Xenith
"For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother tomorrow."
~~~William Shakespeare
Chapter Fifteen
"I never have before."
They must have sat there examining one another for a good five minuets before Ron finally became too anxious to sit still and he broke in: "If there's not anything else Professor?"
"You three may leave, I just need a moment with Mr Potter."
"You want us to wait?" Ron hissed at Harry.
"No, I'll meet you there." Ron nodded and Hermione patted his shoulder encouragingly as they passed out of the office, Ginny in tow.
"What else Professor?"
"I want to give you something." Dumbledore strode across the room to the cabinet Harry knew held the Pensieve. But the Pensieve isn't what came out.
It was a sword. _Godric's_ sword.
"You are to have this Harry." He stated simply, holding out the grand weapon to the fifteen year-old.
"I don't understand."
"This yours now Harry. You have reached you time."
"Professor," Harry protested, standing from his chair. "But that's Gryffindor's. Shouldn't the school keep it? Put it on display in the common room or something?"
"This is not my decision."
"Then whose was it?"
"There are certain things that are destined, Harry. Set down to be carried out when the time is right."
"I don't NEED a sword." Harry said matter-of-factly. Dumbledore chuckled.
"I know." Still, he held out the sword.
Harry took a hesitant step closer to his teacher, his hand itching slowly towards the glistening hilt. His hand halted in midair, millimeters away from the tarnished silver. His fingers twitched, convulsing, before the strong fingers closed around the hilt, lifting the sword from Dumbledore's frail hands.
"Hey," Harry panted as he reached the hospital wing, having run back to the Gryffindor dormitories to hide Godric's sword. "How is he?" He asked Ron.
"Pomfrey says he'll be fine." Ron replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But George nearly had a nervous breakdown when she first said he might not wake up for a while. Scared the shite out of him."
"When'll he be up?"
"A week, maybe more."
"Oh . . . where is George anyway?"
"Pomfrey gave him a sleeping draught and made him lie down." Ron nodded at the curtained bed next to Fred's. "Surprisingly enough, this is the worst injury either one of them's ever had---George's lost without him; doesn't know what to do with himself."
"I wouldn't either." Harry said softly so only Ron could hear.
"What?" Ron turned his eyes down to the slightly smaller boy.
"You heard me you pillock." Ron grinned.
"I feel the same mate. I feel the same."
"Is Malfoy in there?" Harry nodded to the third curitined off bed at the far end of the wing.
"Yeah, made sure to keep him away from Fred 'n George."
"Hermione?" Harry hissed at the bushy haired girl all of a sudden, having remembered his gift.
"What?" She turned from Ginny, slightly peeved at having been interrupted.
"Come help me with my Potions assignment?"
"What Pot---"
"Yeah Herm, come see what Harry's having trouble with." Ron said sternly.
"Don't call me 'Herm' Ron; it makes me sound like a germ." She grumbled, catching on.
"Yeah yeah." Ron waved her off. "Will you stay here for a while then Gin?"
"Yeah." Ginny nodded, eyeing Harry suspiciously.
"Bye Ginny." Hermione waved.
"See you later Ginny." Harry said softly, reassuring the younger girl and making her blush to the roots of her hair from the smile he'd thrown her.
"He gave you a sword!?" Ron exclaimed
"Has Dumbledore gone completely mad?" Hermione said quietly. "What could possibly compel him to give you a sword?"
"He said certain things are set down to be carried out when the time is right."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked; his eyes still glued to the weapon. "Can I touch it Harry?" His freckled hand hovered over the tarnished, glimmering hilt.
"No," Ron's hand dropped to his side. "Sorry Ron. Dumbledore said 'Only my blood brother may use it in battle with me.'"
"What's that supposed to mean? You don't have a brother."
"I know."
"`Brother' refers to your best mate. The man whom you trust over all others." The All-Knowing-Hermione Granger answered superiorly. "The 'blood' part means that your mate will only be able to touch the sword after the two of you have shed blood in battle with one another."
"Against each other?"
"No."
"Good."
"How do you know all that?" Ron asked.
"You really need to check out the library sometime Ron." Hermione sighed.
