
simply call this a ‘Belt of Many Things.’ Its pouches are enchanted to have many times more the
carrying capacity of normal belt pouches. Most paladins use them due to our itinerant nature. If
you are simple enough in your lifestyle, you can carry everything you own on your very person this
way.”

“That’s amazing!” the young witch replied, “would you mind if I took a look at it while the two
of you are practicing?”

In response, the knight simply detached one of his other pouches and tossed it to Hermione.

He then handed the jacket to Harry and instructed him to put it on. It was a bit of a struggle
for Harry as the jacket was fastened by a series of straps that went up the center of his back. In
the end he had to divert Hermione’s attention from the magical pouch for a moment and get her
assistance. Meanwhile, Keldorn retrieved two padded, wicker helmets from his belt along with
another padded glove.

“Be sure to thank Professor McGonagall the next time you see her for making this equipment for
us. She is quite good at transforming one thing into another.”

He then put on one of the helmets and instructed Harry to do likewise, also handing Harry the
protective glove.

“Right,” began the knight. “I think you’ve spent enough time working on your fine control of the
blade to move on. Today you will start learning to parry your opponent’s attacks. Obviously, using
your shield is the best option, but it is necessary to use the sword for defense as well. There are
several different parries that you must learn, just as you’ve learned several different ways to
strike your opponent.

“Which parry you use is dependant on where and how your opponent attacks. If he attacks in-line,
you need only deflect his blade enough so that the point will miss. Wildly swinging your sword or
shield to batter his out of the way merely wastes your energy and leaves you open to attack…”

Keldorn spent the next twenty minutes or so explaining and then demonstrating different ways to
move and position the shield and then the sword in order to parry an opponent’s attacks. The
parries each had a particular, odd name like ‘Sixte,’ ‘Quarte,’ and ‘Tierce.’ Keldorn would attack
Harry and then call out the proper parry for Harry to use in response. They started off rather
slowly, but after about half an hour, they gradually began moving faster.

Harry was often too slow with his parries, which he learned meant that the knight would follow
through with his attack and hit him. He was grateful for the protective clothing and for the fact
that the knight was clearly holding himself back, but the hits still stung a bit. As always,
Keldorn demanded that Harry’s form and technique were perfect and gave a constant stream of
corrections. Harry also found that he needed to remember to keep his feet in position and not give
in to the temptation of letting his legs straighten.

Hermione split her attention between watching Harry and examining the knight’s magically
extended pouch.

“Right, that’s enough for today,” said the knight as the sun moved toward midday. “Take the
sword and shield with you and practice your footwork, blade control and parries as often as you
can. The only way to learn is through repetition. Now go clean yourself up and get ready for your
party.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

A short while later, Hermione and a freshly showered Harry made their way down to Hagrid’s hut
since the Gamekeeper had graciously offered to host the small birthday party. The kind half-giant
had two long picnic tables set up outside, one for the guests to sit and eat at, with the other
serving as a buffet and was covered with a wide selection of different foods. There was fried
chicken, hamburgers, sausages, potato salad, pasta, several bowls of different types of crisps and
baked beans, to name a few of the dishes available as well as several different types of beverages.
Harry guessed that Hagrid had once again talked the House Elves into cooking for the gathering.

They arrived just in time to see several heads of red hair come around from the other side of
the hut.

“Harry!” exclaimed Ginny, who then ran over to give him a quick hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Alright, Gin, let the man breathe,” said Ron as he approached. Once Ginny had relinquished her
hold, the youngest male Weasley slapped Harry on the back and said, “Happy birthday, Mate!”

Harry was also treated to a suffocating hug from Mrs. Weasley as well as a handshake from the
Weasley patriarch before he was ambushed by the twins.

“Harry!”

“The little brother we never had,” began the twins, taking turns speaking,

“Sixteen years old,”

“My, my, time goes by so fast, can you believe it Fred?”

“Wait a minute, I thought I was Fred.”

“No you’re George, I’m Fred.”

“No, I was George yesterday, that means today I get to be Fred.”

“But I want to be Fred; everyone knows he’s the handsome one.”

“Boys, behave,” interrupted Molly Weasley, “don’t make me regret bringing you two along.”

“So how’s the summer going at Hogwarts, Harry? Hermione keeping you locked in the library all
day?” Ron asked with a smile. That question earned him a glare from Hermione and a smack to the
back of the head from Ginny.

“Don’t mind him,” said Ginny, “he’s been even more of an idiot since he decided ‘*Accio
brain!*’ was a stellar decision.”

“Oh har har, Gin-Gin.”

Neither of the youngest Weasleys noticed the sober expression that Harry took on at the mention
of the Battle. Hermione, however, reclaimed his attention from his memories by grabbing his arm and
pointing to the pathway.

“Harry, look!” exclaimed the brunette, “Neville and Luna are here.”

The two newcomers walked up to the party together. Neville shook Harry’s hand while Luna merely
stopped in front of him and stared at him with her large, silvery, grey eyes.

“Hello Harry Potter,” she said in her usual melodious tone, “Happy Birthday. I’ve never been to
a birthday party at Hogwarts before. Do you think we’ll play any party games? I hope so. I’ve been
practicing my caber tossing just incase. I hope there’s pudding too.”

Dumbledore and Sir Firecam also arrived and eventually everyone sat down to eat. Lunch finished
with Hagrid producing a large cake topped by sixteen candles.

“Made it meself,” he told Harry with pride, “happy birthday!”

Everyone ate dessert while Harry opened a few gifts, mostly sweets from his friends and a few
pranks from the twins.

“You need to stop by the new shop in Diagon Ally,” said Fred.

“You’ll have a blast,” added George.

Hermione surprised him with a book on fencing.

“I thought it was appropriate, what with your new hobby.”

“Wha obby id at?” Ron asked around a mouthful of cake. Hermione rolled her eyes, but it was
ultimately Keldorn who answered.

“I’ve been teaching young Harry here a bit of swordsmanship this summer.”

Neville seemed to perk up with interest at that, but Ron commented before anyone else could get
a word in.

“Blimey!” he said after he’d swallowed his cake. “What d’ya need to know how to sword fight
for?”

“Well, there hasn’t really been all that much *fighting* involved,” Harry answered with a
smile and a glance at Sir Firecam, “more like learning how to move my feet and poking at a dummy
with a wooden sword. It’s not quite as glamorous as you would imagine.”

“I think it sounds interesting,” said Neville.

“Me too,” said Ginny.

“It really is quite fascinating,” interjected Hermione. “Not that I’ve participated myself, but
I have watched a bit. It seems to have a lot of history attached to it and it takes a lot of
concentration and precision. Harry’s been quite disciplined in his efforts, I would say.”

After dessert was finished, Dumbledore bid everyone farewell and departed to take care of some
business. The boys were discussing the possibility of putting together a quick pick-up Quidditch
match and the girls were beginning to talk amongst themselves when Hagrid interrupted by clearing
his throat.

“Err, pardon me, everyone, but there’s summat I’d like to show Harry here. You lot can come to
if you’d like.”

The Gamekeeper led the group a little ways away to the series of barns and outbuildings that
were usually used to house different magical creatures at Hogwarts. There, in one of the fenced in
pens was a familiar grey hippogriff.

“Ooo, he’s very pretty,” said Luna.

“Buckbeak!” exclaimed Harry as he quickened his stride and entered the enclosed space. He bowed
to the large creature, which bowed back in return. Harry then walked up to the hippogriff and began
to pat it on the neck.

“How’d you get here?” Harry asked the creature who seemed to be rather enjoying Harry’s
attention.

It was Hagrid that answered, “Well we couldn’ jus’ let him stay at headquarters all alone
anymore, an’ Dumbledore thought no one would really recognized him anymore ‘round here. So, here he
is, our Beaky’s back ter stay!”

“A magnificent animal,” said Keldorn as he ran his hand over the hippogriff’s flank. Harry was a
bit surprised that the knight was able to approach the creature without going through the bowing
ritual first, but he supposed that Keldorn knew what he was doing.

“I’ve known knights that have rode hippogriffs like this one into battle. A fearsome sight they
were too, swooping down out of the sun to terrorize the enemy. Very noble and intelligent
creatures, hippogriffs.”

Buckbeak seemed to stand up a bit straighter at the knight’s words. It almost looked like he was
trying to present himself as the noble warrior that Keldorn described other hippogriffs to be.

Unlike Keldorn, Hermione was careful to bow to the hippogriff before approaching. Once she was
acknowledged, she came forward to stand next to Harry and hesitantly placed a hand on the
creature.

“It’s been a while, Buckbeak,” she said, “no offense, but I hope you don’t have any flights in
store for me any time soon.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Sometime later, after they had all caught up with Buckbeak, the teenagers left Hagrid and
Keldorn with the animal and headed as a group toward the Quidditch pitch, while Molly and Arthur
went for a walk around the lake. The girls sat in the stands and talked while the boys started a
half pitch Quidditch match. Ron played keeper while Harry teemed up with Fred to take on Neville
and George. They tried to get the girls to play as well, citing the need for more players for a
better game, but the ladies were having none of it.

“Hermione has been cooped up here with no female companionship for quite some time. We have some
important things to discuss,” Ginny authoritatively stated. “Now go away before I start to get
annoyed.”

As the sun lowered toward the horizon, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley reappeared and summoned everyone to
them. It was getting late and it was time to return home. So with a few hugs and final ‘happy
birthdays,’ the visitors departed and Harry and Hermione made their way to dinner.

Later that night in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry sat down next to Hermione on the couch in
front of the fire.

“Thanks again for the fencing book, Hermione. The first chapter’s pretty interesting. Fencing is
pretty different from what I’m learning, but there’s some similarities too.”

“You’re welcome, Harry,” the young witch said in reply. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

They chatted for a few minutes before Harry stood up from the couch.

“Well,” he announced, “I’m off to bed. Thanks again for the book.”

Hermione stood as well.

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

Then she did something she had never done before, she walked up to him and kissed him on the
cheek.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

And before the stunned wizard could form a reply, Hermione escaped up the stairs to the girls’
dormitory.

OoOoO

**AN: Well, this chapter simply took *forever* to write. My muse just wasn’t working. I
think I need to get some action going once again. What do you think? I know that the chapter isn’t
very exciting, but I needed to set up a few things for later. It’s also quite a bit longer than
normal, over shooting the mark by almost 2,000 words. But there just isn’t anywhere to naturally
break it up.**

**Oh well.**

**Thanks to everyone who’s left a comment so far; I always love hearing from you.**

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think.**

**Thanks for reading!**



8. VIII
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

VIII

The first two weeks of August continued in much the same vein as July. Harry spent his mornings
with Keldorn working on his sword and shield skills. After about eight weeks of work on his
technique, Harry was finally allowed the chance to test himself against the knight himself in a few
bouts, but that was only if Harry was able to satisfy his teacher during the initial rounds of
footwork, baldework and parries that occupied at least the first hour of practice each morning.
Keldorn was obviously going easy on Harry, but even with that advantage, Harry found it downright
impossible to land a touch on his opponent.

“Do not fret, young Harry,” the old knight would say, “I have been a swordsman for decades and
you are just beginning. If you were able to challenge me it would not speak so much of your skill
but my incompetence. You are doing well.”

Still, it would have been nice to be able to spar with someone that was closer to his own skill
level. Hermione was adamantly against joining the sword training, although she did often come to
watch. She would faithfully cheer for Harry, but often broke into laughter when he was disarmed or
thoroughly trounced. Truth be told, Harry was glad that Hermione refused to take part in the sword
training; he didn’t want to spar with her. Something about the thought of squaring off against
Hermione with a weapon in his hand made Harry very uncomfortable, almost ill.

After spending so much time on martial arts training, Harry did notice a decline in his anger.
While he had greatly improved after Hermione’s first appearance of the summer and their subsequent
discussion, Harry still found himself getting angry at times. But the constant exertion as well as
the mental and physical discipline required in learning to handle a sword seemed to be keeping
Harry’s anger in check.

Hermione spent most of her mornings reading outside where she could keep an eye on Harry and
Keldorn. Harry wasn’t sure why she preferred to be outside with him instead of in her usual domain
of the library, but a part of him knew it had something to do with the way he had avoided her at
the end of the previous school year. Hermione wasn’t going to let him out of her sight much more
than she absolutely had to.

Hermione finished the *Codex Luminis* after a little more than a week of reading and had
moved on to other topics. She was currently doing reading for a combined transfiguration and
enchantment project that Hermione had discussed with Professor McGonagall and was well over Harry’s
head. Harry had borrowed the *Codex* out of curiosity after Hermione finished with it, but he
had yet to make it past the first chapter.

The two Gryffindors spent most of their afternoons together, occupied in some leisurely activity
or another. Harry was secretly impressed with Hermione’s willingness to put her books down and
simply spend time with him.

One such afternoon found them down by the lake lying on the soft, green grass near the water.
Harry had a small pile of pebbles next to him and he would occasionally pick one up and toss it
into the lake, creating a soft *plop* that broke the silence.

“I wonder if Ron is going to get together with Lavender this year.” Hermione suddenly said out
of nowhere.

“Where did that come from?” Harry asked in response. It wasn’t like Hermione to begin
conversations about the teenage romances that pervaded Hogwarts other than to complain about having
to break up randy couples during her prefect rounds.

“Oh, Lavender and Parvati were talking about him a lot toward the end of the year. You can’t be
roommates with those two without overhearing their conversations about boys more often than you’d
like. Apparently Lavender is quite interested in our red-haired friend.”

“Oh.”

“They were always trying to devise strategies for getting Ron to notice her and ask her
out.”

“Like what?” asked Harry.

“Oh just simple things really; spend more time around him, show an interest in the things he’s
interested in, and be supportive of him. You know, subtlety let him know that she’s interested in
him in that way.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Why do you say that? You don’t think Ron would like her?” responded Hermione.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then why don’t you think it would work?”

“Well, Ron’s not really all that observant, is he? I don’t think he would notice the subtle
approach. Most blokes probably wouldn’t for that matter.”

Hermione looked away from Harry at that point and grumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?” asked Harry.

“Nothing.”

“Well anyways, I think that if Lavender really wants to get Ron’s attention, she should just ask
him out. Or maybe snog him in the middle of the common room.”

“Harry!”

“What? It’s true! No bloke in his right mind would turn down a nice snog.”

“No *girl* in her right mind would want to do something like that. It would make her look
desperate. Girls want the guy to make the first move.”

“Well that’s hardly fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Harry, but that’s the way it is. If a guy fancies a girl, he’s supposed to
make the first move and ask her out on a date.”

“What’s got you so interested in Ron’s love life all of a sudden anyways? Do you fancy him?”

“No way! Could you even remotely see that working out? Ron’s a good friend, but I wouldn’t want
to spend every other minute arguing with my boyfriend.”

“Well, why’re you so worried about it then?”

Hermione let out a long sigh.

“Never mind,” she said, letting the topic drop. The two lapsed into silence once again.

Some time later, Hermione suddenly sat up, pointed to the sky and exclaimed, “Harry, look!
There’s two owls heading our way.”

“So?” questioned the young wizard.

“*So*, it could be our O.W.L. results! They’re supposed to be coming in sometime soon! What
if it’s them?” Hermione asked, working herself into a near panic.

“Well, I suppose we’ll take a look at them then,” responded Harry.

The owls were indeed heading for Harry and Hermione and as they landed they extended an
official-looking envelope to each of the teenagers.

Harry quickly untied his envelope from the bird’s foot while Hermione approached hers with
something bordering on reverence. Harry was about to rip his open to see his scores when he noticed
that Hermione was simply staring down at her envelope with her hands slightly shaking.

“Hermione?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Oh, Harry! What if I’ve failed them all?!”

“Umm, I really doubt that *you* failed all your O.W.L.s, Hermione.”

“I just can’t look,” said the witch as she thrust her results into Harry’s chest. “You open it
for me and tell me if I failed everything.”

With a roll of his eyes, Harry put his own results aside and tore open Hermione’s. Harry’s eyes
widened as he looked over her results.

“That’s not good…” Harry said quietly.

“*What?!* *What’s not good?!*” Hermione shrieked, now in a full-blown panic as she
ripped her results out of Harry’s hand so that she could see them for herself.

“Oh you only got ten O.W.L.s,” Harry said laughing, “nine O’s and one E. The look on your
face…”

“Harry Potter! You are a huge prat!” said Hermione before punching him in the shoulder. When
this failed to make the wizard stop laughing, she hit him three times more.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

“You better be… making me think I failed out of school. You shouldn’t tease me like that. Well,
go on then, open yours up, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Harry ripped open his envelope and pulled out the results.

Astronomy: A

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: P

Herbology: E

History of Magic: D

Potions: E

Transfiguration: E

Harry then handed his scores over the his best friend as he knew that she would be almost as
curious about his scores as she was about her own.

“Oh, well done Harry!” Hermione said as she leaned over to give him a hug. “Seven O.W.L.s is a
really good showing.

“Not as good as ten,” Harry shot back, making the young witch blush.

Hermione then leapt to her feet and started pulling Harry up by his left arm.

“Come on, Harry! Let’s go read up on the N.E.W.T. courses that we’ll be able to take,” she said
as she dragged him toward the castle. “The library has lots of information that will help us get a
head start!”

Harry didn’t argue, but simply smiled as he allowed himself to be dragged off to the
library.

OoOoO

OoOoO

A few days later, Professor McGonagall handed an envelope to each of her two resident
Gryffindors during lunch. It was only the three of them at the meal that day, as Keldorn had said
he had things to attend to that afternoon. Dumbledore and Hagrid were also missing.

“Here you are, Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, your Hogwarts letters and booklists for the next
term. And Mr. Potter, I would like to be the first to offer my congratulations.”

Harry was a bit puzzled by his Head of House’s statement as she added no further clarification,
so he opened up his letter to see what she was talking about.

“I’ve been named Gryffindor Quidditch Captain,” Harry stated in disbelief to the table at large
as he gazed at the silver badge that fell out of his envelope.

“Oh well done, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed as she leaned over to give him a hug. “I knew you’d
get it. And you’ll be able to use the prefect’s bathroom now too!”

“Just remember, you two,” said McGonagall from across the table, “I don’t want to see any
inappropriate behavior while you’re staying alone in Gryffindor Tower. If I do, I can easily find
another Quidditch Captain.”

The two teenagers quickly separated and both turned red. Though Hermione couldn’t help but send
a few glances in Harry’s direction in spite of once again being embarrassed by the Deputy
Headmistress.

Harry cleared his throat and looked over his booklist.

“Well, at least I won’t need to buy *Advanced Potion-Making* by Libatius Borage,” said
Harry in an attempt to move the conversation on to a different topic.

“Why ever not, Mr. Potter? You can’t be thinking of dropping Potions if you still want to become
an Auror,” said McGonagall.

“Well, I thought you needed an O in your Potions O.W.L. to get into Snape’s N.E.W.T. class,”
replied Harry.

“True,” responded the Deputy Headmistress, “but *Professor* Snape will not be teaching
Potions this year.” This pronouncement caught both Harry and Hermione by surprise. “The Headmaster
has granted him his wish to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your Exceeds Expectations will
therefore be sufficient for you to continue your potions classes.”

“You’ve *got* to be kidding me!” groaned Harry. “Please tell me you’re taking the mickey,
Professor.”

“I’m afraid not; Professor Snape will be teaching DADA while Horace Slughorn will be returning
to the staff to teach Potions once again.”

“Great, just great,” muttered Harry.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” said Hermione as she gave Harry a comforting pat on the shoulder, “I’m
sure it will be fine.”

“In any event,” McGonagall carried on, “you two need to give some thought to which N.E.W.T.
courses you would like to take this year. We can get your courses scheduled now instead of on the
first day of term if you’d like since you’re already here. I suppose we’ll also have to arrange for
you to visit to Diagon Ally.”

After a few moments of silence, Hermione suddenly grabbed Harry’s arm as her eyes sparkled with
excitement.

“Harry, look!” said exclaimed while waving her letter about, “the school is offering an optional
riding elective this year.” She then turned her attention to the Deputy Headmistress, “Please tell
me it’s a horse riding course.”

“Among other things, but yes horse riding will be included,” responded McGonagall.

“Why is Hogwarts offering a horse riding course all of a sudden?” Harry questioned.

“The Headmaster decided to add the elective in order to offer Sir Firecam a place on the
faculty. He is supposed to be a very proficient rider, among his many other talents, or so I am
told.”

Harry might have been seeing things, but he was certain that he caught the hint of a smile form
on McGonagall’s lips as she spoke of the old knight.

“Oh Harry, please say you’ll take riding with me!” Hermione pleaded as she once again latched
onto Harry’s arm.

Harry looked at his best friend in surprise.

“I didn’t know you liked horseback riding so much.”

“Well, I don’t really know if do, like it that is. But I always wanted to learn how to ride as a
little girl, but my parents never let me. Please say you’ll take it with me.”

Harry found his current situation to be a bit odd. Hermione had never pleaded with him to take a
course with her before. But here she was, looking at him with puppy dog eyes and pouting lips.

*I wonder why she didn’t do this back in third year to try and get me to take a real elective
Like Ancient Runes instead of Divination,* Harry thought to himself. *She does look kind of
cute like that…*

Harry then remembered the fun he had riding Buckbeak and the thestrals, which, along with the
look Hermione was giving him, made his decision easy.

“Alright, I’ll take riding with you.”

This statement earned him another hug.

The rest of the meal was spent deciding what other courses the two students would take.
McGonagall said she would duly record their selections for them and that they would be excused from
the course selection meetings on the first day of term.

OoOoO

OoOoO

A few days later found Harry and Hermione in Diagon Alley. They were being escorted by Tonks,
Hagrid and, to Harry’s surprise, Keldorn. They traveled by floo from the Headmaster’s office to the
Leaky Cauldron. Harry was a bit dismayed to see how empty the tavern was and once outside, how
deserted Diagon Ally itself seemed. It appeared that the Ministry’s public acknowledgement of the
return of Voldemort had a lot of people too scared to go out in public.

Several of the shops were closed and boarded up, including Fortescue’s Ice-cream Parlor and
Ollivander’s wand shop. Harry questioned Tonks about the closed stores.

“Why are so many places boarded up?”

“People are scared, Harry. After Fortescue and old Ollivander went missing, a lot of the shop
owners decided staying open wasn’t worth the risk with the Death Eaters around and all. But don’t
worry, there’s still plenty to do here in old Diagon Alley.”

Tonks’ bright and cheerful words were somewhat belied by the way she kept herself on constant
alert, always glancing about for any sort of trouble. Keldorn also seemed to be on constant
lookout, although his demeanor was much subtler than the young Auror’s.

The small group managed to get to Gringotts and then make most of their purchases without any
incidents. The heavy sense of disquiet that pervaded the ally made none of them wish to remain any
longer than necessary. Hermione was even convinced to leave Flourish & Blotts after only
moderate prodding. Everyone was agreed, however, that they needed to pay a visit to the newly
opened Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

“Harry!” shouted Fred as they entered the bright and colorful store. “Georgie look! The great
Harry Potter has deemed to visit our humble store!”

George made his way through the crowded store to greet the newcomers.

“Well now, Fred, if it isn’t our favorite investor.”

“Not to mention our only investor.”

“Be that as it may, he’s still our favorite.”

“Right as rain that is.”

“We’ll have to set him and his lovely lady up with some samples then, won’t we?”

Hermione colored a bit while Harry interrupted the twins before they could really get going.

“This place is great. And there’s so many people here; the rest of the ally is basically
deserted,” he said.

“Well, people need a good laugh when things are getting tough, as my mum always said,” answered
George.

“Mum never said that,” replied his twin.

“Never you mind what she didn’t say, just focus on what she *might* have said.”

“She might have said a lot of things, especially that time she caught you and Angelina in dad’s
shed.”

“Oi! You keep quiet about that! You’ll be giving poor, innocent Hermione and Harry-kins ideas
you will.”

“I’m sure they’ve had ‘*ideas*’ aplenty already, what with them being all alone together in
Gryffindor Tower this summer.”

“*Well*,” interrupted Hermione with a rather loud voice, her face bright red, “I think
we’ll just have a look around then. It’s good to see you, Fred, George.” With that, the embarrassed
witch scampered off to look through the store.

“Bit touchy, that one,” said Fred.

“Well anyways, have a look around, Harry,” said George. “Help yourself to whatever you please;
your money’s no good here. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in business.”

The group separated to peruse the store. Harry thought that the Decoy Detonators might come in
handy and was highly amused by the signs advertising “U-No-Poo.” He came across Tonks laughing
hysterically near the fake wands as someone vainly attempted to fight off one of the prank wands as
it tried to beat them about the head. He even noticed Keldorn laughing as he tried on one of the
Headless Hats and looked at himself in the mirror. Harry also spied Hermione chewing her lip as she
looked at a display of love potions before she shook her head, turned and walked away.

In the end, Harry tried to pay for a few Decoy Detonators, but true to their word, the twins
wouldn’t accept his money. Instead they loaded Harry and Hermione’s arms with an assortment of
different items and pushed them out the door before they could object.

“Goodbye you two,” said Fred.

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” added George.

“Which admittedly isn’t much.”

“Especially if Alicia Spinnet is making eyes at you.”

“Oi! Quiet you!”

Tonks helpfully shrunk down the assorted wheezes so that Harry and Hermione could add them to
their other purchases in their pockets. The group then began walking back toward the Leaky
Cauldron.

The ally was still quite deserted as they walked down the cobblestone street. Keldorn was eyeing
a group of rough looking wizards when he suddenly drew his sword. Harry looked to see that the five
black-robed wizards reacted by drawing their wands and pointing them at him and his friends.

“*To arms!*” Keldorn shouted as their attackers began to send bright bursts of spellfire
their way. Harry watched as shining plate armor somehow unfolded from within the few pieces that
the old knight always wore around his collar and shoulders, and within a moment covered the knight
in gleaming metal plates. His mirrored shield appeared on his left arm as he ran toward their
attackers.

“You two!” Tonks yelled as she drew her wand and set up a shield, “get over by that building and
get down! Find some cover if you can!”

Harry and Hermione drew their wands and moved to do as the Auror ordered them. Hagrid meanwhile
was swinging his fists at one of the dark wizards as various spells bounced off of his thick,
half-giant skin.

Suddenly the ground burst with a deafening blast as a deadly green curse impacted in front of
Harry and Hermione, showering them with shattered bits of rock and tossing them backwards.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted frantically as he looked over to her. His attention was diverted,
however, when he noticed the two wizards that had likely cast the spell were headed his way. Anger
began to course through him as he pointed his wand at the one on the left.

“*Stupefy!*” he shouted, sending a red bolt of magic at his attackers.

The wizard in question dodged out of the way and returned fire.

Harry cast a hurried Shield Charm and looked back to Hermione. Thankfully she was moving and
soon crouched next to Harry.

“Keep your shield up, Harry, I’ll throw some hexes and then we’ll make a break for the
building.”

Harry simply nodded.

“*Stupefy! Confringo!* *Tarantallegra!*” Hermione cried as she rose to her feet. The
two wizards were able to dodge her first two spells, but one of them was caught by the third and
began dancing uncontrollably. Harry and Hermione used the opportunity to sprint to the side of one
of the buildings and duck around the corner for cover.

Once there, they looked back to the ally and prepared to cast again. However, their two
assailants had apparently thought better of pursuing the teenagers and had instead turned their
attention to the other members of the group.

Harry saw that Tonks was frantically trying to duel three wizards at once while Hagrid was lying
on the ground, bound from the knees to the waist in thick, heavy chains. One wizard cast a dark
purple spell at Keldorn who simply blocked it with his shield; the spell bounced off of the
mirrored surface and returned to strike the caster in the face, who then dropped his wand and went
down to the ground, howling and writhing in pain. Keldorn then gestured toward Hagrid with his
sword, and with a flash of white light, the chains binding the half giant shattered.

“I’m going to help Tonks, stay here,” Harry said before stepping out into the street. He was
quickly yanked back around the corner by Hermione.

“Tonks told us to stay here!” shouted the young witch.

“She needs help! I’m not going to hide while she’s fighting three of them by herself!”

“Then I’m coming too!”

“No!” vehemently screamed Harry, “it’s too dangerous!”

“I can take care of myself!” replied the now indignant witch.

“There’s no time for this!” cried Harry in anger and frustration. He quickly pointed his wand at
Hermione’s legs and shouted, “*Incarcerous!*” A thin rope wrapped around Hermione’s lower legs
from her ankles to her knees. The unexpected spell made her lose her balance and tumble to the
ground.

“*Harry!*” she screamed in anger, but the wizard made use of her incapacitation to leave
her behind and sprint out into the battle, shooting off spells as he ran.

One of the wizards that had been fighting Tonks was now lying motionlessly on the ground, but
Tonks was clutching a bloody right shoulder with her off hand and seemed to be faltering under the
assault of her two remaining opponents. Keldorn had managed to close the distance with the other
wizard that was still standing, and Harry saw the knight’s sword, now shining brilliantly with
golden light, slash through the man’s midsection before he dropped to the ground in a heap.

Harry stopped running and took more careful aim at one of the two wizards that were still
standing.

“*Stupefy!*” he shouted. His target was aware enough to erect a shield that blocked his
spell, but this pulled his attention away from Tonks. Hagrid and Keldorn began running toward the
two wizards that now suddenly found themselves outnumbered and on the defensive.

The attackers seemed to realize that they were going to lose, and with a quick nod to each
other, reached into their robes and then disappeared.

Tonks, her left hand still holding her bloody shoulder, quickly sent Stunners into each of the
three downed wizards before binding them with magical ropes.

All in all, the skirmish probably took less than two minutes.

Keldorn sheathed his sword and approached Tonks while Harry as well as Hagrid also made their
way over.

“Where is Hermione?” the knight in shining armor quickly asked.

“She’s fine. I left her behind that corner,” replied Harry as he gestured blindly behind
himself.

Keldorn looked at Tonks’ bleeding shoulder and then asked, “Is anyone else injured?”

“No,” Harry replied as Hagrid simply shook his head.

Nodding, the old knight then laid his hands on Tonks’ head and closed his eyes. After a moment
Tonks stiffened and gasped. Keldorn moved away, and Tonks inspected her shoulder to see that the
bleeding had stopped and the wound was closed, not even leaving a scar.

“How’d you do that?” asked the surprised Auror.

Harry, however, missed the reply because he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see who was
behind him only to be painfully punched in the face. Harry dropped, sprawled out on the ground,
clutching at his throbbing left eye. He looked up to see Hermione with fists clenched and angry
tears in her eyes. Her entire body was shaking with rage.

“*Harry Potter!*” she screamed down at him. “*You are an utter ass!*” She then turned
on her heel and stormed away.

Keldorn, Tonks and Hagrid stood there stunned, eyes moving between the wizard lying on the
ground with the clear beginnings of a swollen and bruised eye, and the retreating back of the irate
witch that put him there.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” exclaimed Tonks, “What’d you do to Hermione?”

Harry didn’t reply. Instead, he simply sat on the ground and watched Hermione stalk away from
him. As he began to hear the tell-tale popping sounds of Aurors apparating to the scene of the
disturbance, Harry found himself dreading his eventual return to Gryffindor Tower.

OoOoO

**AN: Hopefully that spices things up a bit.**

**What did you think of the battle? How about Harry’s actions? Does it seem like something he
would do?**

**Thanks to everyone who has commented so far, you’re all wonderful and beautiful
people.**

**Please take a moment to leave a review, I want to know what you have to say!**

**Thanks for reading!**



9. IX
-----

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

IX

The next few days weren’t all that great for Harry Potter.

After the Aurors took the three captured wizards into custody, Harry along with the other
members of his group had to go to the Ministry to make formal statements about the incident. They
were there for several hours and the fact that Harry’s eye was swollen and bruised didn’t help his
mood one bit. In his anger, Harry flat out refused medical treatment, a decision he would soon
regret as he later found out that Madam Pomfrey was on vacation and thus no medical attention was
available at Hogwarts. If Hermione’s red, swollen hand had bothered her, she made no mention of it.
She was, however, smart enough to accept a few healing spells for it.

The next morning’s *Daily Prophet* didn’t help to alleviate Harry’s anger one bit. Harry
saw a copy left on the table in the Great Hall and picked it up.

*DEATH EATERS ATTACK DIAGON ALLY!*

*CHOSEN ONE & KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR FIGHT THEM OFF!*

*By Rita Skeeter*

*Witnesses report that a battle took place in Diagon Ally yesterday. Sources say that Harry
Potter, known to most as the Boy Who Lived or more recently as the Chosen One, and a group of
companions were attacked by several Death Eaters while shopping in London’s landmark wizarding
district.*

*Rather than turning tail and running like a coward, as some might have tried to label him in
the past, Harry Potter was witnessed fighting back against the Death Eaters, just as he did in the
reported battle at the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries this past June. This time, however,
Potter did not fight alone. With him was an honest-to-Merlin knight in shining armor. That’s right
ladies, sources say that a tall, handsome man was witnessed on the scene wearing a set of medieval
armor and brandishing a sword and a shield. It is also claimed that this as of yet unidentified
knight took down two of the Death Eaters himself while our very own Harry Potter handled the
others.*

*When the Aurors finally arrived, three Death Eaters were on the ground and quickly taken into
custody, while two escaped despite the efforts of Potter and his armored companion.*

*Just who is this new anonymous hero? Where did he come from? Is he a new ally of the*
*Chosen* *One or just a passerby that was in the right place at the right time? And perhaps
the question most important to our readers’ hearts, is he already taken, or is he single and
available like his comrade in arms and the Daily Prophet’s Number One Heartthrob Harry Potter?
Readers want to know.*

*For more on the battle, see page 4.*

*For interviews with witnesses of the battle, see pages 5-6.*

*For a look back at June’s battle in the Department of Mysteries, see pages 9-11*

*For speculation on Harry Potter’s love life, see pages 15-21.*

Harry threw the paper down to the table in disgust. The article made him out to be some sort of
hero when he barely did a thing. He didn’t even land a single spell on any of the Death Eaters.
Tonks, who had taken on three of the Death Eaters by herself wasn’t even mentioned and neither were
Hagrid or Hermione. The paper only served to ignite Harry’s anger once again.

To make matters worse, ever since she had so eloquently called him an “utter ass” and punched
him in the face, Hermione Granger hadn’t said one word to Harry Potter. If he entered a room where
she was she would either ignore him or get up and leave. She also started going to meals early so
that she wouldn’t have to sit with him at the table.

Harry’s fallout with Hermione hurt much more than his black eye ever could. They had been
getting along so well that summer; Harry really thought that their friendship was better than it
ever had been before. He had felt extremely close to her, spending so much time together just being
with each other. And now she apparently wanted nothing to do with him. Harry had no idea what to
do. This was exactly the situation he was afraid of after the Department of Mysteries, but with her
unwillingness to even speak with him, there didn’t seem to be much he could do to fix it.

Harry still spent his mornings learning to sword fight with Keldorn, and he took to it
energetically. He had to channel all of his anger into something after all. But it was strange not
having Hermione’s silent support there with him. The old knight seemed aware of the strained
relationship between the two teenagers, as did the other summer residents of the castle, but they
all declined to comment upon it. Harry wasn’t sure if that was good or bad; he was glad he didn’t
have to talk about it, but he was also sure that he could use some advice. Unfortunately, all of
Harry’s father figures were either dead and gone like Sirius, or too busy taking care of other
things to worry about two squabbling teenagers like Dumbledore.

All in all, Harry was miserable.

OoOoO

OoOoO

“Quinte!” barked the old knight.

Harry, however, moved his blade into the wrong position.

“I said ‘Quinte,’ boy, not ‘Quarte!’” Keldorn shouted as he sharply rapped Harry on the side of
the head with his wooden sword. Thankfully, Harry was wearing his protective wicker helmet.

It was five days after the skirmish in Diagon Ally and Sir Firecam thought it would be a good
idea to try working on fighting without a shield. Harry was therefore learning a new set of parries
to use when he was wielding his sword two-handed. It didn’t help that these new parries had the
same names as the others he had already learned, but were in slightly different positions. So far
it wasn’t going very well.

“Stop!” cried Keldorn before removing his helmet. “I do not enjoy wasting my time. Where is your
head today?”

Harry removed his own helmet before thinking of a reply.

“I don’t know. I just can’t concentrate.”

“Let your concentration slip like that with slaves of the Darkness around and you might not walk
away.”

That comment only served to make Harry angry.

“I’m well aware of what makes someone unable to *walk away* from Death Eaters!”

Keldorn simply stared at Harry for a moment before walking over to the bench and sitting
down.

“Sit down, boy,” said the knight, “you’ve been angry since we came back from the ally and the
exercise isn’t helping it. So tell me what’s bothering you and get it off your chest.”

“What do you care?” Harry replied in the way that only surly teenagers could manage.

“Are you angry because you’ve turned into a petulant child? Because that is certainly bothering
me.”

Harry sighed. He considered making another snarky comment, but then thought better of it. He had
wished for a father figure to talk to, after all.

“It’s Hermione. She won’t speak to me. Won’t even look at me.”

“What exactly did you do in the ally to make her angry enough to hit you like that? You never
told us and your eye is still black and blue.”

“Tonks told us to take cover,” Harry began telling the story, “and we did. But once we got
around the corner I saw that while you were fighting two of them, Tonks was taking on three by
herself. I knew she couldn’t last long doing that, so I decided to go back out and fight. Hermione
wanted to come with me and I told her no, but she wouldn’t listen. So I, well…”

“Yes?”

“So I cast a binding spell on her legs so she couldn’t follow me,” Harry said with his head
bowed.

“Well that was a damn fool thing to do, boy.”

“Obviously,” Harry said pointing to his eye.

“No, you fool; you could have gotten her killed!”

That made Harry take pause.

“You mean to tell me, that in the middle of a pitched battle, you cast a restraining spell on
not only your ally but your *friend* while deadly magic was being thrown about? Are you a
complete fool?”

Harry swallowed; he’d never seen the old knight get this angry before.

“You took away her mobility in the middle of a life-or-death fight! If you had done that to me,
you would not have gotten off with only a black eye and the silent treatment!”

“But she was going to…”

“I don’t care what she was going to do! You do not behave with such stupidity in the midst of
combat!”

Keldorn stopped, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. When he reopened them he seemed to be
calmer, but it was obvious that there was still some anger in him.

“I do not teach fools to wield dangerous weapons. If this is how you act in battle, you cannot
be trusted to hold a sword. Our lessons are suspended until Miss Granger tells me that you’ve
apologized and learned your lesson.”

With that, he stood up, gathered the wooden swords, and left Harry to ponder his actions.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next morning Harry woke up extra early and staked out a seat in the Gryffindor common room
near the portrait hole. He decided to wait for Hermione and was determined to make her hear him
out, even if he ended up with another black eye in the process.

At few minutes past seven, Harry heard footsteps coming down the girl’s staircase, so he stood
up and took his position in front of the exit. Hermione would be forced to deal with him in one way
or another. When she emerged into the room, she took two steps forward until she noticed that the
exit was barred. She stopped, glared at Harry, and took a deep breath.

“Move,” she commanded.

“We need to talk first,” replied Harry.

“I don’t want to talk to you. Now move.”

With that, Hermione started marching toward him. Harry put his hands up in defense.

“Hermione, wait, I’m sorry.”

The witch halted her forward motion once again. She didn’t say anything but appeared to be
listening. So Harry continued.

“You’re right to be angry with me and I’m sorry.”

“*Why* are you sorry?” questioned the angry witch.

“Err… for casting that *Incarcerous* on you.” Once again Hermione remained silent, so Harry
went on, “I shouldn’t have done that. It was really dangerous to bind you like that in the middle
of a fight. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. So I’m sorry.”

Hermione huffed.

“That’s why you’re sorry?” she asked.

“Umm… yeah.”

Once again, Hermione resumed her march toward the exit.

“Get out of my way, Harry.”

“What? Wait, Hermione! I said I’m sorry; what else do you want me to do?”

“I’m not angry at you for putting me in danger, you big git!” Hermione yelled at him. “So your
apology isn’t worth anything. I’m still angry with you and I will be until you apologize for what
you did to me!”

Now Harry was confused.

“Err… well… if it’s not that, then, well… why are you angry with me?”

“I’m not just going to tell you!”

“Why not? Come on, Hermione, just tell me what I did wrong. I’m really sorry. Just tell me what
to do to make this better.”

“No.”

With that Hermione stepped forward and pushed Harry to the side so that she could duck through
the portrait hole.

Harry despondently watched her leave.

*At least I got her to speak with me*, thought Harry. *And she didn’t curse me or try to
throw a punch. That’s got to count for something.*

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later that night, Harry was sitting in the common room staring into the fire. He spent the day
trying to figure out why Hermione was really angry with him, but he just came up with nothing.
Suddenly Hermione’s voice broke the silence.

