Disclaimer: Annoying people by stealing their work and trying to present it as yours is called plagerism. It is bad for your health and bank account. Thus I'm not doing it...
Chapter 9: Dwarven Prophecy
Remus Lupin softly blew in his hand to warm them. This stake out was taking forever. Once again he cursed Minerva McGonagall for this assignment. His very much pregnant girlfriend was soon going to give birth to their child and he was there at the brink of a mansion's wards. It wouldn't have been too much of an inconvenience had he been able to use magic but there wasn't any magical person in the neighborhood, that is except for him and a ward detected anybody not keyed in that used thing remotely magical (except for Invisibility cloaks, thanks Merlin!)
With a sight Remus raised his eyes toward the mansion. He was just between the Anti-Apparition ward and the identification one. Magic would give his presence away and he wasn't going to be replaced until four hours later… Silently Remus moved his feet to enable the flow of blood in his legs. He so hated to be there. The Charms on him stopped the vampire guards from smelling him, alas it worked both ways and he was olfactory blind. For someone who usually could smell visitors before they even reached his floor it was somewhat disturbing.
Remus eyed the gates ahead of him with dread. This wasn't some random mansion or the house of a Death Eater. He was at the entrance of the property of one of the most influential vampire in England. True, this one wasn't as powerful or as respect as London's master, Rodolph, but he had a good portion of the vampire's population behind him and could tilt the balance in favor of Voldemort if he were to act on the threats he had made toward the Vampire Council three months earlier. Remus' job was to watch and see if anything was in any way indicative of an alliance with the Dark Lord. If it was then a preemptive attack was better than meeting the vampire on a battlefield.
Remus contemplations were cut short when five figures exited the mansion running like if their life depended of it. Two of them were apparently unconscious and slung around the shoulder of the tallest figures. Remus barely had the time to blink that they were upon him. He could see that they weren't vampires as he had first thought but a dog, a goblin and a wizard if the man's wand was any indication. The dog, a big Rottweiler, knocked him down when it passed between his legs and got wrapped up in his invisibility cloak. The goblin stopped just long enough to take the item in his hand and the wizard didn't even slow down as he rammed the handle of a dagger on the top of his head. Remus fell unconscious without a pip.
Remus emerged from his forced sleep when a hand shook his shoulder forcefully.
"Wake up Lupin!"
Instantly Remus was up and ready to fight, his wand in his hand the tip glowing and on the brink of releasing a curse. His eyes landed on the concerned gaze of Neville Longbottom.
"Sorry Neville. What's going- Ouch" Remus tried to apologize but a small shake of his head reminded him why he was sleeping in the first place.
"We've got to go!" Neville said urgently.
"Someone just used magic in the mansion. The guards are going to come around soon."
Remus didn't say anything and Apparated to Grimmauld Place Neville following him a second later.
Once there, Remus applied ice on the back of his skull and hissed at the sharp pain he felt.
"What happened?" the werewolf asked when Neville sat down.
"I don't really know. I arrived five minutes before my shift and saw you on the ground. I checked your heart bit and the surroundings. There wasn't anything. Then I saw something moving through the windows in the mansion and apparently there were wizards around with the number of curses…"
"You are sure about this?" Griphook flashed with his hand.
"Slowly" Harry replied in the same fashion.
"Are. You. Sure. About. This?"
"Yes. Don't worry I practiced." Harry returned somewhat clumsily. "Now stay quiet."
The goblin frowned but didn't say anything. The Charms on his person to stop heat, smell, and magical detections were itchy and he wasn't very keen in staying there for hours. Harry and he were on the roof of some vampire dissident's house for the last eighty minutes and he was cold. On the other hand, he knew these charms protected him from the vampires around. The guards were paranoids! So much that the actually checked the presence of heart bits to see if anything living was around (apart from their prisoners of course.)
The vampire they were tracking was a Master around two centuries of age and quite gifted in the art of runes. Luckily Harry's understanding of the subject had been enough to obliterate the detection wards and get them on the roof where they waited for the vampire's return.
