Disclaimer: Still not my sandpit

FORGING & FIGHTING

Fleur stepped back blushing, and ran up the tunnel to the Manor, leaving Harry very confused.

It took him nearly two years to get the forging right. He worked through several different styles of forge that utilised different techniques until he could smith any weapon or piece of armour he liked. His arms had grown to accommodate his even greater strength, his shoulders rippling with hidden muscle. He was still lithe as a tiger, and fast. He'd drawn out several designs for the Philosopher Tattoos he needed, with most having some runic input and a connection to the everlasting. The symbol from the Gaunt family ring, and the roof of the Ritual Room; a stylised image of Jupiter swallowing his own tail with a lightning bolt in the centre; an Egyptian Ankh, for resurrection, life, and for some reason sexual energy; last of his planned tattoos was a lightning bolt being swallowed by a black burning phoenix. He had a certain crazy idea to include Drakul Lord Prometheus' venom to facilitate healing, but that was a leap of uncertain results.

Harry sat back on his heels as he gently blew on the coals in the forge. He held the large lump of Valyrian Adamantium in the forge with his gauntlet. The metal that was once comprised of the two small hand-scythes and the war-axe. He'd fast become a master of forging without magic, as he grew intimately aware of the science behind it. He knew that certain enchantments could be emplaced on the product as he was going through the process, but only at two certain points. As he withdrew the white-hot metal, he whirled it through the air and onto the indestructible, runed anvil. With each beat of the hammer, he shaped and enchanted the slowly-forming blade.

"In Aere In Herbis Conversus.
Ferrum In Ferro Percutere.
Ignis Et Sanguis Fiat A Me.
In Mortem Et Non Fecit.
Haec Anima Falcem Sculpere.
Hic Falcem Terrere Timidis.
Quod Adhaerere In Carne Falcem.
Hic Falcem Mittere In Mundum Purget."

He sang until the blade was beaten, and the shape was visible. Then, he heated the blade again, and beat it again. He refined it each time, lacing the blade with all of his magic. He spared not one iota of energy, he gradually poured the blade full of his will. The blade, and haft, were finally finished. He heated it once more, and then ran for the other end of the Cave. He dunked the metal into the magical solution he'd decided to use for the quench- his own blood instilled with two years' worth of latent energy. The ensuing explosion was no smaller than he expected- the super-heated hunk of metal met the super-cooled blood- kept fresh, of course- in a colossal hiss of blood-red steam and heat. The metallic tang of blood tinged the air, as the overwhelming glow emanating from the quench dulled. Harry peeped over the edge of the trough, and saw a thing of beauty- the scythe had survived!

Knowing now that the thing was nigh unbreakable, he took it to the workbench and began to smooth out its contours, and sharpen its edge. The black-red scales of carbon fell off gradually as he filed the edge to perfection- not too sharp, but sharp enough to cut through anything. He didn't want to go slicing atoms in half, now did he? Harry finished smoothing and sharpening, and began to wrap the haft in soft Hungarian Horntail leather, which he painstakingly covered in runes against damage, decay or theft. He imbued the leather itself (magic reflective on the outside, absorbent on the inside) with anti-summoning charms from anyone but the owner, and vampiric magic similar to that on the Gaunt Ring, which would help him greatly. The leather work was made of thin strips of leather, braided up from the base, to maximise grip all of the way up. Hung from where the haft met the blade was a small Valyrian Adamantium collection of charms, 3-D versions of runic sets he'd devised.

The blade itself was a dark red-black, with swirling shifts of smoke within. The typical scythe curve was interrupted towards the end with a vicious hook on the top side, and serrations on the bottom side near the haft. The back edge was a short conical spike.

The blade was beautiful, a weapon of mass destruction given age-old form. The scythe was taller than he was by only six inches, due to the thin ferule tipping the base of the haft. It needed a name.

"Scythe, I name thee Soulreaver, as testament to your kin!"