“Was it a lie?”

Harry turned to see her standing at the other end of the room, staring at him.

“Was what a lie?” Harry responded, standing up.

“When I first came here, earlier this summer, I told you I thought you were angry with me for
failing you at the Department of Mysteries. I thought you were angry because you didn’t trust me to
be there when you needed me, couldn’t rely on me to help you fight. You said that I was wrong. That
I didn’t fail you; that you still trusted me.

“Was it a lie?”

Her tone was deadly serious.

“Of course I didn’t lie to you.”

“*Then why wouldn’t you let me fight beside you?!*” Hermione screamed across the room. “Why
didn’t you trust me to help you?!”

“It wasn’t about that,” started Harry only to be interrupted by Hermione.

“Yes it is! It’s absolutely about that! You didn’t trust me to help you fight the Death Eaters!
What am I? Some airhead who doesn’t know one end of her wand from the other?”

“*I didn’t want you to get hurt again!*” Harry shouted back at her. “You almost died at the
Department of Ministries, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again!”

“I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“I know you can, but that’s not the point! I just couldn’t let you rush out there into the
fighting. I just couldn’t let you get hurt again.”

“I’m not some sort of damsel in distress that needs you to protect me all the time, you know.
I’m a perfectly capable witch.”

“I know you are, and I never meant to say that you weren’t.”

“I could have helped you. We could have fought them together. We could have watched out for each
other.”

“Yeah, but it all turned out alright.”

“It doesn’t matter if it turned out alright!” yelled Hermione, her anger working itself up into
a blaze again. “What about next time? The Death Eaters aren’t just going to stop. Are you just
going to stun me again and shove me off into some corner like a piece of furniture?”

“That’s not what I did!” responded Harry.

“Like bloody hell it isn’t! How am I supposed to help you fight Voldemort if you won’t let
me?!”

“Well how am I supposed to keep you from getting *killed* if *you* won’t let
*me?*”

“It’s not your job to protect me!”

“Yes it is! It was my fault that you almost got killed, so it’s my job to make sure it doesn’t
happen again!”

“*Arrgh! Y*ou are *impossible!*” Hermione yelled before turning and stomping up the
stairs.

“Yeah, well, so are you!” replied Harry.

Hermione’s only response was the loud slamming of her door.

OoOoO

OoOoO

It wasn’t until two days later that Harry decided to try and talk to Hermione again. The two
days that had passed weren’t like those previous to their shouting match; this time Harry borrowed
Hermione’s approach and pointedly ignored her too. He was so angry with her for not even trying to
understand his point of view. But after the first day, he calmed down enough to want to try and
patch things together again. The summer was quickly coming to a close, September the First was only
three days away, and Harry didn’t want the term to start with the way things were. They had spent
such a great time together at the castle that summer; he didn’t want the memory of that time to be
ruined by a fight at the end.

So, Harry was in the common room late at night, watching Hermione on the Marauder’s Map. She had
spent most of her time in the library since the skirmish in the ally, and Harry was now waiting for
her to call it quits and come back to Gryffindor Tower.

Finally her little dot began moving, and when she was got close to the portrait hole, Harry
closed up the map and waited. A tired looking Hermione entered the room a few moments later.

“Hermione,” he said to grab her attention as she came out of the portrait hole, “hang on a
second.”

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione asked with a sigh. “I don’t really feel like having another row
right now.”

“Neither do I, so can we try just talking? How about we promise not to yell at each other?”

“Fine,” she replied as she made her way over to one of the armchairs near the fire. Harry took a
seat across from her on the couch.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry began after a moment, “we’ve had a really great summer, don’t you
think? I’d thought we were better friends than ever. We can’t let the summer end like this. I don’t
want to let the best summer of my *entire life* end like this.”

Hermione looked down at her shoes but didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry, Hermione. But try to see things my way for a bit. You told me before that I have a
bit of a saving people thing, right? Well you were right, I do.”

That brought Hermione’s attention back up to Harry’s face, but she let him continue.

“And, well, I guess you’re just kinda high on the people Harry Potter needs to save list.”

“Harry, I don’t want to be on the people you need to save list. I’m not a princess locked in
some tower. I want to help you; I want to be your friend, not your liability.”

“I know, and I’ll try to be better. But it’s not going to be easy, Hermione. I can’t just stand
there and let you get hurt again.”

“I’m not asking you to. But I won’t be tied up and left at home while you go off to fight. I’ve
got as much at stake in this as you do after all.”

Harry momentarily thought about the prophecy, but then thought better of mentioning it to
Hermione at that moment. He might have some prophecy hanging over his head saying that only he
could defeat Voldemort, but Hermione was right, she was a Muggleborn and had everything to lose if
the Death Eaters got their way.

“Okay,” said Harry, “I’ll try. It won’t be easy, but I’ll try to stop *protecting* you so
much. And I promise not to cast an *Incarcerous* on you again before running off to
fight.”

“And I promise not to just throw myself into harm’s way without a care. But really, Harry, why
would I do that? I’m the smart one, remember?”

That brought a smile to Harry’s lips.

“Friends?” he asked.

“*Of course* we’re friends, you goof!” Hermione responded, standing up and motioning for
him to do the same. As soon as he was on his feet, Hermione wrapped him up in a crushing hug.

“We’ll always be friends, Harry. Just because we had a little fight, or even a big fight,
doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“That’s good to know,” replied Harry as he reveled in the hug. Making up with Hermione made him
feel like a great weight was lifted off of his shoulders. Once they separated, Harry sank back down
on the couch and Hermione sat down next to him.

“Do you think you could do me a favor?” Harry asked after a moment.

“What’s that?”

“Could you tell Sir Firecam that I apologized and that I have your permission to start sword
training with him again?”

“Why on earth would I need to do that?”

“Well… when he found out what I did to you during the battle, he got royally pissed at me and
told me off. Said I couldn’t train anymore until you told him it was okay.”

“So that’s why you apologized, huh?”

“Yep,” Harry said with a smile. “It had nothing to do with being miserable from missing my best
friend. I just wanted to be able to spend time with that cranky old man again.”

“You really are a git, you know that?” Hermione said as she shoved his shoulder.

“Kidding! Just kidding! No need to get physical! I don’t want another black eye.”

Hermione blushed at that.

“Sorry about that, I shouldn’t have hit you like that.”

“Don’t worry, I deserved it.”

“Yes you did.”

“Oi! You said you were sorry!”

“I’m sorry because punching your hard head really hurt my hand!”

“Oi!”

“And just think, you got beat up by a girl *again!* That’s twice I’ve knocked you on your
bum, Potter.”

“Yeah, well, that makes it twice that I’ve heard you swear like a sailor.”

The two broke into laughter for a little while before Hermione scooted over close to Harry and
laid her head on his shoulder.

“Seriously, Harry, I’m sorry too. I don’t like fighting with you. I’ve been miserable all
week.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

“And don’t worry, I’ll tell Sir Firecam that you’re in the clear tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

A little while later the two teenagers decided it was time to be off to bed. Hermione reached
out for one more hug as they parted to go up their separate stairways.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she whispered, leaving a small peck on his cheek.

Harry watched her ascend the stairs with a grin on his face.

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

OoOoO

**AN: Well, there it is. I hope that didn’t seem too rushed. What do you think? Let me
know!**

**If you’re concerned about the changes that I’ve made to Keldorn’s character from his
canonical origins, keep reading. If not, you can skip the rest of this paragraph. So, to clear up a
point about Keldorn Firecam that was brought up by a reviewer: I am well aware that Keldorn is a
paladin of Torm in Baldur's Gate II. I'm very familiar with both the BG series of games as
well as Forgotten Realms. I have, however, decided to change that aspect of Keldorn's canon
history in order to make him a work better in this story. After all, would a paladin's special
abilities even function in a world where his deity had absolutely no presence? Would Harry Potter
be interested in associating with or following someone who was devoted to a polytheistic god from a
world that he will never see? So, in order to cut down on worrying about questions like this that
really have no impact on the story whatsoever and would only serve to make it more convoluted, and
to also make the story flow better, I changed Keldorn's devotion to the more monotheistic
'Light' that could be interpreted to exist across the different universes. Thus, I note in
my disclaimers that I've taken some liberties with his character and I decided not to label
this as a crossover. So, for the purposes of this story, just pretend that Torm, Bane, Tyr, Cyric,
Mystra and all the rest never really existed or that they are demons passing themselves off as
gods. All the clerics in Toril either worship the Light or the demons.**

**To all of you who either put this on alert or added it as a favorite, thanks! It’s nice to
know that you’re enjoying my woeful attempts at writing.**

**Extra special thanks to everyone who left a review. Ya’ll are wonderful.**

**Please leave a review on your way out. I really want to know what you think. If you do, I’ll
bake you a cookie!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**



10. X
-----

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

X

September the First dawned bright and early at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In an
astounding feat of logic that probably only made sense to the staunchest traditionalists in the
wizarding world, it was determined that Hermione and Harry would need to travel to King’s Cross and
then take the Hogwarts Express back to the castle along with the other students. Harry saw how that
might make sense for Hermione, since she was a prefect and was supposed to patrol the train, but
Harry had no such duties and was at a loss when it came to understanding why he had to spend his
entire day traveling to a destination that he had already reached. But apparently tradition was
tradition. At least Harry was able to convince McGonagall that they didn’t need to take all of
their belongings with them and could instead leave their trunks in their dormitories.

But before taking the Portkey that would drop them on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, the two
students found themselves eating a late, final summer breakfast at the staff table in the Great
Hall along with Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid and Keldorn. Harry was a mix of emotions; he was
excited to see his friends once again, but he was also a little sad that the best summer of his
life was coming to an end. Hermione, on the other hand, was positively brimming with excitement for
the start of another academic year.

“Oh, I just can’t wait to start out N.E.W.T. classes,” she told the table at large, “just think
of all the new topics to delve into and explore…”

“Only you, Hermione,” Harry said with a smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry as if he was the silly one.

“And I can’t wait to really get started on my special project,” the young witch continued.
“Speaking of which, Sir Firecam, I was wondering if it would be possible for me to take a closer
look at your armor sometime.”

“And just why would you need to do that, my dear?”

“Well, even among all the excitement in Diagon Ally, I noticed how your armor simply appeared
when you needed it. It almost looked like it *grew* out to cover you. I was thinking of trying
to recreate something similar for my N.E.W.T. project.”

“Yeah,” interjected Harry turning to address the knight, “I noticed that too. How’s that
work?”

“Ah, well, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt,” answered the knight. “The most important part of my
armor is actually rather ancient, and once belonged to Saint Jorg the Dragon Slayer.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“And who was he?” she inquired.

“Saint Jorg was a soldier in an ancient, heathen army long ago. He saw the Light and converted
his life and eventually became a great paladin. It is said that he slew a great black dragon
single-handedly. His life was so fraught with constant danger that whenever he tried to remove his
armor in order to rest, he would be attacked by an enemy who saw his lack of armor as their needed
opening and advantage. So, the Light blessed St. Jorg and bestowed on him the gorget that still
bears his name,” Keldorn said as he tapped the wide metal collar that he always wore around his
neck. “When the Gorget of St. Jorg is worn with any suit of armor and the command words are spoken,
as much or as little of the armor desired by the one wearing it will retract into the gorget.
Likewise, when a different command is uttered, some or all of the armor will unfold, ready for
battle. That way he would never be caught at disadvantage again.”

“That’s amazing!” exclaimed Hermione. “If it’s that easy, would you mind demonstrating it for
me? Please?”

“I’d just do it if I were you, sir,” Harry said to the knight, “I’ve learned that in situations
like these, it’s best not to stand between Hermione and the knowledge she’s after.”

Hermione glared at Harry and gave him a shove to the shoulder. However, once she had silenced
her best friend, she turned her expectant look back upon Sir Firecam.

“Well, I don’t see what it could hurt,” said the knight. He then turned to the Headmaster, “With
your permission.”

“Like our dear Miss Granger, I find myself quite intrigued,” replied Dumbledore, “please go
right ahead.”

Keldorn stood from his seat and moved away from the table.

“*To arms!*” he shouted and immediately his bright, shining armor expanded out from within
his gorget to cover him head to toe. Even his mirrored shield appeared on his left arm. Harry
noticed that while the armor covered the knight’s clothing, it somehow managed to make its way
underneath his belt so that it and the sword hanging from it would still be accessible. Harry also
saw that Sir Firecam was now wearing a metal helmet, something that he had not seen before.

“Why weren’t you wearing that helmet in the ally?” Harry asked.

The old knight his lifted the visor that covered his face before answering.

“I find the helm to be too restrictive. One can barely see or hear a thing with it on. I find
that being able to see my enemies is more important than the protection that the helm might
provide, so I normally forgo wearing it.”

He then slowly turned in a circle so that everyone could see the entire suit of armor before
barking another command.

“*Return to the Gorget!*” he said, which made the armor fold up and disappear into the
metal collar. Once again, the knight appeared in his simple blue clothing with the gorget around
his neck, a few left-over pieces of armor on his shoulders and his sword strapped around his
waist.

“So what are those,” Harry asked, pointing to the pieces of metal that remained on the knight’s
shoulders.

It was Hermione who answered.

“Those are spaulders, which is simply the name of the piece of armor that covers the shoulder.
My guess from what he’s told us would be that Sir Firecam merely likes to keep those out when he
recalls the rest of the armor.”

“Right you are, Miss Hermione,” said the knight.

The young witch turned to see Harry staring at her incredulously.

“What?”

“How did you know that?” asked the surprised wizard.

“I do read you know,” responded Hermione. “I figured that with a living, breathing knight
walking around in our midst, I should at least know a little bit about medieval arms and
armor.”

“A little bit?” asked Harry somewhat skeptically, “like what?”

“Well, the styling of the armor was a bit foreign to traditional European armors, and thus would
be hard to date. But Sir Firecam was clearly wearing a gorget, curiass, plackart, faulds, the
aforementioned spaulders, rerebraces, cowters, vambraces, gauntlets…”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Harry interrupted her before she went through and named every piece of
armor.

“Well you asked.”

“Seems a bit bulky ter me,” said Hagrid. “Doesn’ all that get in yer way when yeh’re
fightin’?”

“You might think so,” answered Keldorn, “but plate mail armor is not as restrictive as it
appears. And this suit in particular is special. While the rest does not compare with the Gorget of
St. Jorg, my armor is blessed and enchanted so that my movements never become restricted or
otherwise burdened, either by the armor it self or by anything else for that matter.”

“Blimey.”

“So, you mean to say that you simply cannot be tied up while wearing your armor?” asked
Dumbledore.

“Yes, the blessings upon my armor would not allow it,” answered Keldorn.

“Would you be willing to demonstrate that as well?” Dumbledore asked as a follow up
question.

“I don’t see why not. *To arms!*” he said and once again Keldorn was covered in his
armor.

Dumbledore rose from the table and pointed his wand at the knight.

“*Incarcerous!*” exclaimed the old wizard. Thick ropes shot out of the Headmaster’s wand
and quickly wrapped themselves around the knight. However, just as quickly, the ropes seemed to
lose their hold and slid down his body to pool at his feet.

“Remarkable,” said Dumbledore.

“Please, Sir Firecam,” pleaded Hermione, “you have to let me inspect it at some point. Just
think, if I could replicate the enchantment on your gorget alone!”

“You’re in for it now,” commented Harry.

“I’m sure we’ll find time for that at some point, my dear,” replied the knight.

“But not today,” interrupted McGonagall. “You three must be leaving for King’s Cross soon or
you’ll miss your Portkey.”

“Sir Firecam’s coming too?” asked Harry.

“Of course,” answered the Deputy Headmistress, “it’s tradition for new faculty to ride the train
with the students.”

“Right you are, Madam,” Keldorn said before he once again dismissed his armor. “Come, Mr.
Potter, Miss Granger, we don’t want to be late.”

And with that they left the Great Hall to find their Portkey.

OoOoO

OoOoO

They arrived at the platform rather early. Harry and Hermione left Keldorn and went to find a
compartment near the rear of the train. They were soon joined by Neville Longbottom who quietly
greeted them and took a seat across from where Harry and Hermione were sitting side by side. They
were interrupted a few minutes later by a light tap on their door. Harry stood up and opened the
door to find Luna standing there wearing a strange pair of eyeglasses that had wide, colorful
frames.

“Hello Harry Potter,” greeted the odd girl.

“Err… Hi Luna,” Harry managed to say despite being a bit taken aback by the witch’s choice in
eyewear.

“Would it be alright if I joined you for the ride? All of the other compartments are full of
Nargles. And while I normally don’t mind riding with the Nargles, I’d rather ride with you. I would
imagine that you, Hermione and Neville will probably make for better conversation. Although the
debate I had with the Nargles on the train ride at the end of last term about Japanese whaling
boats was quite fascinating. Did you know that the Nargles have been in a blood feud with the
whales for the past three hundred years?”

“No,” replied Harry, somewhat befuddled.

“Oh, well, that’s alright. I suppose I can sit somewhere else.”

“What? Err… wait!” Harry said as Luna made to turn and leave. “I meant that I didn’t know that
about the Nargles. Of course you can sit with us, Luna.” Harry waved his arm toward the seats for
emphasis.

“Oh. Thank you, Harry,” Luna said as she entered the compartment and sat next to Neville. “Hello
Neville, hello Hermione.”

“Hi Luna,” Hermione responded while Neville simply waved in greeting.

“How is your ‘*project*’ going, Hermione?”

Harry found that question to be odd in the way that Luna gave the word ‘project’ special
emphasis and even used her fingers to make quotation marks in the air.

“It’s *fine*, Luna.” Hermione said through clenched teeth while glaring at the other girl.
Something was definitely up with those two.

“Oh goody,” replied the blonde, “I was worried about having to avoid lots of sexual tension.
That always gives me a runny nose.”

“*Luna!*” exclaimed Hermione while giving the younger girl a pointed look.

“What? It really does do awful things to my sinuses.”

“Excuse us,” said Hermione as she jumped to her feet and then dragged Luna out of the
compartment with her.

“What was that about?” asked Harry.

“No idea,” responded Neville with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Girls.”

The two witches returned a few minutes later along with Ron and Ginny in tow.

“Wow,” said Harry, “The Weasleys made it here with time to spare? It’s only quarter to
eleven!”

“Har har, Mr. Chosen One,” responded Ron as he moved to sit on the other side of Hermione. Ginny
sat next to Luna and Neville. “I’ll have you know that without the twins messing things up, we
Weasleys can be quite well organized. If only Ginny would take less then an hour in the bathroom,
we could have been here ages ago.”

“Shut it, Ron,” replied his younger sister, “it’s not my fault that you don’t care what you look
like when you leave the house. Some of us don’t want to look like an utter slob all the time.”

“Oi! I don’t look like a slob. Do I, Hermione?”

Hermione seemed a bit surprised by the question.

“Well…” she began, “you could have put on a shirt that wasn’t so wrinkled… and you might have
shaved this morning… and you could have combed your hair…”

“Oi!” said Ron, getting defensive, “Harry’s always got messed up hair! Why don’t you pick on
him?”

“See, Ron? You’re a slob,” said Ginny.

“Yes, well, Harry’s hair is different,” replied Hermione.

“Hey, don’t bring me into this,” Harry tried to interject.

“How is his hair being messy any different from mine?” asked Ron somewhat indignantly.

“Harry’s messy hair is supposedly very cute,” answered Luna. “It apparently makes you want to
just run your fingers through it. Or so I’m told.”

“*Luna!*” shouted Hermione.

“Oh, right. Sorry,” replied the blonde sheepishly.

Ginny seemed to find Luna’s comment and Hermione’s reaction to be highly amusing as she was
grinning ear to ear. Neville, on the other hand, seemed to be at a complete loss as to what was
going on.

“Well fine then,” said Ron with an affronted air, “I’ll just have to find a girl who knows a
real, red-blooded man when she sees one.”

“Good luck with that. And let me know if you see any real, red-blooded men while you’re out
looking.” said Ginny.

Ron just glared at his sister before turning to Harry.

“Can you believe these birds? Us wizards gotta stick together! Right, Harry? Neville?”

“Like I said,” replied Harry, “don’t drag me into this mess.”

“Don’t look at me,” added Neville.

“Cowards, the lot of you,” grumbled Ron. That comment was enough to make the compartment erupt
into laughter.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The train arrived at Hogsmead Station without any incidents except for the argument that broke
out between the two Weasleys when Ginny announced that she was going to go look for Dean Thomas.
The argument was settled by Ginny threatening her brother with her wand and Ron surprisingly being
smart enough to back down. After she left though, Ron kept grumbling about having a “chat” with
“that git Thomas.”

Ginny had yet to return from finding Dean, so the four Gryffindors and their Ravenclaw add-on
took a carriage to the castle without her.

Hermione sat next to Harry at the Gryffindor table while Ron sat across from them. The tall,
lanky redhead was really starting to get worked up about his missing sister when Lavender Brown and
Parvati Patil pushed Neville out of the way and plopped down next to the youngest male Weasley.

“Hello, Ron, how was your summer?” began Lavender.

After shooting a questioning glance at Harry, Ron responded.

“Fine. How was yours, Lavender?”

“Oh, it was just wonderful!” replied the blonde witch. “My family and I went to the French
Riviera and I spent quite a bit of time working on my tan. How do you think I look?” Lavender
struck a bit of a pose for Ron.

“Err… you look fine, Lav,” replied Ron.

“Thanks, Ron!” Lavender beamed, “Maybe next time we can take you along with us, I could’ve used
your help to rub lotion on my back.”

Harry was distracted from the interaction across the table by Hermione’s elbow jabbing him in
the side. He glanced over to her to see Hermione giving him a significant look, almost as if to
say, *see, I told you so.*

Harry’s mind, however, soon found itself elsewhere. Thoughts of Lavender on the beach soon
changed into thoughts of *Hermione* on the beach, asking *him* to rub lotion on her
back.

*Whoa*, thought Harry, *where did that come from? Well, I know where that came from, but
really? Hermione?*

His thoughts were interrupted however by Professor McGonagall who brought out the Sorting Hat
and began to call the first years forward.

As the first years went to their new houses and everyone else applauded politely, Harry found
his thoughts back on his best friend. He was of course aware of the fact that his best friend was a
girl, but now he was looking at her in a new light. The little comments that McGonagall kept making
about inappropriate behavior during the summer now came back to him and made Harry take a moment to
consider his best friend.

*She’s not as pretty as Cho*, he thought, *but she’s not bad either. Besides, Cho was a
disaster, and I should probably try to avoid girls like her anyways.* *Hermione’s definitely
grown up a bit; no longer the skinny little first year that used to yell at us to stay out of
trouble. Her hair’s still crazy, but she wouldn’t really be the same without it, and she does have
some nice ‘assets.’* Harry surreptitiously glanced at Hermione’s backside. *Does this mean I
fancy Hermione?*

Harry’s thoughts about Hermione continued on and off throughout the feast and were only
interrupted once the food disappeared and the Headmaster stood to speak.

“Good evening one and all,” began Dumbledore, “and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before
we all go off to retire for the evening, I’d like to introduce some new faces to you. First is
Professor Horace Slughorn,” here the Headmaster gestured to a short, fat, bald man with a thick,
walrus-like mustache. “Professor Slughorn has agreed to return to us to take up teaching Potions
once again, as our dear Professor Snape will be your instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts
this year.” Snape’s name was met with several groans from the student body.

“And this is Sir Keldorn Firecam,” Dumbledore continued as he gestured to the old knight who
stood in acknowledgement. “Sir Firecam is here to offer a new elective course this year, Riding and
Magical Mounts. Please join me in welcoming our new instructors.”

Everyone applauded and then listened to the normal announcements about forbidden items and the
start of classes.

As the students began leaving, Harry was stopped by a tap on his shoulder. It was Keldorn.

“Mr. Potter,” began the knight, “who is that Slytherin boy with blond hair?”

Harry turned to where Keldorn was facing and saw Draco Malfoy.

“You mean Malfoy? The one with the pointed face and is constantly flanked by the two
gorillas?”

“Yes. I suppose that is him. Although I don’t think the juvenile insults to the boy’s companions
are necessary.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders at the knight’s admonishment.

“Well, anyways, that’s Draco Malfoy. Son of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy who, I am glad to hear, is
now rotting in Azkaban for his role in the Department of Mysteries.”

“The son of a Death Eater, you say?”

“Yep. Why all the questions about Malfoy?”

Keldorn looked intently at Harry for a moment before replying.

“There is a sense of malice about the boy. He has some intention in mind that is of the utmost
evil.”

Harry sobered immediately upon hearing that and looked back at Malfoy as he left the Great
Hall.

“How could you tell?” the young wizard asked.

“All paladins can sense the evil intentions in those around them. It is one of the blessings
bestowed upon us by the Light. The malice in Mr. Malfoy, while not the strongest I have felt by
far, is still very significant.”

“So what do we do?”

“You, my boy, need not do anything. I will handle this. I merely needed a name to match with the
face.”

Harry quickly stamped down on the surge of anger that tried to surface. After all, Keldorn was
supposedly a consecrated warrior of the Light, sworn to fight evil; if Harry could trust anyone to
take care of Malfoy it was him.

The two began walking toward the doors of the Great Hall when Keldorn brought up another
topic.

“Have you given any thought to continuing your lessons in swordsmanship during the school
year?”

Harry thought for a moment before responding.

“Well yes, I’d like to continue,” answered Harry, “but I obviously won’t have as much time for
it, what with classes and Quidditch and all.”

“Ah yes, Quidditch. I’m quite interested to finally see this game of yours that Minerva keeps
going on about. I take it you’re one of the players then?”

That got Harry thinking,

*Since when is Sir Firecam on a first name basis with the Deputy Headmistress?* But he
caught himself after a moment’s consideration. *Well, perhaps some thoughts are best left
unexplored*.

“Yeah, I’m actually the captain of the Gryffindor team this year. But back to the sword lessons,
I’ve also thought of asking one of my friends to join. I thought it would be nice to have someone
closer to my skill level to spar against.”

Keldorn nodded. “We’ll work something out for once or twice a week then. Let me know who you are
thinking of asking to join before approaching them with the idea. I will observe them and then give
you permission to approach them if I am satisfied. I do not teach just anyone how to handle a
deadly weapon.”

“This entire school is built around children learning to handle deadly weapons,” Harry countered
while holding up his wand as evidence.

“I suppose you are right in that.”

Harry and Keldorn separated in the Entrance Hall and bid each other goodnight. As he made his
way up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry’s mind was full of questions. Who should he look for to join his
sword lessons with Keldorn? What exactly was Malfoy up to this time? And perhaps most importantly
to the teenager, why exactly was he thinking about Hermione Granger in such a less than platonic
way?

OoOoO

**AN: Oh the joys of teenaged romance! I am ever so glad that I left that drama behind long
ago. It’s such a confusing maze to navigate, and poor Harry Potter and friends are stuck as eternal
teenagers in the realms of fanfiction, doomed to hormonal outbursts and misunderstandings for all
time.**

**My thanks to everyone who left a review.**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think on your way out, even if it’s just to
say that you’re enjoying the story or that you think it’s terrible.**

**And thanks for reading!**



11. XI
------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XI

The first day of classes was okay in Harry’s book. That morning’s Defense Against the Dark Arts
lesson left Harry highly disappointed however. What should have been his favorite class due to his
natural proclivity for the subject matter was once again spoiled by the professor. Snape simply
informed them that they would be studying silent casting and then had them immediately begin
attempting to cast various hexes and shields without uttering a sound. The greasy git didn’t bother
to give any direction or advice, and unsurprisingly, no one managed to successfully cast a silent
spell.

Potions that afternoon was another story. Professor Slughorn spent the first ten minutes fawning
over Harry, much to the latter’s discomfort, before moving on with the lesson. The professor had
the class brew a complicated potion with a vial of Felix Felicis set aside as a prize for the
student who produced the best potion. To no one’s real surprise, Hermione walked away with the tiny
bottle of liquid luck and a light skip in her step.

Tuesday afternoon saw Harry and Hermione waiting near the stables for their first Riding and
Magical Mounts class. As the students arrived in small groups, Harry noticed a slightly disturbing
trend: most, if not all of the students taking the new riding course were girls.

Of the sixth years present, Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati made for a unified front for
Gryffindor, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones represented Hufflepuff, Mandy Brucklehurst, Su Li and
Padma Patil were there from Ravenclaw, while Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne
Greengrass rounded out the Slytherins. There were no seventh years in the class since they had all
chosen their N.E.W.T. courses the year previously and didn’t have the opportunity to change, but to
Harry’s surprise, there were several fifth years present. Harry didn’t know most of them, but he
did recognize Ginny and Luna.

It appeared that the only wizards to sign up for the riding course were Harry, a very nervous
looking Neville Longbottom, and Wayne Hopkins, a Hufflepuff that Harry couldn’t recall ever
speaking to.

“Why are the so many witches here and almost no wizards?” Harry asked Hermione.

“Well,” replied the witch in question, “Today, it could be argued that horseback riding is a
predominantly female pastime.” Upon seeing Harry’s face quickly drain of color Hermione hurried to
continue, “But don’t worry, there are still plenty of men who ride of course. I mean, the class is
being taught by a man after all.”

“It doesn’t hurt that Professor Firecam is easy on the eyes too,” chimed in Parvati Patil, “even
with all those scars, he’s one fine wizard.”

“I think the scars make him even more attractive,” mentioned Susan Bones as she wandered over to
their group to join in the discussion about Hogwarts’ new heartthrob professor. “Those scars let
you know that he means business and that that sword of his isn’t just for show.”

“Maybe I can get my horse to take off at a run so he’ll have to come and save me,” offered Su
Li, “I can play the damsel in distress if need be,” she said with the back of her hand raised to
her forehead in a fake swoon.

“I do not think that will be necessary,” cut in the voice of the old knight. A few of the girls
almost jumped out of their skins in surprise while nearly all of them blushed crimson at being
overheard by the object of their conversation. Harry saw that even Hermione was blushing, but he
thought that it was more likely that she was embarrassed at the thought of being numbered among her
gossiping classmates than that she had a crush on the old knight. At least he hoped that was the
case.

“Right then,” began Keldorn, “by way of introduction, I am Sir Keldorn Firecam, paladin and
Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart. I am a paladin and a knight; I am not a
professor, so there is no need for you to refer to me as such. You may call me ‘Sir Firecam’ or
simply ‘sir’ if you wish.”

Harry noted that Keldorn had the rapt attention of all of the witches present.

“You may have noticed that this class is a mixture of both fifth and sixth years,” continued
Keldorn. “As this is the first year in many generations that riding of any sort is being taught
here at Hogwarts, I saw no point in offering different levels of instruction. You are all
beginners, thus there is only need to separate you into manageable numbers.”

So that explained the presence of the fifth years. It looked as if Riding and Magical Mounts
wasn’t really going to be a N.E.W.T. course, but more of a general elective.

Keldorn began pacing back and forth in front of the assembled students as he talked. The image
of the old knight addressing a group of soldiers in the same manner came to Harry’s mind and made
him grin. Hermione shot him a disapproving scowl for his lack of attention.

“There will be no foolishness in this course,” stated the knight with steel in his voice. “The
horses and other creatures that you will be riding, while tame, are still dangerous animals. If
spooked, they may very well injure you, perhaps quite severely. I have dealt with many dangerous
foes in my time, a petulant or unruly teenage witch or wizard does not frighten me in the
slightest. Do not test me here; you will regret it if you do.”

Harry noted to his own amusement that that statement had many of the previously dreamy-eyed
witches appearing much more serious. Harry himself was well aware of Keldorn’s no-nonsense approach
to teaching.

“Starting next class, you will leave your school robes behind in your dormitories. They are much
too bulky to wear while riding and would only serve to get in your way. You will come dressed in
the riding breeches and boots that were listed in your letters as necessary equipment for this
course.

“We will start off with horses, and progress to riding other creatures as time and your skill
levels permit. For now, I want all of you to pair up and we’ll get started.”

Harry thought of perhaps asking Neville to be his partner, as the boy looked absolutely
terrified of being by himself among so many witches, but before he could even move, Harry’s arm was
latched onto by Hermione. Clearly the witch expected him to be her partner. Neville surprisingly
ended up with Hannah Abbott while the Hufflepuff’s almost inseparable best friend went to work with
Wayne Hopkins.

They did not do any actual riding that day; instead, they spent their time learning a little bit
about horses in general and then familiarizing themselves with their future mounts. The students
entered the fenced off area behind the stables and went to the horses in pairs. They learned how to
approach the animals and interact with them as well as the basics of brushing and tending to
them.

Harry in particular learned that horses really did not smell very good at all.

Hermione looked like she was having the time of her life, or so it seemed to Harry. The young
witch really did seem to enjoy not only learning about the horses, but interacting with them as
well. She never got so excited about the creatures that they encountered in Hagrid’s classes, but
then again, it was difficult to enjoy spending time with monsters that were constantly trying to
kill you. Harry supposed that part of Hermione’s enthusiasm was that she was finally fulfilling her
childhood desire to learn horseback riding. In any event, Harry was pleased to see her so happy
outside of the library.

OoOoO

OoOoO

On Saturday evening Harry was summoned to the Headmaster’s office. He approached the gargoyle,
gave the password, and rode the stairs up to the cluttered room. Upon entering, Harry noticed that
the shattered pieces of the magical items he broke in his anger at the end of the last term still
remained in their place on a shelf in a side cabinet.

“Good evening, Harry,” began Dumbledore.

“Good evening, sir,” replied Harry.

“Harry, I’ve asked you here for a very simple, and yet a very serious reason,” Dumbledore said
getting right to business. “As you are now aware, because of the prophecy you are a very important
person in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I have asked you here tonight to give you
a chance to become more involved in this fight. The choice, however, is up to you.”

It didn’t take Harry long to respond. The way he saw it, there really wasn’t much of a
choice.

“I’ll fight,” Harry responded to the Dumbledore’s proposition.

The old wizard sighed and smiled sadly.

“I thought you would say that. I find it to be a shame, nonetheless, that one so young as you
has had this burden thrust upon him. I wish that you could occupy yourself with your studies and
perhaps with thoughts of some young lady or another. But alas, I guess it is not to be so.”

With a swish of the Headmaster’s wand, the Pensieve that Dumbledore kept in one of his cabinets
floated over to the desk and landed amidst the scurrying silver instruments.

“Knowledge is power, Harry. In order to fight a war, you must first know your enemy. So tonight,
I propose to start a series of lessons for you, just the two of us. We will not be discussing
charms or hexes, however. We will be learning about Voldemort. I propose to help you know your
enemy. What do you say to that?”

“I, err… I suppose that would be good,” replied the young man.

“Excellent,” said Dumbledore as he then reached into the locked cabinet behind his desk. He
removed a crystal vial containing a smoky, white liquid. Dumbledore poured the contents of the vial
into the Pensieve and then gestured for Harry to proceed into the memory.

That evening, Harry and Dumbledore watched the curious interactions of the Gaunt family, and
after emerging from the memory, the Headmaster explained the origins of Tom Marvolo Riddle as well
as the circumstances surrounding his birth. Harry thought all of this was interesting, but wasn’t
exactly sure how it would help him defeat a dark lord, and so he voiced his concern.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Harry said, “but how is learning about Voldemort’s family
going to help me fight him?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea, Harry,” replied the Headmaster. “But then again, I do not know
how you are to go about defeating Voldemort either. I have no hidden agenda in showing these things
to you. I am merely trying to help you understand your enemy, and perhaps come to a better
understanding of him myself. Exactly *how* this knowledge might be of use is beyond my
sight.”

“Oh,” Harry said somewhat dejectedly as the weight of reality sank upon his shoulders. He was
prophesized to either kill or be killed by one of the most powerful dark lords that had ever lived.
Voldemort was a wizard that had decades of skill and experience that Harry would never be able to
match.

“Sir,” Harry began, “do you think I can beat him?”

Dumbledore didn’t answer right away. He merely took a moment to study the young wizard seated
before him.

“I honestly don’t know, Harry. I cannot tell you what the future holds. I *can* promise you
that we will be working together on this. I’m afraid that even with all my learning and power, I
still don’t have all the answers. Life is not that simple. If it was, I would like to think that I
would have stopped Voldemort long ago. You might be the one prophesized to face the Dark Lord, but
that does not mean that you need to take every step along the way on your own. I will help you as I
can.”

“Okay,” replied the young wizard.

“And speaking of prophecies,” the Headmaster said, changing the topic, “I was wondering if you
might have told anyone about the prophecy that you are now aware of.”

“No,” answered Harry, “I didn’t think it was something to go telling others about.”

“That was a wise decision, Harry. Although I do not think absolute secrecy is necessary here.
After all, I can only imagine that carrying the weight of such a thing by yourself would be a heavy
burden. Might I suggest that you share the prophecy with those you can trust?”

Harry nodded once in response. He wasn’t sure if he would tell anyone or not, but he would at
least think about it.

“Also,” continued Dumbledore, “I think that you should spend some time pondering the prophecy
itself. Have you given any thought to what ‘the power he knows not’ might be?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, I’ve really no clue. What do you think it is?”

“I’m afraid, my boy, that I am in much the same boat as you are in that regard. If I knew or
even had a guess as to what this power might be, I would tell you. As it is, I do not. If you ever
come up with any ideas on the matter, I would be more than happy to discuss them with you.”

“Alright.”

“Well, Harry, it seems the hour has gone quite late. I will need some time to prepare our next
so-called ‘lesson,’ so I will summon you in a few days or weeks when it is ready.”

“What will it be about?” asked Harry.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied Dumbledore. “That’s the thing about this, Harry, I know
just as little as you do. It will take quite a bit of research on my part to piece together the
scant information that is available about Tom Riddle. I do have some memories available, but how to
best present them and understand them is another question.

“Now, unless there is something else, I think I shall bid you goodnight.”

Harry moved to leave at the Headmaster’s dismissal.

“Goodnight, sir,” the young man said as he left the office.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

“This class is brilliant!” Harry said to no one in particular as he bounced along in the
saddle.

It was a nice, clear, autumn day, and Harry found that he greatly enjoyed horseback riding. His
initial trepidation about being one of only three boys in a class full of girls was quickly dashed
on the second day when all of the students arrived in their riding gear. As a teenage male, Harry
was quite thankful to whomever it was that designed female riding breeches to be so tight and
form-fitting. The normal school robes left a lot to the imagination, but the breeches that the
girls were now wearing were quite an eye-opener for Harry. And if he happened to linger a step or
two behind Hermione on the walk to class, well, He didn’t think that anyone really noticed.

Aside from the somewhat distracting clothing of his female classmates, Harry found the course
itself to be interesting. The second class, which had taken place on the previous Friday afternoon
during the first week of classes, was spent going over the various types of tack, harness and other
riding equipment as well as talking over the basic methods of riding before the students simply
spent some more time with the horses.

The second week of classes, however, saw the first session of actual riding. While most of the
students seemed to have a bit of trouble understanding how to mount and stay balanced on their
horses, Harry took to it like a natural. He was currently walking his horse around the enclosed
yard anxiously awaiting permission from Keldorn to spur his horse into a trot or a canter. However,
the old knight was busy working with the students who were having a bit more trouble with their
first time on horseback.

Harry wanted to *ride*. He wasn’t really content to just remain seated on the back of his
horse while it slowly walked about the yard. He wanted to spur the beast into a gallop, to see just
how fast it could run, to feel the wind whipping his hair back out of his face.

Perhaps all the time Harry spent darting about on a broomstick had made him a bit of a speed
demon. The experience of riding a horse was somewhat like riding a broom, but it was also
different. It was somehow more primal; it took Harry’s mind back to the past, to the early days of
mankind. It made him want to gallop across the grounds of the castle chasing after the ghosts of
the past. He was, however, smart enough to realize that Sir Firecam would not take kindly to him
doing so without permission.

Hermione also seemed to be a natural on horseback. Harry supposed that all of her childhood
longing must have somehow prepared her for this moment. Hermione spent the first few minutes of the
class whispering with Ginny, Lavender, Parvati and Luna before deftly perching herself in the
saddle and taking control of her horse. The young witch was now guiding her horse around the yard
with an ear-to-ear grin plastered on her face.

The biggest surprise, however, was Neville. The normally shy, bumbling boy was the first to
quickly mount his horse and take off across the enclosure. He looked like he was born to be in the
saddle.

Aside from the three Gryffindors, only Su Li and Daphne Greengrass seemed to be able to handle
their mounts with natural ease, and both of them admitted to having taken riding lessons before.
Daphne even owned her own horse and certainly didn’t need to learn the basics of horseback riding.
She’d taken the course because she reasoned that it would give her the opportunity to engage in her
favorite pastime while at Hogwarts.