They were cold and hungry when the man came back, unfortunately he wasn't alone. A gorgeous woman was holding his arm and laughing quietly at his words. They hadn't known what to do until they saw the fags of said beauty. Harry's face had broken into a huge grin at the possibility of killing to birds with one stone and no amount of persuasion from Griphook could make him budge: they were going or both vampires.
So here they were, waiting for the vampires to finish their… humm… thing, before attacking. Harry summarized they'd fall asleep after their… activity and assured his friend that they wouldn't have to do anything but to bend down and tie the vampires. Griphook wasn't that sure. He didn't know of any escape plan, yet Harry was confident.
Suddenly Harry raised an arm and withdrew both his dagger and wand from their holsters. His hand flashed a signal and he slowly but surely advanced toward the spot where D'Argo was asleep. Griphook joined them and Harry touched them while closing his eyes. A vague sensation of wind around their face was the only indication of movement as their appeared in the bedroom below them.
The Charms around Harry, Griphook, and D'Argo had fallen the second they entered the room and an alarm went on.
"Shit!" Harry cursed loudly as the vampires in the bed in front of him rose immediately. His wand came directly in front of the woman's face. She was the unknown here and he didn't want to take any risk.
"Necro-dormio Tormentis" he hissed. A black curse erupted from his wand and blew the pillow that a fraction of second before was supporting the blood sucker. Unconsciously Harry raised his left arm at shoulder length and took sadistic pleasure in the feeling of flesh impacting against his dagger. He stopped the grin that was threatening to creep on his face. The blade was coaxed with a draught of Living Death, the Mistress vampire didn't have time to say a world before her body came crashing down, a wound on her shoulder as only testament of her defeat in a fight.
Harry quickly turned around. Things weren't good. Griphook was barely holding himself against the Master in a sword fight and three more vampires had erupted in the room. Harry threw his dagger toward one of the guard followed by a powerful healing Charm and rolled on the side bringing his sword with him. As predicted the guard dodged the curse and dagger the only way possible: ending just in front of Harry who flawlessly decapitated him. Blood erupted from the severed neck and drew the attention of the Master and both guards.
Griphook used his opponent's momentum of inadvertence to plunge the tip of his sword in the spinal column of the Master who unable to control his limbs anymore crumbled at his feet.
Harry smirked at the two guards and transferred his gladius in his right hand and his wand in the left. Taking the position of the dance of wand number four, he inclined his head in an invitation to fight. The vampires leapt at him with a roar, but Harry was ready and already moving.
Griphook absently nursed the cut on his forearm while watching the fight with awe. He had seen Harry practice the Dances of the Wand for more than a month. Granted the wizard used practice clothes specially made for him with heavy pieces of metal inserted in them, but there he was going at a speed never seen before.
Harry could feel the sweat falling on his forehead and on his neck. He was going as fast as he could but the vampires were as rapid as him! He knew where they were going to be before they even did but they were prompt enough to block his hits. He was starting to worry when one guard bumped against a table. The split second during which he didn't move was fatal to the vampire: a sword pierce his shoulder and came out around his hip on the other side of his body.
This success gave hope to Harry who pressed his luck and concentrated only on the guard, not even acknowledging Griphook's sign that both Master were secured with handcuffs Harry had previously charmed (luckily he had made three of them).
The vampire was good, but not enough to be faster than Harry who knew the potential moves of his adversary in advance. With vicious pleasure, Harry pushed the guard in a corner where he wouldn't be able to move away from him and knelled him with a Healing Charm at the neck.
The vampire screamed as the curative magic made its way around his decaying flesh. His yells were cut short by an introduction to Harry's gladius. Slowly limping due to a deep cut gained during the fight, the wizard made his way to Griphook. The goblin was waiting for him next to the Masters' unmoving forms, D'Argo between them.
