Reviews:

demonic hellfire: Thanks, I'm glad that it came as a surprise.

ezok: No, I'm not faking out with that. Gaiseric is the Gaiseric we all know, Gunderic is his brother based off the real actual Gaiseric and Gunderic from history. The Gunderic here is a certain brainiac as well.

Greer123: I'm happy that you like the detail in both sections of the story, and I hope that you enjoy this one as well.

kaxipoptos: Thank you, I'm grateful that you enjoy the story this much, and you're right about the founder being the one to sacrifice the kingdom all those years ago. The past will have to be dived into at a certain point.

Greyjedi449t: Thanks, here's the next one, I hope you enjoy it.

Necrogod: Not a problem, enjoy this one.

Hairul The Nightrage Beast: Yes, Void and Skull Knight have their different ideas to be sure, and Flora is indeed the witch. I'm looking forward to the next chapter of Berserk as well.

Guest: Thank you, I'm glad you think so.

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

Snow had fallen fast in a short amount of time after they all departed from the Tower of Conviction, or rather, what was left of it. In less than a day, more than a foot of snow covered the ground. Puck tried to cheer and liven up the mood by saying the winter would be short because the summer had been short as well. Harry was pretty sure that wasn't how nature worked, but he had other bigger things on his mind right now.

There was just the simple feeling of relief that they had been successful in rescuing Casca and knowing that the struggle had not been in vain. While Casca still retained that child-like mentality, she had become quite fascinated by one of their newest traveling companions – Farnese. Currently, Casca was playing with Farnese's cut blonde bangs.

"Yes, yes, you like my hair. I- ow! Please don't pull." Farnese pulled Casca's hands away from her hair.

Serpico studied curiously. "You seem to have an admirer, Lady Farnese."

"I suppose, but- ow! Please, Casca, no pulling."

"Auu," Casca mumbled in her indistinguishable manner.

Harry faintly smiled at the scene. Casca was back, but not "back." Her mind was still deeply broken and traumatized after what happened during the Eclipse. Just thinking about that brought to mind a rather concerning matter, one that was deeply troubling Guts as well, the seeming rebirth of Griffith.

The Griffith they had seen then was not the tattered and frail broken body of Griffith before he became Femto. This Griffith looked how he did before his imprisonment and subsequent torture. Rather, he had looked graceful, the definition of male beauty incarnate. But it was his eyes, those slit pupils let Harry know that he was not truly Griffith, just Femto disguised as his previous human form.

While Casca was toying with Farnese and Serpico, trying to catch snowflakes with her tongue, Isidro and Puck were talking fighting technique, Harry spoke with Guts. "What are you going to do about him?"

Guts opened his satchel, looking at the behelit that he carried. He closed it. "I still plan on helping Casca, I've left her alone for too long. But for Griffith… there's no more hunting to be done. He's in a world where I can kill him."

He didn't say how he would go about doing it or even when, but the desire was still there, still waiting to attack like a wild and rabid dog.

Harry did not fault Guts at all for this, it seemed the logical and rightly justified natural reaction that he would give. It might not have been the best time to bring it up, knowing how Guts feels about the Godhand, but Harry told him about what he had read in that old book. Guts was silent for a moment, letting the information process.

"So that's who he is. Tch! He would be the type to prattle on about something like that, wouldn't he?" he could have been referring to either Skull Knight or Void. "That bonehead owes us some answers the next time we see him."

Harry was in full agreement; there was a lot that happened in the past that they did not know about and the only direct links that they had were the Skull Knight and Flora. And speaking of the spirit-tree…

"How far is it?" Guts asked.

"Maybe just a few weeks journey," Harry roughly guessed.

"Hm." Guts contemplated, looking over to where Farnese was reigning in Casca before she could wander off. "And this witch can help her?"

"I trust her magic more than I trust my own." Given how far he had advanced from talking to snakes, which was saying a lot.

"Really?" Guts scratched at his chin. "Alright then. If you say that's the best way of healing Casca, I'll take your word on that. We'll stop back at Godo's along the way to rest up. I want to see what the old man can do for my sword."

Harry looked and saw what Guts was referring to. The Dragonslayer was starting to develop cracks and chips along its surface; collateral damage from what Guts had been using it to kill. It was likely the old blacksmith would have a heart attack once he saw the state his largest creation was in. Rickert and Erica would have to help him to turn the blade in the forge.

'It'll be nice having you back at the spirit-tree,' Schierke told him. 'Mistress Flora will be happy to see you again.'

How are Flora and Ivalera, then?

'Ivalera is still sleeping and Mistress Flora is currently warging right now. I told her about that man who rode off on Zodd, she seemed worried. She's keeping track of his whereabouts.'

Why would she do that? I'm grateful and all, but what does she expect to see?

'Because his presence here in this world is not without consequence. Whatever power he has, it is too great. He comes from a deeper astral layer, and now they're starting to overlap.'

How?

'Creatures long believed to have been myth are returning. Trolls have already raided Enoch Village.'

Wait, trolls? If magical creatures are coming back, what about elves like Puck and Ivalera? They were here before all of that happened.

'I wondered the same thing, but Mistress Flora told me that there are parts of this world with ties to the astral; they wandered into ours. For other magical creatures like unicorns, centaurs, and even dragons, they were either hunted to near extinction or dismissed as myth when the Holy See gained a following. Without belief, they had to migrate elsewhere.'