“Oh, Harry, isn’t this wonderful?” Hermione exclaimed as she maneuvered her horse alongside his.
“This is just so much fun!”

Harry laughed.

“I never thought I would hear you say that without a book in your hands,” replied the young
wizard.

Instead of reprimanding him, Hermione just threw back her head and laughed.

“I know! Just look at me!” she said with a grin, “bookworm Granger, enjoying the great outdoors
with nary a thought of homework!”

Hermione’s laughter was infectious and the two found themselves cracking up together as they
walked their horses around the yard.

“You know, I should thank you,” said Harry after a few minutes, “signing up for this course was
a great idea.”

Hermione turned to her best friend with a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you get to be around all these witches in their tight riding
breeches.”

Her remark took Harry completely by surprise and he started coughing and sputtering in the
saddle as his face turned bright red.

“Don’t think for a moment that I didn’t notice you lingering behind me all the way down to the
stables,” continued Hermione while leaning a bit closer to him. “I know what you were doing.”

Harry was at a loss for what to say. He didn’t know if he should apologize or deny the
accusation completely. The teasing tone in Hermione’s voice also added to his confusion. In the
end, Harry elected to just remain silent and stare down at the back of his horse’s neck as his face
became hot enough to melt lead.

“Don’t worry,” whispered Hermione while leaning almost completely out of her saddle so that
Harry could hear her, “I didn’t say that I minded. Or that you had to stop.”

With another laugh and toss of her head, Hermione urged her horse slightly faster and left Harry
behind.

After the class was finished, it was *Hermione* who seemed to keep herself a few paces in
front of Harry on the walk back to Gryffindor Tower. Whenever Harry attempted to move up beside
her, she would simply smirk and skip ahead a few steps. Harry wasn’t completely sure, but he
thought that she had also added a bit of a wiggle to her stride as well. He was sure, however, that
his face would likely be bright red for the rest of the night.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next day found Harry somewhat frustrated. He had decided to tell Hermione and Ron about the
prophecy, but he was having trouble getting them alone to let them know. Hermione wasn’t really the
problem, as she seemed to be around him more often than ever, but surprisingly it was Ron who was
providing to be difficult. Actually, that wasn’t completely true; it wasn’t Ron so much as it was
Lavender Brown who was the problem.

At every meal Lavender (and Parvati of course) would plop down next to Harry’s red-haired best
mate and proceed to chat away about this or that inconsequential thing.

“Ron, I decided to use a new nail polish today, what do you think?”

“Ron, do you think my hair looks better pulled back or let down?”

“Ron, what do you think about the Cannon’s chances this year?”

It was comments like the last one that really struck Harry as odd. Lavender had never really
shown much interest in Quidditch before, but now she would take just about any opportunity to talk
about the Chudley Cannons with Ron.

Ron seemed to bask in the attention he was receiving from the blonde Gryffindor. He eagerly
engaged her in talking about any of the topics she broached, but was especially enthusiastic about
the Cannons of course. It seemed like he had even finally learned to swallow his food before
speaking whenever Lavender was at his side.

Hermione simply wore a smug little smile during most of these interactions while occasionally
elbowing Harry in the side to bring his attention to some particular comment or action that either
Ron or Lavender had made on the other side of the table.

Harry was simply baffled by it all.

That night in the common room, Harry decided that he was going to have to use the direct
approach and interrupt the two if he was ever going to be able to speak to both of his best friends
at the same time. So he approached the couch where Ron and Lavender were currently seated side by
side.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ronny,” Lavender was saying, “it’s never good to underestimate a witch in a
fight. We can be quite determined, you know.”

“Yeah, but I still think Jenkins would demolish her, hands down,” said Ron.

“Err… excuse me,” interrupted Harry.

“Hi Harry,” said Lavender.

“What’s up, mate?” asked Ron.

“Umm, I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Ron.”

“Sure,” replied the young wizard without making any attempt to rise from where he was on the
couch.

“In private,” added Harry with a glance at Lavender.

“Oh,” said Ron. He then turned to Lavender, “Don’t worry, Lav, I’ll be back in a tick.”

“Don’t take too long, Ronny,” responded Lavender, “I might get lonely.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he made his way over to Hermione who was studying at one of the tables
in the corner.

“Hermione?”

“Harry, you really should be working on your Transfiguration homework, you know,” said the witch
in acknowledgment of Harry’s presence. “Why don’t you sit down next to me and we’ll do it
together?”

“Err… right, maybe later,” responded Harry. “Look, right now I really need to speak to you and
Ron. Somewhere a bit more private.”

That caught Hermione’s attention and together they dragged Ron off to find an empty
classroom.

Once the door was closed and locked, Harry turned to his two anxious friends.

“What’s up, mate?” questioned Ron, looking a bit more focused now that he wasn’t sitting next to
Lavender.

“What’s going on, Harry,” added Hermione in a serious tone as she became aware of Harry’s
nervousness.

“Err... look,” began Harry, “I don’t really know how to tell you two this, so I guess I’ll just
say it. It’s about the prophecy, you know, the one from the Department of Mysteries.”

Hermione’s eyes widened while Ron swallowed hard.

“It’s about me and Voldemort.”

“But I thought it was destroyed,” interjected Hermione.

“Well yeah, it was,” answered Harry, “but Dumbledore had another copy all along. He showed it to
me the day I got out of the hospital wing.”

“What does it say?” asked the young witch while beginning to get worked up.

“Basically, it says that I’m the only one…” Harry paused for a moment before looking back at his
friends. Talking about the prophecy out loud, telling his two best friends about it, suddenly made
it seem a whole lot more *real*, and Harry was surprised at how difficult talking about it
became. “It says that I’m the only one that can beat him. That one of us is going to end up killing
the other.”

Hermione looked like she was about to burst into tears, but she instead launched herself at
Harry, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him as hard as she could.

“Bloody hell, mate,” said Ron.

Hermione didn’t even bother to correct her other friend’s language as she continued to hold onto
Harry. Harry heard her sniffle once or twice before she pulled back just far enough to look him in
the face.

“We’ll help you, Harry,” she said with a thick voice and watery eyes, “I’ll help you. You’re not
in this alone.”

Ron walked up and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah, mate. You can count on us,” said the tall, red-haired wizard.

Harry didn’t bother to argue; he didn’t bother to tell them that when the time came, he didn’t
really want their help. If Voldemort won, which he was likely to do, Harry didn’t want either
Hermione or Ron anywhere near by. He didn’t say that there was no real point in their helping him
as he was probably just going to end up dead. No, for the moment, he just accepted the support of
his friends.

“Thanks, guys.”

After another tight squeeze, Hermione pulled away from Harry and wiped at her eyes.

“Right,” she said, “now tell me *exactly* what the prophecy said.”

“Err… something about marking me as his equal,” Harry began while pointing to his scar, “and
being born at the end of the seventh month. There was the bit about one of us was destined to kill
the other, and something about me having a power that he knows not. I’ve no idea what it all means
really.”

“No, tell me the exact wording,” responded Hermione, “the precise phrasing in true prophecies
can be very important. A single word or two can vastly affect the meaning. What exactly did it
say?”

“Oh, well, err… I’m not so sure about that. I was kind of, err… angry when Dumbledore told me,
so I might have forgotten some of the details.”

Hermione simply stared at him with a look of disbelief.

“But I’m sure we can get him to show it to us again,” Harry hastily added in order to placate
his best friend.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” said Ron once again, “that’s a raw deal, that is.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I wanted to tell you. So you can head back to the common room now.
Sorry to be such a downer, but I thought you two should know. Just don’t go telling anyone else;
it’s kind of a secret that we don’t want Voldemort to know about.”

Ron gave Harry another pat on the shoulder.

“You can count on us mate,” he said before unlocking the door and wandering out of the room.

Hermione, however, didn’t leave, she instead used her wand to close and relock the door before
pulling Harry into another hug.

“What am I going to do with you?” the young witch mumbled into his shoulder. “This isn’t fair.
Why does it always have to be you? Why can’t we just be normal for once?”

After a few minutes of shared silence, Hermione suddenly pulled back from Harry, unlocked the
door with a determined swish of her wand, grabbed Harry arm and pulled him out of the room.

“Right, Harry,” she said as she marched through the corridors of the castle, “let’s go see
Professor Dumbledore. I want to know exactly what that prophecy says so I can figure out what to do
about it.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“But what about our Transfiguration homework?”

“Really! How can you think about homework at a time like this? I don’t know how you’ve managed
with this weighing on you all this time, but I’m not just going to go back to doing my schoolwork
without at least trying to figure this out. Transfiguration will just have to wait.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?” Harry asked with a bit of mirth
coming back into his voice. “Hermione would never consider putting off her assignments!”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” responded the witch but with a small smile, “I’ve put off assignments
for things in the past. Mainly because *you’ve* gotten yourself into trouble again!”

“Trouble? Me? Never!”

As they continued on toward the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s office, Harry wasn’t sure
if it was such a great idea to be bothering him just before curfew. But he was happy to see
Hermione so determined to help him figure things out and help him get through it. Even if the task
before him was practically impossible and the likely outcome of the prophecy would be Harry’s
death, in that moment, Harry was content. After all, he had a determined Hermione Granger by his
side.

OoOoO

**AN: And there’s Chapter 11. I hope you all enjoyed it.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I always enjoy seeing your comments.**

**Please leave a review on your way out and let me know what you think.**

**And thanks for reading!**



12. XII
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XII

After viewing the Pensieve memory of Trelawney making the prophecy, Hermione spent the next
couple of days holed up in the library whenever she wasn’t in class or asleep. If it wasn’t for
Madam Pince’s refusal to allow her to remain in the library after hours, Harry was sure that
Hermione would have cut into her sleep schedule as well. Harry took it upon himself to force
Hermione to come to meals, even if those appearances were rather brief affairs.

He could not be angry with his best friend for ignoring him in favor of spending her time in the
library, however, because she was putting all of her energy into researching anything that might
have to do with prophecies and divinization. Harry wasn’t sure just what the girl thought she would
discover in all of the dusty tomes she was consulting, but he let her work nonetheless.

Wednesday evening saw the first of Harry’s sword lessons with Keldorn during the school year.
Keldorn dismissed the possibility of continuing to practice outside for the twofold reason that the
odd demonstration would likely attract a crowd, which would only be distracting, as well as the
fact that the weather would soon be turning colder which would require an indoor facility anyways.
After a bit of thought, Harry proposed the Room of Requirement, which was where they were currently
headed.

“You say this room can become whatever you desire it to be?” asked the old knight.

“Well, I suppose that it technically becomes whatever you need it to be,” answered Harry.

“And it can provide materials as well?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good, I look forward to seeing it.”

They rounded the final corner close to the entrance to the Room of Requirement only to run into
Draco Malfoy.

“Watch where you’re going, Scar Head,” Draco spat with venom.

“What are you doing all the way up here so far away from the dungeons, Malfoy?” Harry asked
suspiciously.

“None of your business, Potter.”

The two students glared at each other while Keldorn watched the interaction with interest.

After a moment, Draco seemed to realize that there was nothing to gain from his staring contest
with Harry, so he made to leave.

“I think I’ve had enough of Gryffindor stench for one night,” he said as he moved past the other
occupants of the hall.

“I am watching you, Mr. Malfoy,” Keldorn said, finally breaking his silence.

Draco stopped and turned back to address the knight.

“Watching me do what?” asked the blond-haired wizard.

“I know of your intentions,” answered the knight, “and I advise you to give up now before you
have gone too far into the Darkness. You will not like what you find there.”

“You know nothing about me or what I’m doing,” Draco said contemptuously, “you’re just a
sword-waving, barbarian *Muggle* who’s risen beyond his station.”

“That will be twenty points from Slytherin and detention every night for the next week for
disrespecting a member of the staff,” answered the knight without being fazed by the arrogant
student’s insults.

Draco simply sneered in return before turning on his heel and marching off in the direction of
the dungeons. After Draco left, Harry determined that Keldorn would not be forthcoming about
anything he might know about the Slytherin, so he instead chose to continue on to the Room of
Requirement.

When he reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls, Harry instructed the
knight to wait while he passed back and forth in front of the opposite wall three times,
concentrating on his need for a room to practice swordsmanship. On the third pass, a door appeared
which Harry opened to reveal a square room with a high ceiling and a wooden floor. There was even a
wooden training dummy near the far wall.

“Remarkable,” commented Keldorn as they stepped into the room and closed the door.

The old knight quickly removed the needed equipment from his belt pouches before setting Harry
to twenty minutes of footwork followed by twenty minutes of accuracy drills against the dummy. All
throughout, the knight acted normally without a hint of acknowledgement of their earlier
interaction with Draco. Harry’s thoughts about his Slytherin nemesis were quickly driven from his
mind by the demanding tone of his instructor’s orders.

The last fifty minutes of their time in the Room of Requirement was spent on parrying drills,
both with and without the use of a shield. As they were getting ready to leave, Harry stopped the
knight with a question.

“Sir, I was thinking about who I could ask to join the lessons,” Harry said as he gestured with
his sword. “What would you think of me asking my friend Ron Weasley?”

“Weasley… the tall, red-haired boy?” queried the knight.

“That would be him.”

“Honestly, Mr. Potter, I do not think he would accept your suggestion.”

“What? Why not? He’s my best mate!”

“Your best mate he may well be, but that does not change the fact that I have observed him to be
a bit, shall we say, lethargic when he is not working for something that *he* sees to be
important.”

Harry couldn’t really argue with the knight’s assessment of his friend, but that didn’t mean
he’d have to like it.

“Besides, Mr. Weasley seems to be more concerned with his new female companion than with his
studies or other pursuits,” continued Keldorn.

Harry was about to object but the knight waved him off.

“You may ask him if you wish, but do not be surprised when he turns you down in favor of
spending more time with his young lady. Such is the choice of most young men your age.”

Harry nodded in response. At least he had permission to *ask* Ron if he was interested.

“When your friend turns your offer down,” said the knight, “might I make a suggestion as to who
you should invite next?”

“Okay,” Harry said while warily nodding his head.

“Young Neville Longbottom has impressed me in our riding course.”

“*Neville?*” Harry asked with a bit of incredulity.

“You think there is something wrong with Mr. Longbottom?”

“No, I mean… don’t get me wrong, Neville is a great guy, but, well… he’s a bit… slow.”

“Slow?”

“Yeah. He’s always the last to catch on to learning a new spell or causing some disaster or
another in Potions.”

“That may be, but the boy has a good heart and I believe that he would benefit from some added
discipline.”

“What do you mean he has a good heart? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Mr. Potter,” Keldorn began with an air of patience about him, “you know what I am. I am a
paladin, a servant of the Light and a sworn enemy of the Darkness. I would not teach anyone to
wield *any* sort of weapon if I was not confident of their overall good intentions. I’ve told
you before that I can sense the malice within people; I can feel their evil intentions as all
paladins can. I would not teach young Mr. Malfoy how to wield a butter knife let alone a real
blade.

“Mr. Longbottom, on the other hand, has no such malice within him. I think the sword work would
do him some good, especially if he were to excel at it as he has with riding. He may not be the
best wizard or the best spell caster in this school, but that does not discount his worth as a
man.

“The Light will judge us on our virtue, Mr. Potter, on our attempts to stay true to the Light in
the face of Darkness. Whether or not we fail in our endeavors has little to do with our worth as
men. As Saint Tarese would likely tell us, we are called to be *faithful*, Mr. Potter, not
merely successful.”

Harry nodded along with the words that the old knight spoke. He didn’t really expect this
conversation to turn into a philosophical discussion, but it had nonetheless. Surprisingly, Harry
found that what the old man had to say struck a cord deep within him in a way that he could not
readily identify.

“So, Mr. Potter, you ask why I think Mr. Longbottom would be a good candidate for sword work? It
is because I believe he is free of the poison of malice, but above all because I believe he will be
faithful in the endeavor.”

The student and instructor parted ways outside the Room of Requirement as the doorway
disappeared and melded back into the wall. As Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower so as not to be
caught out after curfew, he couldn’t help but go over his last conversation with Keldorn in his
head. He was probably still going to ask Ron about the sword lessons first before turning to
Neville, but that wasn’t what was weighing on him. No, it was the fact that the old knight’s words
had touched something inside of him that bothered him as he walked back to his dormitory.

*We are called to be* faithful*, Mr. Potter, not merely successful.*

Faithful. What did that mean? And what did it matter if you were faithful but failed in the end?
Perhaps he was so taken with those words because of the almost complete hopelessness of his
prophesized confrontation with Voldemort. The Dark Lord had decades of experience on him; Harry
could never really hope to match him in raw magical power or skill. His likelihood of successfully
defeating Voldemort was almost nil.

But perhaps if he was faithful to his task, perhaps if he fought against the evil of Voldemort
and his Death Eaters with everything he had, perhaps if he gave everything to hold back the
Darkness for just a little while longer, maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t really matter if he
succeeded or not.

Maybe the Light that Keldorn so often spoke about would find a way to keep shining in the
Darkness even if Harry ultimately failed. After all, there would be others who would pick up the
battle cry after he was gone. Voldemort couldn’t last forever, even if he did manage to conquer the
world, he would eventually be defeated.

Harry felt a new resolve, a new certainty as he made his way through the portrait hole and into
the common room. He found that he could draw courage and purpose from the words that Keldorn
imparted to him. The task placed before him no longer seemed quite so daunting, so impossible. He
might not succeed, he might not win in his fight against the Dark Lord, but he would try, he would
give it everything he had, he would be faithful and fight until the bitter end.

He would keep the Light shining in the Darkness, and the Darkness would not overcome it.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry approached Ron the next day after classes were finished to ask about him joining the sword
lessons. Once again, Ron was in the common room sitting with Lavender.

“Hey Ron, Lavender,” Harry said as he approached his two classmates.

“Hey, mate,” replied Ron.

“Hi Harry,” greeted Lavender, “you’re not going to try and steal my Ronny away from me again are
you?” She then playfully wrapped her arms around the red-haired wizard as if to keep Harry from
dragging him away. Ron seemed to find the situation to his liking, judging by the grin on his
face.

“Err… no, I’m not going to steal him,” said Harry.

“Good,” said Lavender, although she refrained from removing her arms from the boy.

“But I did have a question for you, Ron,” continued Harry.

“Oh, okay,” said Ron.

“Well, you know how I’ve been studying swordsmanship with Sir Firecam for the past few
months?”

“Yeah,” said Ron while narrowing his eyes in thought.

“You’ve been learning to sword fight?” Lavender asked in surprise. “What are you doing that
for?”

Lavender’s questions caught Harry somewhat off guard. He didn’t really expect to be having this
conversation with her, but it seemed that she now considered Ron’s business to be hers as well.
Harry didn’t really feel like explaining to the blonde about his need to control his anger or find
some discipline for his life. So he decided to give a safer answer.

“Well, it’s kind of fun,” said Harry.

“Fun?” asked the blonde witch.

“Yeah, it’s fun,” responded Harry.

“I would have thought that you already had enough on your plate, what with N.E.W.T. classes,
being Quidditch Captain, and Hermione,” said Lavender.

“Well, yeah, I’m busy but… wait, what do you mean about Hermione?” Harry said, turning the
questions back on Lavender.

“Oh nothing…” she said somewhat mysteriously.

“Anyways,” said Ron in an attempt to break the glare that Harry had focused on Lavender, “what
did you want to ask me about the sword fighting?”

Harry turned his attention back to his best mate.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to join in. I could use someone at my own skill level to
spar against.”

“Oh, err…” began Ron, only to be cutoff by Lavender.

“Well, that’s a nice thought, but I think Ron’s too busy already.” She then turned to address
Ron directly, “I mean, you’ve got classes, your prefect duties, tryouts for the Quidditch team and
we just came up with our new study schedule.”

“Study schedule?” Harry questioned.

“Err, yeah, mate. Lavender’s gonna help me study this year. That’s what we were doing when you
got here.”

Harry looked at the table in front of them as well as around the area where they were sitting
but found a distinct lack of textbooks and notes.

“You’re not studying,” responded Harry.

“Of course we are,” said Lavender while Ron tried to non-verbally communicate something to Harry
with a series of looks and head bobs. Harry thought Ron looked like he was having some sort of
seizure.

“Anyways,” said Harry, “What do you think, *Ron?*” Harry hoped that the added emphasis
would keep Lavender from interrupting again.

Ron looked over at the blonde witch for a long moment before turning back to Harry and
responding.

“Err… sorry mate, but I just don’t think I’ll have time this year. You know, studying and
Quidditch and all.”

“Right,” responded Harry, “well I’ll let you two get back to ‘studying.’”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Ron approached Harry later on that night in their dorm room.

“Look, err, Harry,” Ron began, “about earlier…”

“Don’t worry about it, Ron,” said Harry, “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do. You’ve got something in the works with Lavender and you want to spend your free
time with her.”

“Well, yeah, I mean it doesn’t mean that we’re not still mates or anything, but, you know…”

“Like I said, I get it, Ron. I’m not angry. Sir Firecam didn’t think you’d take me up on the
offer anyways, so I kinda figured you’re turn me down. But I thought I’d ask anyways.”

“He thought I’d say no?” questioned Ron.

“Yeah, he said you’d want to spend your time with, quote, ‘your young lady.’ He’s pretty
observant for an old man.”

Ron colored a bit at hearing that one of the staff members was keeping his eye on his budding
relationship with Lavender.

“So, Lavender, eh?” queried Harry.

Ron’s face split into a grin.

“Yeah, mate, she’s great!”

“Really? Lavender ‘use your inner eye’ Brown? Trelawney’s biggest fan?”

“Well yeah,” responded Ron, “she can be a bit, err, flighty at times, but have you seen how
she’s filled out? She’s one fit witch, she is.”

“I’ll give you that,” said Harry. “So what the hell does she see in you then?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know I’m quite the catch, I am,” said Ron while he puffed out his chest.

“Sure you are.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can have witches lining up around the block to get a piece of us, oh
great Mr. Chosen One,” Ron shot back with a laugh. When he saw Harry’s smile falter a bit, he tried
to backtrack. “Err… sorry about that, mate, I kinda forgot about the, well, *you know* for a
minute there.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ron. I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me anyhow.”

After a moment of silence, Ron changed the subject.

“So what’s up with you and Hermione?” asked the red-haired wizard.

“What do you mean? Lavender mentioned something about Hermione earlier too.”

“Well you know,” replied Ron.

“No, I don’t know. What are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Well, it’s just that, the two of you, err, seem to be hanging out a lot recently.”

“Ron, it’s Hermione. We’ve always hung around each other.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“How so?”

“You know,” said Ron with a waggle of his eyebrows which finally made Harry catch on to what his
best mate was asking.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oi! See? You’re even starting to sound like her!”

Harry was about to respond with a clever retort along the lines of, “I do not!” but then stopped
to think.

*That did sound like something Hermione would say*, *maybe Ron has a point. After all,
Hermione did look really good in those riding breeches…*

“So, err, would you be okay with it, if… you know… me and Hermione?” Harry asked a bit
hesitantly.

That question made Ron grin like the cat that got the canary.

“Harry wuvs Hermione! Harry wuvs Hermione!” he started singing.

“Shut it, you git!” Harry said with his eyes shooting toward the door, making sure no one else
was close enough to overhear.

“You wanna *snog* her! Ha!” laughed Ron. “You wanna do each other’s *homework! Ha!*”
That one made Ron fall back onto his bed in laughter.

“Oi!” shouted Harry, his face heating up, “like you and Lav are any better!”

“I never said we were,” replied Ron once he recovered, “but at least I have the bollocks to
admit it.” Ron looked over at his glaring best mate, “but seriously, Harry. Go for it. If you want
to snog our high-strung, bossy, schoolwork-obsessed best friend, I won’t stand in your way. Just
get ready to write a three foot essay on proper snogging technique if you do.”

“You’re such a great help,” replied Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Glad to be of service!”

OoOoO

OoOoO

In the end, Harry wound up asking Neville to join his swordsmanship lessons with Keldorn. The
quiet Gryffindor was hesitant at first, but once he realized that Harry was serious, he graciously
accepted the offer.

On Saturday morning, Harry held tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was surprised by
the large crowd of students that showed up for a chance to win a spot on the roster. The fact that
most of them were witches was a bit bewildering too. One student in particular left him
dumbfounded.

“Hermione? *You’re* trying out for the team?”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” responded the witch in question with a small grin. “I’ve no delusions
of playing Quidditch. I’m here to show my support, oh captain my captain. Besides, I thought I
could help.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. I thought I could take notes for you or help you organize things,” Hermione gestured to
the Pitch with the notebook she was holding.

“That’s a great idea! Thanks, Hermione!” said Harry. “I’ll probably really need your help too. I
mean, look at all the people here.”

“Oh, I doubt they’re all here to try out, Harry.”

“They why would they come?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that.

“Come on, Harry. I know you don’t follow the papers, but really. With the way the *Daily
Prophet* has been going on about you being the ‘Chosen One,’ I’d be surprised if most of the
witches in the castle *didn’t* show up to catch a glimpse of you. You’ve become quite
fanciable, you know.”

Harry seemed to pale at that explanation. Hermione just grinned.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she said taking a step closer to him, “I’ll keep all those mean old
witches away.”

*Is Hermione flirting with me?*

“Err…”

Harry was saved from having to reply by a rather loud seventh year.

“Let’s get this show on the road, Potter!”

Harry and Hermione started things off by separating out the students that came to actually try
out for the team from those just there to watch. The latter camp made up the vast majority, with
even quite a few students from other houses. Harry was even surprised to see a sprinkling of
Slytherin green amidst the group that was sent to the stands.

In the end, picking a team wasn’t that hard. Harry kept Ginny and Katie Bell from the previous
year’s team as Chasers, and added Demelza Robins to the line, a third year who was particularly
good at dodging Bludgers. Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes were selected as the Beaters; Harry hoped
that they would be a great improvement over the previous year’s disastrous duo of Kirke and Sloper.
At the very least, they couldn’t be any worse.

Choosing a Keeper was the hardest decision of the afternoon. Ron put on a good show, but he was
evenly matched by the loud-mouthed and arrogant seventh year Cormac McLaggen. It the end, Harry
chose Ron, not necessarily because he was a better Keeper, but because he wasn’t sure he would be
able to put up with McLaggen on the team.

“Right, that’s a wrap,” Harry said as the tryouts finished. “I’ll post the results on the
bulletin board in the common room once I’ve finalized them.”

As the crowd wandered away, Harry pulled Hermione aside for a private word.

“Thanks for coming out to help. You were great.”

“You’re welcome, Harry,” replied Hermione.

“I know that you’d probably rather be in the library researching like you have been all week,
so, yeah. It means a lot to me that you came.”

Hermione blushed and looked down.

“Can I tell you something, Harry?”

“Of course.”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“Okay…” replied Harry with a bit of suspicion.

“I didn’t really get any useful research done this week in the library.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but that certainly wasn’t it.

“Err… what?”

“I mean, I kind of ignored you all week to research in the library but I didn’t really get
anything done. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay.” Harry was puzzled.

“I think it was more of my way of coping with, you know, that *thing* you told me
about.”

“Oh.”

The prophecy.

“Yeah. I felt like as long as I was *doing* something, that I could find an answer that
would fix everything. Find a solution to the problem. Like it was an Arithmancy problem or
something. But I realized that the answer wasn’t just going to pop out of a book. This isn’t that
simple, is it?”

“No,” said Harry in a quiet, serious tone, “it isn’t.”

“So I decided that I should have been spending my time with you instead of with all those dusty
old books.”

“Did Hermione Granger just insult the library?” Harry asked playfully.

“Don’t you dare tell Ron that I said that!” responded Hermione.

“Don’t worry; he’ll be too busy with Lavender wrapped around him to notice even if I did tell
him.”

“I told you those two were going to get together.”

“Correct as always, Miss Granger.”

“And don’t you forget it. You should listen to me more often.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good,” Hermione said as she looped her arm through Harry’s and started pulling guiding him back
towards the castle. “Now let’s go back to the common room and get started on our Charms
essays.”

“But those aren’t due for two weeks!” Harry protested, dragging his feet.

“Well there’s no time like the present!”

As he was dragged off to do his homework, Harry could just hear Ron mocking him in his head.

*You wanna snog her! You wanna do each other’s homework!*

Surprisingly, the thought just brought a smile to Harry’s face.

OoOoO

**AN: Thanks again for all the favorites, follows and reviews. You are all wonderful.**

**Let me know what you think of the chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!**



13. XIII
--------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XIII

The next few weeks passed by without incident. Quidditch practices generally went well except
for when Ron became too self-conscious and would then go off his game, which made Harry a little
worried about how his best mate would fare in front of the entire school during a real match.
Hermione stayed on in her role as assistant to the team captain, taking notes during practice and
generally helping Harry run things. He was quite sure that having her help kept him from overdoing
things and demanding too much from his players like Oliver Wood used to do.

Neville joined the swordsmanship lessons and was doing rather well. Keldorn treated the newcomer
much like he had initially treated Harry; making him do nothing but footwork before eventually
letting him have a go at the target dummy. Neville didn’t argue, but instead followed the old
knight’s orders as best he could. Harry was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t yet had a chance
to spar with Neville, but he supposed they would do so when Keldorn deemed them ready.

Professor Slughorn held an invitation-only party for several students near the beginning of
October, a gathering which the students quickly began referring to as “the Slug Club.” Apparently
the portly professor liked spending his time rubbing elbows with influential people and helping to
create connections between them. The students that were invited to the gathering either had
prominent parents or other family members, or Slughorn expected them to grow into rather important
members of society themselves. Harry, Hermione and Ginny all received an invitation to the first
party. Ron didn’t.

Initially Harry flat out rejected the idea of going to a party so that he could be fawned over
by his Potions professor for Merlin only knew how long. But Hermione saw the party differently and
really wanted to go.

“Just think, Harry,” Hermione had argued, “we might meet some really interesting people
there.”

“No thanks,” Harry responded.

“Oh, come on, you might enjoy yourself.”

“Not interested.”

“But I won’t have nearly as much fun if you’re not there,” she said, switching tactics.

“I’m sure you’ve had fun without me around before.”

“Maybe. But I’m certain I’ll be all sad and lonely without you there next to me.”

Harry hesitated a bit at the pleading look that Hermione was giving him.

“But…”

“Please?”

“Oh alright!”

“Thank you, Harry!” Hermione said with a smile as she leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the
check.

And so it was that Harry had a smile on his face when he agreed to go to the Slug Club.

The gathering itself wasn’t nearly as bad as Harry feared. Professor Slughorn only spent a few
minutes fawning over Harry when he arrived before switching to fawning over Hermione and generally
giving each of the students in attendance much the same treatment. Harry had to admit that the meal
was very good; roasted pheasant and potatoes, along with rice and mushrooms served with elf wine.
Harry had never really had wine before, but he found the drink provided by Professor Slughorn to be
rather good.

As he sat down for dinner, Harry was surprised to see Keldorn taking his seat right next to
him.

“Sir Firecam?”

“Good evening, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger,” replied the knight in greeting.

“Good evening, Sir Firecam,” responded a smiling Hermione.

“What are you doing here?” Harry continued his questioning, unable to fathom that the old knight
would want to attend something like a Slug Club party.

“Well, I suppose I’m preparing to dine with those present. Is there something odd about my being
here?”

“Well, I guess not,” answered Harry, “but I just didn’t take you for the type to go to dinner
parties.”

Keldorn smiled and let out a short chuckle.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Potter,” the knight replied, “but my status as a paladin and even more
so as a knight has seen me at quite a few ‘dinner parties’ as you call them. Although, back in
Athkatla, we more often called them ‘banquets.’”

“Really?” asked Hermione, “tell us about them.”

“Well, very often some lord or nobleman or another would find a reason for hosting a banquet in
his palace. He would of course invite his friends and family, but etiquette demands that he should
also invite the rest of the nobility, as well as the leading members of society. I might not have
told you before, but the Order of the Radiant Heart is quite prestigious, and as such my fellow
knights and I regularly received invitations to the banquets held in Athkatla and the surrounding
countryside. Professor Slughorn’s gathering this evening is a lot like the banquets of my homeland,
but on a much smaller scale of course.”

“But why would you want to go to a party with a bunch of stuffy noblemen?” asked Harry, still at
a loss to understand why a warrior would be spending his time rubbing elbows with simpering
politicians.

“Why wouldn’t I, Mr. Potter? Just as etiquette demands that certain people are invited to a
banquet, so too does it demand the acceptance of such invitations unless there is a good reason not
to. And besides, accepting someone’s graciously offered hospitality is the right and good thing to
do. Accepting a gift or an offered place at table gives honor to the giver. Rejecting an offer, on
the other hand, can be seen as a dire insult, something that you should not do lightly or without
due cause. Remember that, Mr. Potter.”

This was something that Harry had never really thought about before. Why did life have to be so
complicated? If he didn’t want to go to a party, why couldn’t he just say he wasn’t going without
everyone getting offended?

“It is important, however,” continued the knight, “to treat all such invitations in the same
manner. I would accept invitations from rich and poor, nobleman and peasant alike. As a paladin and
a servant of the Light, I would not want to give the impression that the wealthy are worthy of my
attention while the common folk are not. I can truly say that some of the more gracious and
hospitable hosts I have met have been very poor, and yet they still invited me to their table in
thanks for some service.”

“But wouldn’t your time as a paladin be better spent out in the world, fighting the Darkness?”
asked Harry.

“There are more ways to fight the Darkness than swinging a sword,” answered Keldorn. “A kind
word or a small act of charity can sometimes do more to drive back the Darkness than an entire
legion of soldiers. The true battleground is within,” Keldorn said as he tapped his chest above his
heart. “Helping the Light to shine within a man or woman’s heart is a greater victory than any deed
that can be accomplished with the force of arms. Sometimes the mere presence of a truly good person
at a banquet or a dinner party can be enough to turn the tide.”

Harry sat in pensive silence and thought about the old knight’s words while Hermione went on to
interrogate Sir Firecam about the different customs of his homeland. Harry supposed there was a lot
about life that he just didn’t know. He never realized how important things like going to the Slug
Club could be. He looked around the table to see that everyone was having a good time for the most
part. Ginny was laughing with a Ravenclaw witch that Harry didn’t know; Cormac McLaggen had his
head bent, whispering with a seventh year Hufflepuff, and Professor Slughorn himself had the rapt
attention of the students seated nearest to him as he told some boisterous story.

When he thought about it, Harry had to admit that he was having an alright time. The food was
good and he did get to meet Gwenog Jones before they were seated. Slughorn did gush over him being
the Boy Who Lived, but it wasn’t too much, and in general the Potions Professor found something to
gush over everyone about. Besides, he was with Hermione who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying
herself and Harry found her feelings to be infectious. Perhaps if he didn’t start out looking at
the party as something to be avoided he would have been having an even better time.

Sometime later, Slughorn skillfully grabbed everyone’s attention and began a single conversation
for the entire group by addressing Keldorn from across the table.

“Sir Firecam,” began the portly Potions professor, “I was wondering if you might tell us all a
bit about your homeland?”

“Tell us what it’s like to be a knight,” added Ginny.

“I’m afraid, Miss Weasley, that most of what makes up being a knight is not all that exciting,
and the moments that are exciting would not make for very pleasant dinner conversation,” replied
Keldorn.

“Have you ever slain any dragons?” asked a Ravenclaw that Harry didn’t know.

“Perhaps,” Keldorn answered with a small smile.

“Come now,” said Slughorn, “there must be something you can tell us.”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you a story,” responded the knight who now had every face at the
table turned in his direction. “Several years ago, my squire Ajantis and I were in a small village
a few days’ journey west of Athkatla in the Umar Hills called Imnesvalle. We were there to seek out
the cause of a few mysterious disappearances that had plagued the townspeople. The mayor of the
sleepy little place thought that the blame could be laid at the feet of a band of Ogres that had
taken up residence in the caves just north of the village. It was a natural assumption since Ogres
are, for the most part, quite bloodthirsty creatures. So we set out to find them.

“It wasn’t very difficult, as Ogres do not tend to be very subtle. Ajantis wanted to attack on
sight and slay the beasts for their obvious crimes. I however, insisted that we speak with them
first, for while Ogres are very dimwitted creatures, they are able to converse. It was a good thing
we did so too. As it turns out, the Ogre clan had experienced the same type of mysterious
disappearances that were plaguing the town.

“In the end, after the mystery was solved, that particular clan of Ogres turned out to be a
peaceful bunch, and I was even able to help them establish a trade agreement with the town. To this
day they are the only clan of Ogres in all of Amn that openly trades with humans. I believe that
the moral of such a story would be to always try for a peaceful solution before resorting to
violence.”

“So what was making people disappear then?” asked Cormac McLaggen.

Keldorn hesitated for a moment before answering.

“The culprit turned out to be a Shade Lord, a type of undead spirit that was preying upon the
living in an attempt to gain power. Ajantis and I sent it back whence it came.”

Harry shivered at the memory of another undead spirit inhabiting the body of his Defense Against
the Dark Arts professor during his first year.

“Where is your squire Ajantis now?” asked Hermione.

Keldorn smiled sadly.

“He now rests in the Light, having died some years ago. He was a good man, and became a fine
paladin. He fought valiantly, but ultimately fell in battle. But I do not think that is a tale to
tell here.”

Talk of death effectively put a damper on the conversation for a moment until Slughorn was able
to skillfully change the subject. All in all, once Harry moved past his initial negative reaction
to being part of the Slug Club, Harry found that he had an enjoyable evening.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The days slipped by as Harry fell into a routine of classes, Quidditch practice, swordsmanship
lessons with Keldorn and Neville, and spending the little free time had had left over with his
friends. However, that time was increasingly spent with just Hermione as Ron seemed to always be
hanging around with Lavender.

The last weekend in October saw Gryffindor playing against Slytherin in a rather brutal
Quidditch match. The Lions were flying well for the most part, the sole exception being one Ronald
Weasley. Ron had started off alright, but once the Slytherins launched into their chorus of
“Weasley Is Our King” his confidence and subsequently his concentration began to fall. Soon nearly
every shot taken by the Slytherin Chasers was making it through the goals. It was only Harry’s
desperate dive for the Snitch that managed to save the game for Gryffindor, and just barely at
that, the final score being 320 points for Gryffindor over Slytherin’s 300.

As the Gryffindor team made their way back to the tower, Harry lagged behind alongside a
dejected Ron. The red haired wizard hadn’t said a word since the end of the match and Harry was
worried for his best mate. They had just entered the common room when Ron finally turned to
Harry.

“Harry, mate,” began Ron, “I think I…”

However, whatever he was going to say was cut off by the shout of an enthusiastic Lavender
Brown.

“Ronny!” the blonde witch screamed as she threw herself at the young wizard, her arms clasping
around his neck. Ron in turn had to wrap her around the waist to keep her from falling to the
ground.

“You did wonderfully!” said Lavender.

“Are you daft?” asked Ron. “Did you actually see the game? I was pathetic!”

“Nonsense,” replied Lavender. “You just need some more confidence. And I know just the thing to
give it to you.”

“What’s that?” asked a confused Ron.

“This.”

Lavender then proceeded to fuse her lips to Ron’s. The hoots and cheers from the rest of the
house seemed to have no impact upon the two sixth years that were apparently trying to see how far
down each other’s throats they could reach.

Harry turned away from the sight to look around the common room. His eyes fell upon Hermione
only to catch her staring at him. Her face became bright red as she quickly looked away from him.
Harry made his way over to her, pushing his way through his housemates who were loudly encouraging
Ron and Lavender.

“Hey,” Harry said when he finally made it to Hermione’s side.

“Hi,” Hermione somewhat shyly greeted him in return, her face still bright red. Harry was
confused by Hermione’s suddenly timid manner; that wasn’t really like the girl he knew so well.

“Er… so, Ron and Lavender, huh?” said Harry in an attempt to break the awkwardness.

Hermione looked over at the energetically snogging couple before glancing back at Harry; her
face became even redder if that was possible. She cleared her throat before speaking.

“I told you those two were going to get together,” Hermione replied. “You should listen to me
more often.”

“I always listen to you,” said Harry.

“Pfft,” Hermione huffed with a roll of her eyes, “sure you do.”

Ginny chose that moment to come bounding over to them with a grin plastered on her face.

“Oh Hermione! Isn’t this great?” the short redhead asked. She looked at Harry somewhat playfully
for a moment before turning back to Hermione, “so far, Operation Quidditch is proceeding according
to plan.”

“*Ginny!*” growled Hermione through clenched teeth.

Ginny, however, was unfazed.

