The Prophecy of the Swords
Book One: Sword Born
Prologue
By Corinne Cassandra Valard
Summery: We meet Lily, James and Lucius.
Characters: Lily Evans, James Potter, and Lucius Malfoy
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Action/Adventure and Romance
Disclaimer: Any characters, words, and places that are related to Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Much inspiration comes from David and Leigh Eddings. And I recently found out that an excellent author, Jennifer Robinson, has a book of the same name, so the title is copyrighted to her.
A/N: I would like to thank my beta readers Amy, Katie, and Marie as well as my reviewers. Thanks section in the next chapter. I would also like to thank anyone at the HP café who suggested names.
Lily Marie Evans let out a cry of pain and grabbed her foot. She brought her hand back up to her face and saw that it was covered in blood. Closer examination revealed a cut, caused by a shell, which was bleeding profusely on the bottom of her foot. The ten-year-old child, small for her age, seemed even tinier as she attempted to dry her streaming green eyes and untangle her fiery curls before her family came to investigate. Sure enough, Lily's parents, aunts, and cousins raced down the hill, where they were picnicking, to the beach, to see what had disturbed their dainty little flower.
"Lily, what's wrong?" Her concerned mother asked, picking up the petite child. Before Lily could answer, her older sister, Petunia, walked sulkily down to the beach after the rest of the family.
"She's only doing it to get attention." Petunia muttered under her breath, glaring at Lily with undisguised hatred. Lily didn't betray that she heard this remark, save to shoot a glance towards her vicious sister, with her eyes, normally a soft and deep forest green, turned hard as emeralds at Petunia's malice. Suddenly, a wave crashed up upon the shore, soaking Petunia, but strangely enough, everyone else remained dry.
"Look what she did, look what she did to me!" Petunia screeched, her voice rising several octaves. She pointed an accusing finger at Lily, but quickly withdrew it when she saw that the appendage had a piece of seaweed hanging from it.
"Petunia, don't be silly." Aunt Carol scolded. "If you hadn't been dawdling you wouldn't have been hit by that wave. Now, be nice to your little sister, she's injured."
"Petunia dear, could you run up the hill and get my first aid kit please?" Aunt Amy, who was a nurse, asked her kindly.
Petunia glared at Lily one last time, for good measure, before turning on her heel and marching back up to their picnic blanket to do as she'd been bid. When she came back down, Amy was already examining the cut on Lily's foot.
"Oh dear, that'll leave a scar. You're going to have to get stitches for that." Aunt Amy exclaimed. "We should get you to the hospital right away."
Petunia glanced over at Lily, furious with her for ruining their holiday. She couldn't stand her younger sister, for some reason, everything about the younger girl grated on Petunia's last nerve. Something about Lily just seemed too different. Petunia and Lily were as different as, well, petunias and lilies. Petunia was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, almost stork like in her appearance. She was 13 years old, very popular, and never failed to flaunt those attributes in her sister's face. Lily, on the other hand, was tiny in every way, just reaching four feet in height at age ten. She had flaming red hair, verdant eyes, and pale skin. Surprisingly enough, she was almost devoid of freckles. Lily was usually quiet, she liked to read, and had few friends, content to be with her books. But the biggest difference between Lily and Petunia, still unknown to both, was that Lily was a witch.
***
At the exact moment that Lily cut her foot on the shell at the beach, Edward James Potter took his last breath, before passing on to the next great adventure. James Edward Potter, who had been named after his great- grandfather, felt the old man's hand go limp in his own, and knew that his mentor, friend, and teacher was dead. James felt his eyes burn with tears, but he refused to let any fall. He was ten years old, a man, and men didn't cry, even when their great-grandfathers died. Cassandra, James' mother, quietly gave James a hug, and whispered, "It's okay to cry, dear, we all cry when someone we love dies." James pulled away from her loving embrace, annoyed that his mother still thought him a child.
"Now don't mollycoddle the boy, Cassie." Boomed James' father, Henry. "We're all sad about Grandpa Eddie, but he's grown up now, he's not going to cry. He knows he has responsibilities now, like the sword."
"Are you sure it's him, Henry, he's only a child." Cassandra asked anxiously, not wanting to let go of her little boy.
"Yes, I'm sure," answered Henry impatiently. "Now, let me see your hands, boy. Did you feel any pain when your grandfather died? It should have marked you in some way." Henry began examining James' hands closely, looking for a scar that would have come into existence upon Edward's death.
"Wait, wait, what is this sword that you're talking about?" James pulled his hands away quickly.
"Didn't Grandpa Eddie tell you about it? The sword, the sword that our family is sworn to protect, Spada Scelta, the Sword of Choice."