As Harry opened his mouth, half a dozen of other vampires burst into the room. Quickly, Harry established a Protection Ward knowing it would only buy them several seconds of reprise and raced toward his friends, injuries forgotten. Harry raised the unconscious vampires head and slipped a chain around their neck, D'Argo's and Griphook's heads followed suit and Harry gave four turns on his hourglass.
A swirling of colors appeared around the small group. Harry pocket his hourglass when he was sure they were four hours in the past, he made a gesture at Griphook and took the Master vampire's body on his shoulder as he exited the room, Griphook doing the same with the woman. They already knew the majority of the house was desert but didn't want to take any chance. Slowly the three of them made their way toward the entrance. Harry didn't want to Slide again as he didn't know if it was what had triggered the alarms. Luckily they didn't meet any guard; then again Harry had chosen to go back four hours in the past because he knew it was feeding time…
Finally, the small group made it to the doors. As they went to open it a human slave came face to face with them. Griphook nearly got knocked down when he butted against Harry's frame. Harry for his part was smirking.
"Why fancy seeing you here Cormac McLaggen." Harry drawled. "Nice night don't you think so?"
McLaggen was trembling and pointed to the corpse hanging of Harry's shoulder. "The Master… You have the Master" he whispered.
Harry's smirk increased ten fold. "That I do. So what?"
"Let him go" Cormac whispered.
Harry raised his eyebrow. "Let him go? I don't think so. Beside why would I do that? And why can you do about it?"
McLaggen seemed to get out of a trance. "I'll fight you" he said with a more normal voice yet with less strength than expected from a man threatening to fight.
"Would you McLaggen?" Harry asked softly a scary glint in the eyes.
"Yes! I have to pro-" McLaggen answered, but stopped when he saw Harry with more clarity. "You are Harry Potter!"
"That I am. What about you slave?" Harry sneered, halfway disgusted by his act and halfway happy to do it. After all this man was part of those who sent him to Azkaban and truth be told he hadn't liked him very much even before.
"I am… I am…I a-" Cormac stuttered but was cut short but an introduction between his skull and the hilt of Harry's dagger.
As Griphook started to pick the lock of the door, Harry hid the unconscious wizard in an alcove far enough from the door to no be smelled by accident yet close enough from the quarters of the other slaves to stop any kind of investigation.
As they made their way out, another slave entered the corridor and kept in calling "Cormac? Cormac?"
Griphook and Harry ran toward the edge of the Anti-Apparition Wards. As they reached it, D'Argo collided with a man in an Invisibly cloak. No losing a second, Griphook secured it and Harry knocked the man unconscious.
Five seconds later they were gone.
Morak entered in the sparring room. As usual he was early. He wanted to have a few hours of training before the arrival of the cadets. His title of Sword Master was still undisputed but he knew he had to keep in shape if he didn't want to fail to retain his position behind the blows of an undisciplined but powerful goblin.
It was with irritation he noticed someone was already in the room. His irritation transformed in anger when he saw that this person was the wizard and that he was holding his own sword. No goblin would have had the nerve to touch their Master' sword!
He must have made noise when coming in as the wizard turned around and said "It's a pity the mending unbalanced this sword. It's a wonderful weapon."
Morak stopped in his tracks. The wizard held the sword like only a true master with years of practice would do: with reverence but ready to strike in the blink of eye if need be. And he was so good he had managed to notice the light lack of balance in his ancestors' blade.
"How did you notice if I may ask Mr. Potter?" asked the Sword Master.
Harry's cheek tainted a bit.
"Well, I… I wanted to train a bit and found this incredible weapon. After a few minutes I noticed I had troubles doing some movements. That's how I noticed. I hope you're not angry at me? By the way, Harry is fine Sword Master" explained the young man.
The goblin went next to Harry and took the sword from his hands.
"I'm not Harry. I'm delighted someone with your abilities would consider using it. Would you… Would you like to try a friendly spare with me? Merlin knows I desperately need a good fencing" continued Morak "and Morak is fine if you would."
Harry's face lit up. He too needed a good fencing. He had all the knowledge, had practiced countless hours, but lacked in practical spares against a live opponent.
"I'd be delighted Morak."