“Something the matter, Hermione?” replied the younger witch.

“What plan is this?” Harry asked in confusion.

Hermione once again reddened and inspected her shoes while Ginny smiled mysteriously.

“Oh nothing. We girls have merely been in collusion about getting certain wizards to open their
eyes.”

“*Ginevra*…” Hermione once again growled, albeit this time with much more danger laced in
her voice.

“What?” Ginny asked innocently. “I was just going to tell *dear Harry* here that we, the
lovely and beautiful witches of Gryffindor, have been plotting to get Ron and Lavender together,
which seems to have worked rather spectacularly. Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”

“Err, yeah, I guess so,” replied Harry. “They certainly seem to be out to prove that they’re
quite the couple.”

“No, not about Ron and Lav,” said Ginny who then threw her arm around Hermione’s shoulders.
“Don’t you agree that *Hermione* and I are lovely and beautiful witches?”

Harry sputtered and choked before answering.

“Err… I mean, yeah, err, yes,” Harry said as his face started to heat up.

“Yes what?” asked Ginny with predatory smile on her face.

Harry shook his head and gathered his bearings before saying what he knew Ginny wanted to
hear.

“Yes, Hermione and you are very lovely and beautiful witches.”

“Hear that, Hermione?” Ginny asked as she turned her devious grin to the witch next to her. “I
might have to snag this one up before someone else takes him. Oh wait, I already have a
boyfriend.”

Hermione didn’t respond, but instead took on a crimson complexion once again.

“Seeing Ron and Lavender go at it like that makes me wonder where Dean is,” continued Ginny. “I
could use a good snog myself. How about you, Hermione?”

Hermione simply pushed the redhead away from her before lifting her nose into the air.

“I think I’ve had just enough of this,” she announced. “Harry, I’ll see you later.” With that,
Hermione turned and made her way up to the girls’ dormitory.

“Alright, Gin, what was that all about?” asked Harry.

“Oh noting,” she responded. “Sorry, Harry, I’ve got to go find Dean. Bye!”

*Girls*. Harry thought as he shook his head. He had no idea what Ginny was up to, but it
probably wasn’t going to end up in his favor. As the redhead went off to find her boyfriend, and as
the cheering in the common room became louder as Ron and Lavender continued their show, Harry’s
eyes wandered over to the empty girls’ staircase.

*Girls*.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The first Saturday in November was set for a visit to Hogsmeade, which found Harry and Hermione
in the Entrance Hall waiting for the remaining member of their trio before setting off for the
village. After waiting for a few minutes, they finally spied the tall wizard running over to them
with his now constant goofy grin on his face.

“Hey Harry, Hermione,” Ron said by way of greeting.

“Ron,” said Hermione.

“Right then,” said Harry. “Let’s go.”

“Err… about that,” replied Ron, “sorry, but I can’t go with you two today.”

“What?” Harry asked, dumbfounded.

“Sorry, but Lav and I’ve decided that this would be our first date,” answered Ron.

“You mean Lavender decided,” responded Harry.

“Well…”

“Fine,” interrupted Hermione with a roll of her eyes. “Go on. Shoo. Lav Lav’s lips might be
getting cold without you.”

“Oi! There’s no call for that now,” said Ron. “Besides, maybe you should find yourself a bloke
for a snog or two. Do you some good, it would.”

“Oh would it?!” Hermione asked with a glare as she drew her wand. “Do you have any other advice
for me, *Ronny?*”

“Err… nope,” said the young wizard as he backed away before turning to Harry. “Have fun
today!”

Ron then turned tail and ran before Hermione decided that she wanted to put her wand to good
use.

“You going to use that on me?” Harry asked while gesturing to the wand that was still clenched
in Hermione’s hand.

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” she responded as she put her wand away and turned to face Harry. “I
guess it’s just the two of us then.”

“Looks like.”

They rode in comfortable silence and arrived to see the small wizarding village overrun with
students.

“Well, I guess you’ll want to go to Scrivenshaft’s,” said Harry.

“Actually,” began Hermione with a bit of color coming to her face, “I was thinking of going to
Gladrags.”

“Oh. Right then, let’s go.”

The two arrived at the clothing store and entered. Harry was a bit confused because Hermione had
never really wanted to go clothes shopping before, at least as far as he could remember. She
normally only wanted to check out the stationary shop and the bookstore.

“So, err, what were you looking for in here?” asked Harry.

“Well,” Hermione answered without looking at her companion, “Ginny told me that since the riding
class started, Gladrags has started carrying some different outfits to wear for horseback riding. I
thought I’d check them out.”

“Oh.”

They separated and Harry wandered about the store for a little while. A few minutes later Harry
was looking at a pair of boots when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes widened
when he saw Hermione dressed in a short, white jacket along with a pair of tight, red, riding
breeches. She turned to the side to let him get a good look at her profile before she looked at him
over her shoulder.

“Well, what do you think?”

Harry coughed and it took him a moment to calm down to the point where he could speak.

“Err… what?”

Hermione smirked at him.

“I said, what do you think? Do you like the red breeches?” she asked as she slowly spun in a
circle. “I wanted something that was, you know, ‘Gryffindor.’”

Harry was finding it hard to concentrate, especially with the way that the tight breeches
accentuated Hermione’s behind.

“Err… I think you look great. I mean, they look great.”

Hermione continued to smirk at him.

“Thank you. Now wait here,” she said as she slowly walked away from him with what Harry thought
was a bit of extra wiggle in her step. “I want to know what you think of the yellow breeches
too.”

Harry’s mouth went dry at that. In the end, after she modeled both the yellow and the red pair
of breeches for him once again, Harry told Hermione that she should take both. He also insisted on
paying for them, a gesture to which Hermione only put up a token resistance.

They left the clothing shop and Hermione threaded her arm through Harry’s as they made their way
down the street.

“What do you say we get something to drink?” Hermione asked.

“Sounds good.”

Thus they made their way into the Three Broomsticks, which was as crowded as ever. They found an
empty table for two and ordered two butterbeers when Madam Rosemerta came over.

“Thank you for shopping with me today, Harry,” Hermione said once they had sipped their
drinks.

“My pleasure,” Harry responded.

Hermione smirked at him once again.

“I bet it was,” she said softly.

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just stayed silent. After a moment, He spoke up
to change the topic.

“I wonder what Ron and Lavender are up to. You think they ever made it down to Hogsmeade or are
they taking advantage of the empty common room?”

“For the sake of the first and second years, I would hope not,” responded Hermione.

Harry grinned.

“Yeah, no need to scandalize the munchkins.”

Hermione grinned back at him.

“Don’t worry; I’m sure Lavender has him well in hand.”

Harry laughed out loud at that.

“I can’t believe you said that!” replied Harry.

Hermione blushed.

“I didn’t mean it that way…”

“But still…”

“Let’s not talk about Ron and Lavender,” Hermione said.

“Why not?”

“Because. What’s wrong with that? Don’t you like spending time just with me without worrying
about Ron?” Hermione asked while pouting at him.

Since when did Hermione start pouting?

“Of course I like spending time with you.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence once again. A moment later, Harry felt something nudging against his
foot. When he saw the coy smile on Hermione’s face, he realized that it was her. So he nudged her
back, and with full blown smiles they both started a little game under the table. It was fun.

Sometime later, just after Harry had ordered a second round of butterbeers, he noticed Keldorn
sitting at the bar, laughing alongside Hagrid. He nodded in their direction.

“Look. Hagrid’s over at the bar with Sir Firecam.”

Hermione glanced over before turning back to Harry.

“Those two do seem to spend a lot of time together,” she replied.

“Yeah, looks like the old knight’s found a friend.”

Hermione smiled, “I’m happy for him. It must be difficult being so far from home.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “just think about it. Being pulled into a different world, where no one
knows you or anything about you. I’d never even heard of a paladin before he showed up.”

A look of surprised realization appeared on Hermione’s face as Harry was speaking.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Harry!” began Hermione in the hurried, excited voice that she often used when she had finally
figured something out. “Oh my! No one knows anything about Sir Firecam! Could that be it? Come on,
we’ve got to go see Professor Dumbledore!” she exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and pulled Harry
out of his chair.

“Right now?” Harry asked in confusion. “Why does no one knowing Sir Firecam mean that we have to
run off to Dumbledore? I was kinda having fun here…”

“Oh I know. I was having fun too, Harry. Don’t worry, we’ll do this again. But this is
important.”

“Alright,” Harry acquiesced as he threw some coins onto the table. Hermione then latched onto
his arm and pulled him across the room, out the door and up the road toward the castle.

“This had better be worth it,” grumbled Harry as they trekked back to the castle.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Hermione replied, “it is. I promise you’ll understand when we see the
Headmaster.”

“Oh alright.”

Harry was a bit disappointed that his day in Hogsmeade with Hermione was being cut short, but he
supposed it could be worse. He did get to watch her try on those tight breeches after all.

OoOoO

**AN: No real remarks to make this time. Thank you all for the comments. Please leave a review
on your way out. And thanks for reading!**



14. XIV
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XIV

Shortly thereafter, Harry and Hermione arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the
Headmaster’s office. The statue, however, refused to budge.

“I don’t suppose you know the password?” asked Hermione.

“No,” answered Harry. “We could always guess though.”

“I don’t think guessing is going to work. Dumbledore’s too smart to pick an easy password,”
replied Hermione.

“Lemon Drop,” said Harry.

“Besides, he might not be in there.”

“Ice Mice.”

“Maybe Professor McGonagall knows where he is…”

“Blood Pop.”

“Oh… why is there a password to the Headmaster’s office anyways?”

“Cockroach Cluster.”

“Shouldn’t he be available to students at all times?”

“Acid Pop.”

“I mean, what if there was an emergency?”

“Chocolate Frog.”

“How are we supposed to let the Headmaster know if something is terribly wrong if there’s a
stone statue barring the way to his office all the time?”

“Licorice Wand.”

“Oh, this is just infuriating!”

“Sugar Quill.”

The sound of stone grinding on stone filled the air as the gargoyle stepped aside.

“How did you do that?” queried Hermione.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“It was ‘Sugar Quill,’” he said.

“You mean to tell me that the greatest wizard alive uses *sweets* as the password to his
private office?”

Harry just nodded.

“As far as I can remember, the password’s always been some sort of sweet. I figured I would
guess it eventually,” answered Harry.

Hermione shook her head incredulously.

“Unbelievable.”

“After you, my lady,” Harry said with a sweeping bow.

“Oh, you’re such a gentleman,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes as she stepped onto the
magical staircase.

“Hey! Why’re you mad at me? You’re the one who cut short our day in Hogsmeade to run back to the
Headmaster!”

Hermione sighed, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Harry. I’m not mad at you; I just can’t believe that
the password was so easy to guess.”

“Well, you did just say how the students should have access to the Headmaster’s office. Maybe
this is his compromise; easy to guess passwords.”

They arrived at the top of the stairs and Harry knocked on the heavy oak door.”

“Come in,” said Dumbledore.

Harry held the door open for Hermione before following her and closing it behind him.

“Good afternoon Harry, Miss Granger. What can I do for you?”

Harry just pointed to his best friend who was standing beside him.

“You’ll have to ask her. I’ve no clue why we’re here.”

“Well, then, have a seat,” said the old wizard who then conjured a second armchair in front of
his desk. The two students took their seats before Hermione launched into her explanation.

“I think I know what the ‘power he knows not’ is,” said the witch.

Harry’s mouth fell open in surprise.

“You figured that out while we were playing footsie in the Three Broomsticks?” Harry asked.

Hermione blushed at Harry’s mention of their activity in front of the Headmaster.

“Never mind what we were doing,” she responded, “the point is I think I might have figured it
out.”

“Do tell, Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

“It’s Sir Firecam.”

“I think you’ll have to explain a bit more, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Just think,” continued Hermione, “he’s a *paladin*, a type of holy warrior that our world
as a whole has no experience with. He has magic-like abilities that have never been seen before by
anyone. For example, the way he healed me was almost miraculous. Who knows what else he’s really
capable of? Certainly not *Voldemort*. Thus, the new abilities that Sir Firecam has brought to
our universe are ‘the power he knows not.’”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair in silent thought with his fingers steepled in front of his
face. Harry, however, was quick to bring up an objection to Hermione’s theory.

“That’s all fine, Hermione,” the young wizard began, “but *I’m* the one mentioned in the
prophecy, not Sir Firecam. *I’m* supposed to be the one with ‘the power he knows not,’ not Sir
Firecam.”

Hermione wasn’t deterred in the least by Harry’s objection. Instead, she smiled as she looked
over at him.

“And that’s why we get him to teach you how to be a paladin,” she replied.

“Don’t be daft,” said Harry, “do I look like a knight in shining armor to you?”

Hermione actually blushed a little bit before answering.

“That’s beside the point,” she replied. “Remember, Sir Firecam has mentioned on several
occasions that being a *knight* is different than being a *paladin*. He’s a knight
because of the order that he’s in, but he was a paladin long before he joined his order.”

“We don’t even know if I’m capable of doing the things he does,” Harry said as his temper
started to rise a bit. “Do the things he does even work through magic like ours? You might as well
try teaching a fish to breathe on land!”

“But it *could* just be a different way of accessing the same magical foundations that
underlie the multiverse. There has to be a common set of laws that governs everything. And if
that’s the case, it’s likely that he would be able to teach you in whatever way he would teach any
other new paladin on his home world.”

Harry was not convinced; in fact he didn’t like the idea at all, but he couldn’t come up with
any other arguments against Hermione’s idea. She was the brightest witch of their generation after
all; Harry had no delusions that he could actually argue with her and win about a real, important
topic. So he instead turned his attention to Dumbledore to see what he thought.

The Headmaster had clearly been following the discussion between his two students but had made
no interruptions. He only spoke up when Harry and Hermione both finally turned to him.

“I think,” began Dumbledore, “that Miss Granger’s idea might have some merit.”

Hermione broke into a triumphant grin.

“I said *might*, Miss Granger, and I meant it. We do not know if Harry here or any other
witch or wizard from our world for that matter would be able to learn to wield the type of magic
employed by Sir Firecam. It may be possible, but then again it may not.”

Hermione’s grin faded a bit at that but didn’t disappear entirely.

“I certainly see no difficulty in *asking* him if he thought you could learn his type of
magic, Harry,” continued Dumbledore, “or if he would even consider taking you on as a student.”

“Great,” grumbled Harry, “I get to sign up for even more classes.”

Dumbledore merely smiled enigmatically, his ever present twinkle sparkling in his eye.

“If our dear Miss Granger is in fact correct, Harry, I do not think that this will be something
to grumble over. Rather, it could be the key to saving our world. Besides, we can worry about your
class schedule when the time comes. You certainly wouldn’t be the first student in Hogwarts’
history to have an odd course of studies.”

“But how is learning how to miraculously heal someone going to help me fight Voldemort?”
protested Harry.

“Harry,” responded Hermione, “there’s more to what Sir Firecam can do than just healing people.
He’s a *warrior* after all. He’s sworn to fight against the most evil and vile beings in the
world. And from the few stories he’s told, it sounds like his world has even more dangerous magic
than our own. He’s got to know a thing or two that would be helpful in our fight.”

“Besides,” said Dumbledore, “this theory seems to fit in well with some of Voldemort’s recent
activities. You already know of Professor Snape’s role as a spy for the Order. Well, he has
discovered that this past summer’s attack on you in Diagon Ally was not really aimed at you, Harry,
but was rather meant to test Sir Firecam. It appears that Voldemort was quite disturbed by our
friend’s appearance and abilities during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. I believe that
Voldemort is hesitant about this new opponent about whom he knows almost nothing.

“In any event,” said Dumbledore, “I do think that the idea is worth investigating. It is
certainly a better candidate for ‘the power he knows not’ than anything I’ve been able to come up
with.”

“Great,” grumbled Harry once again. Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at him but didn’t say
anything.

“Harry,” continued Dumbledore, “I think you should approach Sir Firecam about this idea, and I
think you should do so soon. We don’t know how long Voldemort and his Death Eaters will remain
inactive after all.”

“Right,” said Harry as he rose to his feet, “well if that’s all, I suppose we should be on our
way then.”

Once the two students had said their goodbyes to the Headmaster and were back in the corridors
of the castle, Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm and spun him around to face her.

“What exactly was your problem up there?” the irate witch asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” responded Harry.

“I’ *talking about* the fact that I had an idea that just might help us fight Voldemort and
all of a sudden you’re completely opposed to it. What’s so terrible about it?”

“I just don’t think it will work.”

“Why not? Professor Dumbledore thinks it has merit. I thought you liked Sir Firecam and that
you’d jump at the chance at learning more from him. You certainly seem to like learning
swordsmanship and riding from him.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.”

“Don’t you ‘whatever’ me, Harry James Potter!” Hermione shrieked.

“You’re not my mother,” Harry responded petulantly.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Harry looked down to his feet and fumed in silence for a few moments.

Hermione took a step closer to him and reached out to lay her hand on his arm.

“Harry?” she asked in a much softer tone of voice, “what is it? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s
really bothering you.”

Harry glanced up at her for a moment before looked back at the floor and allowing his anger to
deflate.

“Why did you have to bring this all up now, today?”

“I don’t understand, Harry.”

“We were having such a good time in Hogsmeade. It was fun, you know, just spending the day with
you. Why’d you have to cut it all short and come back here to talk about the bloody prophecy?”

“You’re angry because I brought you back to the castle to talk to Professor Dumbledore?”

“*Yes!*” Harry exclaimed to the ceiling before looking down at his feet and continuing in a
softer voice. “I’m always thinking about that damned prophecy. But today, in Hogsmeade, well, I was
kind of able to forget about it for a while. It was almost like I was normal. Just a kid out in the
village spending time with his… friend.”

“And then I ruined it all by dragging you back here to talk about it. Oh Harry, I’m sorry!”
Hermione said as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. “I didn’t mean to ruin
our day like that. I guess I could have waited until tonight, or tomorrow for that matter. But you
know how I get sometimes; I get an idea and I just have to act on it right then.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry sighed as he returned the hug. “You wouldn’t be Hermione if you didn’t
rush off to research in the library or run your ideas by a professor.”

Hermione pulled back just far enough to look Harry in the eyes.

“So do you forgive me?” she asked.

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she said before leaning up to give him a light kiss on the cheek which
brought a small smile to Harry’s face. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you somehow.”

“Oh? And just how do you intend to do that?”

“I have no idea really,” she said as she looped her arm through his and began walking in the
direction of Gryffindor Tower. “Do you have any suggestions?”

*That’s not something a pretty girl should ask a teenage guy*, Harry thought to
himself.

“None that immediately come to mind,” was what Harry actually said.

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to think of something then,” Hermione answered as she leaned her
head against Harry’s shoulder. “And just for the record, I had a wonderful day today too, Harry.
I’m sorry I cut it short. You can be surprisingly fun when you’re not either being all sulky or
swinging an overgrown stick around,” Hermione said mischievously.

“Oi! You’re supposed to be nice to me right after apologizing,” Harry said with mock
indignation.

“Oh fine.”

“That’s better. Now let’s go see if Ron and Lavender are terrorizing all the firsties by
snogging in the common room.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry’s next riding class started off normally enough. Hermione decided to wear her new red
breeches, which put a goofy grin on Harry’s face. Hermione seemed rather pleased with that as
well.

The students were all waiting near the stables for class to begin when one of the other girls
came over to Harry.

“Hi Harry,” said a Gryffindor girl that Harry didn’t immediately recognize.

“Hi, err…”

“Romilda, Harry,” said the dark-haired girl as she batted her eyelashes, “my name’s Romilda
Vane.”

“Err… nice to meet you,” responded Harry.

“Thanks, Harry. I asked Sir Firecam if I could switch to this class instead of the one for third
and fourth years. It’s at a better time for me, not to mention that there are so many more
interesting people to talk to.”

“Oh really?” asked Hermione from her place at Harry’s side.

Romilda only spared the older witch a glance before addressing her response to Harry.

“Well, I can think of at least one person in this class that I could talk to all day and all
night if need be.”

“Err…”

“What do you think of my new breeches, Harry?” the younger girl asked as she spun around.
“Gladrags had a sale you know. I think these are much better than my old pair; they allow for much
more movement. Did you know I’m rather flexible? I can quite easily bend down and touch my
toes.”

And with that, Romilda turned her back to Harry, bent over, and touched her toes right in front
of him. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise at the rather brazen display put on by the young
witch.

Hermione, on the other hand, narrowed here eyes into a frightening glare and then grabbed
Harry’s arm and pulled him to the other side of the barn, grumbling all the way.

“Stupid cow… Who does she think she is?”

“Umm…” began Harry, “not that I mind you manhandling me like this, but what was that all
about?”

Hermione turned her glare on Harry before answering.

“That, that, *witch* is a stupid cow who’s severely lacking in common decency! Not to
mention that she probably couldn’t string a coherent thought together if her life depended on
it!”

“Whoa there, Hermione. Where’s all this suddenly coming from?”

“Oh don’t be obtuse, Harry. She was clearly trying to come on to you. Bending over in front of
you like that. She and the rest of the witches like her are only interested in you because you’re
‘the Chosen One.’”

“What do you mean ‘the witches like her’?”

“Harry,” Hermione began in a patient tone, “surely you’ve noticed the attention you’ve been
getting from Hogwarts’ female population lately?”

“What?”

“You mean you haven’t noticed all the looks they’ve been giving you? The smiles and giggles when
you walk by?”

“No.”

“Well, they’re there. Trust me.”

“Well, what should I do about them?” Harry asked as he glanced back over to see Romilda pouting
at him.

“Ignore them,” said Hermione. “Like I said, they’re only interested in the Chosen One. They
don’t know and they’re not interested in the real Harry, not like…” Hermione stopped herself from
saying whatever it was she was going to say and looked down to her feet.

“Not like?” Harry asked in a whisper.

But, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Keldorn who called for attention.

“Right,” began the old knight, “get your horses saddled and out into the yard. I want to see
everyone at a canter in fifteen minutes or less. Potter, Granger, Longbottom, Greengrass, Li and
Abbott, come with me.”

While most of the students went into the stables to see to their horses, the six students named
by Keldorn followed the knight to another building.

“You six have already proven yourselves to be quite capable on horseback.” Hermione smiled
radiantly at her instructor’s praise. “So I think it’s time you moved on. This course is called
Riding and *Magical* Mounts for a reason. Today, you will be starting with the hippogriffs.”
Hermione’s smile faltered and her face paled while Harry grinned. “Hagrid tells me that you should
already know how to approach a hippogriff from your Care of Magical Creatures course, so today I
want you to pick a hippogriff from those in the yard behind this barn and familiarize yourself with
them, much like you did with your horses. As you should already know, hippogriffs are extremely
intelligent but also extremely proud animals. So treat them with proper respect or you will regret
it. Any questions? No? Then get to it!”

Harry walked through the barn to see several hippogriffs in the yard beyond. He quickly spied
the one he wanted and walked up to it. Harry bowed low, a gesture that was immediately returned by
the creature.

“Hello, Buckbeak,” said Harry. “How’ve you been? You want to be my mount for the next few
classes?”

The hippogriff made a low chirping noise that Harry took for an affirmative.

Harry enjoyed that session spending time with Buckbeak, learning how to care for a hippogriff
and the interesting harnesses and equipment that a person could use for riding one of the
creatures. He was excited for the next class when he would hopefully get to take Buckbeak up into
the sky.

Hermione, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be enjoying herself all that much. It seemed to
Harry that his best friend would much rather be riding her horse than worrying about hippogriffs.
He supposed that the girl’s aversion to flying had something to do with her overly cautious
approach to the creatures.

After the class was finished, Harry stayed back to speak with Keldorn.

“You can head back to the tower, Hermione,” Harry said to his best friend, “I’m going to stick
around and talk to Sir Firecam about, well, *you know*.”

“Alright, Harry,” she responded, “just don’t take too long. I want to know what he says.”

With that the bushy-haired witch started walking back to the castle.

“You just wanted to watch her walk away,” said a voice from behind Harry that startled the young
wizard. Harry turned to see Ginny standing there with a smirk on her face. “Go on, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Harry. However, he did turn back to watch
Hermione as she made her way to the castle entrance.

“Yes you do,” said Ginny. “You just like watching her cute little bum in those tight riding
breeches.”

“Ginny!”

The petite witch threw her head back and laughed.

“Just admit it, Harry. You fancy Hermione.”

“Shouldn’t you be off snogging Dean somewhere?” Harry said sarcastically.

“Shouldn’t *you* be off snogging *Hermione* somewhere?” Ginny shot back.

Harry glared at her, but she just laughed again.

“Seriously, Harry. Go for it. I highly doubt that she would object to a little tonsil Quidditch
with you.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Sir Firecam.”

“Oh alright. Be stubborn. Just don’t be too stubborn, Hermione might move on. Then where will
you find a girl that likes you for you and isn’t just some fan girl?”

Harry strode away from the teasing Weasley to find Keldorn looking over the tack and harness in
the stable.

“Sir Firecam?” he asked, “can I ask you a question?”

“What is it, Mr. Potter?”

“Well I was wondering, err… that is, Hermione had an idea.”

“Yes?”

“Well, what did Professor Dumbledore tell you about me and Voldemort?”

Keldorn’s demeanor shifted as he realized the seriousness of the conversation.

“Not very much, Mr. Potter.”

Harry glanced around to make sure they were alone.

“You’ve probably heard people calling me ‘the Chosen One’, right?” the knight nodded. “Well
there’s some truth to that. There’s a prophecy, you see, that says I’m the one that can beat him.
But it also says that I’m supposed to have a ‘power that he knows not.’ Hermione had the idea that
you are that power. Or I guess that being a paladin is the power. So we were thinking, well, could
you teach me to be a paladin like you?”

Keldorn regarded Harry for a long, silent moment before finally speaking.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Harry asked in surprise at the knight’s short, negative answer. He’d thought
that he would at least consider it for a while before turning him down.

“You know nothing of what you ask.”

“But you could teach me!”

“Mr. Potter, consecration as a paladin is not a means to an end. I will not set you upon a
sacred path simply so you can fight Voldemort.”

“What do you mean, ‘simply to fight Voldemort’? He’s the darkest, most evil wizard in the world!
I thought you of all people would want to use every advantage to fight him!”

“I will not consecrate you just to fight one man.”

“Why not?” Harry asked somewhat indignantly as his temper started to rise.

“Fine. Let’s say that I do consecrate you and you do go on to defeat him. What then?”

“What has that got to do with anything?!”

“It has *everything* to do with it, boy!” Keldorn said, his voice rising sharply to the
point that he was nearly shouting. “Becoming a paladin is not something that you can turn off. Once
you’re consecrated, there is no turning back. You will be *sworn* to fight the Darkness for
the rest of your life. You will never be able to quit.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Is it? What do you even know of the life of a paladin? I’ve told you something of my order; you
know that it is a very prestigious, honorable thing for a man to be inducted into it, yes? I’ve
said that very few paladins are ever given this honor, yes?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Do you know what the requirements are for becoming a member of the Most Noble Order of the
Radiant Heart?”

“No.”

“You must be a paladin who has served the Light faithfully for ten years. That is all.”

“So what’s your point?”

“My *point*, Mr. Potter, is that very few paladins *survive* beyond a handful of years
after their consecration. The fight against the Darkness claims us *all*, without exception.
Most die before their first year of consecration is finished.”

That comment quickly silenced Harry.

“Mr. Potter,” continued Keldorn in a much calmer tone of voice, “I will not consecrate you, I
will not lay such a heavy, sacred burden upon you, merely for you to fight one enemy, no matter how
evil and powerful he is. I will not see your life destroyed as a means to an end.

“Any paladin would join you in standing against Voldemort. But you cannot *become* a
paladin simply to make that stand. This life is a calling, it is a holy and sacred *vocation*.
Only those who were born for the purpose of standing with the Light against the onslaught of the
Darkness can take up the mantle of the paladin. The war we are fighting will never end until the
Final Battle at the end of time. Becoming a paladin cannot be done for the merely sake of defeating
one enemy.

“Are you ready to lay down your life, to sacrifice everything you hold dear to forever after
stand against the Darkness? Are you ready to dedicate the rest of what would likely be a very short
life to the service of the Light in almost constant battle? Are you willing to die at a moment’s
notice in whatever task, great or small, is needed to stem the tide of evil?”

Harry didn’t answer. He merely looked down at his feet.

“I know you mean well, Mr. Potter. I know that your desire is good. But I will not consecrate
you simply for the fight against Voldemort. The paladin’s calling must be much, much more than
that.

“So, Mr. Potter, my answer to your question is no.”

OoOoO

**AN: And there’s Chapter XIV.**

**Thanks to everyone who has favorited or followed the story.**

**And special thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Please let me know what you think. I love
hearing from you.**

**And thanks for reading!**



15. XV
------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XV

Harry was a mix of emotions as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t really sure if he
should be angry, sad, happy or relieved that Keldorn had refused his request to learn how to become
a paladin. He was a bit upset that the old knight had rejected him out of hand, but also relieved
that he wouldn’t need to go through with it. He was nervous about how Hermione would react to the
news, and a bit embarrassed to know that he would have to tell her and the Headmaster that he’d
been rejected. It was all very confusing.

As soon as he came through the portrait hole, Hermione pounced on him.

“Well?” she asked, “what did he say?”

Harry glanced around the crowded common room before returning his gaze to Hermione.

“Not here,” he said.

“Oh, right,” replied the young witch. “Sorry, you know how I get when I want to know something.
Let’s go find somewhere more private.”

With that, Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him back out into the corridors. She led the
way down the seventh floor hallway to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy where she paced back and
forth three times to make the door to the Room of Requirement appear.

Harry followed Hermione into the room to see a miniature version of the Gryffindor common room,
although with a few alterations. There was only one sofa - a small loveseat that could barely fit
two people. The loveseat faced a fireplace with a roaring fire, and a bearskin rug was spread on
the floor in front of the hearth. The room had very soft lighting.

It was quite the romantic setting.

Harry looked over to Hermione and cocked an eyebrow.

“What exactly did you tell the room you needed?” he asked.

Hermione blushed slightly.

“I just thought, ‘I need a room to be alone with Harry…’”

Harry didn’t respond; instead he went over and took a seat on the couch. Hermione sat down next
to him.

“Well,” she said, “what did Sir Firecam have to say?”

Harry looked down to his lap, unable to meet her eyes.

“He said no,” he admitted in a soft voice.

“What do you mean he said no?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious. He said that he wouldn’t train me to be a paladin.”

“But… how… I don’t understand!” Hermione exclaimed, rising to her feet, “how could he just say
no?! This could be the only way to defeat Voldemort!”

“I told him that. He didn’t seem to think that was a good enough reason for me to become a
paladin.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Harry just shrugged his shoulders.

“What exactly did he say?” continued Hermione.

“He said that being a paladin is more than just a way to fight Voldemort. It’s a whole way of
life. I’d have to swear to fight the Darkness for the rest of my life. He said that most paladins
die within a year of their consecration and that he wouldn’t put that burden on me just to fight
Voldemort.”

Hermione sobered a bit after hearing the knight’s reasoning and sat down next to Harry once
again.

“What do you mean most paladins die within a year?” she asked.

“Sir Firecam said that becoming a paladin basically guarantees an early grave,” Harry answered.
“They swear to literally dedicate their lives to fighting for the Light against the Darkness, which
means most of them quickly get killed in the process.”

“But Sir Firecam is at least, I would say sixty years old! He’s been a paladin for decades.”

“Yeah, he’s apparently the exception to the rule. You know that order of knights that he’s in?
Well apparently the only requirement for joining is being a paladin for ten years. He said that
there aren’t very many members.”

“That’s… Oh Harry, that’s so sad.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he won’t let me become one, or angry that he
doesn’t think I’d make it.”

Hermione didn’t respond; she just sat staring at the fire for a long time. The two Gryffindors
lapsed into silence together.

Eventually Harry broke the silence.

“Maybe I should tell him about the ‘either must die at the hand of the other’ bit,” he said.
“Maybe he won’t worry so much about me getting killed if he knows that the prophecy says I’m
probably going to bite the dust anyways.”

Hermione responded by hitting him on the shoulder. Hard.

“Don’t joke about that!” she said vehemently, “that’s not funny.”

“It’s true though,” Harry replied while rubbing his shoulder.

“No it isn’t.”

“Come on. What chance do I really have against a dark lord?”

“You’re going to beat him, Harry,” Hermione insisted.

“Be realistic, Hermione…”

“*Stop it!*” she shouted. “Just stop it already! You are *not* going to die. You’re
going to beat him. *We’re* going to beat him. Together. I’m not going to let you die. So stop
acting like you’re already dead.”

“Hermione…”

“No! We’ll find a way. Maybe we can think of something to convince Sir Firecam to teach you. If
not, I’ll think of something else. But I am sure as *hell* not going to let that monster take
you away from me!”

Hermione was breathing rather heavily at the end of her rant. Harry noticed that there were
unshed tears in her eyes as well. After a moment, she looked away from him and then stood up from
the couch, ready to flee the room.

Harry didn’t let her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down into the seat next to
him.

“Let go of me!” the irate witch shouted.

“No,” replied Harry.

“Harry Potter, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let go of me this instant!”

“No. If you get to insist that Voldemort isn’t going to kill me, well, then I get to insist that
you don’t get to leave.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes it does! If you want to be in this together, then stay and help me figure this out.”

Hermione sat quietly for a moment before responding.

“Fine. You can let go of my wrist. I won’t run away.”

“Promise?”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“I promise.”

Harry loosened his grip on Hermione’s arm, but didn’t let go completely. Instead, he let his
hand slide down into hers.

“I’m sorry for talking about dying like that. I didn’t really mean it.”

Hermione sighed.

“It’s okay, Harry.”

“It’s just that…” Harry went on, “it just seems so impossible sometimes. But thanks for
reminding me that I’m not alone in this.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Hermione said as she looked at Harry with a smile. “We always
do.”

The two Gryffindors sat in silent contemplation for a little while before Hermione spoke up
again.

“You know, just because most of the paladins on Sir Firecam’s world die young doesn’t mean that
they would *here*.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

“Just think, the way he’s described his home world the few times he’s talked about it, he’s made
it seem like there were all sorts of evil monsters and villains out to cause trouble. We don’t have
too many ogres attacking villages here.”

“This coming from the girl that was almost squashed by a mountain troll in her first year?”

“Well, I mean, okay, we do have some of that in the magical world. But it doesn’t seem to be
nearly as rampant as in his world. Besides, we tend to look at creatures like trolls and dragons as
animals that need to be protected and controlled, instead of monsters that need to be fought.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Hermione. There’s still plenty of evil in the world that a
paladin would *have* to fight. I think that was Sir Firecam’s point; a paladin doesn’t get to
*choose* whether or not to fight, he *has* to. He’s not allowed to ignore the evil he
comes across.”

“Yes, but practically speaking, how often would you really come across a dangerous evil that you
were required to physically fight?”

“Umm… have you been at Hogwarts with me for the past five years or not?”

“Well, yes, you have a point. We haven’t exactly been idle, have we? But I think our experience
is far from the norm. Not all of the students are fighting trolls and basilisks in their spare
time.”

“You make it sound like it was all so easy…”

“Hush. Anyways, I was saying that it’s unlikely that you would need to fight something or
someone very often in our world. Our society doesn’t really look at violence as an acceptable way
of dealing with conflict except in extreme circumstances. *Here* it wouldn’t really be
*right* for you to just attack an enemy. The good thing to do is to talk with them first.”

“I don’t know if that will convince him. It doesn’t seem like he’ll let me in on a hypothetical
condition or technicality of what *might* happen here.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Harry and Hermione stayed in the Room of Requirement for a few hours. They were trying so hard
to either come up with a way to convince Keldorn to train Harry, or with some other idea for what
‘the power he knows not’ might be that they completely missed dinner. In the end, they left without
an answer, and made their way back to Gryffindor tower just before curfew.

OoOoO

OoOoO

That weekend, Harry received a note from the Headmaster to join him in his office after dinner
for another private lesson. This time Harry brought Hermione along with him.

“Good evening, Harry,” Dumbledore said in greeting as the two Gryffindors entered his office.
“Miss Granger, is there something I can do for you this evening?”

“I asked her to come along,” replied Harry. “I’m just going to end up telling her everything
anyways, and she’s much smarter than I am. I figured that it would just be easier to have her here
to see things herself.”

Dumbledore smiled.

“I think that is a marvelous idea,” the old wizard replied. “It is always good to have allies
that you can trust completely and with whom you can go over your ideas. I am glad that you have
found such a confidant in Miss Granger.”

The Headmaster then turned to address Hermione directly.

“Miss Granger, I trust that you understand the seriousness of the topics that we will be
discussing this evening and in any future ‘lessons.’”

“Of course,” Hermione replied.

“Good,” said Dumbledore. “Well then. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

The three companions spent the evening viewing Pensieve memories about Tom Riddle’s childhood
upbringing in a Muggle orphanage. They witnessed Dumbledore’s first meeting with him as he
delivered his Hogwarts letter to the future dark lord. They spent some time afterwards discussing
the personality of the young Tom Riddle and how the things they had seen might pertain to the
current incarnation of Lord Voldemort.

It wasn’t until a few hours later that the topic of Harry becoming a paladin finally came
up.

“He said he wouldn’t teach you, did he?” asked Dumbledore.

“Pretty much,” replied Harry.

“Hmmm…” the old wizard hummed to himself as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers
in front of his chin. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up again.

“I have been pondering this idea quite a bit since our last gathering. I’m at a loss to think of
any other likely theory for ‘the power the Dark Lord knows not.’ So, I would advise you to try
again with our good Sir Firecam. Perhaps he just needs a bit of convincing.”

“Err… he was pretty adamant about saying no,” said Harry.

“Be that as it may, perhaps you could try a different tactic; come up with a different
argument.”

“We’ve tried,” said Hermione, “we haven’t been able to come up with anything convincing.”

Dumbledore just smiled.

“Did you really expect to find the answer so quickly? I’ve often found that solutions to real
problems are hard to come by. This isn’t a homework assignment, Miss Granger. Just because the
answer isn’t easy to find doesn’t mean it’s not out there somewhere. You’ll just have to keep
looking until you find it.”

“Couldn’t you convince him to teach me, sir?” Harry enquired.

“Oh I highly doubt it,” the Headmaster answered. “While Sir Firecam and I have a good
understanding of one another, I do not think that my interference in this matter would be
beneficial in the slightest. Besides, I have my hands rather full at the moment with other pressing
concerns. No, this is a matter that I must trust that you will be able to handle yourself.”

Harry just nodded.

“On another topic, I have some news from the Order that I thought I would share with you this
evening. Professor Snape tells us that Voldemort has been rather unsettled as of late. I believe
that the presence of our friend Sir Firecam has Tom quite concerned. He is apparently spending much
of his time locked away doing research on some obscure topic that our spy has been unfortunately
unable to discern. In any event, I think such news is welcome for the time being, as it also means
that the Death Eaters have been rather inactive without direction from their master.”

Harry nodded his head again, but Hermione asked a question.

“Do you have any idea what he might be looking for?”

“It is a dangerous game to start asking questions like that without more information. Our
guesses could be far off the mark and lead us astray with disastrous results if we allow such
thoughts to prejudice our thinking. So, in the meantime, I will make no guesses until we know
more.”

Without anything else to discuss, Dumbledore bid his two students goodnight and dismissed them
for the evening.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Tuesday’s riding class was the third session in which the six ‘advanced’ students worked with
their hippogriffs and the first time that they actually rode the creatures. Unlike Hagrid’s
approach from years before, Keldorn had a much more conservative method in that he made his
students thoroughly familiarize themselves with the creatures before they hopped on for a ride.
They were also given clear instructions to keep their hippogriffs on the ground for the day.

Harry found that riding a hippogriff on the ground was pretty similar to riding a horse. The
rhythm of the Buckbeak’s movement was a little different, as the hippogriff was naturally much
lighter and quicker on its feet, but otherwise it was very much the same. Hermione even seemed to
overcome her initial hesitation and was once again riding alongside Harry on a dark grey hippogriff
named Aristotle as they skirted the border of the Forbidden Forest. Harry supposed that the old
knight’s order to keep the beasts firmly on the ground went a long way to boosting his best
friend’s confidence as she didn’t have to worry about flying just yet.

A few other students had ‘graduated’ from riding horses to familiarizing themselves with the
hippogriffs, among them were Ginny and Luna, but neither of them had been cleared for riding just
yet.

“Did I mention that Sir Firecam finally let me examine his enchanted gorget yesterday?” Hermione
spoke up from beside Harry.

“No, you didn’t,” Harry replied.