It sounds like Gunderic wanted people to be cut off from the astral world. Have you asked Flora more about him?

'Of course, she told me that she was close with both him and Gaiseric and that he was the one responsible for the fall of Gaiseric's empire.'

So Gunderic wanted to separate people's connection to the astral world, but as Void, he was okay with Griffith being back even if that meant the worlds were going to start overlapping? That made no sense. What could be gained from taking the connection away only to bring it back through Griffith, who wasn't even born when Gaiseric and Gunderic were around?

Unless…

There was another force at play. One that was tied to Gunderic and his turn into a Godhand that caused the fall of Gaiseric's kingdom. If an Eclipse happened every two-hundred-sixteen years, the first would have been around the time of Gaiseric and Gunderic. But there were no Godhand members back then, something else had to have been at play, perhaps the thing that gave the Godhand their power, the same that made the behelits, to begin with. Whatever it was, Gunderic believed in it, believed it was God of some kind, maybe it was. But how would they fight against that? The Godhand were basically untouchable as it was; what did that say about the source of their power? And if Guts were to actually kill Griffith, would another be chosen to take his place? How deep does the abyss of this mystery go?

Did she say anything else about the astral layers? Anything about the deeper layers?

'Just that the only wizard to have crossed physically between the layers was Merlin. And according to Mistress Flora, that was after the time of Gaiseric.'

That's right; Flora had admitted to knowing the famed wizard as well. Harry would have to make a mental list of all the unknowns. This just keeps going deeper alright.

'I wish that it didn't. Apart from that text and letter, there is almost no record from Gaiseric's time. All the more reason to bring that book back to examine it fully.'

Thanks for the help, but don't forget to help yourself too.

'You say that after all the near-suicidal stunts you and Guts pulled? Compared to you, we're safe here at the spirit-tree.'

I know that. But how much sleep have you been getting? The Tower of Conviction and the Misty Valley were all non-stop, and you've been here ever since. Be honest.

'Well… I might have lost a few hours of sleep, but its nothing too serious.'

Well, you won't be a help to anyone if you're barely standing.

'I don't always have to be standing to do magic. But, I promise to retire soon.'

"Hey, Harry!" Isidro ran up to him.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"I was talking with Puck about my technique, how about that spar?" he asked with pure enthusiasm.

"Harry heaved a sigh. "Sure. Just one quick round."

He heard Schierke speak once more. 'Rest can wait. I want to see this.'

They opted to use sticks they found littering the ground in place of live steel. It was probably for the better because Isidro would be sporting some rather nasty cuts if they did. "Ow!" Isidro rubbed his head where Harry had smacked him, again. "Damnit, man, that hurts you know?!"

"You didn't even try to block it," Harry observed. "Of course it'll hurt if you get hit."

While Isidro had a lot of passion and drive, he lacked the finesse with skill, and that just wouldn't do. If he really intended to follow them around, then he had to learn to find a style that better fit his habits; and one that did not consist of throwing stones.

"You have speed on your side, but you only use it for charging straight ahead."

"Yeah, that's what I saw Guts doing," Isidro explained. "It worked for him."

"Yeah, well, Guts also carries a sword bigger than you are," countered Harry. "Don't go and start copying everything you see just because you think it looks awesome."

"How long have you been training, then?" asked Farnese. "Not with magic, with actual weapons."

"Uh, three, four years," Harry recalled.

"Nearly as long as I have, then," Serpico said. "Impressive given that you're a few years my junior, and still managed to hold your own in our little scuffle."

"What about the Black Swords- er, Guts?" Farnese wondered. "Have the two of you traveled together for long?"

"I guess so, yeah."

"Once I build up my strength, do you think you can put a good word in for me to see if I can use that sword of his?" Isidro asked, which earned looks of exasperation from all.

Puck shook his head. "You have a far way to go, my disciple."

Few other antics ensued as the group led by Guts continued on to Godo's mountainous sanctuary. No more snow had fallen, seemingly making the journey easier, however unlikely that seemed. By the time they neared the outskirt bit of forest surrounding the isolated settlement, the sun was about to start its decline.

The image of a young girl about ten or so became visible near the tree line, carrying a basket and collecting wood for a fire; she hummed a tune to herself as she went about her work. Guts was able to approach her, unnoticed.

"You got taller."

Erica made a weak, "Eep!" but her shriek of terror was quickly turned to joy when she saw who it was that had addressed her. "Guts! You're back!" she spotted Harry next. "Harry's here, too?!"

Harry offered a lopsided grin and a wave. "Hey, Erica. It's good to see you-," despite being tiny, Erica nearly knocked him over as she hugged him.

'Aw, that's nice.'

Go to sleep already.

Erica released him from her pint-sized bear hug when she spotted the other member of the Band of the Hawk. "Casca!" she quickly ran to embrace the woman. "They found you! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I should have watched you better!"

As usual, Casca did not understand what was being said. Instead, she just fiddled with Erica's hair like she had done with Farnese previous. The newcomers watched curiously as the scene played out, not sure what to say or do in this situation.

"Erica!" a new voice called out. "Where'd you go?"

"I'm over here, Rickert!" she called back. "Come see who's here with me!"