"Is that what he was talking about? I didn't think it was real, I thought it was just another one of his stories. Can I see it? And why should I have a mark?"
"The Potter family has guarded Spada Scelta for centuries. No one has seen the sword, but we know it exists. It bestows upon the keeper enhanced powers and a choice. It also marks us in someway to claim us as it's own. That's why you should have a scar or marking, because the guardianship passed to you when your great-grandfather, the previous guardian, died." Henry patiently explained.
"Why should it be me?" James asked. "Why not you, or Uncle Charles, or my cousin Elizabeth?"
"It has to be you. The sword chooses its keepers while they're young and malleable. And all of your cousins in the direct line are girls. What use would a girl have for a sword?" He snorted derisively. "So you see, James, it has to be you."
"But I don't have any marks." James protested.
"Well, maybe you just haven't seen it yet, or maybe it will show up later. But you're the next guardian, my boy, mark my words and you'll do great things with your choice."
"What is this choice that you keep talking about?"
"Well, you see James, there is another sword, Spada Sostituta, the Sword of Acts, that opposes Spada Scelta."
***
A boy and a man danced across the floor of a padded room, their slim swords clanging. Neither spoke as he fenced, the only other sound being heavy breathing, as each grew tired. Suddenly the man spun around, knocking the sword out of the boy's hand and pressing his own to the boy's throat.
"You have proven yourself unworthy. Shall I kill you then?" The man's rich voice was exquisite, but left the listener feeling violated and empty. The boy didn't answer. "Beg boy, beg for your life." His voice dropped to a dangerous hiss, like a snakes'.
"I will not beg, father, I am a Malfoy. Kill me if you like, but I will not beg." The boy's young voice, still an unchanged soprano, rang out defiantly across the room.
"Very good, Lucius." Quirinus gave his son a rare compliment. "It seems that your mother was right, you're not a hopeless cause. This is today's lesson: Always remember that you are a Malfoy, with the purest blood of any wizarding family, the guardians of the great sword, superior to everyone. We do not beg, nor demean ourselves in anyway, such as associating with muggles or mudbloods. Now go and change for supper."
Lucius obediently walked out of the fencing court in the direction of his quarters. His father didn't know that he was merely biding his time, until he could gain the power of Spada Sostituta for himself. One day, he thought, one day I will be more powerful than he is. And I will be great.
Book One: Sword Born
Prologue
By Corinne Cassandra Valard
Summery: We meet Lily, James and Lucius.
Characters: Lily Evans, James Potter, and Lucius Malfoy
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Action/Adventure and Romance
Disclaimer: Any characters, words, and places that are related to Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Much inspiration comes from David and Leigh Eddings. And I recently found out that an excellent author, Jennifer Robinson, has a book of the same name, so the title is copyrighted to her.
A/N: I would like to thank my beta readers Amy, Katie, and Marie as well as my reviewers. Thanks section in the next chapter. I would also like to thank anyone at the HP café who suggested names.
Lily Marie Evans let out a cry of pain and grabbed her foot. She brought her hand back up to her face and saw that it was covered in blood. Closer examination revealed a cut, caused by a shell, which was bleeding profusely on the bottom of her foot. The ten-year-old child, small for her age, seemed even tinier as she attempted to dry her streaming green eyes and untangle her fiery curls before her family came to investigate. Sure enough, Lily's parents, aunts, and cousins raced down the hill, where they were picnicking, to the beach, to see what had disturbed their dainty little flower.
"Lily, what's wrong?" Her concerned mother asked, picking up the petite child. Before Lily could answer, her older sister, Petunia, walked sulkily down to the beach after the rest of the family.
"She's only doing it to get attention." Petunia muttered under her breath, glaring at Lily with undisguised hatred. Lily didn't betray that she heard this remark, save to shoot a glance towards her vicious sister, with her eyes, normally a soft and deep forest green, turned hard as emeralds at Petunia's malice. Suddenly, a wave crashed up upon the shore, soaking Petunia, but strangely enough, everyone else remained dry.
"Look what she did, look what she did to me!" Petunia screeched, her voice rising several octaves. She pointed an accusing finger at Lily, but quickly withdrew it when she saw that the appendage had a piece of seaweed hanging from it.
"Petunia, don't be silly." Aunt Carol scolded. "If you hadn't been dawdling you wouldn't have been hit by that wave. Now, be nice to your little sister, she's injured."
"Petunia dear, could you run up the hill and get my first aid kit please?" Aunt Amy, who was a nurse, asked her kindly.
Petunia glared at Lily one last time, for good measure, before turning on her heel and marching back up to their picnic blanket to do as she'd been bid. When she came back down, Amy was already examining the cut on Lily's foot.