“Yes, well, I think I’m going to try and recreate the enchantment to see if I can get similar
results with normal clothing for a special project with Professor McGonagall,” Hermione explained.
“Just imagine, all you’d have to do is put on a shirt or a hat, say a command word, and poof!
you’re instantly wearing in your finest dress robes!”

“So you think that might help you cut down on the time you need to get ready every morning?”
asked Harry with a grin. “I swear, I have to wait longer and longer each day for you to come down
before we can go to breakfast.”

“Hush you. Don’t you know that waiting on a woman is good for a man?” Hermione replied with a
cheeky grin of her own.

“Oh is it now?”

“Absolutely.”

“Girls,” Harry responded with a shake of his head, “I’ll never get you lot figured out.”

“Nor should you,” said Hermione, “We’re supposed to keep you guessing.”

“Hey Harry, Hermione,” greeted Neville as he rode up beside them on his own dark brown
hippogriff. “Isn’t this great? I think taking this course was the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that because Hannah Abbott keeps asking you for help getting down from her
saddle,” Harry shot back with a smile.

Neville blushed.

“Harry, be nice,” chastised Hermione.

“Yes, dear,” Harry replied.

Hermione’s hippogriff tossed its head in annoyance at something and Hermione responded with a
gentle pat on the side of its neck.

“Easy there, Books,” she said.

“Hermione, why do you insist on calling your hippogriff ‘Books’?” asked Harry. “Its name is
Aristotle, for Pete’s sake!”

“Well, I think Books fits him rather well. Besides, he likes it. Don’t you, Books?”

The hippogriff actually chirped in response.

“See?” Hermione said with a smug grin.

Whatever retort Harry was about to make was cut off by a loud scream from somewhere up ahead.
The three Gryffindors stopped their mounts and looked up to see a hippogriff take off into the air
with its rider dangling halfway out of the saddle. The creature flew out low over the Forbidden
Forest. It was flying erratically, and soon enough its rider was thrown off into the treetops of
the forest.

“Where’s Sir Firecam?” Harry asked no one in particular as he stared at the forest, trying to
estimate how far in he had seen the girl fall.

“I think he took Romilda to the hospital wing,” replied Neville. “I saw her spook her horse
earlier and it kicked her in the leg.”

“Right,” said Harry with a decisive nod, “I’m going to go into the forest and find whoever that
was. They’re probably hurt and it’s dangerous in there. We need to get them out.”

“Harry… are you sure you should do that?” asked Hermione. “Shouldn’t we wait for a
professor?”

“We don’t have time!” Harry said emphatically. “Who knows what might happen to whoever that was
while we wait around. I’m going in. Hermione, go find Sir Firecam and tell him what’s
happened.”

“Oh no you don’t, Harry Potter!” replied Hermione. “You’re not going in there alone. If you
insist on this I’m going with you. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

“Hermione, don’t argue…”

“I’ll go find Sir Firecam,” offered Neville.

“See, that’s settled,” said Hermione.

Harry shook his head but decided not to argue any further.

“Fine, let’s go.”

With that, Harry and Hermione spurred their hippogriffs to ride into the forest.

Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the forest’s thick canopy cut off most of the
sun’s light, creating a dark and foreboding atmosphere. It was unnaturally quiet in the forest; no
birds or other small animals could be heard at all. The two Gryffindors readied their wands as they
rode deeper into the forest in the direction that they’d last seen their classmate.

The trees were planted close together, ruling out the possibility of urging the hippogriffs into
the air if the need for a quick exit arose.

“I don’t like this, Harry,” whispered Hermione.

“We’ll be fine,” Harry whispered back. “We just need to find whoever that was and leave as
quickly as possible.”

A few minutes later, Hermione’s hippogriff started to act a bit skittish.

“Its okay, Books,” Hermione said, trying to sooth the animal.

Buckbeak was much calmer, but would let out a quick snort every once in a while as his eyes
darted left and right.

“Something’s not right here,” said Hermione.

“There! Up ahead! I can see her!” said Harry as he urged Buckbeak to go a bit faster. Hermione
quickly caught up with him as Harry jumped down from his saddle to land next to an unconscious
Daphne Greengrass. The Slytherin girl’s left leg was bent at an odd angle, clearly broken, and
there was blood on her face.

“Hermione, come closer. I’ll pick her up and put her across Aristotle.”

“Did you hear that?” Hermione asked as Harry lifted the unconscious girl into his arms.

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard a clicking sound.”

“We’d better hurry then.”

Harry had just slung Daphne over Aristotle in front of Hermione when he heard the noise. It
sounded like a bunch of fast, loud clicks, almost as if someone were tapping dozens of stones
together. He quickly cast a Sticking Charm to make sure that the injured girl wouldn’t fall and
then went back to his mount.

Buckbeak snorted loudly and began scratching at the ground.

“That’s not good,” Harry mumbled as he scrambled back into his saddle.

“What’s not good?” Hermione asked a bit hysterically.

“Acromantulas.”

All color quickly drained out of Hermione’s face as her eyes widened.

“Let’s go, Hermione!” Harry shouted, trying to get moving before it was too late. Hermione
snapped out of her daze and together they spurred their hippogriffs back toward the castle as fast
as they dared.

Just then, one of the huge, hairy, black spiders leapt down from the trees and landed on the
path in front of them. Hermione screamed, but Harry reacted by pointing his wand.

“*Reducto!*” he shouted. The spider dodged out of the way but Harry’s spell cleared the way
before them.

“Come on, Hermione!” He shouted as they raced for freedom. “Come on, Buckbeak, go faster!”

Harry looked back over his shoulder to see several of the grotesque, giant spiders following on
their heels. The hippogriffs were faster than the hideous creatures, but just barely. And there
were many, many more of them.

“*Reducto!*” Harry shouted with his wand pointed behind him. He wasn’t really aiming to hit
the creatures, but to slow them down. If he could create enough if a gap between them and their
pursuers, they might just be able to get away. Harry frantically started throwing spells out behind
him.

“*Reducto! Confringo! Displodo!*” He shouted.

He saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was likewise casting spells at their pursuers,
only instead of Blasting and Exploding Hexes, she was shooting volleys of icicles at them or
freezing the ground in the hopes that the spiders would slip and fall.

Suddenly, both Buckbeak and Aristotle skidded to an abrupt halt and reared up on their hind
legs, letting out shrill cries. Amazingly, both Harry and Hermione managed to stay in their saddles
as Harry looked ahead to see that the path was once again blocked, but this time by at least a
dozen Acromantulas.

The sound of dozens of hungry, scurrying spiders filled the air as Harry and Hermione were
quickly surrounded.

“Crap.”

OoOoO

**AN: Well, there’s Chapter 15. Sorry it took so long, but life is busy. I’ve no idea when the
next one will be up, so you’ll all just have to practice the virtue of patience. That should be
easy, right?**

**Anyways, please leave a review on your way out. And thanks for reading!**



16. XVI
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XVI

“Oh *bugger!*” exclaimed Hermione as she frantically cast her eyes around at the swarm of
huge Acromantulas that surrounded her and Harry. “Bugger me! *Bugger, bugger, bugger!*”

Harry only barely registered Hermione’s uncharacteristic use of foul language as his mind raced
for an idea that could get them out of their deadly predicament. Buckbeak and Aristotle, the two
hippogriffs that they had ridden into the forest to rescue Daphne, were loudly screeching at the
spiders and continually rearing up on their hind legs, flailing their sharp front claws at the
beasts.

So far, it seemed like the spiders were hesitant to approach, but Harry knew it was only a
matter of time. He knew he needed to do something fast or they were dead meat.

“Oh screw it! *Reducto!*” Harry shouted as he began to cast into the mass of swarming
Acromantulas. “*Confringo! Displodo! Reducto!*” He desperately hoped that his Basting and
Exploding Hexes would drive the spiders back a bit and buy them some time.

A few of his spells struck the spiders, who shrieked in agony as their exoskeletons were blasted
apart and thick, green gunk splattered onto the ground. Most of his hexes missed, however, and
instead slammed into the ground, tearing up great fountains of dirt and stones with a thunderous
roar.

Harry’s spellcasting seemed to stir Hermione into action.

“Harry!” she shouted, “Fire! Use fire spells to hold them back! *Incendio!*”

A jet of crimson flame shot out of Hermione’s wand and washed over the ground in front of a
group of spiders. The Acromantulas screamed in rage, and fled from the burning flames. Harry
switched to Hermione’s more effective tactic and together they held the spiders at bay with a wall
of fire cast in a wide circle around them.

“We need to make an exit!” Harry shouted. “We won’t be able to hold them off for long!”

Just then one of the largest spiders in the swarm leaped down from the trees and landed with a
crash in between Harry and Hermione. Hermione’s hippogriff bucked wildly, and threw her from the
saddle. The young witch screamed as she flew through the air and landed with a crunch on the
ground. Harry looked over to see the monster moving to loom over his defenseless friend.

“*HERMIONE!*”

Harry aimed his wand and let lose with a Blasting Curse.

“*Reducto!*”

The spell, however, only bounced off the spider’s thick shell and didn’t even divert its
attention from the girl on the ground.

At a loss for what else to do, Harry spurred Buckbeak forward and charged headlong at the beast
with a scream of rage. Harry’s cry was joined by a scream from Buckbeak as they crashed into the
side of the giant spider. The hippogriff used its sharp beak and claws to tear at the creature,
while Harry cast spell after useless spell at its unyielding armor.

With a shake of her head, Hermione began to come to, only to screamed in terror when she saw the
Acromantula looming above her. She scrambled out from underneath it just as Buckbeak lowered his
head and slammed the beast aside. The spider turned, and readied itself for another attack while
Harry cast his glance around the clearing. The ring of fire was dying down and soon the swarm would
be upon them.

With a sudden movement, the spider shot a burst of wet, sticky webbing at Buckbeak’s legs. The
hippogriff toppled over with a shrill cry and threw Harry to the forest floor, the impact driving
the wind out of his lungs. He thought he heard Hermione shout something, but the pain in his chest
and the blood pounding in his head made it difficult to tell.

Harry blinked to clear his vision, only to look up to see the arachnid standing over him. Thick,
green venom dripped from its mandibles and its clustered eyes seemed to glint with malice. It
opened its jaws wide to deliver a killing strike, but Harry thrust his wand up and with all his
might sent a Blasting Curse directly into the beast’s mouth.

“*Confringo!*”

The spider’s head exploded in a shower of blood and gore, covering Harry as its massive body
collapsed to the ground.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted as she frantically pulled him to his feet. “Oh, Merlin, Harry!”

“I’m alright,” he said as he took in their situation. The spiders were still held back by the
ring of fire, but that was dying down with every passing second. Things were not looking good.

“Where’s my wand?!” Hermione desperately asked. “I lost it when Aristotle threw me.”

Harry sent a Cutting Curse at the webbing that was wrapped around Buckbeak’s legs, freeing the
creature before looking for his companion’s wand.

“*Accio Hermione’s wand!”*

The short length of vine wood flew into his hand and he quickly tossed it to Hermione.

Aristotle still had Daphne slung across his back while he and Buckbeak paced back and forth.

Harry and Hermione stood back to back as the ring of fire faltered.

“Harry,” said the distressed girl as she groped for his hand, “I’m glad I’m with you.”

The flames went out and the spiders were just about to surge forward when a bright light and a
loud cry pierced the darkness of the forest. Harry whipped his head to the side to see Keldorn
charging through the spiders on the back of a powerful horse. His armor sparkled and his blade
shone like the sun as he swung it about him, cutting a wide swath of fury through the mass of
arachnids. The paladin’s sword blazed with light so bright that Harry had to shield his eyes. The
spiders, used to living in the perpetual darkness of the forest and fearful of such wondrous light,
retreated before the onslaught of the knight’s brilliant weapon.

“Get back on your mounts!” commanded the knight as he cleaved through the head of a spider that
was too slow to flee.

Harry quickly obeyed and helped Hermione into the saddle before climbing onto Buckbeak.

“Ride for the castle!” shouted Keldorn, “*Ride!*”

The two students didn’t need to be told twice and spurred their hippogriffs through the opening
that Keldorn had created as fast as they could possibly go.

Harry looked over his shoulder to see the knight cut down one last, humongous arachnid before
turning and following his two students. The spiders scattered and dispersed, fleeing from the wrath
of the armored warrior.

A few moments later, the two hippogriffs and their passengers burst through the tree line,
followed shortly thereafter by Keldorn and his horse.

Harry pulled back on his reigns to slow his mount only to be rebuked by Keldorn as he rode up
beside them.

“Don’t stop. Go straight to the infirmary.”

Harry didn’t respond, he simply obeyed the command of the man who saved both his and Hermione’s
lives once again.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later, still covered in dirt and gore, Harry and Hermione sat side by side on one of the beds in
the hospital wing as the school matron bustled about the room. Hermione was shivering, and Harry
doubted that it had anything to do with the cold or with the hairline fracture in her lower left
leg. After a moment of hesitation from fear that she would just push him away, he decided to put
his arm around her shoulders. Far from pushing him away, Hermione leaned into him, seeming to seek
shelter and protection from the outside world as her shivers continued unabated. Madam Pomfrey was
attending to Daphne first, as the girl’s injuries were likely much more serious, but she promised
to look them over soon.

Hermione reached up with her right hand and grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt in her fist.
Harry looked down at her face, buried in his shoulder as her shivers turned into sobs. He wrapped
his arms around her protectively as she cried.

“I thought we were going to die,” Hermione whispered once her tears stopped.

“I know,” Harry quietly responded, “so did I.”

“When that spider was standing over me, looking down at me with those horrible eyes,” Hermione
continued, “I thought that was it. I thought that was the end. I can’t believe that you actually
charged into it like that. You saved my life.”

“I think it was Sir Firecam that saved both our lives,” Harry responded.

“True, but I’d still be dead if it weren’t for you. I can’t believe you attacked it like
that.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Harry. Merlin knows I’m not angry or upset that you did it. I just can’t believe
it. I can’t believe that you would throw yourself at a monster like that for me.”

Harry looked into Hermione’s red, puffy eyes. Her face was blotchy from crying and there were
tear tracks running down her cheeks.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Hermione didn’t respond, she simply planted a long kiss on his cheek, wrapped him in a tight
hug, and refused to let go.

A fair amount of time passed before the door banged open while Madam Pomfrey was tending to the
two Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall strode into the room followed by Sir Firecam who had sheathed
his sword, but was still wearing his armor. The Deputy Headmistress was obviously in a towering
rage as she approached her two students.

“Whit waur ye bairns *thinkin'?!*” McGonagall asked, her speech reverting to her thick
Scottish Brogue in her anger. “Ye coods hae bin killed runnin' aff loch 'at!”

Hermione seemed to shrink, burrowing into Harry’s side under the withering gaze of her favorite
professor. But Harry met the professor’s eyes straight on. He wasn’t really sure how to react,
given that he could barely understand a word she was saying.

“Ne'er in aw mah years hae Ah seen sic' a reckless display! I'll hae ye tois in
detention scrubbin' floors until th' moon falls frae abune!”

“I think that’s enough for now, Minerva,” said Dumbledore as he calmly strode into the room.
“Besides, I doubt that young Harry and Hermione are well versed in Scottish.”

McGonagall glared at the Headmaster, but ceased her yelling as she visibly tried to calm herself
down.

“Now,” continued Dumbledore, “I understand you two ventured into the forest and had a run in
with some of the wildlife there.”

Hermione shivered while Harry responded.

“Well, that’s certainly one way of putting it.”

Dumbledore smiled.

“Yes, I find that putting things lightly sometimes helps to keep the darker thoughts at bay,” he
replied.

“It was a very brave thing that these two did,” said Keldorn. “Reckless and foolish maybe, but
brave nonetheless. I think it is safe to say that without their actions, Miss Greengrass would no
longer be with us.”

“Indeed,” agreed Dumbledore. “I think some sort of reward is in order. Don’t you agree,
Minerva?”

“Ye cannae be serioos!” responded the Deputy Headmistress, the strength of her accent making it
obvious for everyone to know that she was still furious. “They need tae be punished fur their
actions!”

“I think that their experience in the forest is punishment enough,” said Dumbledore. “I highly
doubt that either Mister Potter or Miss Granger has any desire to venture back into those woods any
time soon.” Both Harry and Hermione quickly shook their heads. “Besides, they did save Miss
Greengrass’ life at the risk of their own. I think one hundred points to Gryffindor for each of
them as well as an award for special services to the school to be presented at a future date should
suffice. What do you say, Harry, Hermione?”

The two students just looked at their professors in shock. Hermione eventually nodded her
head.

“Well, that’s settled then,” said Dumbledore. “Minerva, please arrange things for the award. Now
then, let’s check in with Miss Greengrass and then I think I could use a nice cup of tea. Would you
like to join me, Minerva?”

With that, the two professors left to see Daphne on the other side of the infirmary. Keldorn
remained, however.

“That really was a brave thing you did today,” said the old knight. “Especially since I
understand that that two of you have been in the Forbidden Forest before and know firsthand of the
dangers therein.”

Harry just shrugged his shoulders while Hermione maintained her hold on him.

“Thank you for saving us,” said Harry.

“I merely did my duty,” Keldorn responded. “You are both students under my charge. I could have
done no less. You two, however, were under no such obligation to risk your lives for a classmate.
That you did so makes me proud to say that I know you. Well done. May the Light shine on you
always.”

After Keldorn had left and Pomfrey had healed Hermione’s leg and generally finished with them,
the matron dismissed the two Gryffindors.

“But before you leave, Miss Greengrass has asked to speak with you,” Madam Pomfrey said as she
gestured to one of the beds that was surrounded by privacy screens.

Harry and Hermione approached the bed and entered the private area. Daphne was lying on the bed,
her legs covered by the thin, white sheet. Her head and torso were wrapped in thick bandages and
there were several open vials sitting on the nightstand. Daphne stared at the two Gryffindors shyly
for a moment before speaking.

“Pomfrey said that you two saved my life.”

“Err… yeah.” Harry replied with his usual elegance.

“I don’t really remember what happened,” Daphne continued, “one minute I was riding the
hippogriff and the next it just took off and then I was falling into the trees. That’s all I can
remember. She said that you saved me from the Acromantulas?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” the injured girl asked.

“What?” asked Harry in confusion.

“I thought you two hated all the Slytherins.”

“Oh don’t be silly,” replied Hermione, “Just because Malfoy is a pompous brat doesn’t mean we
hate all of you.”

“Besides,” added Harry, “I couldn’t even tell who it was that fell into the forest. I would have
gone after anyone really.”

“You’re such a Gryffindor,” said Daphne with an attempt at a smile, “and I mean that as a
compliment. Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” said Harry.

“Come on, Harry,” said Hermione, “Let’s let Daphne rest a bit.”

They left the hospital wing and slowly wandered back toward their dormitories. Harry was really
looking forward to a shower.

“I can’t believe it,” said Harry.

“What, that we’re still alive?” asked Hermione.

“No, not that. I can’t believe that your response to being surrounded by Acromantulas was to
say, ‘Bugger me! Bugger, bugger, bugger!’” Harry said with a teasing smile.

“Oh, be quiet you.”

“I mean, I never took you for that kind of girl.”

“Prat.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry and Hermione were presented with their award for special services to the school on the
following Friday during dinner. Harry was rather embarrassed to be paraded in front of the school.
It wasn’t like he put much thought into the process or *decided* that he should act
heroically, he just saw someone in danger and he reacted. The fact that he had to fight off a
colony of Acromantulas was beside the point.

Nevertheless, the Headmaster called Harry and Hermione forward during the evening meal and had
them stand in front of the assembled student body while he gave a short and rather heavily edited
version of the events that transpired in the Forbidden Forest. The giant spiders were mentioned,
but the fact that if it wasn’t for the timely arrival of Sir Firecam the school would be currently
planning three funerals was glossed over. After he was finished, Dumbledore presented them both
with a bronze plaque. Harry quickly read what was inscribed on it.

Awarded to

HARRY JAMES POTTER

for

SPECIAL SERVICES TO HOGWARTS SCHOOL

OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

for

Courageously saving the life of a fellow student

at the risk of his own.

Harry glanced over at Hermione’s to note that it said exactly the same thing, except for her
name in place of his of course. He was happy that he wasn’t being singled out for the award and
that Hermione was being given the recognition that she deserved as well. After acknowledging the
polite applause of their peers, with surprising enthusiasm coming from the Slytherin table, they
handed the awards back to the Headmaster so that they could be added to the school’s trophy
case.

It was the next morning at breakfast that things got interesting. Harry was just digging into
his fry-up when the owl post arrived. A few moments later Hermione grabbed his elbow to get his
attention.

“Look, Harry!” she exclaimed. “We made the paper!”

Harry groaned.

“Just what I needed, another article in the Prophet,” he responded. “What did I do this time?
Did I go ’round the bend again?”

“Oh honestly, Harry. It’s about the award from yesterday.”

“Great. All I need is another reason for people to stare at me.” Nevertheless, Harry leaned over
to read the article along with Hermione.

*HARRY POTTER FIGHTS OFF SWARM OF SPIDERS!*

*CHOSEN ONE AND GIRLFRIEND SAVE SLYTHERIN STUDENT’S LIFE!*

*By Rita Skeeter*

*Witnesses report that Harry Potter, known to most as the Boy Who Lived, or more recently as
the* *Chosen* *One, has recently been given an award for special services to Hogwarts. He
and his current love-interest, one Hermione Granger rode into the Forbidden Forest to save the life
of their classmate Daphne Greengrass, a sixth year student from Slytherin house.*

*We here at the Prophet are told that Greengrass was unconscious and helpless as a swarm of at
least one hundred gigantic Acromantulas descended upon her after an accident that left her stranded
in the forest. All hope was not lost, however, as the Gryffindor Duo literally rode onto the scene
on the backs of two hippogriffs, casting spells left and right to drive back the monstrous
creatures. Potter and Granger fought side by side and back to back and managed to force the
creatures to retreat.*

*The question that most readers will want to know is, of course, just who is Hermione Granger
- the witch who fought along side our hero? Attentive readers will recall that Granger has been
romantically connected with Potter before. Two years ago during the Tri-Wizard Tournament
speculation was rampant that Granger was at the heart of a love-triangle that pitted Potter against
international Quidditch star and fellow Tri-Wizard Champion Viktor Krum in a battle for her
affections. It seems to this reporter that the battle for the lovely lady has been definitively won
by Potter as Krum is nowhere to be seen. Witnesses report, however, that Granger is constantly at
Potter’s side.*

*Has Potter finally picked a young lady at Hogwarts to shower his affections upon? Is Granger
to be the heroine that will fight alongside our hero? Is she to be the* *Chosen* *One’s
chosen one? How exactly did she win the heart of the most eligible wizard in* *Britain**?
What does this mean for all the other witches in the world vying for a chance to become Mrs.
Potter? Readers want to know.*

*For more on Potter’s battle in the* *Forbidden* *Forest**, see page 3.*

*For a list of dangerous creatures known to live in the* *Forbidden* *Forest**,
see page 5.*

*For a reprinting of articles detailing the Potter-Granger-Krum love triangle, see pages
8-11.*

*For speculation about how Granger won Potter’s heart, see pages 12-15.*

*For speculation on past, current and potential future love-interests for Potter, see pages
16-27.*

By the time Harry and Hermione had finished the article, they were both bright red. Hermione was
also sputtering in indignation.

“But! How? Oh… that woman! I knew I never should have let her out of that jar!” she
exclaimed.

“If it wasn’t Skeeter, it would just be someone else,” commented Harry.

“Speculation on my love life!” Hermione continued her rant, heedless of the many faces that were
now turned to scrutinize the wizarding world’s newest celebrity couple. “Chosen One’s chosen one
indeed! How dare she?!”

Harry felt bad for Hermione. While he was used to all the media attention to a certain extent,
the experience of having your life detailed in the paper for all to see was something that he would
have shielded Hermione from if he could. Even though she wasn’t exactly new to the experience as
she did get a taste of it back in their fourth year.

Harry also felt a bit guilty because he actually *liked* reading the speculation about him
being paired up romantically with Hermione. He wasn’t exactly glad that it was printed in bold
across the front page of magical Britain’s leading newspaper, but it did give Harry a little, warm
feeling nonetheless.

“Hello Harry Potter. Hello Hermione.”

Harry was brought out of his musings and Hermione from her rant by the arrival of Luna
Lovegood.

“I’m glad to see that Operation Quidditch is going so well for you, Hermione,” the blonde
continued. “Or was that Operation Spinach? Which one was it again? Were you the one that was trying
to crossbreed Crups with Snorkacks, or was that daddy? Perhaps you could help with that anyways,
because we never really could figure out what to do with all that spinach…”

The attention of the Gryffindor table was momentarily diverted from Harry and Hermione’s love
life due to the confusion delivered by the fifth year Ravenclaw.

“Anyways,” Luna continued, “daddy wrote an article about you two. I thought you’d like to read
it.”

With that, she placed a fresh copy of *The Quibbler* on the table. With some trepidation,
Harry and Hermione scanned the front page for any mention of their names. They skimmed over
headlines such as *Snorkacks Break Speed Limit*, *What is Scrimgeour Doing with All Those
Chickens?* and even *I Spent the Night with Fungus-Man: Turns Out He is Highly Overrated*
before becoming even more confused.

“Err… Luna,” said Harry, “where exactly is the article about us?”

“Oh. Don’t you want to read about Fungus-Man first? It really is a lovely exposé.”

“Maybe later.”

“Okay. Your article is on page twenty three.”

Hermione quickly turned the pages to find the article in question.

*HARRY POTTER SAVED FROM BLOOD RITUAL BY ACROMANTULAS!*

*By Xenophilius Lovegood*

*Sources close to Hogwarts report that Harry Potter was almost used as a human sacrifice in a
rare, magical blood ritual. The ritual’s performer and well-know girl genius is none other than
Hermione the Granger. (How exactly one goes about ‘granging’ is a topic that will be examined at
length in our next issue.)*

*Sources report that the blood of the last Potter was to be used to rig the academic rankings
at Hogwarts, placing Draco Malfoy in the top position. Thankfully, the ritual was interrupted by a
passing colony of Acromantulas. The gigantic spiders, which are most well known for their
choreography, were able to convince the Granger of the error of her ways. Thus tragedy has once
again been averted.*

*Other sources say that the interrupted ritual then became a wedding ceremony by default (as
interrupted rituals are wont to do) and that Potter and the Granger are now married. The veracity
of this statement is yet to be confirmed.*

*For more ways to unintentionally get married, see page 17.*

*For more on my night with Fungus-Man, see page XXXIV.*

*For reactions from the Acromantula colony, see page rhombus.*

“Well that certainly wasn’t what I was expecting,” said Hermione.

“I think I like *The Quibbler*’s version better,” added Harry.

OoOoO

**AN: McGonagall’s Scottish accent was written with the aid of a rather amusing online
generator that can be found at www dot whoohoo dot co dot** **uk****. Go check it out; it’s a
lot of fun!**

**What did you think of the articles? I added them on a whim, mainly because the chapter was
too short, and I didn’t want to start the next major scene just yet. So they’re kind of just there
as (hopefully) amusing filler. Let me know if you think they’re too terrible to stay.**

**Thanks to everyone who favorited or put an alert on the story; I’m happy to know you’re
enjoying it.**

**Special thanks to those who left a review; you’re all wonderful!**

**And thanks for reading!**



17. XVII
--------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XVII

“Hey, Mate,” said Ron as he walked up to where Harry was sitting with Hermione in the common
room late one evening at the end of November. “Fancy a game of chess?”

“Err… sure,” replied Harry after a moment.

Ron took out his chessboard and began setting it up on the floor. Harry sat down across from him
while Hermione continued reading a rather thicker than normal book.

“Not that I’m complaining,” said Harry as he moved one of his pawns forward, “but why aren’t you
with Lavender?”

“Oh, she and Parvati are finishing their Divination homework. She told me to bugger off for a
bit,” replied Ron as he made his own move on the board.

“Oh.”

The two friends continued to play in silence. Harry hadn’t really been hanging around with his
best mate as much during the past few months due to Ron’s budding relationship with Lavender. They
still spent plenty of time together in their classes and during Quidditch practices, but most of
Ron’s free time was now dedicated to his girlfriend. Harry didn’t begrudge Ron the fact that he was
spending so much time with Lavender; after all, if he had a pretty girl that was willing to snog
him, he’d probably jump at the chance as often as Ron did.

The silence was broken by Hermione suddenly snapping her book closed and then rummaging through
her book bag.

“Oh, where did I leave that copy of *Rudgert’s Ridiculous Runes*? Maybe it’s upstairs. I’ll
be right back.” She quickly got up from her place on the couch and left to search for her book.

“So,” said Ron as he instructed his bishop to skewer one of Harry’s knights, “how are you and
Hermione doing?”

Harry looked at him in confusion.

“We’re fine.”

“No,” replied Ron, “I mean, *how are you doing?*”

“What?”

Ron just waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh,” Harry said looking back at the board. “Err… haven’t really done anything about that.”

“Why not? I think you two could use a good snog. I bet our Hermione’s just brimming with pent-up
energy that would make for some very *entertaining* times together.”

“Ron…” Harry growled in warning.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, what are you waiting for?”

“Well, err… I’m not really sure how to go about, you know, asking her out,” answered Harry.

“Just man up and do it,” said Ron.

“Oh like you’d know anything about that. You didn’t even have to do anything to get your
girlfriend. Lavender just walked up to you and latched onto your face!”

“Oi! No need for that, now.”

“Besides,” continued Harry, “we’ve got bigger thing to worry about.”

“Like what?” Ron asked in confusion.

“*Like what?!*” Harry replied incredulously, “did you forget about *Voldemort* and the
*prophecy*?”

Ron ducked his head as his ears turned pink.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess that’s pretty important.”

They went back to concentrating on the game for a few minutes before Harry spoke up again.

“So, err… if I was to ask out Hermione, well, how do you think I should do it?”

“No idea, mate,” replied Ron. “Like you said, Lav just started snogging me, remember? I didn’t
have to do anything.”

Harry sighed.

“I doubt that Hermione is likely to do that.”

“I could always tell her to if you’d like.”

“Ron,” Harry answered with a glare, “if you want to live to see Christmas, you won’t utter one
word about this to Hermione.”

“Oh come on, I bet she’d do it with a little bit of a push in the right direction!”

“Not. One. Word.”

“Fine,” said Ron. “Why don’t you be then one to start it then?”

“What?”

“You start the snogging,” said Ron. “You know, she walks into the common room one day and
*boom!* just snog her brains out.”

“Ron…”

“And with Hermione there’s a lot of brains to snog out, so you’ll be at it for a while too.”

“I don’t think *Hermione* would appreciate me snogging her in front of the entire
house.”

“You never know until you try it, mate.”

Harry sighed.

“Come on, be serious, Ron.”

“I am being serious. Just jump her when she comes back from looking for her book.”

“There’s no way that would work.”

“Fine,” replied Ron, “you’re on your own then.”

Their conversation was cut short by Hermione’s return. Ron kept shooting strange glances at
Harry and Hermione, no doubt trying to get him to make a move on their bushy-haired best friend,
but Harry was having none of that and instead concentrated on trying not to lose to Ron too
badly.

About twenty minutes later, Harry was being thoroughly trounced by Ron when Hermione cleared her
throat and spoke up.

“Harry? I have an idea.”

Harry looked up and turned to face her, but his eyes landed on Ron first, who was smirking and
waggling his eyebrows again.

“Oh shut it, Ron,” Harry said.

“What was that?” asked Hermione.

Ron barked out a quick laugh.

“Nothing. What was your idea Hermione?” asked Harry.

The young witch looked at her two friends with suspicion for a moment before launching into an
explanation.

“I think I might have an idea about how to convince Sir Firecam to teach you to be a
paladin.”

“Oi! Since when do you want to be a bloody paladin?” asked Ron.

“Language!” interrupted Hermione, “besides, if you didn’t have your tongue shoved down
Lavender’s throat at every opportunity, you might’ve already known about Harry wanting to become a
paladin.”

“Oi! There’s no call for that,” responded Ron. “No need to be jealous, Hermione.”

“Jealous? *Jealous?!*” asked Hermione as her temper started to work up, “what in the world
do I have to be *jealous* of, Ronald Weasley?”

“Err…” Harry tried to interrupt and stop the developing argument, but his attempt was overridden
by Ron.

“Well, I’d say that you’re just jealous of me an’ Lav’s relationship. Bit of snogging would do
you some good, I’d say. Maybe untwist your knickers a bit.”

Hermione’s glare turned dangerous.

“Why you…”

Ron, apparently headless of the approaching eruption of Mount Granger, and doubtlessly thinking
that he was helping Harry and Hermione get together, continued his commentary.

“I’m sure there’s someone around here who wouldn’t mind givin’ you the old tour of the Hogwarts
broom closets.”

That remark was apparently too much for Hermione to bear for she quickly whipped out her wand
and pointed it at the floor beside Ron.

“*Sciuri Impetum!*” she shouted. Six conjured squirrels suddenly appeared on the floor and
immediately leapt onto Ron. In a flash, the rodents were crawling all over him, biting and
scratching their way under his clothes and across his face.

“*Gah! Gerroff me!*” cried Ron as he flailed around, vainly trying to swipe at the
creatures.

Hermione, in the meantime, grabbed Harry by the elbow, pulled him to his feet and marched him
out into the corridors. She was grumbling to herself as she strode down the hallway to an empty
classroom where she quickly pulled Harry inside. The young wizard was a bit hesitant about being
alone with his still angry friend.

“Alright there, Hermione?”

“Who does that *git* think he is?” said Hermione. “‘Untwist my knickers!’ Honestly!”

“Err…”

“I don’t know where he gets off speaking to me like that. Just because he and Lavender have no
sense of comportment or decency doesn’t mean that the rest of us need to give into every one of our
baser urges! Who does he think he is?”

“I don’t think Ron really meant it like that…”

“Oh, so you’re going to defend him now, are you?” Hermione asked with a glare.

“No!” Harry quickly backtracked, “I don’t think he should have said that, but you know Ron. He
always speaks first, thinks later.”

“Yes, well, he’s lucky I only conjured squirrels this time. Next time I’ll think up something
better. Wasps, maybe…”

Harry winced at that.

“Go easy on him, would you, Hermione?”

“Oh fine.”

The two teenagers stared at each other for a moment as Hermione calmed down.

“So, err…” began Harry, “what did you drag me out here for?” In the back of Harry’s mind dwelt a
vain hope that she *did* drag him away for a bit of impromptu snogging.

“Oh, right,” replied Hermione, “before I was so rudely diverted, I had a thought as to how you
could convince Sir Firecam to train you.”

“Oh,” said Harry with a touch of disappointment. “Well, what is it?”

“We simply tell him about all the things you’ve already done.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“How is my life story going to convince him of anything?”

“Don’t you see, Harry? That’s *exactly* the type of thing that would convince him! He told
you that being a paladin had to be about more than just fighting Voldemort; it has to be about
fighting all evil and protecting people in general. Well, you’ve been doing that since you were
eleven years old and jumped onto the back of a troll!”

“I don’t know…”

“Think about it. He said that a paladin has to confront evil whenever he sees it. Harry, isn’t
that what you’ve already been doing? And I think we should tell him about the prophecy too; those
lines about light and darkness can’t be coincidence.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked Harry.

“Well, what could it hurt?” Hermione asked, somewhat affronted that Harry was objecting to her
plan.

“I don’t really like talking about all that stuff.”

“Oh, come on, Harry! It’s not like you have to lay it all out there for the papers to print!
Just tell Sir Firecam so he’ll agree to teach you!”

“I’ll think about it.”

Hermione stepped up close to him.

“I know this will work, Harry,” she said as she looked up into his eyes.

“I said I’d think about it.”

Hermione smiled.

“You’ll come around,” replied Hermione as she then lifted herself up onto her toes and planted a
quick peck on Harry’s cheek. She then grabbed his hand and turned toward the door. “Now let’s go
check on Ron and see if those squirrels are still bothering him.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next day was Sunday, the first of December. Like most of the other students at Hogwarts,
Harry had a bit of a lie-in before he wandered down to breakfast. He was enjoying a light
conversation with his friends and contemplating a second helping of eggs, when the owl post
arrived. It seemed to Harry that there were a few more owls than normal that morning. He was
slightly surprised when a plain brown owl landed in front of him and extended its leg. Harry
relived the bird of its burden and offered it a few table scraps before turning his attention to
the cream-colored envelop he was now holding. His name was written on the front in bright purple
ink. He tore it open to find a card inscribed with more purple ink.

*Dear Mr. Harry J. Potter,*

*Prof. Horace E. F. Slughorn*

*respectfully* *requests the honor of your presence*

*at* *a gathering of friends and associates*

*in* *celebration of the Christmas Season.*

*Friday, the Twentieth day of December*

*Six O’clock* *in the Evening*

*Guests are invited and encouraged to bring a date.*

*Formal Attire.*

Harry looked up from his invitation to see that Hermione had also received one. She looked at
him and he quickly looked away, a sudden nervousness coming over him. Harry knew who he wanted to
ask to be his date to the party, but he still had no idea of how to go about asking her.

It was in times like these that he could have really used the advice of his father or godfather.
Dumbledore might have fit into some sort of grandfatherly-like role in Harry’s life, but this topic
really didn’t seem like something that he would be comfortable discussing with the Headmaster. Ron
had already proven himself to be of little to no help when it came to talking about his feelings
for Hermione, so he was out. If he were to talk to Dean or Seamus, news about him confirming the
*Daily Prophet*’s speculation about him and Hermione would be spread around the school and
likely into the paper by the next morning. And Neville was even more hopeless with girls than Harry
was.

*Looks like you’re on your own, old boy*, Harry thought to himself. *Now, how to go about
asking her… I guess I should probably wait a day or two, don’t want to seem too anxious…*

Harry’s thoughts were derailed, however, when he noticed that Terry Boot at the Ravenclaw table
was holding a similar card and had his eyes locked onto Hermione. When Harry saw Boot begin to rise
from his seat, he started to panic.

“Hermione! I need you to come with me right now!” he exclaimed as he leapt to his feet and
grabbed a hold of Hermione’s arm.

“Wha…? Harry! What’s going on?” asked the confused witch.

“No time, just come with me.”

“Alright, just let me grab my bag…”

“*No time!*” shouted Harry as he realized that Boot could be approaching at any moment.
“We’ve got to go, *now!*” He then proceeded to unceremoniously drag the confused witch out
into the Entrance Hall and into a small, secluded alcove.

“Harry!” said Hermione in an admonishing tone, “what’s gotten into you?! I don’t appreciate
being dragged around like a rag doll, you know!”

Harry was about to apologize when a different thought struck him.

“Hey! You get to drag me all over the castle all the time! How come I can’t do it to you?”

Hermione actually blushed at Harry’s accusation.

“Never you mind that. Well, since we’re here, what was it that you needed me for so
urgently?”

“Err…”

Hermione just looked at him.

“Well, you see, it’s…” Harry continued but trailed off. He was starting to sweat and his heart
was pounding at about ten thousand miles per hour. Pulling Hermione out of the Great Hall seemed
like a good idea at the time, but now he was at a loss for how to proceed.

*Maybe I should just try snogging her like Ron suggested,* thought Harry.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione’s question brought him back to the present.

“Well, I was wondering… Oh bloody hell! Why is this so difficult?!”

“Harry! Language! Now what’s so difficult? What’s wrong? Did you have another vision or
something? Should we go see Dumbledore?”

“No, no, no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

Having ruled out anything dangerous, Hermione seemed to be getting a little impatient.

“Well, what is it then?”

“I, err… I noticed you got an invitation too,” said Harry.

“Oh. About the Christmas party?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you…” Hermione trailed off and her demeanor shifted. All appearance of impatience
left her and she smiled at Harry. “What about the party, Harry?”

“Well, err… you know that the cards said that we could, you know, take a date, right?”

“Yes, that is what they say.”

“Well,” said Harry, “I was just, you know, sitting there, thinking about that. Taking a date I
mean. And I was wondering about how to actually go about asking a girl out, and that I didn’t
really know who to go to ask about it.”

The smile disappeared from Hermione’s face.

“Harry Potter,” she said somewhat coldly, “did you drag me out her to ask me for *advice*
as to how to ask out *some other girl?! Unbelievable!*”

“What? No!” Harry responded with some confusion. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Then get to the point already!”

“Fine! Will you go to the party with me?!” Harry shouted at her somewhat angrily.

Hermione simply stared at him for a moment.

Embarrassment began to creep into Harry’s demeanor as he awkwardly stood with Hermione in the
alcove.

*Did I really just shout the question at her like that?*

The smile was at least back on Hermione’s face, so Harry took that as a good sign.