Ten minutes later Harry knew why the goblin was the Sword Master of his kind. They were equally matched in reflexes, Harry was better in knowledge but Morak was clearly used to sparring. His muscles reacted before the man had even acted. It took all the wizard's techniques and know how of fencing to manage to block his opponent blows. Slowly but surely, Harry improved. He avoided and predicted more attacks: he was building a fighting awareness he desperately needed. Morak seemed to have the time of his life.
When they heard noise, they broke apart. The room was full of cadets. Their faces full of awe for their master and respect for the wizard. Harry and Morak grinned and sheathed their swords.
"Thank you Harry. I didn't have such a challenge since my own master death. I noticed you looked a bit out of practice at the beginning. Would you like us to repeat it again tomorrow morning?"
"I would be delighted Morak. Thank you for this opportunity. You really deserve your title of Sword Master."
Morak inclined his head in thanks as Harry headed toward the exit under the gaze of the cadets.
The next morning and the followings for the following two months, fighting noises could be heard from the outside. Those who knew some times stopped to watch the show. The others believed the wizard was being ass kicked by their Sword Master. Little did they know that after a few weeks Harry wasn't only practicing but also teaching the old goblin as much as was taught.
One morning, Morak and Harry didn't fence. The old goblin and Harry couldn't teach each other anything anymore. As Harry was the one who had been teaching the most they had a deal and now was the time for Morak to honor his part of the deal.
"Hmm?" said person answered.
"I have checked. You can't make yourself a weapon in here." The goblin explained. He held a hand to stop his fencing partner's reply. "Goblin's metal is already imbued with goblin's magic. It wouldn't work very well for you but I have an alternative."
"What is it?" Harry inquired.
"Our blacksmith owes me a few favors. I managed to make him agree to bring you into dwarf territory. There you'll have the opportunity to make a great weapon for a master as you are, furthermore Klag – that's our blacksmith – will show you how to enchant the blade to make it unbreakable and forever sharp as you requested" continued Morak.
The goblin got up and went to the changing room. Without turning he said "You'll be leaving in half an hour. He'll wait for you outside Griphook's. Good luck with your crafting my friend."
Thirty minutes later, Harry was walking with Klag D'Argo following them as and Hedwig perched one his shoulder as usual. The blacksmith wasn't very talkative but had confessed he was curious to see if the man held in such esteem by the Sword Master was able to make his own weapon. They quickly arrived to the departure station. Two Pegasi were waiting for them.
"They are trained to go from here to the dwarves' entrance and back. Don't do anything, just let them carry you" explained Kalg.
Harry acquiesced. He didn't really like flying on a Pegasus. It reminded him too much of hippogriffs: they weren't comfortable and the wings movements were disturbing. They mounted, secured the dog and they were off. Klag seemed to be sleeping. Harry took out a book on spell crafting with charmed pages not to move unless the user did it and started reading.
After a couple hours of flight, the Pegasi went straight down. Harry was nearly thrown out of his saddle but managed to stay seated especially as a second later they hit the ground. A dwarf was waiting for them. He didn't say anything as they dismounted, picked up their stuffs and went to meet him. He studied Harry for a moment before turning around.
"Follow me and stay close" he barked.
The goblin, the wizard and his menagerie did as asked and after a few minutes found themselves in front of a rock face. Their guide put his hand on the wall and spoke a few words Harry didn't hear. A huge entrance appeared. The dwarf didn't even turn around and walked through it. The small procession minus Hedwig who flew away entered a big chamber the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall. Dozens of tunnels seemed to be starting and finishing there. Harry stopped mesmerized, he wouldn't have imagined such a thing could exist inside, especially from the outside's point of view.
"I said follow me and stay close" growled the dwarf when he noticed he missed one person.
Sheepishly Harry caught up with Klag and their guide. They were led through several corridors before stopping in front of door. Harry could hear the noise of metal even through the thick hard wood. Another dwarf opened and smiled.
"Hello, I was expecting you. I'm Koran" he introduced "You must be Harry?"