A second youth joined her. Rickert had let his hair grow out long enough to be tied back in a low ponytail, and his skin seemed to have gotten tanner; probably a result of working in the forge with Godo.

"What is it, Erica? Who else has shown up-?" Rickert dropped the pile of firewood he had been holding.

"Hey, Rickert," Guts greeted. "Working hard I take it?"

"Holy – Guts! Harry! You're back – and you have Casca too!" in his excitement, Rickert shared a handshake with Harry.

"Good to see you too, Rickert."

Isidro whispered to Farnese and Serpico, "Am I the only one who feels like an outsider right now?"

"There is a history that is unknown to us," concluded Serpico.

"How did you find her?" Rickert questioned Harry. "She wandered off when we let her out of the cave to get some fresh air."

Harry scratched at his messy black hair. "It really is a long story."

"Well, you have to tell me all about it now!" Rickert insisted. "I bet it tops what I've been up to over all this time. C'mon, I'll show you."

"Go on," guts told him. He remained with the others as Erica played a game of peek-a-boo with Casca. "We'll catch up. Go spend time with your friend."

Their boots crunched the snow beneath them as Rickert lead Harry past Godo's home/forge and mining cave, and over to a nearby hill and Cliffside. Along the way, Harry told Rickert a very, very condensed version of events showcasing his and Guts' travels and subsequent adventures. All the while Rickert remained attentive, listening to all that had to be said, although it looked like he wanted to interject at several points to offer some form of commentary.

"You weren't kidding, that does sound like a long story," Rickert conceded.

"That's barely the half of it," Harry told him. "But what about you? You mentioned earlier that you were up to something while we were off."

Rickert nodded. "Yeah, it's right up here."

The Cliffside hill Rickert led Harry began to shine with the light of the sun. Harry thought that the light was reflecting off of the bright, white snow, but his eyes quickly adjusted to what they actually were; swords. Hundreds of swords, if not close to a thousand, were protruding from the ground like sharp flowers. A Hill of Swords.

"Rickert… you made this?" Harry stared at the expanse of swords.

"Working as a blacksmith's apprentice, I had the material." Rickert rubbed his arm modestly. "I meant for them to be graves. Y'know, for everyone we lost that day. Just a way to never forget."

Feeling a swell of pride, Harry clapped Rickert on the shoulder. "It looks great, really. They deserve to be remembered."

"Well now that you and Guts are back, we might have a chance at starting the Hawks up again."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. Footsteps behind them let him know Guts and the others were approaching.

"He arrived just before you all did," explained Rickert. "I could hardly believe it was him at first. I thought you said he died that day."

Standing there at the end of the hill was a figure clad in white; white cape, a new set of white armor, and billowing white hair. He blended right in with the snowy setting around him. Although he smiled, his lips didn't quite match the coldness of his blue eyes.

'It's him.' Schierke's voice wasn't enough to prevent the chill that ran down Harry's spine; a chill that had nothing to do with the current environment.

"Isn't it great?!" Rickert asked, ignorant to what happened that day of the Eclipse. "With Griffith, we can – Harry?"

Harry's sword had left its sheath and was now in his hand. He felt an od next to him, recognizing it as belonging to Guts. The Black Swordsman had Dragonslayer drawn as well, a look of utter disbelief written on his face.

"You still think with your sword first, I see," the Neo-Griffith spoke. His gaze turned to Harry. "You've acquired a staff. You must have progressed far in your studies."

Anger began to build. "Don't act civil," Harry nearly spat. "Why are you here? Did you come here just to torment us?"

The Neo-Griffith was unnaturally composed. "I merely came by to speak with Rickert and to see if my feelings would be obstructed by either of you." He regarded them both, barely acknowledging Casca who was reaching toward him, only being restrained by Farnese and Erica.

"Nothing has changed. I am free to pursue my objective."

Everyone could hear Guts grit his teeth. "Fuck you. You say that like nothing matters. How can you say that after sacrificing all of us?! After what happened with Casca?!"

"All that matters is my dream; nothing else."

"Aarrrghhh!" Guts' eye rolled over white with rage as he charged the Neo-Griffith.

Harry channeled a concentrated burst of lightning from his staff, shooting it straight toward the Godhand member in disguise.

But neither Harry's lightning or Guts' sword hit their target. A new od signature joined the fray, blocking both with an overly large sword and ax combo. The hulking human form of Nosferatu Zodd stood protectively in front of the Neo-Griffith.

Zodd's smile was toothy and feral. "Hello, Black Swordsman, Wizard. I look forward to this."

"Out of my fucking way!" Dragonslayer clashed with Zodd's sword.

Zodd applied more force behind his and Guts' lock of blades, pushing Guts back a distance. "What a fine sword you have," Zodd admired the Dragonslayer. "It is much better than the one I possess. Kushan made; I killed the man rather quickly, hoping that I would get to use it against you."

Their blades clashed once again, Guts swinging Dragonslayer with quick and fluid motions that defied the logic of how a sword that big could be handled in battle. However, Zodd was matching his strikes on par, each seemingly equal when it came to skill with a sword.

With Zodd's focus on Guts, Harry advanced toward the Neo-Griffith. He aimed the end of his staff straight at the faux version of their once friend and leader, ready to cast a bone-breaker spell first. He didn't know if it would even do anything to the Neo-Griffith, it certainly wouldn't kill him, but if there was the chance that it would have some effect… Harry hoped that it would hurt.