“I’d love to, Harry,” she said in response.

Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief as it felt like a ton of bricks was lifted off of his
back.

“Although,” continued Hermione, “can I ask *why* you thought you needed to drag me out into
the hallway like this with such, well, *urgency*?”

“Oh,” replied Harry. “Well, you see… heh… I saw Terry Boot looking at you, and I figured that he
was going to come over and ask you. So I kind of panicked and brought you out here to ask you
first.”

“Harry, Terry’s been dating Parvati for about two weeks now. She was sitting right next to me.
He was probably looking at her.”

“Oh.”

“Were you really that nervous that someone else would ask me first?” Hermione asked a bit
shyly.

“Err… yeah.”

“You’re sweet,” she replied before leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek.

Harry broke out into a goofy grin; he loved it when she did that.

“Let’s go back and finish breakfast,” Hermione said as she grabbed Harry’s hand.

Harry merely nodded and followed her as she pulled him back to the Gryffindor table.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The cold December wind whipped through Harry’s hair as he soared through the air on Buckbeak’s
back. The heavy winter cloak that he was wearing to ward off the freezing temperatures fluttered
uselessly behind him, but Harry couldn’t possibly care less; he was having the time of his life.
Riding a hippogriff through the sky was very different from riding a broom; it was *so* much
better. Brooms were artificial, they had a sterile quality to them that Harry couldn’t exactly find
words for. But Buckbeak was *alive*; he was born and bread to soar, to twist and turn and dive
through the clouds. At first Harry didn’t think that the rather large hippogriff would be able to
compete with a good racing broom, but after only a few moments, he would be willing to bet his
money on Buckbeak beating a Firebolt any day of the week.

With a bit of training and with the proper tack and harness, the experience of riding a
hippogriff was much different from what Harry remembered from his third year. He had been riding
bareback the few times that he took to the sky with Buckbeak in the past, and because of that, he
had needed to be extra cautious not to fall from his perch. Now, however, with the proper
equipment, he had no such concerns and he felt almost invincible. He barely even needed to hold on
as he guided the beast with his knees.

Harry looked down to his left, there on the ground far below, was Hermione astride Aristotle her
hippogriff, or Books as she had taken to calling him. The girl still had yet to take off from the
ground, but Harry knew that she would have to do so sooner or later if she wanted to pass the
course. And Hermione always wanted to pass her courses.

The clear note of a horn pierced the air; Keldorn’s signal that class was nearing its end and
that all riders needed to return their mounts to the stables. Harry prodded Buckbeak in the side
with his knee and shifted his weight in the saddle, and the winged creature rolled to the right and
dove. The hippogriff pulled its wings in close to its body, picking up speed as it plummeted to
toward the ground. Harry instinctively leaned as far forward as he could, minimizing his air
resistance and thus adding a bit more speed to their descent. At the last possible moment, Harry
dug his heels into Buckbeak’s sides and the creature responded by rearing back and spreading his
wings, changing their direction, and pulling them out of the dive in order to race along the earth
only a foot or two above the ground at a speed many times faster than any horse or even some cars
could possibly hope to match.

Eventually they slowed and landed, covering the last several yards to the barn at a brisk run.
Harry dismounted and patted the hippogriff on the side of its powerful neck.

“Great flying, Buckbeak,” said Harry, “you were magnificent up there as always.”

“Isn’t it bad enough that you give me a heart attack every time you zoom around on that broom of
yours?” Harry heard Hermione ask from behind him. “Do you have to go into dives like that in our
riding class too?”

“Absolutely,” Harry responded with a grin. “Buckbeak and I were born to *fly*, Hermione. A
little bit of gliding ten feet above the ground isn’t enough for guys like us, we need to fly.”

Buckbeak let out a low chirp and bobbed his head as if in agreement.

“See?” said Harry, “Buckbeak agrees with me.”

Hermione merely shook her head and muttered under her breath as she went back to tending to
Aristotle.

Harry spent about fifteen minutes removing the tack and harness from Buckbeak, wiping him down
and making sure he had plenty of raw meat and water before saying farewell and departing. He found
Hermione outside the stables with her cloak wrapped tightly around her and he smiled before turning
toward the path to the castle.

“Not so fast,” said Hermione, “I think we should talk to Sir Firecam.”

Harry groaned.

“Come on, Hermione,” said Harry, “I don’t like talking about all that stuff.”

Hermione was not to be deterred, however, and simply grabbed his hand and pulled him off to find
the knight.

“Who’s treating who as a rag doll now?” Harry asked with a grin.

“Hush,” was Hermione’s only response.

They found Keldorn lighting his pipe on the side of the barn and they quickly made sure that no
one else was around before approaching him.

“Sir Firecam,” began Hermione, “do you have a moment?”

“I suppose, Miss Granger. What can I do for you?” answered the knight.

“I think you should reconsider teaching Harry to be a paladin.”

“Not much for beating around the bush, are you?” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Keldorn raised one eyebrow and removed the pipe from his mouth.

“Told you about that, did he?” asked Keldorn.

“Actually, it was my idea in the first place,” answered the young witch.

“I see,” said Keldorn, “but whoever had the idea does not bear upon my decision. I will not
consecrate Mr. Potter just so he can defeat Voldemort. To do so would be extremely unwise and
dangerous.”

“Yes, I understand that,” said Hermione. “You said that you wouldn’t teach him because becoming
a paladin can’t be just a means to an end, right? That being a paladin is a complete way of life,
coloring everything that a person does, right?”

“That’s correct, more or less anyways.”

“Well, I think if you knew Harry better, you’d see that he fits the bill perfectly!”

“Is that so?” asked the knight before taking a long pull from his pipe and turning his gaze to
the young wizard.

“You see, Harry’s…” began Hermione only to be cut off by Harry.

“There’s a prophecy,” Harry quickly interjected in the hopes that the prophecy alone would
convince the knight and they wouldn’t need to talk about the supposedly ‘heroic’ things that he had
done, “about me and Voldemort. It says that I’m the only one that can kill him. That it’s either I
kill him or he kills me. I’m supposed to have a power that ‘he knows not’ and the forces of Light
and Darkness are mentioned too. So Hermione thinks that it means I’m supposed to become a
paladin.”

Hermione glared at Harry for interrupting her while Keldorn regarded them in silence for a
moment.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Potter,” said Keldorn. “It is no easy thing to bear the weight of
destiny on one’s shoulders. I have known a few others in my time with similar burdens. However,
this does not change my decision; if you do defeat Voldemort, what then? I will not impose a life
of constant struggle and battle against the forces of Darkness upon you simply for you to defeat
one foe, no matter how powerful he is. Now if that is all…”

“Wait,” said Hermione, “that wasn’t what I was going to say.” She then turned to the wizard
beside her, “let me tell him about what you’ve done, Harry.”

“Fine,” Harry begrudgingly acquiesced.

“Harry has been fighting against the Darkness long before he knew that he would have to fight
Voldemort,” said Hermione. “He’s always been looking out for others, protecting them and coming to
their help whenever he saw someone in need. In our first year Harry led the way when he, Ron and I
stopped Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone and regaining his body. In second year,
Harry fought and killed a fifty foot basilisk *without* his wand, and he did it in order to
rescue Ginny Weasley who had been kidnapped. In third year he fought off scores of Dementors to
rescue his wrongly accused godfather, and he saved my life in the process. Last year he organized a
resistance group against the corrupt ministry official who was teaching here at Hogwarts, and he
ran off to rescue his godfather once again even though he knew he was walking into a trap.”

Harry huffed and turned away when Hermione mentioned the debacle at the Department of Mysteries,
but he didn’t interrupt her.

“He’s faced down evil wizards, dragons, Acromantulas, selkies, werewolves and hordes of other
creatures bent on destruction simply because it was the right thing to do. And he’s been doing it
his entire life! He was only eleven years old and didn’t know any spells that would have been of
any use when he jumped onto the back of an enraged mountain troll to save a poor, lonely and
friendless girl from certain death. I’ve never seen anyone do anything so brave or selfless in my
life before or since, and he did it without a single thought of his own safety.”

Hermione was becoming visibly worked up as she continued to describe her best friend to the old
knight. She was adding strength and emphasis to her words that both embarrassed Harry and made
Keldorn raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“You think that Harry becoming a paladin will put him at risk, will condemn him to a life of
constantly fighting evil. Well, Harry’s already been living that life since he was a little boy.
And he isn’t going to stop. Because that’s who he is. He isn’t the strongest or most fearsome
warrior, he doesn’t know the most spells or have years of experience, but he’s always done what’s
right. He doesn’t do it because he wants to or somehow thinks that he’ll benefit from it or become
famous. He does it because the thought of *not* helping someone in need, the thought of
*not* standing up for what’s right, would never even cross his mind. He’s put his own life on
the line time and again because someone else was in trouble, because someone needed him. I
reprimanded him once for having a ‘saving people thing,’ for always rushing off to help others
without thinking of himself, but that’s just who he is. He’s never been able to sit back while
others are in trouble or when he sees a wrong that needs righting. He just has to help.

“You keep wondering what will happen after Harry defeats Voldemort, well I’ll tell you. Harry
will keep fighting to make the world a better place because he wouldn’t know how to do anything
else! I’ve known him for over five years now, and I know him better than anyone else. I probably
know him better than he knows himself, and I’m telling you that teaching him how to be a paladin
won’t change his life, won’t condemn him to anything that he isn’t already doing, but it
*will* give him the tools that he’ll need to confront the evil that’s out there.

“Harry Potter is the noblest, kindest, most courageous and loving man that I’ve ever met. And if
that doesn’t qualify him to become a paladin, well, then no one is worthy of the title.”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and lifted her nose into the air, taking on a posture of
defiance, as if to dare the old knight to try and refute the points that she made. Her face was
slightly pink, probably out of embarrassment for saying so much about what she thought of Harry
right in front of him, but otherwise she didn’t show any weakness.

Keldorn stared at the young woman for a long moment before shifting his eyes to Harry. He
eventually let out a sigh and proceeded to tap out the ashes from his pipe. When the knight was
finished and had put the wooden instrument back in one of his pouches, he looked back up at the two
students standing before him, Hermione with her posture of confidence and defiance, and Harry who
was diligently studying his shoelaces.

“In the short time that I’ve had to get to know you, Miss Granger, you’ve shown yourself to be a
remarkable young lady,” said the knight. “You’re very intelligent and hardworking, but also
conscientious, respectful and kind. The fact that *you* would chose to say such things about
Mr. Potter does indeed say much about his character. Perhaps I have underestimated him.

“Mr. Potter, if you have been able to win such admiration from a young woman like Miss Granger,
well, maybe there’s more to you than I first thought. I know what Miss Granger thinks you will do
with your life, but I must ask you, Mr. Potter: would you be willing to spend yourself, to pour out
your life to the last drop of your blood in service of the Light, in standing against the
Darkness?”

Harry looked up into the scarred face and the piercing eyes of the old paladin standing before
him. He held the old man’s gaze for a moment before looking away.

“She makes me sound like something that I’m not,” Harry said in response. “Hermione makes it
sound like I had all these noble intentions when I did those things, like I’m some sort of hero.
The truth is, I didn’t really think about that at all, I just did it. I’m sorry Hermione, but I
don’t think I’m the guy that you’ve been talking about.”

Hermione glared at him as if he had betrayed her, but Keldorn simply let out a brief chuckle
before speaking.

“Well, she did say that she knows you better than you know yourself. And I think she’s right. It
is often the case that our deeds seem very different to us than they do to others. What comes
naturally to you, Mr. Potter, might be seen as heroic to others. In my long life, I have found that
a true hero very seldom finds any heroism in his deeds. Nonetheless, you did not answer my
question. Would you spend yourself, lay down your life in order to stem the tide of the encroaching
Darkness?”

Harry looked at the old knight, a man who had done just that: spent his life fighting the forces
of evil wherever he went. He then turned and looked at Hermione, his best friend, a girl who
apparently thought better of him than he had ever known, a girl that meant more to him with each
passing day. She had a higher opinion of him than he deserved. He didn’t want to disappoint her,
but he couldn’t bring himself to lie either.

“I don’t know,” Harry finally responded while looking back down to the ground. “I don’t know if
I could do it.”

“But would you commit yourself to the task regardless, not knowing whether or not you would
succeed?”

Harry thought of Voldemort and the Death Eaters and all the people that they would hurt if he
didn’t stop them. He thought of the prophecy and the role that he was destined to play in the
struggle. He thought of Dumbledore and the hope that the old wizard apparently had placed in him.
He thought of the Weasleys, and Neville, Luna, Tonks, Sirius and all the others and everything that
they had been willing to sacrifice and give up to the fight against Voldemort.

And he thought of Hermione, of the fact that she was a Muggle-born and that Voldemort would be
coming after her for something that she had no control over - unless he stopped him. He thought
about the things that Hermione had said about him, about how highly she thought of him, and he
didn’t want to let her down even though he knew that he wasn’t half as good as she apparently
thought. He found that he wanted to be the man that Hermione described just so that he wouldn’t let
her down.

Harry looked back up into the battle-worn face of Sir Keldorn Firecam.

“Yes,” said Harry, “I will.”

“Good,” said the old knight. “Then I will take you into my service as my squire. I will teach
you to live in the Light and to fight against the Darkness. We will see, together, if you shall be
consecrated as a paladin. Does that sound agreeable to you, Mr. Potter?”

“I suppose.”

“Then kneel, Harry Potter,” said Keldorn as he unsheathed his sword, “and grasp the tip of my
sword.”

Harry got down on his knees and did as he was instructed while Hermione looked on with rapt
attention. When he held the tip of the sword between his thumb and forefinger, he felt immense
power radiating from within the blade, seemingly just barely contained within the hard steel.

“And so I, Sir Keldorn Firecam, paladin and knight of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart,
ask you, Harry James Potter, do you freely swear to dedicate yourself to the study and pursuit of
the Path of Light during your time as my squire?”

“I do,” responded Harry.

“Do you freely swear to obey my every command to the best of your ability during your time in my
service until either you chose leave my service, are dismissed by me or are consecrated to the
service of the Light as a paladin?”

“I do.”

“For my part, I swear to do my utmost to teach you to be a vessel and herald of the Light amidst
the Darkness, and to be fair and just with you in all things.

“Now rise, my squire,” said Keldorn as he sheathed his sword, “and take your place at my
side.”

Harry rose to his feet and looked over at Hermione, who seemed to have tears in her eyes, before
moving to stand at Keldorn’s right.

“Come, Harry,” said the old knight, “we must speak with the Headmaster about what has taken
place today. Your life is about to become very different. You may join us, Miss Granger, if you
wish.”

No one said another word as they walked off in the direction of the castle and the Headmaster’s
office. Harry simply fell in line behind his new mentor. Hermione took her place at Harry’s side,
and with a look of pride in her eyes and a smile on her lips, she slipped her hand into his as they
went to find Dumbledore.

OoOoO

**AN: It’s been a while, I know, but so it goes. I warned you all that my writing time would be
severely limited. The next chapter will be posted when I can get to it.**

**Looks like Harry’s now a squire, eh? And he even found the courage to ask Hermione out on a
date! What do you think? Where shall we go from here? Let me know what you have to say.**

**Another longer chapter, but I didn’t want to split it. I know that the tone shifts from light
and fun in the beginning to quite serious at the end, but I thought it balanced out rather well.
What do you think?**

**Please take a moment and leave a review on your way out. Nothing gets the creative juices
flowing like seeing that others have something to say about your work. Thank you to everyone who
left a review or favorited the story so far. You’re all wonderful. And thanks for reading!**



18. Interlude
-------------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

Interlude

The room was cold.

Only the flickering flame of a lone candle provided any sort of heat to the chamber. The scant
light of the candle illuminated an old tome of nearly forgotten wizarding lore. The room was silent
save for the ragged breathing of the deranged witch Bellatrix Lestrange. The wound that she had
suffered in the battle at the Department of Mysteries had nearly cost Bellatrix her life. The
Reductor Curse had blasted apart her shoulder and rendered her left arm nearly lifeless. More than
that, it had forced slivers of broken bone into her lungs, wounds that had been slowly drowning the
witch in her own blood. If her master hadn’t found her as quickly as he had, there was no doubt
that she would have died. This fact only served to deepen the fanatical devotion that she had for
her Dark Lord.

Voldemort closed the tome he was reading with a sigh and rose from his seat.

Bellatrix stood a little straighter in her place in the corner of the room. She tried to quiet
the wheezing noise that her breathing created without much success. While her master’s magic had
saved her life, he couldn’t actually heal her. Healing wasn’t something that really interested the
Dark Lord. He was able to keep her from dying, but painful, labored breathing would be Bellatrix’s
constant companion for the rest of her life.

Her eyes followed the Dark Lord as he crossed the room and opened the wooden door. Bellatrix
turned and followed him through it without uttering a word.

She had followed her Lord without a second thought for as long as she could remember. It wasn’t
her place to question his actions or motives. She was aware that some of the other, less avid Death
Eaters had begun grumbling about the Dark Lord’s activities of late. They couldn’t see why he was
spending so much time in research. They wanted to be out causing trouble. While Bellatrix enjoyed
savoring the pain of lesser beings as much as the next person, she would never question her
master’s supposed inactivity.

The Dark Lord had his reasons for what he was doing, and that was good enough for Bellatrix
Lestrange.

As they walked down the dark corridor, Bellatrix began to hear the screams emanating from the
room at the end of the hall. Her heart began to beat faster as she drank in the wails of
anguish.

Oh how she loved listening to the sound of someone suffering.

She followed her master into the room to find a man covered in blood and strapped to a table.
His abdomen was sliced open and his intestines were strewn about the table around him.

Yet he was still alive.

Bellatrix raised one eyebrow in appreciation and looked over to Alecto Carrow, who was sporting
a pleased grin.

“Well?” questioned the Dark Lord.

Alecto bowed her head before responding.

“I think you’ll find him much more manageable now, my Lord,” said the Death Eater.

Voldemort turned his attention and his wand to the man on the table.

“Let’s see how the vaunted Occulmency of the Unspeakables holds up now,” said the Dark Lord.
“*Legilimens**!*”

Bellatrix watched with rapt attention as the man writhed in silent agony on the tabletop.

After several long moments, the Dark Lord lifted his spell and with a puzzled look, turned to
leave the room.

“He is yours, Bella,” he said as he passed her.

A smile erupted on Bellatrix’s face as anticipation flooded her. Her pupils dilated and her
breath quickened as she raised her wand and took aim.

“*Avada* *Kedavra!*” she hissed and then watched as the bright green light stole the
unfortunate man’s life.

Bellatrix closed her eyes, tilted her head back and giggled as she savored the euphoria that
filled her. Only the knowledge that her master was walking away from her was able to pull her back
to the present. With her steps unsteady as she reveled in the bliss of casting the unforgivable
curse, Bellatrix turned to follow her Lord.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Bellatrix looked at the glassy-eyed security guard in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic with
distain. The fool was so easy to exploit. He didn’t even deserve to bear the name of wizard.
Someone who could lose their will to the Imperious Curse so very easily deserved whatever fate that
befell them.

The Imperious Curse. It was surprising to some that it was not one of Bellatrix’s favorite
spells. No, it was too easy and too unfulfilling. It failed to provide the euphoria that the other
Unforgivables did. It was too mechanical to simply subvert someone’s will with a mere spell. Using
pain as a motivator, on the other hand, now that was truly enjoyable. It brought far more pleasure
to Bellatrix to know that her victims were completely aware of what they were doing. She liked to
savor the pain she inflicted, and bask in the triumph of driving someone to betray their most
deeply held principals to simply bring an end to their suffering.

That Bellatrix normally provided the end to the suffering with a quick flash of delightful,
green light was another source of pleasure entirely.

Bellatrix eyed the security guard as if he was a wasted opportunity, but continued on her way
nonetheless.

The Ministry of Magic was almost deserted as she wound her way through the various levels and
hallways. Few of the government’s fat, bureaucratic employees bothered to put in even an extra
minute of overtime once the day came to an end. The fact that the Ministry relied on one, easily
Imperiused security guard as their sole measure of protection spoke volumes of the government’s
incompetency. They didn’t deserve to rule. Thus they would easily and rightly fall whenever her
master chose to subject them.

Bellatrix made her way into the Department of Mysteries and travelled down a long, twisting
corridor. She finally stopped in front of a relatively new wooden door and took a moment to glance
down at a dirty, brown rat near her feet. Bellatrix suppressed the urge to quickly stomp on the
creature. She hated Peter Pettigrew. He was weak. But killing him here and now on a whim would
displease her master.

So instead, she merely whispered, “We are here.”

With that, the Dark Lord appeared at her side.

With a wave of his wand, the door opened and he stepped through. Meanwhile, the rat grew and
took on the form of a short, balding man with a pasty complexion. Pettigrew kept his eyes on the
floor as he first waited for Bellatrix to follow their Lord before he too entered the room and
closed the door.

“I can feel the magic still in the air,” whispered Voldemort as he took in the dark little room.
There were fewer glowing crystal pendants to be found hanging on the walls at this point. So many
of them had been destroyed in her fight with the Potter brat.

The Dark Lord moved to stand in the center of the room, extended his hand and closed his
eyes.

Bellatrix’s attention was drawn to a small whimper that she heard in the corner. She glanced
over to see Pettigrew, cowering like the simpering fool he was. Oh, how she wished that her master
would let her play with him while they waited. She would make him scream in the most delicious of
ways.

Instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated on quieting her labored breathing. It would not do
to disturb her master’s concentration.

Bellatrix was unsure how much time had passed when the Dark Lord finally stirred again.

“Bella,” he said as he turned his attention and his wand to her, “look at me.”

Bellatrix glued her unblinking gaze upon her master’s red eyes. She was well aware of what was
coming.

“*Legilimens*!”

She lowered her defenses even as the pain began to throb in her skull. She did not fight as the
Dark Lord ravaged and raped her thoughts.

It was his right to do so, after all.

Soon the pain spread from her mind to her body. Her breathing became difficult and tortuous. But
she would not fight the invading presence in her mind. She would rather die where she stood than
displease her master.

Finally, he relented. Bellatrix doubled over, her hands on her knees as she struggled to fill
her damaged lungs with air. When she was finally able to look up again, she saw her master placing
a large, bright crystal on the floor in the center of the room. He stood back a few paces and
leveled his wand as he began to chant in some long-dead tongue.

As the chant grew louder and faster, the crystal began to throb with light. Finally, with a
dramatic flourish, a bright yellow beam of light burst from the Dark Lord’s wand to connect with
the crystal.

Immediately the stink of sulfur enveloped the room. A great roar of noise filled the chamber as
a powerful wind whipped at their robes. Peter’s fearful whimpers were lost to the noise as the Dark
Lord’s chanting turned to shouting.

Finally, with a deafening boom, Bellatrix as thrown from her feet. When she looked up, she saw
triumph on her master’s face. She was therefore filled with glee as she turned to see the gaping
hole that hovered in the centered of the room. It appeared to be a tear in reality itself. Small
bursts of lightning danced around the jagged edges of the unnatural opening. Nothing could be seen
within except a brightness that brought pain to her eyes.

“You first, Wormtail,” stated the Dark Lord as if he had simply commanded his servant to bring
him a cup of tea.

All color fled the cowardly Death Eater’s face as his gaze shifted between his master and the
gaping hole in reality.

Bellatrix snarled at the other man as he hesitated. He wasn’t worthy of such an honor.

“Do not make me order you again.”

With a whimper, the fat man walked up to the portal. He slowly reached out a hand, only to draw
it back with a painful yelp as the lightning arced out to meet him.

Pettigrew cast one last look behind him at his now impatient Lord. He took a deep breath as if
steeling himself, and then leaped into the bright opening.

The Dark Lord stood still, staring at the tear in reality for a moment. He watched as the
opening slowly began to shrink before striding forward and quietly slipping into the unknown.

Bellatrix followed immediately after without hesitation. Wherever her master went, she would
follow without question.

As she crossed the jagged edge of the portal, every nerve ending in her body exploded with pain.
It was like the Cruciatus Curse, but a thousand times more intense. Her breath was ripped from her
and her mind was laid waste. Bellatrix allowed her laughter to bubble up from within her before all
conscious thought was surrendered to darkness.

OoOoO

**A short update. I warned you all that I wouldn’t have much time to write. But worry not, this
story will continue as long as I draw breath.**

**We shall return to Harry and Company next chapter.**

**Thanks for the reviews, and thanks for reading!**



19. XVIII
---------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XVIII

“Come on, Harry.”

Hermione led a dazed Harry Potter through the corridors and into the Gryffindor common room.
Once inside, she guided him over to one of the couches by the fire and had him sit down. They had
just finished talking with Keldorn and Dumbledore about Harry’s new status as Keldorn’s squire and
how that would impact his life at Hogwarts. To say that Harry was a bit shocked about the
consequences of his new position would be an understatement.

“Do you want me to get the others?” she asked.

“I can’t believe it,” whispered Harry, seemingly unaware of her question.

Hermione sat down next to him and took his hand.

“I know this is hard to swallow, Harry. I know this wasn’t what we were expecting when we
decided to try and get Sir Firecam to teach you to be a paladin, but we’ll get through it.”

Harry just shook his head in disbelief.

“Harry,” Hermione tried again, “do you want me to get them so we can tell them now and get it
over with? Or would you rather wait a little while? We can’t wait too long, they’ll figure out that
something’s up by tomorrow.”

After a moment of silence, Harry finally responded.

“I suppose we’d better get it over with,” he said. “Ron’s going to kill me.”

“He’ll understand,” Hermione replied.

Harry just gave her an incredulous look.

“Well, he’ll eventually understand.”

The young witch then stood up and went to gather the people that Harry needed to talk to. While
he waited for the group to assemble, Harry’s mind couldn’t help but go back to the meeting in the
Headmaster’s office.

*“As my squire,” said Keldorn, “Harry will be required to devote much of his time to my
service and to his training.”*

*“That’s understandable,” replied Dumbledore.*

*“Normally,” continued Keldorn, “squires would not be permitted to be enrolled in any other
sort of training or education at the same time.”*

*Harry and Hermione found themselves in a sudden panic when they heard this, afraid that the
knight was about to pull Harry out of Hogwarts. Harry was about to interrupt when Keldorn’s next
words somewhat alleviated his worries.*

*“However,” said Keldorn, “it is clear that his training as a wizard will be essential to his
life as a paladin in this world. He should not lightly dismiss any tools that are likely to be an
aid to his fight against the Darkness.”*

*Harry exhaled and almost collapsed in relief and he noticed that Hermione visibly slumped
down into her chair as well.*

*“But the fact remains that Mr. Potter’s schedule here is far too busy. He would never be able
to meet the demands of being a squire as well as a fulltime Hogwarts student. He would be dead on
his feet within days.”*

*“What then do you propose?” questioned Dumbledore.*

*“Several of his courses will have to be dropped,” said Keldorn. “Anything that is not
absolutely necessary for the fundamental understanding of magic and the ability to use it in this
world will have to go.”*

*Harry was okay hearing that, after all, fewer classes meant less homework. Hermione, on the
other hand, looked to be ready to panic again. Meanwhile, Dumbledore waved his wand and a piece of
parchment flew over to his desk from a small cabinet.*

*“Well,” said the old wizard, “here is Harry’s schedule, let’s have a look, shall we? Harry
here is taking Charms, Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Care of
Magical Creatures, Astronomy and Riding and Magical Mounts.”*

*“And which of these would be the bare minimum for being capable of wielding magic against the
slaves of the Darkness in this world, Headmaster?” asked Keldorn.*

*Dumbledore thought in silence for a moment with his fingers steepled in front of his
chin.*

*“I would say Charms, Transfiguration and Defense,” the old wizard eventually said.*

*“Agreed,” said Keldorn, “although he shall stay in Riding as well. It is a skill that he
shall need.”*

*“*WHAT?!*” shouted Hermione as she jumped to her feet. “You can’t be serious! Harry
can’t just abandon his education like that!”*

*“Harry is not abandoning anything, Miss Granger,” replied Dumbledore, “he is merely taking
his education in a rather unorthodox direction. Dropping a few classes will allow him the freedom
to do so.”*

*“But what about his N.E.W.T.s?!”*

*“That is a good question, Miss Granger,” responded Dumbledore before turning to the old
knight with a twinkle in his eye. “Sir Firecam, what are the N.E.W.T. scores required for becoming
a paladin?”*

*The Headmaster’s little joke seemed to only anger the young witch further.*

*“This is unbelievable!” she shouted.*

*“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said interrupting her, “I can probably make up the classes down
the road if I really need to.”*

*“Well said, Harry,” said Dumbledore, “and besides, perhaps we can include your new status as
an independent study program, with N.E.W.T. scores to be determined by the instructor?”*

*That suggestion seemed to mollify Hermione enough that she once again took her seat. Keldorn
then spoke up once again.*

*“There’s something else that will need to go…”*

Harry was shaken out of his memories by Hermione returning and sitting down beside him. She
slipped her hand into his and gave him a soft smile before he turned his attention to the
Gryffindors seated around him.

“What’s up, Harry?” asked Katie Bell.

“Yeah, Harry, why’d you need to see all of us? Have a new strategy for tomorrow’s practice?”
asked Demelza Robins.

“Err… no,” said Harry.

“Then what is it?” asked Ginny.

“Umm…”

Everyone was looking at him expectantly and Harry found himself filled with dread.

“Look, the thing is, well…” Harry began but trailed off. He huffed and looked up to the ceiling
as if the right thing to say would be found inscribed there. Finally he looked back to the
assembled Gryffindor Quidditch team that was seated before him.

“I’m quitting Quidditch.”

Harry’s declaration was met with stony silence. After a moment, Ron smiled.

“Good one, mate, you had me going there for a moment.”

“I’m serious, Ron.”

“Sure you are. Harry Potter, best Seeker in a century, quits Quidditch. Pull the other one,
mate, it’s got bells on it.”

Harry sighed and looked over at Katie.

“I think you’ll need this,” he said while handing her a small object. Katie looked down to see
that it was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge.

“You’re not joking, are you Harry?” asked Ginny.

“No, I’m not,” Harry replied.

The group lapsed into silence for a moment before Ron once again broke it.

“Are you *mental*?!” he shouted while rising to his feet as his face became bright red.
“You can’t quit Quidditch! You love Quidditch! We need you! The team needs you!”

Harry merely hung his head in shame as Ron unloaded on him.

“Stop it, Ron,” said Hermione coming to Harry’s defense. “Harry didn’t want to do this, but he
has to. It wasn’t his decision.”

“Oh really? Whose was it then?” asked Ron with a vicious look on his face. “Now that you’re his
girlfriend you get to make all his decisions for him? Can’t bear to let your Harry play the game he
loves?”

“That’s ridiculous!” shouted Hermione as her face brightened and she rose to stand face to face
with Ron. “I would never make Harry quit Quidditch! I know how much it means to him. And I’m not
his girlfriend!”

“Oh yeah right,” said Ron. “You’ve always wanted Harry to quit playing. Go on, admit it, you
hate the way he flies about after the snitch. You’re always getting all antsy about it.”

“I never…! Of course I don’t like seeing Harry do all those crazy stunts on his broom! I just
don’t like seeing him nearly get killed! But I didn’t ask him to quit Quidditch.”

“Likely story. I always knew you were a bloody nag,” Ron shot back at her.

Hermione merely stood there with her mouth open in stunned silence. No one else seemed to know
what to say either.

“That’s enough, Ron,” Harry finally said. “This wasn’t Hermione’s idea. So stop being an ass to
her.”

That seemed to only make Ron angrier.

“Just because you asked her to one bloody party doesn’t mean that you have to do everything she
says!”

“I said *enough*!” shouted Harry. “Hermione didn’t make me quit Quidditch. It was
Dumbledore and Firecam. I’m going to start a new program with Sir Firecam and he said that I simply
won’t have the time to be playing games. He made me drop half my classes too.”

Silence once again reigned in the group before Ron turned on his heel and left to storm up the
stairs to the boy’s dormitories.

“What are we going to do without you?” asked Ritchie Coote after Ron was gone.

Harry gave the younger boy a small smile as he replied, “I’m sure your new captain will figure
it out.”

“I don’t know what to say, Harry,” said Katie.

“Just take good care of the team,” Harry replied.

The girls on the team all hugged Harry before wandering off while Ritchie and Jimmy settled for
handshakes. Ginny decided to hang around and she dropped back onto the couch with Harry and
Hermione.

“I can’t believe that empty-headed git you call a best mate,” said Hermione with her arms
crossed over her chest. “To think that I would try and control your life just because you asked me
to a party. One date doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly running your life.”

“So you’re not my girlfriend then?” asked Harry. “You seemed pretty adamant about that
point.”

Hermione exhaled as her lips twitched into a small smile.

“Well, you never actually asked me that,” she replied.

“What would you say if I did?”

“Why don’t we wait and see how the Christmas party goes?” said Hermione.

“Alright.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione turned to Ginny.

“I feel like cursing your brother into a million pieces.”

“Don’t worry,” said Ginny, “he’ll calm down and realize he’s an idiot soon enough.”

“Yes, well, he better stay out of my way for the near future if he doesn’t want to find himself
with fire ants crawling into uncomfortable places.”

Harry found himself tuning the two girls out, however, as he once again thought about his new
lot in life. He was still in shock over the abrupt changes, but he couldn’t help but wonder at what
Keldorn had in store for him. The only thing that he was certain of was that Slughorn would be
greatly disappointed to learn that the Boy Who Lived was no longer in his potions class.

OoOoO

OoOoO

The next morning Harry made his way toward Keldorn’s office after breakfast. While he was still
upset about having to quit Quidditch, especially since Ron was refusing to talk to him, Harry was
curious about what new activities would soon be added to his daily routine. Once he reached the out
of the way room in the fourth floor corridor, he gently knocked on the door.

“Come in,” the voice of Keldorn responded from the other side of the door.

Harry stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. His glance quickly took in
the old knight’s office. There was a mid-size, unadorned wooden desk in the middle of the room
facing the doorway with a simple wooden chair behind it and a pair of matching chairs in front. The
far wall had a door that Harry guessed led to Keldorn’s living quarters, as well as a mostly empty
bookcase that contained only a handful of books. Harry looked to his right to see a small desk and
a simple chair that were pushed up against the same wall as the doorway that he just entered
through. There was a rather thick book on the desk as well as some parchment, a quill and an ink
pot. Other than that, the room was bare and empty.

Keldorn was seated behind his desk and beckoned Harry to come forward and to take a seat in one
of the two unoccupied chairs.

“Welcome to your first full day as my squire, Harry,” said Keldorn. “I hope you are prepared to
work.”

“I am,” Harry responded.

“Good. You’re here to be shaped and formed into a paladin, or at least to find out if you are
capable of such formation. You have some disadvantages that most squires do not have to deal with,
such as the fact that you are a bit older than normal to be starting, but that is not unheard of.
The real disadvantage is the fact that this world does not know the Light, and thus, you do not
know the Light. Yes, you have your magic, and while magic may be related to the Light as the
Headmaster suggests, it is not the same thing. The Light is alive, Harry. It is personal. It is all
that is good, true and beautiful. It is justice and right, as well as mercy. It is the creator and
source of all good things. But above all else, the Light is love. It is not an abstract thing that
exists somewhere far away, removed from us, but it is here, now. It knows us better than we know
ourselves. The Light loves us, and wants us to live forever in glory.

“In order for you to become a paladin, you must come to know the Light. The Light is the source
of our strength as paladins. Yes, my arm could swing a sword just as well as any other man without
the trust that I place in the Light, but I would not have the guidance that I need to ensure that I
am swinging that sword at the right target. The Light enables us to see and hear the truth, to know
what motivates the actions of those around us. This is what you will work toward, coming to know
the Light, just as well as if it were your best friend. First and foremost, this is your task.

“You will do so through the means of meditation, study and discipline.”

Keldorn slid a small book across the desk to Harry.

“This is the *Liturgia Horarum*, a selection of passages from the *Codex Luminis* used
for meditation. It mostly follows a month-long cycle before starting over again, with a few
exceptions for particularly important days. You will meditate with it twice a day, in the mornings
after you rise from sleep and in the evenings before you retire.

“As for your studies, you will focus on reading the *Codex Luminis* itself as well as
St.Tomus’ *Summa Philosophica*, which you will find on your desk in the corner.” Keldorn
gestured to the small desk that Harry had noticed when he entered the room. “Each night we will
discuss what you have read that day and how you understand it. When you have no other task to
perform, I expect you to be in here, studying.

“Finally, as for discipline, you will perform the various tasks that I assign you without
question or complaint. You will soon be used to performing both tiring and menial tasks in my
service.

“Do you have any questions?”

Harry simply shook his head.

“Good. Get to it, then.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry was quite tired by the time he made it back to the Gryffindor common room just before
curfew that night. He had spent most of the morning reading first from the *Codex Luminis* and
then from the *Summa* *Philosophica*. The *Summa* was actually quite difficult to
work through; it was written in a question and answer style that Harry was not familiar with, and
each paragraph was packed full of information. It seemed as if the author wanted to get as much
information as possible into the bare minimum number of words needed for the task. Harry found
himself constantly rereading each paragraph to make sure that he understood what was said and that
he didn’t miss anything. Reading the book turned out to be mentally exhausting.

After lunch, Keldorn brought Harry with him to the stables to assist with his third and fourth
year riding class. He helped the students with their technique during the lesson and afterward he
was charged with cleaning up and inspecting the tack and harness for damage as well as repairing
whatever was found. He was instructed to do this by hand and without the aid of magic. He then had
to muck out the stalls in the stable and provide fresh hay, again without magic. Harry had begun to
think that if this was what training to be a paladin was like, it was going to be as if he was
assigned to perpetual detention.

Then Harry was told to spend a couple of hours working on his swordsmanship followed by study,
dinner and more study. He rounded out the evening by polishing Keldorn’s boots and then dusting and
sweeping the already pristine office before being quizzed on the reading he had done that day. He
was dismissed for the night with orders to return in the morning an hour before dawn.

Harry staggered into the common room and was greeted by an anxious Hermione.

“Harry!” she practically shouted as she leapt up from her seat by the fire. “Where have you
*been*? Other than the ten minutes you spent shoveling food into your mouth at lunch and
dinner, I haven’t seen you all day!”

Harry walked over to the young witch and sat down on the couch she had risen from before
replying.

“I’m a squire now, remember? Apparently that means that I’m going to have to spend all my time
working. I didn’t have any classes today, which means I spent the whole day doing whatever Firecam
told me to do.”

“Really?” Hermione asked as she sat down beside him.

“Really. Did you know that being a squire means that I have to muck out all of the horse stalls
*twice* everyday? And without magic? It’s like being in permanent detention.”

Hermione grimaced at that.

“I’m sure that won’t last forever.”

“Yeah right. Sir Firecam told me that he’s letting me ease into things this week. Starting next
week I have to do the hippogriff stalls too.”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for it,” said Hermione.

“Sure there is. Cleaning up horse crap is the secret to defeating Voldemort, didn’t you know
that?”

Hermione huffed in response.

“Don’t be like that. You know that he wouldn’t make you do those things if there wasn’t a
reason.”

Harry leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m probably just tired. He’s had me reading this philosophy book that is just
killing me. I think it would be more fun to bash my head against the wall.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the mention of the book.

“Oh? What’s it called?”

“It the *Summa Philosophica*, written by some saint from Sir Firecam’s home world.”

“Could I borrow it sometime?”

Harry cracked open one eye and cast a sideways glace at Hermione.

“Sorry,” he said, “but reading that book is one of my main tasks. I have to read it for hours
everyday and he’s constantly questioning me about what I’ve read. It’s pretty thick too, so I’ve no
idea how long it’s going to take. I don’t think I can let you borrow it anytime soon.”

Hermione looked somewhat dejected at hearing that, but soon recovered.

“Well, maybe I can make a copy. Most wizarding books have built in charms that prevent
unauthorized copying, but something that Sir Firecam brought with him from a different universe
probably wouldn’t. Do you think he’d mind?”

“You’re free to ask him about it.”

They lapsed into silence for a while before Harry spoke up again.

“Did you talk to Ron at all today?”

“No,” Hermione answered, “he wouldn’t even look at me. Don’t worry, Harry. He’ll come around.
Especially once he sees how hard you’re working.”

“He’s a right git,” Harry responded. “He had no right to say those things about you.”

Hermione chose not to respond.

“How was your day, then?” Harry asked after another moment of silence.

“Well, to be honest, it was a bit lonely actually. What with you busy all day and Ron refusing
to talk to me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Harry. You’re only doing what you need to do.”