Harry nodded a bit intimated by the large 'man' he was facing. Koran was as large as he was tall; even though a height of four feet wasn't tall, having shoulders reaching this size was quite intimidating... His sleeves were rolled up reveling strong arms with the tattoo of an anvil on the left and a hammer on the right. He had white hair that probably was brown once, with a long messy beard he had tucked in his belt; sweat was following for his front and into his light blue eyes. The wizard directly liked him. He had this little something that made someone liked by everyone else.
"Come on in, come on in" invited Koran. "You're here to make a weapon not to stand in front of my smithy."
Harry was staring at the walls lined with axes, swords, daggers and spears when Koran led him to another room.
"This is an old smithy, nobody really use it anymore but it's still in perfect state. Make yourself at home and work as you like on what it is you want."
Apparently Klag and Koran knew each other quite well as they started talking. Harry didn't pay attention. He concentrated for a few minutes on what he knew about sword making and what he wanted to do. Of course he had tried a bit when he was with the goblins but didn't manage anything; which wasn't very surprising if the metal was charmed to only work for and with goblins.
He picked up a few logs of wood and started a fire. He went to retrieve bars of iron, a hammer and some ingredients he had picked in the Black's Family Vault's and closed the door behind him.
During the next hours Harry tried to work the metal but failed. He finally understood why, it was so simple he had overlooked it: the fire wasn't hot enough. He scowled, even with all his knowledge he wasn't able to pick the little things that made the difference between a stick of bad metal and a sword… He increased the heat and started molding his blade, taking great care in infusing magic in the metal as much as he could.
Koran and Klag had stopped talking and came in a few times to stare as Harry stroke the iron, creating a blade, two smaller ones and fifteen other of nothing more than four inches. They had heard his curses a few times and knew the wizard wouldn't succeed. They were astonished to see the apparent ease with which he now produced his blades.
Oblivious to the stares he was receiving, Harry carved runes of 'Return' and 'Possession' in the center of his small blades. This way they would forever return to him, couldn't be used by others nor attracted. He went to the three longest ones and carved long series of identical runes; then plunged all blades under water.
Retrieving a gold and crimson metal from his bag he created two rounds and flats hilts; taking another metal he made another one representing a head. He spent an hour crafting it, without letting his spectators have a look at it. When he moved to the handles, Harry kept on working on this 'head' as it was at the beginning, it was slowly but surely transforming in a beautiful golden and crimson representation of a phoenix in flight.
To the outside eye, it looked like this level of crafting came easily to Harry, but the truth was that sweat was drenching his back and blurring his vision. He was engrossed in his work and that was a good thing: the moment he had forged the three hilts, he stopped and nearly dropped on the floor. Klag and Koran were both asleep in the other room, D'Argo was dozing in a corner of the smithy its paws in the air moving at the rhythm of a dream. Harry checked his watch, he had been crafting for twenty-one hours straight.
Harry poured himself a Pepper-Up potion; when he felt the stamina back in his body he started an important task: applying acid on every and each rune to ensure they'd last and not fade in a few moths. Once this done he fixed hilts and handles.
The weapons finished, Harry conjured a small bed next to his workbench. After a few trials and errors, he managed to get it furnished and got in without bothering to take off his clothes. He hopped the second his head would touch the pillow he would fall asleep in what he hoped would be at least a full day of rest.
Unfortunately, it is well know people rarely got what they hope for, especially when the person's name is Harry Potter and more so when said person has drunk a Pepper-Up potion an hour before… Sleep didn't come at all and Harry was getting frustrated after half and hour of turning around in his bed. Finally not able to stand it anymore he got up, figuring he could try to exhaust himself.
Lighting a small candle Harry proceeded to do some push-ups, but even if it exhausted his muscles it didn't help him to fall asleep. Bored, Harry started to clean his work bench. It's during this tedious task that he noticed the state of the room in itself. There were piles of hastily swept dust and old instrument of blacksmiths that looked positively ancient were in a corner collecting dust and rust. What attracted Harry's eyes were the pictograms on the walls.
