DISCLAIMER:
I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or any other setting elements. Those all belong to JKRowling. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment and no monetary profit is being made from it.
SILVER
~ I give you the edge of my sword, that I might never cut you.
~ I give you the hilt of my sword, that you might be shielded from fear.
~ I give you the jewel of my sword, that through me you will see beauty.
~ I keep the sheath of my sword, so that we may be one.
Chapter 1: Transaction
The sword was balanced, with a precision the man holding it found intriguing. Though not excessively ornate, which he found pleasing, it had a strong hilt and a blade far sharper than a razor.
"Master Snape, I assume it is to your liking?" A tough man with shallow eyes tried to catch the attention of his customer.
"This shall suffice. Have you the two hundred we require ready?"
"I packed them as soon as I heard you were coming." The seller grinned, a plastic sort of smile but well satisfied. "Your special order should take two weeks."
"One week." Snape replied, and sheathed the sword. "Master Ablator, you fail to recognize the urgency in my client's situation."
"Of course." The owner of the armory shop paused, his smile faltering slightly. Perhaps he thought that Snape was purchasing so many magic swords for Voldemort.
Snape sneered, which made his face look more normal, as if sneering was its usual expression. Imposing, with the stringy hair that came from working in the fumes of potions over the years, he was a professor of potions at the Hogwart's school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. When the American craftsman Ralph Ablator had come to Scotland, Headmaster Dumbledore had lost little time in sending his Potion's instructor to collect two hundred magic swords for his army, and three more on special commission.
Ralph lifted a large chest from the corner with ease, a cherry wood trunk of some overly ornate design that Snape found nonetheless intriguing. Had Craftmaster Ablator created the chest, he was indeed a man of talent.
"You press these runes here - " Ablator displayed by tapping a few of the carvings. "And the chest opens." It glowed lightly, a tasteful aura of silver, and then the lid slid open, revealing the treasures it contained. Two hundred magical swords, each crafted in a special sheath and then wrapped lovingly in a silk scarf of sorts. Ralph took the sword from Snape and a cloth from the wall, roughly wrapping the weapon and tossing it in with the other.
Snape's eyebrow twitched as the sword clanged, as if offended by the lack of care and the noise. The chest closed then. He tapped the rune sequence once to assure himself he could open it. "The chest comes free?"
"With all orders over a hundred. There is a scroll in the bottom describing its other uses."
Snape nodded, then lifted the trunk. He was not surprised to find it seemed to way nothing. Such magical trunks had found their way into legend, and were often called 'bags of holding' by infernal groups of muggle role-players. He nodded again to Ablator in respect; such craft took a great power indeed.
"I shall return in one week." Snape stated, and left the crafthouse that was far larger on the inside than it was from the out.
I do not own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or any other setting elements. Those all belong to JKRowling. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment and no monetary profit is being made from it.
SILVER
~ I give you the edge of my sword, that I might never cut you.
~ I give you the hilt of my sword, that you might be shielded from fear.
~ I give you the jewel of my sword, that through me you will see beauty.
~ I keep the sheath of my sword, so that we may be one.
Chapter 1: Transaction
The sword was balanced, with a precision the man holding it found intriguing. Though not excessively ornate, which he found pleasing, it had a strong hilt and a blade far sharper than a razor.
"Master Snape, I assume it is to your liking?" A tough man with shallow eyes tried to catch the attention of his customer.
"This shall suffice. Have you the two hundred we require ready?"
"I packed them as soon as I heard you were coming." The seller grinned, a plastic sort of smile but well satisfied. "Your special order should take two weeks."
"One week." Snape replied, and sheathed the sword. "Master Ablator, you fail to recognize the urgency in my client's situation."
"Of course." The owner of the armory shop paused, his smile faltering slightly. Perhaps he thought that Snape was purchasing so many magic swords for Voldemort.
Snape sneered, which made his face look more normal, as if sneering was its usual expression. Imposing, with the stringy hair that came from working in the fumes of potions over the years, he was a professor of potions at the Hogwart's school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. When the American craftsman Ralph Ablator had come to Scotland, Headmaster Dumbledore had lost little time in sending his Potion's instructor to collect two hundred magic swords for his army, and three more on special commission.
Ralph lifted a large chest from the corner with ease, a cherry wood trunk of some overly ornate design that Snape found nonetheless intriguing. Had Craftmaster Ablator created the chest, he was indeed a man of talent.
"You press these runes here - " Ablator displayed by tapping a few of the carvings. "And the chest opens." It glowed lightly, a tasteful aura of silver, and then the lid slid open, revealing the treasures it contained. Two hundred magical swords, each crafted in a special sheath and then wrapped lovingly in a silk scarf of sorts. Ralph took the sword from Snape and a cloth from the wall, roughly wrapping the weapon and tossing it in with the other.
Snape's eyebrow twitched as the sword clanged, as if offended by the lack of care and the noise. The chest closed then. He tapped the rune sequence once to assure himself he could open it. "The chest comes free?"
"With all orders over a hundred. There is a scroll in the bottom describing its other uses."
Snape nodded, then lifted the trunk. He was not surprised to find it seemed to way nothing. Such magical trunks had found their way into legend, and were often called 'bags of holding' by infernal groups of muggle role-players. He nodded again to Ablator in respect; such craft took a great power indeed.
"I shall return in one week." Snape stated, and left the crafthouse that was far larger on the inside than it was from the out.