“Yeah, but if I wasn’t doing this paladin thing…”

“Which was *my* idea, remember? So don’t go blaming yourself for me being lonely in class
today without you. I’ll survive. It’s not like you won’t be in *any* of my classes ever again.
I guess Wednesdays will just have to be a little rough.

“Maybe Sir Firecam will let me come and study with you in his office?” Hermione added after a
moment.

“Err… I don’t know…”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s just that… I don’t know. He’s pretty big on me avoiding distractions. But I guess
you’re free to ask him that too if you want.”

A few moments later Harry felt someone shaking his shoulder.

“Wha…?”

“Harry, I think it’s time you went up to bed,” said Hermione in an amused voice.

“What? Why?”

“You can barely keep your eyes open. You’ve been asleep for the past ten minutes. Sir Firecam
must have worked you harder than I thought. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Harry wanted to deny it, but he was honestly too tired to put forth the effort.

“Fine. Goodnight, Hermione,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet and shambled over to the
staircase.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

OoOoO

**AN: Another relatively short chapter, I know. So it goes.**

**Thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading!**



20. XIX
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XIX

*It is proper to justice, as compared with the other virtues, to direct man in his relations
with others: because it denotes a kind of equality, as its very name implies; indeed we are wont to
say that things are adjusted when they are made equal, for equality is in reference of one thing to
some other. On the other hand the other virtues perfect man in those matters only which befit him
in relation to himself. Accordingly that which is right in the works of the other virtues, and to
which the intention of the virtue tends as to its proper object, depends on its relation to the
agent only, whereas the right in a work of justice, besides its relation to the agent, is set up by
its relation to others. Because a man's work is said to be just when it is related to some
other by way of some kind of equality, for instance the payment of the wage due for a service
rendered. And so a thing is said to be just, as having the rectitude of justice, when it is the
term of an act of justice, without taking into account the way in which it is done by the agent:
whereas in the other virtues nothing is declared to be right unless it is done in a certain way by
the agent. For this reason justice has its own special proper object over and above the other
virtues, and this object is called the just, which is the same as "right." Hence it is
evident that right is the object of justice.*

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

The thick book in front of him, the *Summa Philosophica*, had quickly become the bane of
his existence. It wouldn’t have been so bad if St. Tomus had simply written in words and phrases
that people actually used. It seemed to Harry that the old saint threw around words like ‘agent’
and ‘object’ more than any man had a right to do.

Harry was not looking forward to mucking out the horse and hippogriff stalls once again in the
freezing, late-December weather, but before he could get that over and done with, he needed to
finish thirty some more pages of this Merlin-forsaken book.

Harry was about to refocus his attention on his reading when there was a knock at the door. He
quickly glanced at Keldorn seated at his own desk before rising to answer the door. As he opened
it, his eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. “Is Sir Firecam available?”

“Certainly,” replied Harry as he stepped to the side and held the door open for his friend to
enter the knight’s office.

“Miss Granger,” rang the voice of the old man, “to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Harry made his way back to his desk and his reading. But while his eyes were focused on the book
before him, his attention was on the brown-haired young woman who had just entered the room. To
Harry, it seemed as though his interactions with his bookish best friend had dwindled to scant
minutes per day since he began his time as Keldorn’s squire. Most of their time together was
limited to Harry’s remaining classes, the ten minutes he was afforded to take his meals, and the
brief time they had each evening after Harry returned to the common room after a hard day’s work.
Without fail, Hermione was always there to greet him when he finally made it back to Gryffindor
Tower, even though most nights Harry was far too tired to be much company before simply heading off
to bed.

“I was hoping that you would allow me the chance to examine your armor once again. I think I’ve
been able to replicate the extradimensional folding that allows the armor to disappear inside the
gorget, but I wanted to make sure that I have the sequencing right. After all, an error in the
folding process could destabilize the lattice of the subspace when it reemerges.”

“Well, I don’t see why not,” said Keldorn as he stood and unbuckled his gorget from around his
neck. He placed the piece of armor on a small wooden stand in the corner of the office before
speaking the command word that made the rest of the suit appear. Hermione quickly brought her wand
to bear and began inspecting the metal plates.

However, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if her attention was really as riveted on him as his was
on her. He knew that she had been rather lonely of late due to his absence and to the fact that Ron
was still being a royal git about Harry’s resignation from the Quidditch team. She had approached
Keldorn with the thought that she might study in his office along with Harry, but the old knight
had shot that idea down immediately. Apparently Harry was not in need of any further
distractions.

After that, it seemed as though Hermione had found renewed interest in her N.E.W.T. project,
which just so happened to require her to make frequent visits to Keldorn’s office to inspect his
armor. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Hermione didn’t really need to inspect it as often as
she did, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

Harry tried to refocus on his reading.

*Now a thing can be adjusted to a man in two ways: first by its very nature, as when a man
gives so much that he may receive equal value in return…*

But out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione chew on her lower lip for a brief moment
and all hope of concentration was lost.

*Maybe I’m just nervous about the Christmas party*, Harry thought to himself. After all,
his first official date with Hermione was only two days away. Keldorn had reluctantly given his
squire permission to attend the affair, and Harry had even found time to purchase a new set of
dress robes for the occasion.

After about fifteen minutes of diligent study, Hermione proclaimed herself to be finished with
the armor. She thanked Keldorn and made her way to the door.

“See you later, Harry,” she said with a wink that Harry understood to betray her true intentions
for visiting the office.

“Bye, Hermione,” he replied.

Once the witch was gone, Keldorn walked over to Harry’s desk and closed the book Harry was
supposed to be reading.

“Let’s see,” began the old knight, “tell me, what is the difference between natural right and
positive right?”

“Erm…”

“Yes, as I thought. You’ve spent the last quarter hour completely distracted from your given
task, haven’t you?”

Denial would do him no good. Paladins could literally hear the difference between truth and
lies.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmmm. Well there’s nothing for it today. You’ll simply have to reread this section of the
*Summa* tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said as he rose to his feet, preparing to head to the stables.

“And to hammer home the need for concentration,” said the knight before Harry could take his
cloak down from its peg, “I think one hundred push-ups are in order before you attend to your other
duties.”

Harry didn’t bother arguing. He simply sighed and dropped to the floor. The extra exercises
would guarantee that his arms would be burning by the time he finished the stables.

But still, fifteen extra minutes with Hermione was worth it.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Friday, the twentieth of December found Harry with an unusual abundance of energy. The day
started off rather normally with his usual early-morning meditation and his regular tasks given by
Keldorn. Professor McGonagall had the class beginning to work on human transfiguration, which was
much more difficult and much more dangerous than anything they had done previously. After a long
lecture, they proceeded to attempt to change the color of their eyebrows. Hermione, to no one’s
surprise, did rather well, managing to get her eyebrows to shift between several different hues
from bright red to dark blue. Harry managed to turn one of his eyebrows yellow. Ron accidentally
gave himself a handlebar mustache.

Later that afternoon, after hurriedly finishing his work in the stables, Harry ran back to
Gryffindor Tower to prepare for Slughorn’s Christmas party. At first, Harry had been afraid that
his new mentor would not allow him to attend the party at all. After all, the old knight seemed
rather adamant that Harry avoid any semblance of distraction from his duties as a squire. However,
in the end it took little convincing to obtain permission. It would simply be rude for Harry to
rescind his acceptance of the invitation and to leave poor Hermione without a date at the last
minute. Sir Keldorn Firecam was many things, but he was never rude.

And so Harry found himself almost bouncing with nervous energy as he finished donning his new
dress robes. He was readjusting his white bowtie for the ninth time when Ron walked into the dorm
room wearing his dirty Quidditch robes.

“Heading off to the Slug Club, then?” said the red-haired wizard.

Harry stilled his nervous movement as his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the fact that Ron had
spoken to him. Harry turned to face him.

“Err… Yeah.”

Ron sat down on his bed and removed his mud-ridden boots. He then stared at his hands in silence
for a moment.

“Look, Harry…” Ron began but trailed off.

“Yes?” Harry responded after a moment.

“You know how I get sometimes,” Ron began again, “and you know how important Quidditch is to
me.”

“Yeah,” Harry said as he looked back to the mirror to continue adjusting his bowtie, giving Ron
the space he needed to say whatever it was he was going to say.

“And you know that… well…” Ron trailed off again.

It wasn’t much in the way of an apology for acting like a total git for several days followed by
weeks of silence, but Harry understood what Ron was trying to do. Apologizing was never easy for
anyone. Harry knew that Ron in particular had a difficult time with it. The time that Harry spent
studying the *Summa* with Sir Firecam had given him a little bit of new insight into human
nature. Harry already knew that Ron was terribly insecure because of his family—that he felt the
need to try and live up to his older brothers, but now he also recognized the impact that
insecurity had on Ron’s pride. From Ron’s point of view, no one ever gave him credit for doing
something well or getting something right. It didn’t matter whether or not that was the case in
reality, that was simply the way Ron saw the world. Apologizing meant that Ron had to admit to
himself that he was in the wrong. It meant that he had to add his own voice to the already
overwhelming chorus shouting at him that he’d never get anything right. That was why it took him so
long to come to moments like this. That was why it took him so long to even get the words out. But
he was trying.

And thus, Harry decided to cut him some slack.

“It’s okay, Ron,” said Harry without looking away from the mirror, “I get it.”

The ability to forgive was important, after all. Did Ron deserve to be forgiven? Especially
after such a poor attempt at apologizing? Probably not. But then again, did anyone ever really
*deserve* forgiveness? If you deserved it, you probably didn’t need it in the first place.
Forgiveness could only truly be given to those who didn’t deserve it. The Light was mercy and
forgiveness itself. If Harry couldn’t forgive one of his best friends, he had no business being Sir
Firecam’s squire.

“How was practice?” Harry asked, shifting the conversation away from heavy topics to something
lighter.

“Dreadful,” Ron replied with a relieved smile. “I think Katie is trying to bring Wood back from
the dead.”

“Oliver Wood is not dead. He graduated.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t understand why she makes us practice like this the day before
Christmas break. I know we’ve got our work cut out for us after shifting the positions around and
holding tryouts again, but still. Flying in the cold and the muck doesn’t exactly build
morale.”

Harry smiled.

“Sometimes quitting Quidditch doesn’t seem so bad.”

Ron responded by throwing a muddy boot at him.

Harry ducked out of the way, shouting, “Watch the robes, you git!”

“What?” responded Ron with a smirk. “Afraid Hermione won’t kiss your ugly mug if you’ve got a
bit of mud on your shirt?”

Harry’s reply took the form of a glare.

“Seriously,” said Ron, “how’s the snogging going?”

“There is no snogging.”

“What?!” Ron laughed, “What’s the point if there’s no snogging?!”

“Shut it,” Harry responded. With one last glance in the mirror, he turned and marched out of the
dorm and down to the common room, leaving Ron to his laughter. He only had to wait for a few
moments before Hermione appeared at the top of the steps to the girl’s dormitory.

She was wearing a red, floor-length gown that left her shoulders bare, as well as long, white
gloves that reached up beyond her elbows. There was a delicate string of what looked like pearls
around her neck. Her wild hair had been tamed, and was done up very prettily. Harry thought that it
must have taken her all afternoon.

The effect was worth it.

“Hi, Harry,” Hermione said with a shy smile, “you look very handsome.”

Harry coughed.

“Err… so do you. Pretty, I mean. You look really pretty.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she said as she finished descending the stairs. The two teenagers stood
looking at each other for a moment, seemingly at a loss for what to do next. Hermione finally broke
the silence.

“Well, shall we?” she asked before taking Harry’s hand and leading him to the portrait hole.

Once they were out in the hallway, Hermione shivered.

“Cold?” Harry asked.

“A bit,” Hermione replied. “I suppose this gown isn’t very practical.” She then turned to Harry
with a smile. “I guess I’ll just have to rely on you to keep me warm.”

Harry wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he smiled right back at the girl standing next to
him before putting his arm around her and walking off in the direction of the party.

They arrived at only a couple of minutes past six o’clock, but the party was obviously already
well underway. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so
that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and
bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in
which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by
what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several
elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way
squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were
bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables. Harry noted several students that he knew
and several others that he had met at meetings of the Slug Club, as well as quite a few adults that
he had never seen before. He guessed that they were past members of the club invited back for the
holiday gathering.

“Harry, my boy!” exclaimed Slughorn when the older man spotted him. “How good to see you! Such a
shame that you’re no longer in my class. We really must have a chat with that Firecam, see if we
can’t work something out to get you back in the potions classroom. Your talent simply can’t go to
waste!”

Harry’s reply was cut off as the professor turned his attention to Hermione.

“And if it isn’t Hermione Granger on the arm of the Boy Who Lived! No real surprise there, I
must say. A brilliant wizard needs a brilliant witch after all. You look marvelous, my dear. Come
with me, you two, there are some people that I must introduce you to,” and with a firm hand,
Slughorn guided them off in the direction of several of the adult guests.

They were led to a stout, bespectacled wizard standing next to a tall, gaunt man with pale
skin.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Granger” Slughorn began, “if I may introduce the distinguished author, Mr.
Eldred Worple and his friend Sanguini.”

"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!” began Worple, “I was saying to Professor Slughorn
only the other day, ‘Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?’...
But seriously, I would be delighted to write it myself — people are craving to know more about you,
dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour
sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months... My dear boy, the gold you could
make, you have no idea —"

“I don’t think Harry is interested in that at the moment, Mr. Worple,” Hermione interrupted
before he could say more. “However, I did find your recent work about living with vampires to be
very interesting.”

“Did you, now?” the short man replied to her. “Well then, you’ll be pleased to meet Sanguini,”
Worple continued while gesturing to the tall man beside him, “he’s one of the vampires that took me
in for quite some time. Nearly made a meal out of me the first time we met!”

The pale vampire reached down and took Hermione’s hand, bringing it up to his lips.

“Charmed,” Sanguini said in a deep, foreign accent before he sharply inhaled with Hermione’s
wrist less than an inch from his nose. “May I say, Mizz Hermione, zat you look quite…
delicious…”

“Right!” exclaimed Harry as he snatched Hermione’s hand away from the vampire, “nice to meet
you! Excuse us, I think I see someone over there.” With that, Harry hurriedly pulled Hermione away
from the creepy vampire.

Slughorn, however, was not so easily deterred. Harry and Hermione soon found themselves once
again being guided through the room and introduced to more people. After about forty-five minutes,
Harry was sure that he had made more introductions that evening than he had in his entire life.

“How much more of this do we need to take?” Harry whispered into Hermione’s ear as they listened
to an elderly witch drone on about some story in which Harry’s great-grand uncle might have played
a passing role.

Hermione turned to Harry with a smile and a wink before addressing the witch.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Pifflesnitch, but I just remembered that Harry here has promised me a number of
dances. If we don’t start now, I’m afraid I’ll make a liar out of him.”

“Ho ho!” exclaimed Slughorn, “can’t have that, can we, Alberta? You two young people go have
some fun. It is a party after all.” He then dismissed them with a wave.

Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and led him to the area of the floor where a few other teenaged
couples were awkwardly dancing together.

“You really want to dance?” Harry queried with a little bit of panic in his voice.

“Of course,” she replied with a smirk. “You did promise after all.”

“I did not!”

“Of course you did. It was implied when you asked me to the party. You can’t simply ask a girl
on a date to a formal party and not expect to dance with her.”

“But I…” Harry began to protest.

“Relax, Harry,” Hermione responded with a softer smile, “it’s only me.”

Harry swallowed hard before he took her right hand in his left, placed his other hand on her
hip, and then slowly began to wobble with her about the dance floor. He knew that he wasn’t a very
good dancer; he never had much experience in the area. But Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself
if the ear to ear grin on her face was any indication. They slowly danced together for a few songs
before Harry broke the silence.

“So, I’m on speaking terms with Ron again.”

Hermione looked into his eyes and smiled.

“See, I told you he’d come around. He always does. Did you make him beg?”

“What?”

“I would have made the big berk beg.”

“Give the guy a break, Hermione.”

“Why should I? He never seems to give me one.”

“Ron’s just… well… Ron,” Harry said with a small amount of exasperation. “You know how he is. We
can’t hold that against him.”

Hermione shook her head at Harry but with a smile.

“You have a good heart, Mr. Potter.”

“Do I now?” Harry enquired with a grin.

“Of course you do. I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Really?” said Harry before he decided to get a little playful. “What else do you like about
me?”

Hermione, living up to her reputation as the brightest witch of the age, caught on quickly.

“Hmm… it’s hard to say, there’s not much to pick from, you being so scrawny after all.” With
that she moved her hand from his shoulder down to his ribs where she gave him a few playful
pinches. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise when what she expected to find as mere skin and bone
actually turned out to be rather well-muscled.

Harry laughed.

“I didn’t stay scrawny for long after Firecam really started working me.”

“I’ll say,” replied Hermione. “What else are you hiding under those robes?”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Hermione’s cheeks turned bright pink, but she met him eye to eye nonetheless.

“Maybe.”

That ensured that Harry’s complexion matched hers rather quickly.

“But back to the topic at hand,” began Harry after a few moments of heavy silence with the band
playing in the background, “what exactly is it about me that you find to be so handsome?”

“Who says I find you handsome?” Hermione playfully rejoined.

“I do.”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you now. Wouldn’t want you getting a swelled head. Besides, as
this is our first date, it’s customary for the gentleman to lavish compliments upon the lady, not
the other way around.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Didn’t you read the rulebook?”

“There’s a rulebook for first dates?”

“There’s a book for everything! I read it twice, of course, so you can simply trust that I know
what I’m talking about, as normal.”

“Well then, Miss Granger, according to your rulebook, how am I doing so far?”

“I’d say you’re managing to pass… barely”

At her teasing reply, Harry took advantage of the placement of his hand to quickly tickle
Hermione’s waist. She let out a sharp, high-pitched squeal.

“Stop that!” Hermione exclaimed as she stepped back from her assailant. Harry, however, did not
let her out of his grasp.

“I don’t think so.”

“Harry James Potter, you stop that this instant!”

“Why should I? Does the rulebook say I have to?”

“I’ll have you know that it does,” she primly replied as she stepped back up to Harry,
“paragraph sixteen, subsection four – no tickling without the expressed, written consent of
Hermione Granger.”

“Well, can’t break the rules, now can I?”

“I should hope not! I’ll not get mixed up with an unrepentant rule breaker!”

They both had a good laugh at that.

After a few more moments of dancing, Harry asked, “So what does your book say that I should do
next?”

Hermione broke eye contact with Harry to glance down at his lips.

“Well,” she began as she took a step closer to him, “as this is a date, and as we are dancing…
the next logical step would be…”

“Yes?” Harry asked softly as he tilted his head down…

“Well, well, what have we here?” Someone said rather loudly from just beside them causing the
two teenagers to jump apart. Harry turned and found himself face to face with one of the last
people on earth that he wanted to see.

Rita Skeeter.

Harry and Hermione simply stared at the woman who so callously interrupted their moment. It took
Harry a moment to actually realize that this woman was really there. She had the same
rhinestone-studded eyeglasses as the last time he saw her, the same elaborate blonde curls that
looked like they were plastered on, and the same self-amused smirk that said she would take
ineffable joy in tearing a puppy to pieces.

“Well hello there, Harry dear, it’s been much too long.”

“Rita Skeeter,” said Hermione with distain, “what are you doing here?”

“Why, I was invited, of course,” replied the *Daily Prophet*’s most notorious reporter.
“Sluggy and I are old friends. Isn’t that the usual way one arrives at a party?”

When there was no immediate response from the two teenagers, Rita when on talking.

“You know, Harry, our last little interview together proved to be quite the sensation. What do
you say the two of us sit down for a little chat this evening?”

“Harry’s not interested,” Hermione quickly interjected.

Rita only spared the girl a glance before turning back to her main target.

“Do you always let your girlfriend speak for you, Harry?” she asked with some distain.

Harry could feel his temper begin to rise and took interior steps to preserve his calm.
Hermione, on the other hand, chose to let her anger color her words.

“I should have never let you out of that jar,” replied the indignant witch.

“Ah yes,” Rita answered as she brought her attention to bear on Hermione, “I almost forgot how
ruthless you could be. Tell me, Harry, how do you think the wizarding world will react when they
hear about your girlfriend’s *darker* tendencies?”

“Hermione Granger doesn’t have a dark bone in her body,” Harry responded, entering the
conversation for the first time. “And you can quote me on that.”

“Really?” replied the older witch with a grin as an acid-green Quick Quotes Quill floated into
view behind Rita’s shoulder, hastily scribbling something on a piece of floating parchment. “Tell
me, what else do you know about Hermione’s *body*?”

Harry flushed bright red at the implication while Hermione sputtered indignantly.

“Readers want to know, Harry,” Skeeter continued. “How exactly did such a plain witch manage to
steal your heart? What else did she manage to steal along the way? Do you think that a Muggle-born
witch like her is really good enough for the Boy Who Lived? How much *convincing* did it take
for you to fall for her… feminine wiles?”

He might have been bright red and uncertain of the best way to handle this situation, but Harry
couldn’t just let this woman make such lurid statements about Hermione.

“I’ll have you know,” Harry began to respond, “that Hermione Granger is the smartest, kindest,
and most wonderful witch that I have ever met. She didn’t need to convince me in the slightest to
fall for her. I just needed to open my eyes for once. And if anything, *I’m* the one that’s
not good enough for *her*!” Harry finished rather emphatically.

Rita was smiling almost gleefully as her quill scrawled out lines and lines of text. Harry
turned to see Hermione staring at him with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open.

“What?” Harry asked his seemingly surprised companion, “It’s true. And I don’t care who knows
it!”

Hermione closed her mouth and broke out into a beaming smile. She was just about to say
something in return when Rita once again interrupted.

“Harry, dear, what else do you have to give me for our readers?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the reporter for a moment before responding.

“Give them this,” she said as she reached out with both hands a grabbed Harry by the sides of
his face. She then roughly pulled his head to hers and gave him a long, almost fierce kiss right on
the lips.

When she pulled away, Hermione said, “I think I’ve had enough of this insect, Harry. Let’s go.”
And with that, she grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him away from the dancefloor and the rather
jubilant Rita Skeeter. She led the two of them to a secluded corner of the room where they could
find a modicum of privacy.

Harry, somewhat in a state of shock, slowly reached up with the hand that wasn’t entangled in
Hermione’s to touch his lips.

“Wow.”

Hermione quickly released Harry’s hand so that she could bury her face in both of hers. She let
out a long groan.

“I can’t believe that I did that as our first kiss,” Hermione lamented from behind her
hands.

“Wow,” Harry repeated.

“Oh, honestly, Harry!” said Hermione as she dropped her hands and turned to him fully even
though her face was bright red. “It wasn’t even that good of a kiss! I did it more to throw it in
Rita’s face than anything else after what she said about me. I can’t believe I did that!”

“I thought it was great!” Harry replied with a smile.

“Boys…” Hermione said in exasperation. After a quiet moment, she shyly glanced up at his green
eyes. “You know, because of that stunt I pulled, we’re going to be all over the *Prophet*
tomorrow.”

“Front page most likely,” Harry agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You don’t mind?”

“They’re going to write about us no matter what we do, aren’t they? At least this way maybe
they’ll get the story right for once.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Nah. I gave Skeeter quite a bit of ammunition myself before your grand finale.”

Hermione shook her head slightly.

“You did say some rather nice things about me, didn’t you?”

“I only spoke the truth.”

“In any event,” Hermione said as she brushed some imaginary lint off of Harry’s chest, “I think
you deserve a reward.”

“Do I?”

“What would you like, Mr. Potter?”

Harry simply smiled as he leaned in, closed his eyes and kissed Hermione Granger for the second
time. They softly lingered together for a long, blissful moment before they pulled apart.

“Better this time?” Harry asked?

“Much,” replied Hermione with a smile. “After all, ‘*Repetito mater studiorum*,’ as they
say.”

“What?”

“It means, ‘Repetition is the mother of study.’”

“Well,” said Harry, “I suppose we’ll need lots of repetition, then.”

“Play your cards right…” Hermione replied. “You know how I love to study.”

“So, does this mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Well I should definitely hope so!” Hermione answered with mock indignation. “I’ll have you know
I don’t go around kissing just anybody. I’m not that kind of girl!”

“Ha!” Harry laughed.

“Come on,” Hermione said as she once again took Harry’s hand and dragged him back into the
party. “Let’s get some punch.”

OoOoO

**AN: A few brief selections of text describing the Christmas party were taken from Harry
Potter and the Half Blood Prince.**

**Well, there’s another one. And so soon after the last update too! Oh my!**

**Question: is there anybody out there? I only ask because I’ve posted two (good, fun IMHO)
chapters recently, and I haven’t seen a single new review. Maybe Portkey is just on its last legs.
Kind of depressing. Maybe not. Prove me wrong!**

**Anyways, thanks for the reviews! And thanks for reading!**



21. XX
------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XX

The next day Harry Potter had a spring in his step as he went about his duties. He had a bright
smile on his face as he diligently focused on his reading, he tapped his feet and twirled his tools
as he groomed Buckbeak, and he even hummed a jaunty tune as he shoveled manure out of the stables.
Now, as he was covered in protective gear and sparring with Neville, he couldn’t help but punctuate
his movements with little shouts of victory.

Neville lunged forward with his wooden sword in an attack that Harry met with his own blade
moving into *contre sixte*. He started his riposte, but Neville met it with his shield.

Neville Longbottom had taken to the sword like a fish to water. While Harry was still further
along than his fellow Gryffindor, Neville was quickly catching up.

The sound of wood striking against wood, punctuated by the occasional laugh from Harry filled
the air as the two young men continued their duel.

Most of the students, including the Weasleys, had departed on the train that morning for
Christmas break, but a few had stayed behind. Neville jokingly said that he couldn’t to take two
weeks off from sword work while Harry would still be training. He wouldn’t let Harry gain such an
advantage.

Neville shifted into *quarte* before thrusting at Harry’s face. Harry responded by bringing
his shield up to block the attack, but the move resulted in obscuring his field of vision. He
realized his error almost a second too late, but managed to leap back in time to avoid Neville’s
swipe at his knees.

Hermione had stayed at the castle as well. Harry was overjoyed at this of course, but internally
couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it. No matter what she told him, he knew that she had
stayed just to be with him for the holidays. The problem was that squires apparently didn’t get
extended breaks from their training. He might not have any classes over the next two weeks, but
that just meant his time was filled with more studying of the *Summa Philosophica*, exercise,
menial labor, and training.

Idle hands were the play things of the Darkness according to Keldorn.

While Harry was slightly off-balance, Neville pressed his attack with a series of quick, lateral
slashes that had Harry back-peddling and on the defensive.

Harry had argued with Hermione, trying to get her to spend the break with her parents, but she
was having none of it. She insisted that her parents would be fine and that she would rather spend
Christmas with her newly-minted boyfriend. He didn’t comprehend how she could be so dismissive of
spending time with her parents, but earlier that very morning, Hermione decisively won the argument
and shut Harry up with a long, heated kiss.

Hermione fought dirty. Harry didn’t mind.

While Neville was pressing his advantage, Harry switched gears and stood his ground. Caught
unawares, Neville’s next attack swung wide, and Harry used the opening to step in close and throw
his weight into bashing his shield against his opponent’s. Neville stumbled backwards and Harry
lunged for the center of his opponent’s chest.

“Ha ha!” exclaimed Harry as his attack struck home.

“Halt!” cried Keldorn. The two wizards straightened in response and turned to face their
instructor.

“Harry,” the knight continued, “that was a smart move at the end, but be more careful of your
footing. Do not leap; when your feet are off the ground you are helpless. Mr. Longbottom, do not
over-commit your forward momentum. You were right to press your advantage, but you over-extended
yourself.”

Harry and Neville both nodded at the advice given to them before turning to face each other once
more.

“Now, again,” said Keldorn and the two wizards shifted into their ready position. “On guard.
Begin!”

Harry feinted right and then disengaged Neville’s parry, continuing the attack. But Neville
wasn’t so easily fooled and countered the move. The two combatants circled each other for a moment,
neither wanting to initiate the next move. Harry decided to spice things up and began lightly
bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet while he lowered his guard, changing the tempo of
the bout.

“Come on, Nev,” Harry taunted, deciding to try and get in his opponent’s head a little bit,
“whatcha got?”

Neville responded with a quick forward attack, just as Harry was hoping. He dropped low,
extending his sword in a *coup d’arrêt*, hoping Neville’s forward momentum would carry him
into the blade. Neville parried with a circular motion, ending with his sword in *octave* and
locking the two blades in a bind. He then surprised Harry by bringing the edge of his shield down
sharply against Harry’s sword a few inches above the cross-guard.

Harry’s sword fell to the floor with a clatter.

Harry almost panicked. He was disarmed and caught in a crouch. He threw his body to the right,
avoiding Neville’s follow-through attack, and rolled back to his feet. However, the move took him
several feet away from his weapon and left him with only his shield while he faced his
opponent.

Harry cursed under his breath as Neville advanced. Blows began to rain down upon Harry’s shield
as he frantically tried to dodge. Neville kept himself positioned between Harry and his lost
weapon, skillfully cutting off Harry’s desperate attempts to regain his sword.

At a loss for what to do, Harry decided to gamble. With a shout, he threw his shield at his
opponent and followed directly after, diving at Neville with hope of wrestling him to the
ground.

Neville, however, stood his ground, and Harry’s dive halted rather abruptly as his face smashed
into Neville’s shield.

Harry groaned, lying flat on his back, and looked up through watery eyes to see Neville standing
above him with his sword at his throat.

“Halt,” sighed Keldorn.

Harry slowly picked himself up and then removed his helmet. He touched his nose and looked at
his fingers and finding them stained bright red. His hand went back to pinch his tender nose to try
and stem the flow of blood.

“Mr. Longbottom,” began the old knight, “well done. You took excellent advantage of your
opponent’s ill-conceived actions and did not allow him to regain his balance.

“Harry,” Keldorn said with a slight bit of heat entering his voice, “how many times do I have to
tell you to stop relying on that stop-hit? The *coup d’arrêt* may work well to surprise a
novice, but using it against any opponent with even a modicum of experience will simply leave you
exposed and defenseless. Do you understand me?”

Harry swallowed before responding, fingers still pinching his nose shut.

“Bes, sir.”

Keldorn sighed.

“Is your nose broken?”

“I don’ dink so.”

“That’s enough for today. Neville, you are welcome to train with my squire again tomorrow after
breakfast. Harry, once you stop bleeding, I want one hundred sit-ups to help you remember to hold
on to your weapon.”

“Bes, sir.”

“Sorry about your nose, Harry,” Neville said somewhat shyly as he removed his equipment.

“Don’ borry abou’ id, Nev,” replied Harry.

Later, as Harry counted out his sit-ups, he wondered if his face was turning black and blue.
Maybe he could wring some sympathy out of Hermione if it did…

Harry smiled as he continued his exercises.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Harry Potter awoke bright and early on Christmas morning. He glanced at the foot of his bed to
see several wrapped packages awaiting him there. He threw off his covers and put on his bathrobe
before grabbing his presents and making his way down to the common room to wait for Hermione.

Harry smiled as he sat down on the sofa in front of the fire. Keldorn had given him his gift the
night before – a day off from training and service. Harry lounged in front of the warm flames in
contentment. He had almost forgotten what having free time was like.

Eventually, Hermione emerged from the girl’s dormitory, wrapped in a fluffy, red and gold robe,
her wild hair all over the place, and her arms laden with gifts.

Harry leapt to his feet with a grin.

“Happy Christmas, Hermione!”

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” she said before gently setting her presents down on the coffee table
and then enveloping the young wizard in a tight hug.

“Now then,” she said, pulling back from him, “let’s get to the presents!”

“Don’t I get a good morning kiss?” Harry asked.

“What makes you think you deserve one?”

“Well, I am your boyfriend, and it is Christmas after all.”

“Fine,” Hermione grumbled good-naturedly, “I suppose I will acquiesce to just one.” With that
she gave Harry a quick, light peck on the lips before settling down on the couch.

“That’s it?!”

“Harry Potter! You should know better by now than to come between a Granger and her presents on
Christmas morning!”

“Fine,” Harry gave in, “but I expect more afterwards.”

“We’ll see about that, mister.”

They spent the next half-hour opening the various packages that they had received from their
friends. They both received new jumpers from Mrs. Weasley, as well as chocolates from Ron. Among
other things, Harry received a large box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes from Fred and George, and
Hermione got a fancy new quill from Ginny. They saved their presents for each other for last.

Harry gave Hermione a thick tome entitled *Nuances in Numerology* as well as a necklace
with a small blue gem suspended from a delicate silver chain. She seemed very pleased with her
gifts, although Harry couldn’t really tell if she was happier about the necklace or the book.
Probably the book.

Hermione in turn gave Harry two gifts. The first was a framed picture of the two of them dancing
and smiling happily at each other. It was obviously taken during Slughorn’s Christmas party.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asked nervously.

“I love it,” Harry replied. “That was one of the best nights of my life. Now, I’ll always
remember it with this.”

Harry unwrapped the second gift to find a small leather pouch with a drawstring.

“It’s a mokeskin pouch,” Hermione explained as Harry inspected it. “It’s enchanted to have a
larger than normal carrying capacity and so that only the owner can retrieve whatever is placed
inside. Mokeskin itself shrinks whenever a stranger begins looking for it, so it is impossible to
steal it.”

“Hermione, this is great! How much can fit inside?”

“Quite a bit, I believe.”

“You’re the best.”

They spent the next couple of hours happily cuddling together in front of the fire.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later that morning, Harry and Hermione decided to go for a walk around the grounds. So they
bundled themselves into their warmest clothes, their new jumpers, and their winter cloaks before
heading out into the cold.

There was about a foot of snow covering the ground; most of it had fallen over the course of the
past two days. Harry and Hermione simply smiled as they made their way through it hand in hand.

Eventually they decided to pay a visit to Buckbeak and Aristotle, their hippogriffs from their
riding class. As they made their way over to the enclosure, they noticed that the creatures had
left the warmth of their barn to wander in their snow-covered pen.

Before they got much closer, a loud voice startled the two teenagers.

“Merry Christmas, Harry! Hermione!”

They turned to see the large form of their friend Hagrid approaching them from the other side of
the barn.

“Hagrid,” they replied together, “Happy Christmas!”

“Wha’re yeh two doin’ out in the cold?”

“We just thought we’d pay a visit to Books and Buckbeak before the feast,” Hermione
responded.

“Well, good on yeh fer tha’,” the half-giant said. “Those two’ve def’nitely taken a shinin’ to
yeh.”

The three friends approached the fences together. Harry and Hermione entered the enclosure while
Hagrid remained outside. They came upon Buckbeak first. When they bowed to the graceful creature,
it immediately returned the gesture, but they were taken aback when the entire herd of hippogriffs
bowed as well.

“Hagrid?” Hermione asked, turning to the gamekeeper, “Why are they all acting like that?”

“Heh,” he replied, “don’ yeh worry yehrself, now, Hermione. Tain’t really nuthin’ yeh’ve done.
Rather, it’s our Beacky there. He’s been pushin’ his weight around a bit lately. Think he musta
fixed himself as the alpha o’ this here group. The rest o’ them seem ter be followin’ his direction
enough.”

“Is that right, Buckbeak?” Harry asked as he approached the animal in question and gave him an
affectionate pat on the side of the neck. Buckbeak chirped and nodded in response before
straightening up as if to put himself on display.

“Yes, yes,” said Harry with an amused smile, “You’re very magnificent. I’m happy that the rest
of the herd has finally recognized it too.” Buckbeak continued to preen under Harry’s
attention.

Hermione laughed lightly before she felt a nudge from behind.

“Books!” she exclaimed, turning to see her hippogriff behind her.

The creature snapped its beak and tossed its head, looking away from her.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I was just looking for you. You know I love you best.”

“You love him best, huh?” Harry asked her over his shoulder.

“Jealous?” she replied to Harry as Aristotle gave in to her ministrations.

Harry and Hermione spent a little while with Hagrid and their favorite hippogriffs before
bidding them farewell and heading back to the castle to get ready for the Christmas feast.

When they arrived in the great hall later on, they saw the place had been once again transformed
for the occasion. Twelve tall Christmas trees lined the back wall, and decorations hung from every
place imaginable. Live fairies flitted about the room, bringing their bright, multicolored light
wherever they went. There was one long table decked out in festive decorations and Christmas
crackers, as well as laden with food in the middle of the hall. Most of the staff that had remained
in the castle for the holidays was already seated including Dumbledore, Firecam, McGonagall,
Sprout, Flitwick, and Hagrid, as well as Neville and several of the other students that were
around. Harry and Hermione greeted everyone at large before taking their seats across from Keldorn
and McGonagall.

“Well,” began the Deputy Headmistress, “if it isn’t my two lions coming to join us at last.
Merry Christmas, you two.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione replied for them both.

Dumbledore rose to his feet and tapped his spoon against his crystal goblet, gathering
everyone’s attention.

“It is wonderful to have you all here at this merry occasion,” the old wizard said. “Let us
enjoy this time together in celebration. Merry Christmas! Tuck in!”

The food was delicious as always and soon the sound of laughter filled the air, punctuated
occasionally by one of the loud, wizarding Christmas crackers. Harry and Hermione pulled one
together and from inside appeared a rather well-made black bowler hat. Hermione immediately placed
it upon Harry’s head.

“Beautiful!” she exclaimed, “I think it suits you wonderfully!”

“I don’t think so, Hermione,” Harry replied as he removed the offending article.

“Nonsense,” McGonagall interjected, “I think she’s right. You young wizards today don’t pay
nearly enough attention to your appearance as you should. It’s only right for a young man such as
yourself to wear a proper hat.”

“As my squire,” Keldorn said, turning to McGonagall, “I could, of course, require him to wear
the hat. That is, if you so wish it, Madam.”

Harry was gob-smacked at being teased by both his mentor and his usually stern head of
house.

“You wouldn’t,” was all he could manage to say in response.

“It would help to cover up this mop,” Hermione teased as she ruffled Harry’s perpetually messy
hair.

Eventually, after everyone’s belly was full and the eggnog had been passed around twice, Keldorn
rose from his seat.

“Harry,” began the paladin, “once you are finished here, I must ask you to stop by my quarters.
It will not take long.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied automatically.

The old knight glanced at Hermione before turning back to Harry. “Miss Granger may accompany
you, if you so wish.” He then turned to the rest of the table. “I’m afraid that I must now bid you
all goodnight. Any more feasting would simply be too much for my constitution. Thank you for
including me in this wonderful celebration. Merry Christmas!” And with a short crisp bow directed
at McGonagall and another to Dumbledore, Keldorn strode out of the great hall.

“I wonder what he wants,” Hermione mused aloud.

“No idea,” replied Harry. “He told me that I had today off.”

“I guess we’ll find out together then.”

A few moments later, Dumbledore grabbed their attention.

“Harry, tell me,” said the Headmaster, “how are things progressing with Sir Keldorn?”

“Well so far, I think,” Harry replied.

“That is good to hear. I trust you have been able to keep up with your work from your remaining
classes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the strain has not been too much for you? I know that our good paladin has been working you
rather hard.”

“No, sir. I’m fine.”

“Good. I trust that you will let me know if it becomes too much for you.”

“Okay.”

“Miss Granger,” the Headmaster continued, turning to the young witch, “I also trust that you
will let me know if Harry begins overextending himself.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied.

“Excellent. Now, I’m afraid that I too must retire. I’m not as young as I used to be after
all.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later that evening, Harry and Hermione stood before the door to Keldorn’s office. Harry
knocked.

“Enter,” came the gruff voice of the knight from the other side.

The two teens entered the office to find Sr. Keldorn Firecam coming around from behind his desk,
a small stream of smoke trailing from the pipe in his hand.

“Good. You’re here,” said the knight. “I have something for you, Harry.”

“But you already gave me the day off as a Christmas present,” Harry rejoined.

“Ah, this is not meant as a ‘Christmas present,’ per se, although you may think of it as such if
you wish. No, I arranged for this as soon as you entered my service. It has just now been
completed.”

With that, Keldorn gestured for Harry to look over at his own desk in the corner of the
room.

Harry and Hermione walked over to the desk and found a large, wooden box sitting on top of it.
With a glance at his mentor, Harry pried off the top of the box. Inside he found a long shirt made
of tiny metal rings, a jacket made out of black, padded cloth, a long, blue, sleeveless tunic, and
a wide leather belt. Harry looked up at the knight with a question in his eyes.

“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione, “this is armor! Sir Firecam had your own armor made for you!”

“Indeed,” said the knight. “Normally, a squire would arm himself in this simple manner as soon
as he was accepted into a paladin’s service. However, as such things are not readily available in
this world, I had to have these custom made for you. Thus the delay.”