---
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*
"For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother tomorrow."
~~~William Shakespeare
Chapter Fifteen
"I never have before."
They must have sat there examining one another for a good five minuets before Ron finally became too anxious to sit still and he broke in: "If there's not anything else Professor?"
"You three may leave, I just need a moment with Mr Potter."
"You want us to wait?" Ron hissed at Harry.
"No, I'll meet you there." Ron nodded and Hermione patted his shoulder encouragingly as they passed out of the office, Ginny in tow.
"What else Professor?"
"I want to give you something." Dumbledore strode across the room to the cabinet Harry knew held the Pensieve. But the Pensieve isn't what came out.
It was a sword. _Godric's_ sword.
"You are to have this Harry." He stated simply, holding out the grand weapon to the fifteen year-old.
"I don't understand."
"This yours now Harry. You have reached you time."
"Professor," Harry protested, standing from his chair. "But that's Gryffindor's. Shouldn't the school keep it? Put it on display in the common room or something?"
"This is not my decision."
"Then whose was it?"
"There are certain things that are destined, Harry. Set down to be carried out when the time is right."
"I don't NEED a sword." Harry said matter-of-factly. Dumbledore chuckled.
"I know." Still, he held out the sword.
Harry took a hesitant step closer to his teacher, his hand itching slowly towards the glistening hilt. His hand halted in midair, millimeters away from the tarnished silver. His fingers twitched, convulsing, before the strong fingers closed around the hilt, lifting the sword from Dumbledore's frail hands.
"Hey," Harry panted as he reached the hospital wing, having run back to the Gryffindor dormitories to hide Godric's sword. "How is he?" He asked Ron.
"Pomfrey says he'll be fine." Ron replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But George nearly had a nervous breakdown when she first said he might not wake up for a while. Scared the shite out of him."
"When'll he be up?"
"A week, maybe more."
"Oh . . . where is George anyway?"
"Pomfrey gave him a sleeping draught and made him lie down." Ron nodded at the curtained bed next to Fred's. "Surprisingly enough, this is the worst injury either one of them's ever had---George's lost without him; doesn't know what to do with himself."
"I wouldn't either." Harry said softly so only Ron could hear.
"What?" Ron turned his eyes down to the slightly smaller boy.
"You heard me you pillock." Ron grinned.
"I feel the same mate. I feel the same."
"Is Malfoy in there?" Harry nodded to the third curitined off bed at the far end of the wing.
"Yeah, made sure to keep him away from Fred 'n George."
"Hermione?" Harry hissed at the bushy haired girl all of a sudden, having remembered his gift.
"What?" She turned from Ginny, slightly peeved at having been interrupted.
"Come help me with my Potions assignment?"
"What Pot---"
"Yeah Herm, come see what Harry's having trouble with." Ron said sternly.
"Don't call me 'Herm' Ron; it makes me sound like a germ." She grumbled, catching on.
"Yeah yeah." Ron waved her off. "Will you stay here for a while then Gin?"
"Yeah." Ginny nodded, eyeing Harry suspiciously.
"Bye Ginny." Hermione waved.
"See you later Ginny." Harry said softly, reassuring the younger girl and making her blush to the roots of her hair from the smile he'd thrown her.
"He gave you a sword!?" Ron exclaimed
"Has Dumbledore gone completely mad?" Hermione said quietly. "What could possibly compel him to give you a sword?"
"He said certain things are set down to be carried out when the time is right."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked; his eyes still glued to the weapon. "Can I touch it Harry?" His freckled hand hovered over the tarnished, glimmering hilt.
"No," Ron's hand dropped to his side. "Sorry Ron. Dumbledore said 'Only my blood brother may use it in battle with me.'"
"What's that supposed to mean? You don't have a brother."
"I know."
"`Brother' refers to your best mate. The man whom you trust over all others." The All-Knowing-Hermione Granger answered superiorly. "The 'blood' part means that your mate will only be able to touch the sword after the two of you have shed blood in battle with one another."
"Against each other?"
"No."
"Good."
"How do you know all that?" Ron asked.
"You really need to check out the library sometime Ron." Hermione sighed.
---
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*