Harry hadn't care a lot about it at first, believing them to be nothing more than cute drawing specific to dwarves but with a closer examination he discovered something else. The entire room was covered in runes! They weren't used with a defensive or attacking purpose as their position indicated but were position to write and tell a story. Harry figured he probably had several hours in front of him before anybody came in to check on him and that was if the Klag and Koran woke up which was less than evident considering their exhausted state when they fell asleep.
Harry took a good moment before finding the beginning of the writing and much more to understand the use of these runes as he was sure this was the work of Rune Master but he was one himself and wasn't going to give up. When he finally believed he had enough understanding of this specific set, Harry read the runes and discovered nothing more than instructions on how to create a weapon.
According to the runes, a very old and revered Blacksmith was on his death bed, as the dwarf had spent his entire life trying to create the perfect weapon and believed he had done it, he called for one of his friends. This friend happened to be a Rune Master and he asked him to write the instructions on how to craft this fantastic weapon. He knew that the only person able to do it would have to be both a blacksmith and a Rune Master but he had dreamed of a time long after his own when a person would have both skills.
Harry was clearly bored by this lecture but kept in reading, if only to be able to say that he knew exactly what was on it. It proved to be a grave mistake as the last sentences in runes clearly specified.
As I'm not stupid enough to believe that every single person with both the skills to read these sentences and craft what's described on them would want to do it, I have included a Compulsion in the Runes. If you have understood this and are a blacksmith you'll find yourself compelled to craft my piece of art. I only ask your forgiveness for this treachery but do not have any remorse in doing so. May your life be satisfactory.
Harry had barely finished reading that he knew he had made a very, very big mistake. D'Argo woke up and growled, and the same time Harry couldn't think about doing anything else but forge the weapon. His Occlumency shields were battered by the Compulsion Charm and he could hardly keep his mind straight. The more he resisted the harder it became. Resolving himself to do what magic asked, Harry left his feet drag him toward the pile of wood.
Sighing Harry added a few logs to the fire and left his hands work on their own as he through about the consequences of this Compulsion Charm.
The way Harry saw there were two options: the Compulsion Charm only concerned the crafting of this weapon and he would be free once it was done, or it included something else. If it was the case there were only two solutions, either Harry dropped his Occlumency shields and reestablished them taking care to totally destroy the hold of the Charm on his mind or he could design a rune annihilating the sequence he had previously read.
As Harry analyzed what he knew of this set of runes to hopefully find or create a counter-rune, he felt magic being drawn from him. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry focused on what his hands were doing and so himself imbuing magic in the molten metal. For a second Harry stopped breathing. The runes had been very clear on the steps of this crafting; they also specified that only one metal could be used Mithril. A metal known even to muggles as a legend: nobody had been able to create even a spec of it for centuries and Harry was there doing it himself.
Suddenly he wasn't mad at this old blacksmith anymore. He would have done the same thing: how could you let such knowledge go to waste? Harry knew he wouldn't have bothered to craft another weapon if hadn't been forced to do so.
Finally, after what seemed like hours Harry could look at the item he had made. It was a large hammer on one side with an axe blade on the other. Harry wasn't sure if the weapon was one-handed or two as it didn't seem to have enough room on the handle to hold it with both hands yet again the hilt was large enough to have exactly two hands. It was puzzling: the use with one hand would be hard because of the weight but two hands would limit the abilities provided as the hands would encompass the entire handle blocking any wrist movement. The sides were engraved with powerful runes and a light blue light seemed to go from the bottom of the hilt to the top of the blade. If Harry had to guess I'd say that the weapon, if used correctly, could literally deliver lighting strike. Exhausted and a bit protective of his new weapon, Harry covered it with a dirty sheet and established a protection Ward around it. The wizard dragged himself toward his make-shift bed and collapsed on it without taking his shoes. Sleep came quite easily this time.