“Try it on, Harry,” Hermione said with excitement, “I want to see how you look!”

“Go on,” encouraged the knight.

Harry shrugged out of his Gryffindor robe before picking up the metal shirt.

“No,” said Keldorn as he moved over to assist. “First you must put on the gambeson.” Keldorn
reached into the box and lifted out the padded jacket. “It will keep the heavy armor from chaffing
against your skin.”

Harry took the gambeson from Keldorn and tried it on. Hermione came over and helped him do up
the ties on the front.

“You will find that the sleeves of your gambeson contain a sheath for your wand,” said the
knight. “This is an innovation on my part, but the Deputy Headmistress assures me that carrying
your wand in such a manner is rather common among the Aurors.”

Harry inspected his sleeves and found the built-in wand sheaths that were mentioned.

“Next comes the hauberk,” Keldorn said as he handed over the shirt of metal rings.

Harry lifted it over his head and settled it on his shoulders. It took him a few moments to
struggle into the armor. The chainmail reached down to just above his knees but was divided below
the waist in the front and the back to allow for a full range of motion. It had two full-length
sleeves to cover his arms. It was really heavy. Harry could feel the weight of the armor bearing
down on his shoulders.

“Next is your tabard,” said Keldorn.

The lightweight, blue cloth slipped easily over Harry’s head and covered most of the chainmail.
Only the metal on Harry’s arms was left exposed. Like the hauberk, it was divided below the waist.
Harry noticed that it was the same shade of blue that Keldorn always wore.

“Your belt.”

Harry fastened the wide, black leather belt around his waist. Keldorn shook his head and
readjusted it to his liking.

“And finally,” said Keldorn, “this.” The knight’s hands went to his own belt and removed a long
dagger. I was in a black, leather sheath with scrollwork done in silver along the sides. He handed
the dagger to Harry.

Harry unsheathed the blade and inspected it. It was very bright, as if it had been polished to
perfection. It was light in his hand, as if it weighed next to nothing. There was a small, red
jewel worked into the pommel. But more than anything else, Harry’s impression of the weapon came
from what he thought to be a slight humming that emanated from within it.

“This dagger is a weapon of the Light. It was given to me when I was a squire by my master. Now
it is yours. Take good care of it and it will serve you well.”

Harry looked up at his mentor and nodded his head.

“I will.”

Keldorn then helped him attach the sheath to his belt.

“Well,” said Harry as he turned to Hermione, “what do you think?”

“I think you look rather dashing,” she replied with a smile as she slowly walked around him,
inspecting his new look. “My own knight in shining armor.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Keldorn. “In any event, you will keep these items in
good repair and remember to keep the hauberk free of rust. You will begin dressing in this manner
every day starting tomorrow. I think you will soon find wearing this to be a rather heavy burden,
especially in the first few weeks.”

Harry’s smile faltered slightly at that comment.

“Carrying the extra weight will prove difficult, especially during your exercises, but I trust
you will manage. It will build your strength.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is all for now,” Keldorn said by way of dismissal. “You may return to your day off.”

Harry and Hermione turned to the door, but before leaving, Harry turned back to his mentor.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Wear it with honor, Harry. That is the only thanks I need.”

With that they left and made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

As they were walking, Hermione took Harry’s hand with a small giggle.

“What?” he asked.

“Well… it’s just… you make quite a bit of noise now, walking through the hallways,” Hermione
said with a smile. “I’ll always know when you’re coming now. Kind of like putting a bell on
Crookshanks.”

“Funny,” Harry replied. But as he walked, he paid a bit more attention to the noise he was
making. Hermione was right. The chainmail did jostle and jingle quite a bit.

“Good thing we’re not trying to sneak about the castle quite as much this year,” he eventually
said.

“Yes it is.”

“I’m surprised actually,” continued a now grinning Harry, “that you haven’t been hounding me to
break more rules this year.”

“Harry Potter!” Hermione exclaimed with indignation, “I do not hound you to break rules!”

“Okay, Miss let’s-brew-polyjuice-in-the-girl’s-loo.”

Hermione responded by slapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Ouch,” she said afterwards while shaking her hand. “That hurts.”

Harry just laughed.

Once in the common room, Hermione began inspecting Harry’s new apparel much more closely.

“Are you still there under all those layers?” she asked, jokingly, as she prodded him here and
there.

Harry laughed in response.

“I suppose I better think twice before I hit you on the shoulder again. I might break my
hand.”

“That you better,” said Harry.

“That’s okay. I know plenty of hexes.”

“I’ll show you a hex!” Harry replied before leaping at Hermione. The young witch shrieked as she
ran from him. Harry caught her after a few playful minutes and wrapped his arms around her in a
tender embrace.

“You do feel nice and strong in this though,” Hermione said. “I feel very safe in your
metal-covered arms.”

“I’m glad,” Harry said before leaning in for a kiss.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Hermione.”

OoOoO

**AN: Thanks for the reviews! And thanks for reading!**



22. XXI
-------

**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.**

OoOoO

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.

OoOoO

OoOoO

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…”

OoOoO

OoOoO

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.”

OoOoO

**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!**



23. XXII
--------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XXII

Harry spent the next few days somewhat withdrawn from those around him. He still went to his
classes and performed his duties, but it was all done quietly. He still spent his evenings with
Hermione, but he only half-listened to her ramblings. He was distracted. No matter where he was,
his mind kept going back to his encounter with *Carsomyr*.

Before that afternoon in the Headmaster’s office, the idea of being a paladin was rather…
remote. It was like thinking about life after Hogwarts. Harry knew that he would eventually need to
leave the school that he loved, but that day seemed a long way off in the future. Likewise, the
idea of actually *being* a paladin was rather remote. Learning from Keldorn was more like
simply having alternative classes. Different, but not that different.

*Carsomyr* changed that.

That burning presence in his mind… it required, no it *demanded* so much from him. Keldorn
had warned him that the life of a paladin was not easy. It seemed that the holy sword distilled
that notion down to a fine, very sharp point.

Harry wasn’t sure if he was capable of following through with the journey that he had embarked
upon.

To be judged by that alien sentience and found unworthy…

Harry’s experience with the sword made everything he was doing that much more *real*.

His introspection and slight melancholy lasted several days until he was shocked back to reality
by an unlikely person.

Luna Lovegood.

“Hello Harry Potter. Hello Hermione.” The blonde witch said in her usual dreamy voice as she
approached the Gryffindor table during lunch. Harry was hurriedly shoveling food into his mouth as
his mentor did not afford him the full lunch period that the other students enjoyed. So he chose to
simply wave in greeting while he continued to eat.

“Hi Luna,” said Hermione.

“Is Harry turning into a Were-Ron?”

“Wha’?” Harry asked through a mouthful of potatoes while Hermione merely sighed.

“I was curious if Ron might have bitten you under the light of the full moon, and now you
transform into a half-man, half-Ron during meal times. It would explain why you’ve developed his
eating habits.”

Harry looked across the table to where Ron was holding a chicken leg in each fist while his
cheeks were stuffed close to bursting. Lavender was sitting next to him, happily spooning more
mashed potatoes onto his plate.

“Ron has never bitten me,” Harry finally responded.

“Oh that’s too bad. He has such nice teeth.”

Neither Harry nor Hermione knew what to say to that.

“Anywho,” continued Luna, “I came over here because I’ve been feeling a bit funny lately.”

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked as a look of concern took over her face. “Do you want me to go
with you to Madam Pomfery?”

“Oh no. I’m not sick, silly. It’s a different funny. It’s like, a *funny* funny.”

“Okay…”

“It’s like,” continued Luna, “well… have you ever seen a beautiful little creature, like a
butterfly or a moon frog… looked at its tiny little wings, or its fragile little eyes… and then
wanted to crush it to bits and stomp on it until there was nothing left but a greasy smear?”

Harry and Hermione gaped at the young Ravenclaw, both their mouths hanging open.

“Err… no…” said Harry.

“Oh poo.”

“Luna, are you… do you feel *angry*?” asked Hermione.

“That’s it!” Luna said brightly, pointing to Hermione. “That’s exactly it! I just couldn’t think
of the word. Thank you, Hermione. I feel very angry!” she finished with her usual dreamy smile.

“Umm… *why* are you so angry, Luna?” Harry cautiously questioned.

“Why it’s your fault of course.”

Harry sputtered.

“My fault! What did I do?!”

“Not *just* you, Harry. You and Hermione both.”

“What?” Hermione asked, somewhat taken aback.

“I said I was angry with you, Hermione,” Luna replied, her smile still in place as she reached
out to give Hermione a pat on the head.

“Luna, I… what did we do?”

“You gave that exclusive interview to Rita Skeeter for the *Daily Prophet*.”

“We didn’t…” began Harry, “I mean… it wasn’t exclusive…”

“Oh goody!” exclaimed Luna as she sat down at the table and brought out a quill and some
parchment. “Then you won’t mind if I ask you some questions for the *Quibbler*.”

“But…”

“First question, Harry, are you or are you not having Draco Malfoy’s lovechild now that he’s
been kidnapped by the Danes?”

“What?! Luna! No! I’m not having his lovechild!”

“Second question, did either of you have anything to do with the crowned prince of Finland’s
latest choice in eyewear?”

Hermione sighed in resignation.

“No.”

“Third question, do you like my new sunflower seed earrings, or should I have stuck with the
radishes?”

“They’re nice,” said Harry.

“Sixth question, do you have an irrational fear of elevators and slash or exercise
equipment?”

“No.”

“Nth question, boxers or briefs?”

“Luna!” exclaimed Harry.

“Boxers,” responded Hermione.

Harry turned to his girlfriend with a look of surprise.

“What?” Hermione asked, “I have been in your dorm before, Harry. Your clothes are always strewn
about.”

“Wonderful!” said Luna. “This will do nicely. I’ll just go and owl this to daddy.”

Harry glanced at Luna’s parchment to see that instead of a few sparse notes, Luna had drawn a
crude, stick-figure sketch of Harry and Hermione holding hands as they rode on the back of a
mechanical walrus.

“But before I go,” she continued, “I’ll need a picture.”

Harry sighed but smiled for the rather large camera that Luna had been hiding somewhere and was
now pointing at them.

After a few minutes, Harry was beginning to wonder what was wrong.

“Luna,” asked Hermione, “are you going to take the picture or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to start snogging,” the blonde replied.

“Luna!”

“What? The *Prophet* has a picture of you snogging. If we’re going to compete, the
*Quibbler* needs one too.”

Hermione looked like she was getting rather worked up, but Harry just shrugged his shoulders
before grabbing her face with both hands and planting his lips over hers.”

The bright flash of Luna’s camera went off as expected.

“Okay, now with some tongue,” instructed Luna.

Hermione pulled herself away from Harry.

“I don’t think so, Luna,” she replied.

“How about one of you grabbing Harry’s bum?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Not even a little squeeze?”

“No.”

“Oh poo. Well, thanks for the interview,” said Luna. “I knew I couldn’t stay angry at you
two.”

With that, she turned and skipped out of the great hall.

Harry smiled before turning back to his lunch.

“I like Luna.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

Several weeks passed and the bleak snows of January gave way to the bitter cold of February.
Harry and Hermione gathered with Dumbledore one evening to review more memories about the young Tom
Riddle. Harry hoped that Dumbledore or perhaps Hermione got more out of those ‘lessons’ than he
did.

There was quite a bit of excitement amongst the sixth-years at the beginning of February due to
the introduction of Apparition lessons. As expected, the skill proved rather difficult, and the
enthusiasm of most of the students quickly waned as a result.

As Harry’s time as Keldorn’s squire went on, his dedication and willingness to do hard work
proved themselves apparent. Accordingly, the amount of time that Harry was required to spend
mucking out the stables decreased, while the time he spent in discussion with the old paladin
increased. Keldorn was a demanding teacher. He was never satisfied until he was sure that his
squire had internalized the wisdom found in his Order’s Tradition. Over time, Harry got used to the
antiquated language of the *Summa Philosophica*, and found himself more and more able to keep
up with his mentor’s questioning.

Likewise, his physical training evolved. Both Harry and Neville performed well in their sword
work. With Hermione’s help, Keldorn assembled several wooden dummies on wheels that moved about on
their own and were able to cast stinging hexes strong enough for Harry to feel through his
chainmail. Hermione found great amusement in watching her boyfriend square off against her
creations either alone, or sometimes with Neville by his side. Keldorn was constantly trying to
drill different tactics and ideas into their heads. Sometimes they were armed with their wooden
swords and shields, at other times they went in with a sword in one hand and a wand in the other.
Hermione’s favorite, which brought the most laughter to her lips, was when Harry was sent in alone
and unarmed.

Harry’s Riding and Magical Mounts class also changed. Most of the students had shown themselves
to be proficient with their hippogriffs, and so were moved on to the giant seahorses that Hagrid
had somehow acquired. With the aid of a Bubble-Head Charm and several very strong Warming Charms,
Harry’s classmates found themselves speeding through the frigid waters of the Great Lake.

Harry, on the other hand, remained with Buckbeak. Under Keldorn’s direction, he began to
practice fighting from the back of his faithful hippogriff. He alternated between using his wooden
sword and his wand. He trained on the ground and in the air. It was difficult – learning to keep
his balance while swinging the heavy sword was challenging, but Harry’s natural affinity for flight
as well as his talent in the saddle helped him progress quickly.

And so it was that on one of the last evenings of February, Harry found himself putting the
finishes touches on Sir Keldorn’s boots.

“I’ve finished polishing your boots, sir,” Harry said as he rose from his seat and carried the
articles in question over to the knight.

The paladin had his eyes closed and seemed to be deep in thought. Harry placed the boots on the
floor by the side of the knight’s desk and stood at attention. When his mentor made no move to say
anything after several long minutes, Harry broke the silence once again.

“Will there be anything else tonight, sir?”

Keldorn opened his eyes and looked intently at his squire. The old knight seemed… sad.

“There is one more thing before you are dismissed for the night.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have a seat, Harry,” Keldorn said, gesturing to one of the chairs on the other side of his
desk. “I have been meaning to discuss this with you for some time now. But I wanted to see how
things progressed first. It is a rather… delicate topic.”

Harry sat up a little straighter and licked his lips. Keldorn was rarely this hesitant when he
spoke – it was making Harry nervous.

“I have been watching your interactions with Miss Granger.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he listened, feeling somewhat defensive all of a sudden.

“I do not doubt your intentions with the young woman, nor do I think that you would get up to
anything dishonorable.”

*Oh*, thought Harry. *Please tell me he isn’t going to give me ‘The Talk.’*

“But I have to question the wisdom of the relationship.”

“What?” Harry blurted out in surprise. “What’s wrong with me and Hermione?”

Keldorn sighed.

“There is nothing wrong with either you or your friend. You are both good people, and I am glad
to know you. In any other circumstance, I would give you my blessings for a long and happy life
together.

“But, we are not in other circumstances, we find ourselves here and now, in a place of our own
choosing.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said in confusion.

“The life of a paladin, Harry,” Keldorn continued in all seriousness, “is not one that readily
lends itself to romance or family.”

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“I’m sorry to have to say this to you, Harry, but it must be said nonetheless. I want you to
seriously consider what life would be like for you and Hermione once you are truly a paladin.
Neither the *Codex Luminis* nor the teachings of the Order expressly forbid paladins to marry,
but remaining celibate has always been strongly encouraged.

“Celibacy allows for the single-minded devotion that is necessary to stem the tide of the
Darkness. It removes the temptation to turn away from one’s duty and indulge in the softer side of
life that we are pledged to protect, but that can never truly be ours. It relieves us of the
likelihood of divided loyalties to wife and children on the one hand, and the demands of our duty
to the Light on the other.”

Harry was slowly shaking his head as he listened to his mentor. His throat was dry and his eyes
were stinging.

“The brightest knights in the Order always saw the wisdom of remaining romantically unattached.
But there are always some who, perhaps foolishly, think that they can handle the demands of both
service to the Light and the covenant of marriage.”

“You don’t know how I feel about her…” Harry painfully whispered.

“But I do, Harry,” Keldorn said with a sad smile, “I do.”

Harry looked up into his mentor’s eyes.

“I did say that there are always those foolish paladins who think they can have both. I once had
a wife. Maria. Hair red like the dawn, smile as bright as the Light itself. We had two daughters
together, Leona and Vesper. What more could a man want?”

Keldorn’s eyes became distant as he revealed this part of himself from a world that was now
impossibly far away from him.

“She said she knew what she was getting into. She said that she could handle being the wife of a
paladin. She was so strong, Harry, so very strong. I believed her. I thought we would be stronger
together. I thought that we would serve the Light better together. And at first, it was true. While
the Light was my strength and my shield, Maria was my rock. But over time, the demands became too
much for her. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. It seemed that my duty always had me
elsewhere.

“So she left me.”

The room was utterly silent for a long moment before Keldorn once again took up the story.

“One day I returned home to find the house empty. Maria had packed up the girls and left. I
don’t even know how long they had been gone. There was a note explaining things. Apologizing. They
were all unhappy. All three of them had made the choice to leave. I could have searched for them,
of course. I doubtlessly would have found them too, with the resources of the Order at my disposal.
But I finally saw the wisdom in letting things be. I knew they would be alright – Maria’s family
had ample means to assist her, and she was always a capable woman. My life was simply not fair to
Maria or to my girls. It broke my heart, but I let them go.”

Keldorn’s gaze returned to the present and he turned and captured Harry’s eyes with his own.

“I will not tell you what you must do in your relationship with Hermione. I will not interfere
beyond this conversation unless it begins to impact your training. But you need to be aware of what
you are getting into. Hermione has a right to know what she can truly expect if she stays with
you.

“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you and Hermione can endure where Maria and I failed. Truthfully, I only
hope you that you can learn from an old man’s foolish mistakes, and perhaps save yourself some
heartache.”

Keldorn broke their eye contact and turned in his chair to face the window.

“That will be all. Goodnight, Harry.”

Harry rose from his seat and quietly left the room. He slowly made his way through the halls,
meandering about the corridors on his way back to Gryffindor Tower and the young witch that was
waiting for him in the common room. At the moment, he was in no hurry to return.

He felt unsteady. Like the rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet.

Was Keldorn right? Should he break things off with Hermione before it got to be too serious?
Would that save them from heartache down the road?

The old knight made some good points. Harry could see the reasoning behind his words. There was
wisdom in what he had said.

But his heart ached to stay with Hermione.

Harry sighed. His heart may have wanted Hermione, but he knew that a decision could not be made
by his heart alone. He was certain that much was true.

Most people would probably tell him something like, ‘Follow your heart.’ But that was
ridiculous.

Anyone who actually used their brain could see that adages like, ‘Follow your heart,’ were utter
nonsense. Following your heartfelt desires was all well and good – when it was reasonable. Without
reason, without the mind in control of the decision making process, following your heart was more
likely to simply lead to heartbreak than happiness. Human beings were not meant to flitter from one
heartfelt desire to the next without a thought for the consequences. Following your heart was all
well and good for people in storybooks and movies, where the characters were assured of their
happily-ever-after. But real people had responsibilities. They had others that depended on them.
They had duties that couldn’t simply be laid aside without real people getting hurt. There was
nothing more selfish or self-centered than a person who went off to follow their heart without a
thought for anything or anyone else around them.

After all, wasn’t Voldemort just following his heart in his attempt to take over the world?

No, this was a decision that needed some careful thought and meditation. Harry knew what he
*wanted*, but he wasn’t sure if what he wanted was *right*.

Harry looked up and found himself standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. He muttered
the password and slowly made his way into the common room.

His eyes immediately went to Hermione. She was waiting for him as always on the couch by the
fire. Ready to try and help relieve some of his stress – ease some of his burden.

She looked up at him and smiled. She gave a little wave, her eyes bright with something that
Harry didn’t want to think about at the moment.

He walked over to her, but did not sit down.

“Sorry, Hermione, but I think I’m going to just turn in tonight.”

Hermione frowned and stood from her seat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay.”

“Harry, don’t…”

“I’m okay, Hermione,” Harry repeated, cutting her off. “It’s just something Sir Firecam and I
were discussing that has me thinking more than I should, I guess.”

“You sound so sad though.”

“Well, I guess I am a little.”

“Why don’t you sit with me so I can try and cheer you up?”

Harry gave her a small smile.

“Any other night, and I would let you try. Really, Hermione, I think I just need to turn
in.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” she said as she reached out and hugged him.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said as he gave her a little kiss on the forehead. “I don’t deserve
you.”

After savoring the embrace for a moment, Harry stepped back, said goodnight, and made his way to
the stairs.

Halfway up, he glanced back over his shoulders to see Hermione standing where he had left her,
her eyes following his every movement. She looked sad. Harry felt guilty.

The weight of responsibility had never felt heavier.

OoOoO

**AN: Thoughts?**

**Thanks for your reviews. And thanks for reading!**



24. XXIII
---------

**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.**

OoOoO

Harry Potter and the Knight of the Radiant Heart

XXIII

“Harry!” the voice of Lavender Brown exclaimed rather loudly, taking the wizard in question by
surprise as he reached the bottom of the staircase. Harry had so much on his mind that lately he
was finding it difficult to sleep. He had tossed and turned for the last couple of nights, and as a
result was rather tired. He certainly did not expect to find Lavender waiting for him in the common
room so early in the morning. Harry didn’t think any of the other students even thought about
waking up as early as he did.

“You’re a hard man to find these days, Harry,” said Lavender and both she and Parvati Patil came
over and stood before him, blocking his path to the rest of the room.

“Err… Excuse me, Lavender, Parvati, but I’m going to be late…” Harry said as he attempted to
make his way past the two girls.

“You’re not going anywhere just yet,” said Parvati as she and Lavender stood their ground, “so
cool it.”

Harry took a moment to look at the two girls before him. They were obviously trying to look
intimidating, glaring at him with stern frowns on their faces. It was rather ridiculous. Lavender,
for one, was wearing way too much pink to intimidate so much as a kitten, and Parvati just looked
like she had cleared out an entire makeup counter that morning. Harry didn’t think he would be
intimidated by these two if they started hurling Killing Curses at him.

“Okay…?”

“As you know,” began Lavender, “today is my Ronny’s seventeenth birthday. It’s an important day
in the life of a wizard. It’s the day when the boy becomes a man…” Here Lavender sighed
dreamily.

Parvati nudged her after a moment.

“Right, as I was saying. Gryffindor is going to be throwing a surprise party for him tonight
after dinner here in the common room. Since he *is* your best friend, you *will* be
present.”

“Look, Lavender.” Harry started, “I’d like to…”

“He’s your best friend, Harry Potter, and you will be present for his party!” Lavender shouted.
“I’ve put a lot of hard work into this and you’re not going to ruin it because you’re off doing
Chosen One things! Today is about my Ronny, so you can just put all your business aside for one
evening!”

Lavender finished with a firm nod of her head that Parvati mimicked a split second later.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Harry asked.

“You haven’t exactly been the easiest person to get a hold of lately, Harry,” Parvati answered.
“And we couldn’t exactly tell you at meals or in the common room while Ron was around, now could
we?”

Harry had no response to that.

“Now promise me,” demanded Lavender, “that you’ll be at the party tonight.”

“Lavender, I can’t…”

“*Promise*. *Me*.”

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Lavender said, nodding once again.

“Can I go now?”

The two girls stepped aside and let him pass. Harry quickly made his way to Keldorn’s office to
begin his daily routine. When he arrived, he quietly opened the door to find the knight already
seated as his desk, reading from a book.

“Good morning, sir.”

“You’re late.”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry apologized. “It couldn’t be helped. I was cornered by two of my classmates
on my way out of Gryffindor Tower.”

“What did they want?”

“Apparently, they want me at a party tonight. It’s Ron’s seventeenth birthday today, and
Lavender is throwing him a surprise party. She refused to let me leave until I promised to be
there.”

Keldorn simply raised his eyebrows.

“May I go?” Harry asked after a moment.

“I suppose. You have been working diligently of late. And I wouldn’t want to make a liar out of
you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I expect you to finish the last twelve articles of question eight today.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without further conversation, Harry got to work.

OoOoO

OoOoO

Later that evening, after grabbing a quick dinner in the kitchens, Harry hurried back to the
Gryffindor common room to ensure that he was on time for the surprise. He came through the portrait
hole to find that the room had been transformed. There were balloons and streamers hanging from the
ceiling. A Wizarding Wireless was playing a happy tune off in one corner. Chudley Cannons posters
decorated the walls. There was a larger than life-size photograph of Ron decked out in his
Quidditch gear, happily waving to everyone that crossed in front of it. One of the study tables was
piled high with food, while another was laden with cold pumpkin juice and Butterbeer. There was
even a gigantic, bright orange, five-tiered cake in the center of the room. It had seventeen large
candles on it that were waiting to be lit.

It looked like almost every single member of Gryffindor was present for the party, including
many people that Harry was sure Ron had never even spoken to. He suspected that Lavender and
Parvati did quite a bit of cajoling to ensure that everyone was present.

The only thing that was missing was the birthday-boy and his girlfriend.

Someone slid into place next to Harry and took his hand in theirs. Harry turned to see Hermione
grinning up at him.

“Isn’t this lovely, Harry?” she asked. “Lavender really outdid herself with this.”

Harry took another look around the room before responding.

“You know, you’re right. She really did put a lot into this for Ron.”

Parvati chose that moment to walk up to Harry and looked him up and down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” the Indian witch asked. “Hermione, I pity you. Oh well, too late
to change now.” She then strapped a paper party hat onto Harry’s head, handed each of them a pair
of noisemakers, and then rushed off to check on something else.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile, “I think you look very handsome.”

Harry merely smiled back.

At that moment, one of the first-year girls ran in through the portrait hole.

“They’re coming!” she squealed.

“Places, places!” shouted Parvati. “Everyone quiet down and hide!”

Everyone become silent as they waited for Ron and Lavender to enter the room.

After a moment, they heard the sound of the portrait swinging open, followed by Ron’s voice.

“What’re you up to, Luv? The Twins didn’t owl you and put you up to something, did they?”

“You’ll see in a moment,” teased the voice of Lavender Brown.

A second later, they emerged from the portrait hole together. Lavender had her hands over Ron’s
eyes.

As soon as she dropped her hands, everyone jumped out and shouted.

“SURPRISE!”

There followed a loud volley of ‘happy birthdays,’ well-wishes, and bangs and whistles from the
various noisemakers.

Ron stood in the entranceway eyes wide, and his mouth was hanging open. Lavender was behind him
grinning like a mad woman and bouncing up and down in excitement.

After taking in all the decorations and smiling faces, Ron turned to his girlfriend.

“You did all this?” he questioned.

She nodded excitedly.

“For me?”

She nodded again.

“Come ‘ere, you!”

Ron then wrapped his arms around her, leaned back, lifted the delighted witch into the air, and
spun around in circles with her.

He eventually put her down, but didn’t loosen his hold upon her.

“You’re the best, Lav,” Ron said to his girlfriend, “I love you!” He then leaned in to plant a
long kiss on her lips.

“*Awww*!” squealed most of the females present in the room, while the males cheered and
hollered.

Harry felt Hermione hug his right arm to her chest and he looked over to see her happily
watching Ron and Lavender.

After Ron finished his display, he turned to face the crowd.

“Let’s party!” he shouted, much to the delight of everyone present.

The party was a lot of fun. Lavender really did know how to put an event together. As they
mingled through the crowd, Harry realized that he had never seen his best friend happier than he
was now.

Harry was aware that he hadn’t been spending as much time as he used to with his best mate. But
in that moment, it hit him how much Ron had changed in the last year. He grew up. Like Lavender had
said earlier that morning, he was now a man.

Weird.

“What are you thinking about, Mr. Potter?” Hermione asked from beside him.

“Ron and Lavender,” Harry answered. “She’s good for him, isn’t she?”

“I think you’re right.”

“She gives him the devoted attention that he needs, and she certainly tries very hard to make
sure that he has enough to eat,” Harry continued, gesturing to the table that was piled high with
food. “I really think that she’s helped him overcome his insecurities. I mean, can you believe that
Ronald Weasley just announced for all the world to hear that he’s *in love* with Lavender
Brown?”

“When did you become so insightful?” Hermione teased with a gentle poke in the ribs.

“I guess Ron isn’t the only one that’s grown up a bit.”

Harry looked at Lavender as she continued to bounce with excitement as she followed Ron and held
his hand. It wasn’t very complicated. She was simply happy. Doing something nice and thoughtful for
Ron brought her all the happiness in the world. She wasn’t doing it for herself - that much was
clear in the way she kept pushing Ron into the center of attention. Heck, she had made an
eight-foot tall portrait of the guy for the party after all. If she had wanted to be the center of
attention, she probably would have popped out of the cake or something. No, it was the selfless
giving that made Lavender so happy. For all her squealing and flightiness, it was clear that
Lavender had a good heart, and that she loved Ron dearly.

“They’re so happy together,” Hermione remarked.

Harry looked at her and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“Hey, mate!” Ron shouted, interrupting them. The man of the hour came over and wrapped Hermione
in a hug. After a moment he smirked and then lifted her off the ground, spinning her in a
circle.

“Ronald Weasley!” Hermione shouted. “You put me down this instant!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” laughed Ron as he continued to spin her around, “it’s my party and I’ll do
as I like!”

Lavender giggled from beside them.

“I’ll hex you!”

“Fine,” complained Ron as he set the witch back on her feet.

“Happy Birthday, mate,” Harry said as he gave his friend a slap on the shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“You couldn’t imagine the trouble I went through to make sure that Harry was here,” Lavender
said.

Ron smiled.

“Firecam still got you busy shovelin’ horse shite, then?”

“Shut it, you,” Harry answered.

“Come on, Ronny, let’s go get our picture taken with the cake before the firsties destroy it,”
Lavender said before dragging him away.

Hermione turned back to Harry, intent upon picking up their earlier conversation.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” she said gently.

“It’s just something Sir Firecam said,” Harry replied.

She looked at him expectantly and Harry realized that she wasn’t going to be deterred.

“Not here.”

She nodded in understanding before leading him to the portrait hole. Together they made their
way into the halls and searched out an empty classroom. Once they were inside with the door locked
and silenced, Hermione turned to him expectantly.

“Well?”

Harry sighed.

“It’s… well… it’s complicated.”

“So explain it to me,” Hermione said as she took a seat on the edge of an old desk, “I’m a smart
girl, I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s…” Harry started again, “He explained some things to me the other night. Got me thinking.
And I don’t really know what I should do.”

“About what?”

“About this,” Harry gestured between the two of them, “about us.”

“What?” Hermione asked in a tone of surprise.

Harry looked down at the floor while he explained.

“Sir Firecam told me that paladins are better off without romantic relationships. He said that
it’s not a strict rule, but it’s highly recommended. He said that he knows it’s true from
experience. He had a wife and children that left him because the demands of being a paladin were
too much for them.”

“Harry…?” Hermione said his name very quietly. He looked up to see that her eyes were full of
tears just waiting to fall.

“He pretty much said that we would both be better off if we put a stop to this now, before we
went too far. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Are you…” Hermione sniffled, “are you breaking up with me?”

“I… no… I said I don’t know what to do…”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?!” Hermione shouted, suddenly becoming rather
angry.

“It’s a lot to think about, Hermione…”

“What? You’re not happy with me all of a sudden? I’m not good enough for you now?”

“That is not what I said!”

“I thought the way we felt about each other was understood!”

“It’s not that simple…”

“Then explain it to me!” she shouted.

“I’m trying!”

Hermione huffed, but stopped yelling. Harry moved over to her and took one of her hands. She let
him, but eyed him warily.

“I don’t have this all figured out, Hermione. I don’t have any decisions made. I know what I
want. I know how I feel about you. And I think I know how you feel about me too. But it’s not that
simple.”

“Why not?” Hermione cried as the tears freed themselves from her eyes and rolled down her
checks. “Why can’t this just be simple for once? Why does it always have to be so hard?”

Harry wrapped her in a hug that Hermione submitted to easily.

“Think, Hermione. All those things about being a paladin… all those reasons Firecam initially
had for not making me his squire… those things that you argued with him about. They’re still there.
They aren’t ever going to go away. And they won’t exactly make it easy to have a relationship.”

Hermione sniffled again and seemingly tried to burrow herself into his chest.

“I mean,” continued Harry, “say all this happens. I become a paladin and somehow manage to
defeat Voldemort. And we… well… we get married I suppose. Start a family. I won’t be able to stop
fighting then. As a paladin, I’ll have to keep up the fight until the day I die. I’d probably be
gone for long periods of time, while you… what? Wait for me? Is that fair to you?”

Hermione pulled back from him and started hitting his chest.

“Nothing about this bloody situation is bloody well fair!” she yelled.

“I know.”

Silence stretched out in the room for a long moment.

“So what do we do now?” she asked as she leaned into his embrace once again.

“I don’t know. I guess we think for a while. And then we decide if we’re going to give this a
serious shot or not.”

“Thinking,” she mumbled. “Great. I’m supposed to be good at thinking.”

“Do you want to go back to the party?” Harry asked.

“No,” Hermione replied. “Let’s just stay here for as long as we can.”

“Okay.”

OoOoO

OoOoO

A few evenings later, Harry was being tested in his mentor’s office as usual.

“And is ignorance a mitigating factor for an illicit action?” Keldorn asked.

“Well, that depends,” answered Harry.

“On?”

“Whether it is invincible ignorance or vincible ignorance.”

“And what is the difference?” Keldorn continued his line of questioning.

“Err… invincible ignorance is when the person had no way of knowing that something was wrong and
therefore is not morally culpable for their actions, while vincible ignorance is a willful
ignorance, and thus they remain culpable.”

“Give me an example.”

“Okay, well… take the meditations that I do every evening with the *Liturgia Horarum*. As a
squire or a paladin, it is morally incumbent upon me to do the proper meditations and prayers every
evening. But, for example, if you took me as your squire and forgot to tell me about it, I would
have no way of knowing. Thus I would be invincibly ignorant and not responsible. But, if there was,
say, a guide book for new squires that had all the requirements listed in it, and you gave it to me
to read, but for whatever reason I refused to do so. Then, if I remained ignorant of my obligation,
it would be only vincibly so, and thus I would be culpable for my action or lack thereof.”

“Good. Your answer could use more polish, but it will do.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now then,” the knight continued, “what constitutes grave matter?”

Harry’s answer was interrupted by a knock at the door. With a glance at his mentor, Harry went
to answer it. He opened the door to find Hermione on the other side.

“Harry,” she said by way of greeting.

“Hermione,” he replied as he moved aside so that she could enter the office.

“Miss Granger,” greeted Keldorn.

Hermione nodded her head to the old knight before turning to address the wizard in the room.

“Harry. I need a word with Sir Firecam. Alone, please.”

Harry saw his mentor’s eyebrows rise at her words.

“Harry, wait outside please,” Keldorn instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

With that, Harry exited the room, closing the door behind him. He walked several feet down the
hall, so that he was well outside of earshot of the door before simply standing against the wall.
It wouldn’t be very polite to listen in on their conversation after all.

He glanced back at the door. Harry wondered what Hermione was saying to the paladin. It must
have had something to do with him. If it was just about one of her projects, she wouldn’t have
asked him to leave. It was probably about Keldorn’s advice about breaking off their relationship.
Harry knew that Hermione was not in favor of doing that. He wondered if she found some way around
the old knight’s reasoning about celibacy. Maybe she had second thoughts about him becoming a
paladin altogether, and was now arguing that Keldorn should dismiss him from his service.

Harry’s mind was awhirl with thoughts, one after the other as he silently stood against the
wall.

Sometime later, it had to have been at least thirty minutes, the door opened, and Hermione
stepped into the hall. She glanced around until her eyes fell on Harry. When she saw him, she
walked up to him and took him by the hand.

“You’re to come with me,” she said.

And without another word, she dragged him off down the hall.

They came to an empty classroom and quickly went inside. Hermione locked and silenced the door,
before turning to Harry.

“Sit,” she instructed.

“Okay,” Harry said as he followed her directions and sat in an old chair.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since Ron’s party, Harry,” Hermione began explaining, “and I
needed to speak with Sir Firecam before coming to some conclusions.”

“Alright.”

“Harry,” she began again, looking into his eyes, “you are not Sir Firecam.”

“Right…”

“And I am not his wife. We are different people in different situations. Just because their
relationship did not work out doesn’t mean that ours is doomed as well.”

“Okay. But the things that make a paladin’s life almost impossible for relationships are still
there.”

“They are still there, yes,” she said, “but they will not make our relationship impossible. It
might be difficult. It might be *very* difficult at times, but if we work at it and through it
together, I have every confidence that we’ll survive.”

“How can you be so sure?” Harry quietly asked.

“Because unlike Sir Firecam’s wife, who I’m sure is a very nice woman, I will never be content
to bloody well sit back and wait while you go off to war!” Hermione exclaimed rather emphatically.
She took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Harry, we’ve been through a lot
together, you and I, and we got through it because we were *together*. Yes, we’ve had some
bumps along the way, but we’re stronger together.

“When the day comes for you to face Voldemort,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice but
in a tone that got stronger as she continued, “I’m going to be right there by your side, whether
you want me there or not! It doesn’t matter if I’m your friend or your girlfriend, I’ll be right
there with you and no one - not you, not Firecam, not Dumbledore, and not even bloody *Merlin*
himself is going to stop me!

“And when you’ve put that bastard in the ground where he belongs and the next one comes along,
well, I’ll be standing next to you for that one too! If that means I earn myself an early grave,
then so be it!

“You’re all I’ve got, Harry. And now that I have you I’m not giving you up. Not without a
fight.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m all you’ve got?’” Harry asked. “You’ve got a lot of people that care
about you.”

“Oh really?” she asked, “Who?”

“Well… your parents for starters…”

“Harry, my parents couldn’t care less about me.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

“Why do you think it was so easy for me to spend the entire summer here with you? Why do you
think it wasn’t a problem for me to stay here for Christmas? My parents don’t care. They’re too
self-absorbed in their own little world to really notice anything I do. Nothing I’ve ever done has
been good enough to get their attention. No matter how good I was or smart I was, they just… didn’t
care. They never wanted a child in the first place, and when I came along by accident, they had no
idea of what to do with me. They would just buy me things and hand me off to nannies and tutors and
boarding schools and figured that will take care of everything.”

“I… I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault Harry. I never talked about them for a reason, you know. I’ve come to terms
with it. It is what it is. I’d choose you over them any day of the week.

“You really are the only person that I’ve got, Harry. I know that makes me sound desperate, and
maybe I am, and maybe I’m ruining our relationship by putting too much pressure on you now, but…
that’s just it. You’re all I’ve got.”

Harry smiled.

“You’re all I’ve got too.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Harry. You’ve got the entire world in your corner. Minus the Death Eaters,
of course. Plus you’ve got Dumbledore and Firecam teaching you all they know. Not to mention the
Weasleys.”

“Yeah, well, okay… But having teachers and Boy Who Lived fans isn’t the same thing and you know
it. And you’ve got the Weasleys too.”

Hermione smiled.

“So, what do we do now, then?”

“I guess we make a decision.”

“You know my decision, Harry. You’re my decision.”

“I suppose you won’t let me change your mind about that?”

“Not a chance, Potter.”

“So… I guess we give *us* a go then?”

“Yes. And we’ll be serious about it. And we’ll work through the tough patches. Together. And
I’ll be *damned* if I let anything tear us apart!”

Harry laughed.

“Come ‘ere!”

After a tight hug and a brief kiss, they left the classroom together.

“So back to normal then?” Harry asked as they walked down the hall.

“I suppose.”

“You know… I kinda like it when you get all worked up and start tossing around the foul
language,” Harry teased.

“Oh, quiet you,” Hermione said with a blush.

“Seriously. It’s… well… I like how passionate you get. It’s kinda hot.”

Hermione stopped walking and looked at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“Harry Potter! Did you just call me ‘hot’?”

“I guess I did.”

“Oh don’t be silly.”

“What?”

“No one has ever said anything even remotely like that about me before.”

“Well it’s true. You’re Hermione the hottie!”

“Oh stop!” Hermione smiled and pushed him playfully as she began walking once again.

“Never.”

“You really, actually like it when I swear like that?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to start doing it all day long or anything – that just wouldn’t be
you. But when you get all worked up… Yeah I do. And you *are* a hottie.”

“You’re sweet,” Hermione said before giving him a peck on the cheek. “Delusional, but
sweet.”

“Hey, I *am* Harry bloody Potter after all! Boy Who Lived! Chosen One! My girlfriend is
always the hottest of the hotties!”

“Prat.”

OoOoO

**AN: Thoughts?**

**Thanks for your reviews! And thanks for reading!**