Before the incantation could leave his mouth, a shadow – no, a whirling blur came soaring through the air looking to cleave a piece of him off. Harry took a step back before the large ax could take his arm off. Zodd had tossed the weapon at him and was now making a bee-line straight for Harry, a mad smile plastered on his face. Zodd picked up the ax, and Harry swore he felt his legs were going to shatter when he blocked a hit from the demon warrior.

"You blocked well," Zodd said, almost appraisingly. "Show me, are you as proficient with your sword as you are with your magic?" Zodd kicked Harry's legs out from under him, ax raised high in the air, ready to chop him like a pig.

Snow covered Harry's eyes as he rolled out of the way of Zodd's ax, the large weapon nearly splitting the ground in half. He rolled to a safe distance before using a combination of spells. The first being to create a strong gust of wind, and the other being upturning the ground from under Zodd's feet.

The latter had little effect on the almost immovable Zodd, but his vision was partially obscured from the torrent of ice and snow-strewn up by the wind. Harry charged, blade extended out, looking to inflict a fatal wound on the beast of a man, but Zodd had anticipated this move. The apostle yanked one of the many swords from out of the ground and attacked Harry; Zodd's proving much more successful than Harry's.

"Hsst!" Harry winced as Zodd's attack cut across his fingers, down to the bone. Red droplets stained the once pristine white snow.

"I meant to take your arm off with that," Zodd observed the damage done. "How sloppy of me. Between you and the Black Swordsman, this is the best challenge I've had in a while." Speaking of Guts… with Zodd distracted by Harry, Guts was making a break toward the Neo-Griffith. "Hmmph. That won't do."

Zodd kicked Harry, sending him tumbling in front of Guts, tripping him up in his attack. Zodd was treating them like ragdolls and having the time of his life by doing so. The apostle stood in front of the Neo-Griffith once again, a challenging smile danced in his eyes.

"Get ready to make a break for him again," Guts reasoned through his anger. He charged Zodd again, Dragonslayer dragged along the snow-covered ground, and tossed a screen of white obstruction in Zodd's sight; the demon warrior still managing to block Guts' following strike with his sword.

"Excellent use of your surroundings," Zodd said to Guts as he leered at him through their lock of swords. "You both have progressed far since our last encounter."

Harry was already darting past to where the Neo-Griffith was calmly observing the fight unfold, not seeming disturbed in the slightest. Once again, Harry was cut off before he could cast a spell or swing his sword. Zodd had grabbed the back of Harry's cloak, and slammed him down on the ground, the breath leaving his lungs as Harry started seeing stars as well as the faint outline of Zodd's sword raised above him.

Dragonslayer intercepted Zodd's strike, Guts forced the other large blade away. With Guts' blade being of the finer make, he began to systematically target the imperfections in Zodd's sword, forming chips and cracks with every new swing of his blade. It bought Harry enough time to push to his feet. He was faintly aware of a wet substance weigh down his hair in the back, and he felt like the world was spinning from under his feet.

There was no way either of them was going to get to the Neo-Griffith as long as Zodd was in the fight. Zodd had praised Guts for using the environment to his advantage; Harry would have to work with that as well. He twirled his staff, pointing to as many of the swords that were within his range, and raised them from the ground with a levitation charm. With a flick of his wrist, they all pointed straight toward Zodd.

"Depalso Maxima!"

Dozens of blades went soaring through the air toward their intended target. Guts ducked under one of Zodd's swings and the apostle's eyes took in the sight of the dozens of blades hurling toward him. True to his reputation as a beast swordsman, Zodd was able to swat many aside with his own blade, even breaking some of them clean in half.

But there were others that managed to make it past Zodd's defenses. They sunk into his broad shoulders and tree trunk thick arms. He grunted in frustration.

"Raah!" Guts ran forward with a strike, sinking the tip of Dragonslayer into Zodd's shoulder. Harry capitalized on the situation as well, cutting Zodd on his leg, dark blood now staining his sword.

Zodd trembled, but it was not out of exhaustion or fear – on the contrary. He was laughing. It was a deep hearty laugh that an adult would give when a child would do something amusing, but this one was stained with the implication of coming dread. "Excellent. Both of you. Quite imaginative with your magic, as expected. And you, Black Swordsman, it would appear you are on par with me with the sword." Zodd's smile was filled with a fiendish frenzy. "There is no more use for me to hold back then."

Smoke began to envelop Zodd's already hulking figure until a much larger form took his place. The glowing eyes of Zodd's apostle form glittered manically as he barred his razor sharp fangs and claws. Although his left horn was missing, Zodd seemed to have enlarged his right one, making him as ferocious as ever.

"Raaaaghh!" Zodd roared. "Let me test your mettle against my full might!"

Zodd used his tail to sweep the ground, catching Guts and Harry off their feet, sending them both flying. Guts was able to slow his momentum by digging Dragonslayer into the ground, glaring at the mighty apostle form of Zodd. Harry was able to mutter out a few charms that helped to lessen his impact across the ground; the snow really did not make it any lighter.

Both were barely on their feet before Zodd was on them once more. He blocked Guts' Dragonslayer with his horn, snarling alongside Guts. Harry reached into his satchel to retrieve a talisman, but Zodd caught Harry in his enormous paw.