The young wizard was awoken soon after his departure of the land of dreams: the blacksmiths were exclaiming loudly. Harry checked his watch, he had slept twelve hours and felt as tired as he was when he went to bed, still he got up knowing Koran and Klag wouldn't let him sleep what ever he would do. Both were staring at his sword, daggers and throwing knives: they were magnificent. Smiling Harry asked Klag to enchant his blades to stay sharp and be unbreakable.
Two hours after getting up, Harry was finally looking at his final work. It was truly a master's work. The sword had a straight twenty-inches-long blade one inch large, with runes carved in the center. The hilt was a jet black with vivid crimson threads. It was a phoenix, its beak open to reveal the blade. Its eyes' sockets were empty, waiting for stones to fill them; same thing for the end of the magical beast: the paws were engulfed in flames, leaving a space for another stone.
Both daggers had ten-inches-long blades shaped like a lighting bolt with the round hilts. Checking their balance Klag unsuccessfully tried to hide a feral grin. Harry wasn't sure why but knew one thing: the goblin approved of his weapons.
"So what do you think?" asked Harry tiredly, one elbow propped on his workbench, playing with one of the throwing knives with his left hand.
Both blacksmiths turned to him with dark expressions, which startled him a bit.
"Don't you plan on making more?" growled Koran.
"Er… No… It's just for me and I don't need more…" Harry answered a bit unsure of himself.
A big grin appeared on the dwarf's face as Klag merely said "Good, I'd hate to have to loose my job because of you. It a piece of art you created Mr. Potter. I guess we'll have to add Blacksmith Master to your other masteries."
Harry blinked. "Why… Thank you, I'm glad you like them, it's the proof there are good weapons. You are the best of your art so I guess I can safely say they are good blades. Right?" he asked a bit unsure.
"Good blades? From what Morak told me you're an expert at handling these. I wouldn't want to be on the other side of your tip" Klag answered warmly while Koran nodded to every word of his colleague.
Harry let loose a breath: these 'men' acknowledgement was what he was looking for. Suddenly he froze. He heard two voices in the corridors coming to them. Even if he couldn't pick up what the first one was saying, he knew this tone and these intonations. The second person spoke confirming his doubts.
"Come on Filius! You hardly come any more. Let's say 'Hello' to Koran. You spent all your time playing pranks on me when two we were kids, he'll like to be able to see you again." Said a booming voice.
"All right, but we have to hurry, I start working again in three days and still have a lot of things to set up" answered a high pitched voice.
The second the workshop's door opened, Harry knew who he would meet and started shakingas a block of memory lessened itself and became accessible once again. He remembered the first prophecy…
Sighing one of the old men spoke first.
"I was the first to make an unfulfilled prophecy. It was about my kind and it said:
Gifted with knowledge beyond his years
The chosen will reawaken the old spirit
Predicted as a catalyst and leader
He will lead the olds toward the new
His time hidden will be short…
The past in the form of old will find him…
And he will be gifted with knowledge long forgotten"
The old man smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, a part of your life will definitively be dictated by this one."
Mustering all the Gryffindor courage he could muster Harry turned around and looking strait into the eyes of one of he small men who just entered.
"Good day Professor Flitwick."
Filius Flitwick stared stupidly in theses bright green eyes, traveling his stare a second to confirm the presence of the cursed scar. He then did the only thing he could think of. He fainted.
Harry for his part didn't know what to do. Was Flitwick related in any way to the prophecy(-ies)? Should he- His contemplations were cut short by Koran's voice.
"Harry! I got you some scabbard for your weapons. Tell me you think of-
Koran stopped on his tracks when he saw the unconscious form of the small Charm Master. "Filius? What happened?" the blacksmith asked Harry.
"Well… Err… The things is… He was my teacher when I was younger and… Well… I… I'm supposed to be dead as far as the Wizarding World is concerned… I guess the shock was too much for him." Harry explained miserably.
Koran nodded. "Oh… Well we should put him on a bed or something."
"I conjured a bed yesterday. It should still be fit." Harry offered.