"Oh dear, that'll leave a scar. You're going to have to get stitches for that." Aunt Amy exclaimed. "We should get you to the hospital right away."
Petunia glanced over at Lily, furious with her for ruining their holiday. She couldn't stand her younger sister, for some reason, everything about the younger girl grated on Petunia's last nerve. Something about Lily just seemed too different. Petunia and Lily were as different as, well, petunias and lilies. Petunia was tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, almost stork like in her appearance. She was 13 years old, very popular, and never failed to flaunt those attributes in her sister's face. Lily, on the other hand, was tiny in every way, just reaching four feet in height at age ten. She had flaming red hair, verdant eyes, and pale skin. Surprisingly enough, she was almost devoid of freckles. Lily was usually quiet, she liked to read, and had few friends, content to be with her books. But the biggest difference between Lily and Petunia, still unknown to both, was that Lily was a witch.
***
At the exact moment that Lily cut her foot on the shell at the beach, Edward James Potter took his last breath, before passing on to the next great adventure. James Edward Potter, who had been named after his great- grandfather, felt the old man's hand go limp in his own, and knew that his mentor, friend, and teacher was dead. James felt his eyes burn with tears, but he refused to let any fall. He was ten years old, a man, and men didn't cry, even when their great-grandfathers died. Cassandra, James' mother, quietly gave James a hug, and whispered, "It's okay to cry, dear, we all cry when someone we love dies." James pulled away from her loving embrace, annoyed that his mother still thought him a child.
"Now don't mollycoddle the boy, Cassie." Boomed James' father, Henry. "We're all sad about Grandpa Eddie, but he's grown up now, he's not going to cry. He knows he has responsibilities now, like the sword."
"Are you sure it's him, Henry, he's only a child." Cassandra asked anxiously, not wanting to let go of her little boy.
"Yes, I'm sure," answered Henry impatiently. "Now, let me see your hands, boy. Did you feel any pain when your grandfather died? It should have marked you in some way." Henry began examining James' hands closely, looking for a scar that would have come into existence upon Edward's death.
"Wait, wait, what is this sword that you're talking about?" James pulled his hands away quickly.
"Didn't Grandpa Eddie tell you about it? The sword, the sword that our family is sworn to protect, Spada Scelta, the Sword of Choice."
"Is that what he was talking about? I didn't think it was real, I thought it was just another one of his stories. Can I see it? And why should I have a mark?"
"The Potter family has guarded Spada Scelta for centuries. No one has seen the sword, but we know it exists. It bestows upon the keeper enhanced powers and a choice. It also marks us in someway to claim us as it's own. That's why you should have a scar or marking, because the guardianship passed to you when your great-grandfather, the previous guardian, died." Henry patiently explained.
"Why should it be me?" James asked. "Why not you, or Uncle Charles, or my cousin Elizabeth?"
"It has to be you. The sword chooses its keepers while they're young and malleable. And all of your cousins in the direct line are girls. What use would a girl have for a sword?" He snorted derisively. "So you see, James, it has to be you."
"But I don't have any marks." James protested.
"Well, maybe you just haven't seen it yet, or maybe it will show up later. But you're the next guardian, my boy, mark my words and you'll do great things with your choice."
"What is this choice that you keep talking about?"
"Well, you see James, there is another sword, Spada Sostituta, the Sword of Acts, that opposes Spada Scelta."
***
A boy and a man danced across the floor of a padded room, their slim swords clanging. Neither spoke as he fenced, the only other sound being heavy breathing, as each grew tired. Suddenly the man spun around, knocking the sword out of the boy's hand and pressing his own to the boy's throat.
"You have proven yourself unworthy. Shall I kill you then?" The man's rich voice was exquisite, but left the listener feeling violated and empty. The boy didn't answer. "Beg boy, beg for your life." His voice dropped to a dangerous hiss, like a snakes'.
"I will not beg, father, I am a Malfoy. Kill me if you like, but I will not beg." The boy's young voice, still an unchanged soprano, rang out defiantly across the room.
"Very good, Lucius." Quirinus gave his son a rare compliment. "It seems that your mother was right, you're not a hopeless cause. This is today's lesson: Always remember that you are a Malfoy, with the purest blood of any wizarding family, the guardians of the great sword, superior to everyone. We do not beg, nor demean ourselves in anyway, such as associating with muggles or mudbloods. Now go and change for supper."
Lucius obediently walked out of the fencing court in the direction of his quarters. His father didn't know that he was merely biding his time, until he could gain the power of Spada Sostituta for himself. One day, he thought, one day I will be more powerful than he is. And I will be great.