"H-hey, jackass!" Isidro yelled from where the others were watching. Serpico had his sword drawn, but he was helping to keep Casca restrained with Farnese and Erica, although he looked like he might have to end up joining the fray as well. Isidro picked up a handful of stones, ready to toss them in Zodd's direction.

"Don't do it!" Harry yelled to the other boy. If Zodd saw others interfering, then he would see it as a challenge and attack them as well.

Harry felt like he was about to dislocate his shoulder as he wiggled his arm free of Zodd's grasp, tossing the talisman at the apostle. The talisman grew into a ten-foot-tall golem that was able to wrap its arms around Zodd's neck, forcing him to release Harry.

Zodd stood to his full height, dwarfing the golem Harry had employed. The apostle ripped the stony arms from their sockets, freeing him from the grasp. Using his horn, Zodd impaled the golem, lifting it above his head and tossing it aside, top and bottom halves were now littering the ground.

"A nifty trick," Zodd regarded Harry. "Use as many as you wish, I will rip them to pieces and scatter their remains into the wind!"

Guts went rushing Zodd next, but the apostle caught the blade between his large paws, seemingly smiling as he did so. Guts used that development to his advantage, letting go of the Dragonslayer and pointing his prosthetic at Zodd's exposed midsection.

BABOOM! The cannon went off, catching Zodd unaware.

While Zodd was stunned, Harry consulted his magic once more. "Fresce ilparment!"

A magic formed icicle shot forth toward Zodd. Seeing this new attack coming, the apostle went to swat it away, but Guts' previous attack had slowed his movements. The icicle shot through Zodd's paw.

"Raaaaghh!" Zodd's roar was as much angrier than it was due to pain; letting the adrenaline from the fight and his wounds take over his rational and senses. His large, goat-like hooves kicked up some snow as he pounded the ground, squaring his shoulders and moving his head from side to side. He was going to charge.

Both Harry and Guts dived out of the way as the behemoth form of Zodd barreled past them – straight toward where Casca and the others were.

"Go! Get out of the way!" Harry didn't even need to shout it; it was evident what would happen to them if they were to remain stationary. Serpico quickly dove to knock them out of the way as Zodd shot straight toward them, his size and strength carried him straight through the rock wall of the mine.

"Auu! Auuuu, waaa!" Casca was already up and attempting to walk toward what she must have perceived to be Griffith.

"Casca!" Guts yelled as Zodd shot back out of the mine, sending boulders raining down.

Harry was ready to use his magic to stop the fall of the rocks, but they all seemed to already land in a circle around her like an invisible force field had been installed around her. No – not a force field; a white-clad figure stood next to Casca, his cape wrapped around her. The Neo-Griffith stood, Casca staring up at his face, reaching to touch it.

"Don't, Casca!" yelled Guts as he ran toward her, but once again, Zodd stood in his path, ready to continue the fight.

The Neo-Griffith quickly pulled away before Casca could touch him. "Come, Zodd," he ordered. "We're done here."

Zodd growled, clearly displeased that he would not be able to continue the fight, and he begrudgingly lumbered away from Guts and Harry, snarling as he walked away. He lowered his paw, allowing his new master to climb on him. The pair of wings sprouted from Zodd's back as he prepared to take flight.

"Rickert," the Neo-Griffith called as Zodd kicked off the ground. "Even if you come to hate me, there will still be a place for you in the new Band of the Hawk." Zodd took flight.

"Auu!" Casca whined as the apostle flew off.

"Get back here!" Guts yelled as he strapped his crossbow to his prosthetic, firing bolts off. Harry created a few more icicles, launching them at the flying form of Zodd and his rider. But both of their attacks seemed to be off target, some force keeping them from hitting their mark.

On Zodd's back, the Neo-Griffith brought a hand up to his chest. He had saved Casca. The last time his emotions had gotten the better of him, Griffith had been imprisoned, his dream in shambles. Now, he could almost hear something. Bathump! There was a solution to that too.

Back down on the ground, Guts was still staring angrily at the fleeting form of Zodd as he and that Neo-Griffith flew off. Harry flexed his fingers from his one injury while fighting Zodd. I should consider myself lucky I just got cut instead of losing any fingers, huh? He waited for Schierke to voice her thoughts on the matter, probably to tell him to not make a joke about something like that, but he heard nothing.

Schierke?

He paid close attention to the hand Zodd had cut, it was the one where Schierke's hairs were tied – or, at least, where they used to be tied. Her green hairs were scattered around in the white snow, blowing away with a passing breeze.

Oh. Harry found that he could really use the witch's words about now, maybe to get his mind on track after that fight. Her presence had been a welcome one since his departure from the spirit-tree; now that was at an end until he returned back there with Guts and the others. He had an inclination he was going to be in for it when he returned.

The others approached the two of them; looks of disbelief and awe were present on each of their faces, especially Farnese. She looked like she had had another epiphany or revelation about the truth of the world. Before either of them could speak, a loud, tired voice called out.

"What the hell is goin' on out here?!"

"Papa!" Erica cried as she went running to hug the leg of the approaching form of Godo. The aged blacksmith was looking more wizened now than he had before. His white hair and beard and grown out, his wrinkly, leathery skin was still tan, and more lines were apparent on his face. He walked with a cane and was hefting a crossbow in his other.