Upon the dwarf's nod, Harry withdrew his wand and uttered the Levitation Charm, absently smiling at the though of him using a Charm one the man who taught him how to do it.
Klag, Koran, Harry and the prone form of Filius Flitwick entered the room. D'Argo sleepily made his way toward his master as Harry gently lowered his former teacher on the bed.
Koran intensely looking over his childhood friend as Klag was staring at the sheet protecting a part of the workbench from prying eyes.
"Harry?" the goblin asked.
"Hmm?" Harry acknowledged as he covered the Charm Master with a blanket.
"What's under the sheet behind the Protection Charm?"
Koran turned around and looked at the workbench before turning to Harry.
"Something I'd like to know myself Mr. Potter." Koran said with the under-tone of a threat.
Harry gave a strained smile. "No need to get wild guys, it's just a weapon. I don't know what it's for. I just couldn't stop myself from crafting it." Harry explained while canceling the Protection dome.
"The power of the room I guess" Harry added as a private joke as he patted D'Argo.
Preoccupied by his dog, Harry missed the sharp look coming from Koran. However he didn't miss the man's thoughts brought back to him by his incessant Legilimency. He still wasn't able to control his 'mind-reading' ability and it annoyed him a lot, but there it put on edge for Koran was thinking: 'Power of the room? Darn, he seems like a nice guy, I hope he didn't mean it literally…'
Harry pulled the sheet toward him and saw the weapon without exterior force battling his mind and rested eyes for the first time. It truly was magnificent. The royal blue handle measured seven inches and was made of hundred of small disks of metal ensuring a perfect grip without the risk of letting it drop. The end was indicated by a large sapphire Harry didn't remember taking with him from the Black Vault, but could clearly recall the memory of him withdrawing it from his bottom-less bag. The Hammer side was a big block of shinning metal (Mithril) at least three pounds and ended in a flat square with a five-inch side. The large axe-like blade had a red cutting edge in the form of a six inches arc. The rest ob the blade was filled with small runes giving the impression of a weak and purely decorative weapon; but Harry knew better, he had done the engravings himself and while he didn't know the meaning of the majority of them he quickly identified several ones of dwarves', goblins' and humans' meanings. There were runes to strengthen the metal, keep it sharp, avoid any kind of notch, sharpen the cutting edge as well a very nasty rune ensuring that any and every wound created by the weapon couldn't be healed by magic without worsening it.
Koran stayed stupefied for a second before trying to hold the Hammer; seeing this Harry reacted instantly.
"Don't!" he cried as he tried to stop the dwarf blacksmith. He didn't have a clue of how it was, but he just knew that this Hammer was destined to great things and already attuned to someone.
Harry shouldn't have bothered as the second the blacksmith's hand closed around the pommel, blue lighting coursed the man's body and he let it drop with a small cry. Smug in the knowledge he had crafted the weapon even if hadn't created per say, Harry help the Dwarf back on his feet.
Koran just stared at the Hammer and mumbled "The Hammer of Lighting… The Hammer of Light- GUARDS!"
"What are-" you doing? Harry tried to ask, but before he could finish his sentence a dozen guards had flood in the room and held Klag and him at spear's point. D'Argo had been knocked down by a sever blow on the head but Harry could still fill their mental connection strong as ever. Dismissing his dog as he couldn't do anything about him, Harry turned interrogatingly toward Koran.
"Lock up these thieves tightly and send a messenger to the King. I have crafted the Hammer of Lightning and wish to present it to him." Koran said smugly.
"As if" Harry whispered wit anger. With a sneer he turned toward the blacksmith. "Only the man destined to battle with it and the one who actually made the weapon can hold it. Good luck in explaining that Koran" Harry said his voice dripping with loathing.
"We shall see, burglar" Koran replied with a sneer of his own.
And Harry knew no more as he was knocked down.
Ok, I know it has been quite a long time... But I wasn't lying when I said I wouldn't drop the story and I plan in finishing it!
The next chapter will come when it comes, but I passed the 'writer block' and should be able to have it written in a couple of weeks. Until then...