Sword of Fire, Crown of Truth

- A Harry Potter Fanfiction -

Warnings and Disclaimers: All Harry Potter names, places, and related indicia are copyright to JK Rowling. Only the plot and writing style are owned by the author of this story.

2

Forging a Blade

The sharp, metallic clang of iron against iron reverberated along the thin wooden walls, almost following the beat of Harry's heart as he molded the thin, long lump of metal into shape with slow, heavy strokes. His muscles were aching for rest; he had been working since the crack of dawn, forging a sword he meant to give as a birthday gift for a friend.

Re-heating the blade, Harry watched carefully as the metal slowly glowed from a deep orange into an almost brilliant white. When the metal was hot enough he began hammering it into shape again, counting the strokes and controlling the strength with which he tempered the blade. In his concentration he had not noticed a tall and thin man with ancient white hair step into the doorway of the smithy.

"Ah, Harry, I see your enthusiasm for crafting metals has made you skip your lunch. Again."

Harry looked up from his work, wiping the sweat that was running down his brow, making his dark hair stick to his skin. He gave the old man a grin. "Sorry, Albus. I always forget to eat when I work."

The old blacksmith sighed. "It seems that you do, my boy." He walked over to the small wooden table where a cloth-covered plate was placed beside a jug of water. He took off the cloth and sighed again under his beard, white hair billowing from his breath. "You cannot expect to finish that wonderful sword of yours if you do not have the strength to carry the hammer."

Harry gave him an apologetic smile, dipping the iron ore into a vat of brine. Steam hissed in profusion as Harry set down the hammer and tongs, wiping his hands on a rag nearby. "I'm already finished for today. Why don't we eat this together?"

The old blacksmith gave a snort. Harry had been under his wing all his life, but he had started his apprenticeship only three years ago, when Albus had decided he was strong enough to wield the lighter tools of a blacksmith. "Harry, I wish for you to eat, and that does not include me depriving you of your rightful share in your meals."

Harry laughed. Eyeing the blacksmith out of the corner of his eye, he said, "It looks to me you haven't been eating properly yourself." Master Albus was tall and thin, his movements spry and quick for a man his age. He also had long and shockingly white hair and beard that went past his waist; when he was working at the forge, he would tuck his beard under his belt.

Albus sat on the opposite chair, giving Harry a narrow look. "So the apprentice knows more than his teacher, now, does he? Then I guess I could leave you to shoe the horses at the Croaking Frog?"

"What! But that would take me a whole week!"

The old blacksmith's eyes twinkled. "It would do you a lot of good to visit Ellis, now that spring is here. And I know for a fact, Harry, that you have not been anywhere but the house and the smithy for the entire winter."

"But Master Albus—"

"Do not fret, my young apprentice," Albus cut him off with a gesture. "In return, I will help you finish the sword for the innkeeper's son Neville. If I remember correctly, his birthday is in a fortnight from today, just the same as yours."

Harry was surprised. More with the fact that his teacher offered to finish the sword than with the fact that he remembered his birthday. Albus Dumbledore was picky with his customers; his skills with the hammer and forge was unmatched by any Harry had seen so far, but he refused to work for reasons Harry could not quite understand. The old blacksmith was always more than willing to do jobs for the people in the nearby town of Ellis, or even for a complete stranger, but sometimes he would refuse, even though they offered a hefty price. When he asked, all the old man ever did was snort and say that Harry was too young to understand.

"Not to worry, Harry; I will make the blade sharp, and the handle hefty," Albus continued, stroking his beard in thought. "A sword fit for a king."

Harry smiled. "I don't doubt you can do it, Master Albus."

The old man chuckled. "Of course you don't, boy. I was the one who taught you the trade, after all."

After eating, Harry took away the plates and the empty jug of water. Albus watched him leave out the door and walk the path back to the house. When he was out of view, Albus sighed again and stood up. He walked over to the blade Harry had just finished. He smiled in satisfaction as he tested its balance, weighing it deftly in one hand. It only needed enough sharpening before it could be fitted into its handle.

Settling the blade down, he took out a long, thin length of polished wood as long as his forearm. He flicked it once and touched the newly-forged blade. The metal glowed with a soft red hue before fading.

Albus nodded again, stowing the wand back into his pocket. "There, now it is fit for a king." He hummed a merry tune as he stepped out the door, inhaling the fresh air.

o0o0o0o

At the crack of dawn Harry was already up. After washing his face and putting on his clothes, he started putting things into his traveling pack. Ellis would be a half-days' journey by foot. He wrapped half a loaf of bread, cheese, and a few apples in a cloth before placing it inside his pack, along with a small bag of money, a change of clothes, and the smaller tools he'd need for shoeing the horses at the Croaking Frog inn. The actual horseshoes were put in a separate bag.

When he was satisfied, Harry began to cook breakfast. He had been fishing out the sausages from the pan when the blacksmith came in.

"Excellent, Harry. My stomach has been annoying me ever since I woke up." He sat down at the small wooden table they shared between themselves.

Harry put down the sausages and glanced at Albus. "You were working at the forge?"

The old man nodded. "I wanted to have a head start with Neville's sword." He took a bite out of one sausage before continuing. "And I have nothing else to do today; I already finished mending those pots Mistress Branstone brought."

Harry smiled. Albus always mended things for Mistress Branstone free of charge because she always gave them freshly-baked pies and breads whenever she visited. She owned the bakery down at Ellis.

"And why are you up so soon?"

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to have a head start with my work, too. I'm going to Ellis today to shoe those horses."

"Ah." Albus noted Harry's pack leaning against the wall. "And how long will you stay there?"

"I'll be back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! But I heard the Spring Fair will be held all week in Ellis; Mayor Fudge told me a few days ago. Don't you want to go there?"

Harry shrugged again. "I don't have any money, and fairs hold no interest for me."

The old man sighed. "If that is what you want; but just in case you change your mind, buy something for yourself—for your birthday," he explained, when Harry gave a questioning look. "And do not worry about the money. I will pay you the amount of whatever it is you will buy. Think of it as a gift."

Harry was surprised. "But you do not have to do that, Master Albus!"

Albus waved it off with one hand. "Nonsense, Harry; you deserve something special for your birthday. You will turn seventeen then, will you not?" Harry nodded. "Ah, so you see: the occasion marks your turning into manhood. A gift is only proper."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think I need any sort of gift; I have everything I need right here."

Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling. "You'll never know, my boy: unexpected things happen when you least think they will."#