Rickert was next to overcome his shock. "Master Godo! You shouldn't be out of bed! Your health-,"

"-My health can't exactly get any worse," Godo coughed, taking notice of the newcomers. "So, you two fools are back, eh?"

"…Yeah," Guts answered, casting a look to where Zodd had flown off, now no longer in sight.

"It's good to see you too, Godo," Harry said, his voice lacking a friendly greeting.

"Hmph!" Godo snorted. "That's the greeting I get? I thought you thought more warmly of me than that."

"Look, papa!" Erica led Casca over to where Godo was. Casca instantly started pulling on Godo's beard.

"You found here then?" it was a rhetorical question. Godo pulled his beard out of Casca's grip. "Why don't we take her inside? Wouldn't want her catching a cold from the two of you."

The fire from the forge provided a welcoming embrace from the bitterness of the snow outside. Erica and Rickert helped ease Godo down into a chair seated closest to the forge, Rickert ran off to go and grab some more chairs for everyone. More swords and arms decorated the walls around the forge, but otherwise, it remained unchanged.

"Thank you for extending your hospitality," Serpico thanked their host. "Your home is quite quaint."

"If by quant you mean cramped, I ain't going to argue with that." Godo lifted his leg up onto a stool provided by Erica. "I've had all sorts of folks come to place orders, none of them paid any kind of complement to what kind of home I've got, no need to start now."

"Papa!" Erica scolded Godo. "Be polite, please!"

"Eh," Godo shrugged.

"So, uh…" Isidro searched for something to say. "You work here, Rick?"

"It's Rickert, and yes. Harry gave me a run-down of what you were all up to, but I don't think we could have expected what happened out there."

"Yeah," Godo coughed, stroking his long, grizzled beard. "Care to fill me in on why there's a giant hole in my mine, boys?"

"You want the whole story, or just that it was done by a monster?" Guts asked.

"Monster, eh?" Godo contemplated. "That white-haired man didn't look quite right when he stopped by. Had that dead look in his eyes."

Farnese looked between Harry, Guts, and Rickert. "That man, he was Lord Griffith of the Band of the Hawk, was he not?"

Isidro perked up. "Griffith? I heard about that guy! I thought he was dead."

"He is," Harry said, earning a strange look from all except Guts.

"You told me that before you and Guts departed," Rickert recalled. "If that's true, then who was that just now?"

Harry looked at Casca who was playing a childish game with Erica. "Hey, Erica, can you take Casca somewhere to play? I think she missed playing with you."

"Uh-huh!" Erica took Casca by the hand, leading her to the upstairs of the small home/forge. Once she was gone, Harry gave a very brief description of what had happened; only giving details about the start of the Eclipse and the brand that was engraved onto the three of them.

"You actually were in the Hawks?!" Isidro asked, looking to a disinterested Guts with awe. "No freaking way! I heard all sorts of crazy stories about the Raiders."

"I took you for the mercenary type," Serpico told Guts. "But I never would have guessed you were with the Hawks. Your exploits certainly did well for Midland."

Farnese nodded. "Yes, my father made quite a profit by loaning money during that war. He mentioned your band quite a few times, when I saw him, at least."

Guts wasn't in the mood for remembrance. "The past is the past. That stuff doesn't matter now."

"Ha!" Godo laughed before a fit of coughs overtook him.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned for the old smith.

"Am I alright with dying?" Godo asked. "I've made my peace with it."

"You're not dying," Rickert assured him.

"Well, you're not as old as I am. I'd love to see what you'd say when you reach my age. You learn to accept things as they are, and that's why I find what that idiot said so funny." Godo coughed again. "You say the past doesn't matter, but that has been what was driving you this entire time; wanting to protect that girl and avenge your comrades. All of that happened in the past, you mean to say that doesn't matter?"

"You know what I meant," Guts told the smith.

He nodded. "You're right, I do, and I'm just making sure you understand it yourself. You're a good customer, but you got a lot to learn before you're time is at an end as well. You can't go losing sight of what's important to you."

"I haven't," Guts assured the old man. "I've done that once before, I don't plan on letting it happen again." Godo studied him before giving a curt nod. "By the way, I was wondering if you could take a look at this."

Guts laid Dragonslayer across his lap, letting its creator see his work. "What have you been doing with this?" Godo asked, sounding like his heart might give out. "You've had this for what, two, three years? It shouldn't look this way even after ten. What have you been using it for, killing actual dragons?"

"Yeah," Guts plainly said. "Something like that."

"And you want me to repair it?" Godo asked. "You can't ever be satisfied with a normal sized sword, can you? Bah!" he stood up on wobbly knees. "Rickert! Go get the stirrups; we're gonna need them."

The fires blazed as Godo had the help of Guts, Harry, and Rickert in turning the blade over in the fire. The steel of Dragonslayer glowed as it was placed in the fire. Farnese, Serpico, and Isidro had gone off with Erica to entertain Casca upstairs, leaving the four of them to work down in the forge.

"So what is your plan?" Godo asked Guts. "Once your sword is finished, once you set out to heal the woman, what will you do? Will you kill that man?"

What would he do? "One thing before the other," Guts answered. "Casca takes priority, for now, anything else can wait until after that."

"Bah! Just another way of saying there is no plan," Godo fiddled with the straps. "I didn't have a plan when I took Erica in; I was just an old man who saw a girl with parents, all alone in a cruel world."

"Godo…" Rickert trailed.

"What? You didn't think Erica was mine, did you? She's ten, I'm… well, too old to be having kids, you do the math in your head. But I had no plan when I took her in. I could have been the biggest shit-father on this earth, and wouldn't have known. All I knew for my entire life was how to smith. My father was a smith, and his father before him, and I was drawn in by the sparks. They're like… little hopes and dreams, drifting off into the wind. Maybe mine was one of them, no plan, just going along."

"Don't say that!" Rickert told his teacher. "Erica loves you, looks up to you, why are you saying these things?"

"I'm old," Godo said like that would explain everything. "I say what's on my mind, and right now it's a bit jumbled. Besides, maybe there's a lesson to be learned." He looked directly at Guts. "I thought you were an idiot when I first met you. I thought you were an idiot when you went off to do god knows what, leaving that woman here locked up in my mine. Now, I still think you're an idiot, but not as big an idiot as before. You found it. That dream, or spark, you found it. Never let it go; think, if not for yourself, for her, for those that follow you."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air, only being broken by Godo turning Dragonslayer with the help of the stirrups. "Steel can be re-forged, folded over again until it becomes sharper still. It will come out stronger, but there is something stronger than anything that can be made in this forge. When you figure that out, be sure to keep it to yourself, you might learn something."

It took longer than it should, but by the end, Dragonslayer came out looking brand new. Guts saw it only for a brief moment, but it looked like Godo smiled at his finished craft. The best blacksmith in Midland passed away later that night.

Out of all the ways to go, this was tame. Asleep in a warm bed while a loving daughter sat by through to the end. Guts didn't pity Godo, it was more than most people could ask for, but one that he deserved.

Erica had, of course, been distraught over the passing, seeking Rickert for comfort. Even Casca seemed to sense her distress and patted her head in a curious manner. He, Harry, and Rickert dug the grave outside of the forge, marking it with a headstone of his favorite hammer. You were a blacksmith up until the end.

The only one to give any sort of eulogy was Rickert, Guts, and Harry opted not to because they could basically hear Godo's voice saying, "I'm dead. No need to spread the word."

Erica didn't seem to mind them not saying anything though, she was just grateful that they were in attendance, her usual cheery demeanor was lacking. "You're leaving again, aren't you?" the way in which she said it, she wasn't asking.

"Yeah," Guts told the small girl. "We are."

"We'll still be here," Rickert informed. "I'll never be as good as Godo, but I can still keep the forge running. And I'll be looking after Erica too."

Guts nodded. "Take care of yourself then, Rickert. You too, Erica." He made a move to go and lead where the group was standing, waiting to depart when he felt a hand grab hold of his cloak.

It was Erica. "Guts… when you get back from making Casca better, are you all going to come back? You all can come back here. We can fix the mine so you three can be safe at night, we could all live here together, right?"

She makes it sound like a happy ending. "Sure," he agreed. "Why not?" But this isn't a fairy tale. A happy ending… that's just a spark floating in the wind, isn't it, Godo?

Mass Breakout from Azkaban Prison!

By Rita Skeeter

You sadly read that title correctly, dear reader. Earlier this morning, sources reported that twelve, yes, twelve high-security prisoners from the infamous wizarding prison, Azkaban have been confirmed as missing. This reported managed to secure a quick interview with Auror Dawlish, and this is what he had to say on the matter, "We're still getting all the details together, but we haven't ruled out an inside job. Rest assured, investigations are being put into place as we speak."

Out of these twelve high-security prisoners, the escapees include the Lestrange brothers as well as the cruel Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, known for her unfaltering loyalty in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!

Minister Fudge has yet to make a statement, but that is to be expected when such an important event as the Triwizard Tournament is being held, but I, like you, should put our complete trust and faith into our Minister and give him the support he deserves to deal with this crisis.

The motives of these prisoners remains largely unknown, but being some of the most devout Death Eaters during the war, it seems likely that many muggle settlements might fall victim to their terror. Or perhaps they aim to find our missing savior, Harry Potter and exact revenge for their fallen master.

It also goes without saying that if you see or hear any information regarding these escaped prisoners; please contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement straight away.

To say Neville was in a foul mood when he read that was an understatement. Bellatrix Lestrange… she's really free. The Death Eater who responsible for the torture of his parents and driving them to insanity was on the loose. The dour mood he was in seemed to have spread to the entire hall. No one was even talking about Cedric taking first place in the first task by getting the golden egg from that dragon, they all had a copy of the Daily Prophet.

From up at the staff table, the teachers seemed to be composed well enough, sans Karkaroff who was quite pale and sweaty. The other exception being the Ministry appointed judge and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, Dolores Umbridge. She sat up there like a toad, eyeing the students for any signs of misbehavior, a habit she had since her first day and when the Fred and George spiked her morning drink with a puking substance they had been working on.

The consensus at the Gryffindor table was filled with all sorts of conspiracy theories flying around, courtesy of the rumor mill headed by Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown. The Slytherin table seemed its usual composed self, Malfoy, of course, looked like he was on the in of some sort of joke, but did he look happy about it?

Maybe Neville could ask Tracey after potions. The two of them never talked in public due to the house rivalry and such, but she was at least one Slytherin he knew who was civil toward him and might tell him what was going on.

Not wanting to be surrounded by the talk of his parents' torturer, Neville packed up his belongings and made to exit the great hall. As he did, he passed by the Ravenclaw table, hearing a clink! A spoon had dropped from the hand of one Luna Lovegood.

Luna wasn't exactly the most popular girl in school, even within her own house, but Neville had spoken with her on a few occasions and didn't think she deserved the scorn and bullying that came her way. Neville wasn't going to say that she was normal, but that was not a bad thing. It just made her… well, it made her Luna.

"You dropped this," Neville said, handing her the spoon so she could go back to eating her favorite food – pudding.

She was unresponsive. Luna just stared off into space, fixated on something outside one of the windows of the great hall. "Luna?" Neville asked, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"She was never alright," another Ravenclaw – Marietta said, snickering to some of her friends.

"Do you not see it?" Luna asked Neville, not looking away from what she was staring at.

"See what?" Neville followed her line of sight, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Her next words were perhaps the strangest Neville had ever heard out of Luna, and that included the Wackspurts. "The Black Lion is riding into battle with the White Hawk."

Back in Midland, the Kushan invaders had pushed even further into the land; their newest point of conquest being Sonia's small town. Any men who could fight were killed by the sheer might of the invading Kushan force, and the women and children were put in chains, Sonia included.

The Kushan had a funny way of speaking, but Sonia guessed that Midlanders probably sounded weird to Kushan. It all had to do with what was the common language. She might not have been able to understand what the Kushan were saying but one of the women chained in front of Sonia had a pretty good idea.

"They mean to take us as whores," the woman whispered to her. "We will bear their children and give birth to more soldiers for their army! The Emperor will surely do that to the princess, we shall be no different to his soldiers!"

A Kushan soldier yelled over at her, the jist being quite clear, "Shut your mouth!"

"They seem like nice guys," Sonia said, quite calmly.

"How can you say that so carefree?!" the woman asked.

"I don't know," Sonia shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess." She had a lot of feelings about things. She had a feeling about that one boy with the scar and that Black Swordsman who had passed by this town on separate occasions. Her mother told her that she was a born medium, being able to see and feel things that most others could not. That medium sensor had gotten even stronger as of late; it was like… a veil of sorts had been lifted, she was seeing more things than she could before. And right now her feeling was telling her this was not going to end well for the Kushan.

One of the Kushan officers spoke with two of his subordinates, giving out an order when all of a sudden-,

Phweeee! Thunk!

An arrow shot straight through all three Kushan's heads, they were dead before they even hit the ground. Everyone's eyes traced where the arrow had come from. Upon the roof of one of the homes, a lone figure stood, a quiver of arrows spread out at his feet, and a large bow contrasted his lithe frame.

"Is that…?"

"I believe so. It's Sir Irvine!"

Sir Irvine, a solitary hunter who was a legendary archer. His arrows always hit their mark, no matter what. The more Sonia looked at him, the stronger her medium sensor was going off. There's more to him than just a hunter.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The wall surrounding their town all but collapsed as the tallest man Sonia had ever seen came clad in silver dragon armor with a heavy shield and giant war hammer. The Kushan barely came up to his waist as he decimated ten in total with a single swing of his hammer.

"Sir Grunbeld?"

"What is he doing here?"

"I heard that he held a single castle against three-hundred enemies."

"Step forth," Grunbeld challenged. "Who is mighty enough to face death by my hammer?"

Galloping footsteps rang out across the land, the leader of these newly arrived lancers was clad in an exquisite silver armor, his lance, like Irvine's arrow, impaled multiple targets at once. This was Sir Locus, otherwise known as the Moonlight Knight from the otherworldly shine of his armor.

The Kushan were in a panic at this point, looking to flee instead of fighting the most renown knights of the Western territories. A dark shadow fell into their ranks, Sonia couldn't see much of this one, but she could feel him. A collective cry went out from the Kushan, they might have recognized the figure.

"Rakshas!" they screamed. "Rakshas!"

And then the most ferocious of the bunch came riding in, picking off the stragglers. He was a massive man even not on horseback. A jagged scar ran over the left side of his forehead and he carried a large sword and ax.

"He's a painter," Sonia said as she watched all the red liquid go flying through the air following the hacking and slashing of his attacks. He slaughtered them faster than the blink of an eye. There was no need to ask who this man was, almost every child knew of the most dangerous mercenary to ever live.

Nosferatu Zodd, the Black Lion, cut a clear path for another figure. Although blood went flying in every direction due to Zodd, this figure remained untainted by the red liquid, or maybe Zodd was just that good where he sent blood flying. By the time Zodd reached the main square of the town, nearly all the Kushan had been killed, only a handful of Kushan remained alive. Seeing no other alternative, they threw down their weapons, kneeling before the arrival of the beautiful man in white.

"It can't be… Sir Griffith?!"

At his arrival, all the knights, citizens, and even Zodd took a knee. Many looked down, but Sonia stared straight at him, her medium sensor going off more than ever at him and Zodd. It's like… I can see something behind him. I think… I think I see a castle. But as Sonia blinked, it was gone. Aw. I wanted to see it again. It felt someone was watching me too.

A/N: So there was a lot of Zodd this chapter and both Neo-Griffith and Voldemort have got more followers on their side. Thank you for reading.