The blade suddenly released a howling scream of wind, throwing out bolts of lightning and blasts of fire. Phoenix song was slowly rising through the tumult, drowning it out. As the gale died down, Harry saw that the weapon in his hand was now stark white, with thin streams of black smoke writhing through its insides. It was the same blade, except for 'Soulreaver' inscribed in runes down the centre of the metre-long blade.

With one thing left to do, Harry drew on his knowledge of leatherworking, and crafted a hard-wearing and ornate holster for his right arm to store each of his Valyrian Adamantium weapons. He attached several small rings to the holster, and etched a small image in some, starting from the wrist. A spear, a greatsword, a warhammer, a scythe, a gun, a wand, and a shield. He left the rest unadorned, in case he made some more acquisitions. He charmed each ring to respond to his will- if he pressed the etched leather underneath, the corresponding item would materialise in his hands.

Taking out the weapons and armour, he stored them in each pocket dimension, ready to be called on to fight. Knowing his work was finished, Harry stored Soulreaver in his leather weapons holster.

He packed up what resources were left- he may have over-estimated a bit- and cast a Weightless Charm on the new trunk. Placing it in his pocket, he slowly ascended back into the realm of real time. It was time he saw Fleur.

Harry slowly walked up the stairs to the Manor, thinking of the time- nearly two years ago to him- that Fleur had lightly kissed him goodnight. He smiled a happy smile that someone actually wanted him for him, rather than for what he had purportedly done at the age of one. She was truly beautiful, rivalled only by Pandora Caedis. Plus, she would most likely die if she didn't bond. That, or she'd jump him in the middle of the night.

He heard a light patter of feet on stone, and looked up to see Fleur walking steadily ahead of him.

"Fleur!" With a gasp, the girl whirled around.

"'Arry! You- You are different! I 'ad no idea you would be working out!"

Harry looked down at himself. Yup. He'd put on some muscle-mass, and looked even better for it!

"It was the forging. I had to beat metal pretty much every day for two years until I got it right! I'll show you, if you like, but outside. And Jacques should come too!"

Fleur laughed like the angel she was at Harry's excitable visage. He was still a young man, even after spending nearly four years under time displacement. Leading the way up the stairs, she felt Harry's eyes on her.

"Eez there something you would like to say, 'arry?"

"In the immortal words of Professor McGonagall, 'There are several things I would like to say'!" He wouldn't admit it, but he had been captivated by the Veela's godly butt, swaying as it was in front of his face on their way up the stairs.

Fleur knew what he was looking at, and was thus content to let him look.

The two eventually came to the doorway back into the Manor, which Harry sealed shut.

"I don't think that the Room will need to be used in a while." The two doors slammed shut, and the three massive internal bolts slammed down with a clang! Harry turned to Fleur, and held out his hand.

Taking it, the two walked up in the Manor proper, to find Jacques and show him the project.

"Ah! Harry! And Fleur, petal, have you- Oh." Jacques noticed the two hand-in-hand. "I see, she told you. You are OK with this, Harry?" The older man frowned slightly.

"For the most part, yeah. I just wish that Fleur and I weren't pushed into this, instead of getting to know each other better first. I'm also glad that Gabrielle wasn't pressured into this. That would be… abhorrent."

Jacques' slightly weathered face cracked into a grin- the boy had morals stronger than nearly any wizard he knew- some certain members of his Cabinet had expressed interest in his youngest already- she was nearly thirteen, and men four times her age had professed sexual interests. He despised the pureblood males with such a passion! The females, however… hehe, his wife understood. Even she couldn't sate all of his sexual desires.

"Thank you, Harry. It means a lot to me to hear you say that. Until the Bond is consummated, however, both Fleur and Gabrielle will feel… frustrated. This could be disastrous for Gabrielle, especially as she doesn't have the fortitude to stop herself from acting on some things. You understand, do you not?"

"I do sir. Before, the uh… deed, I have something to show you. Can we go outside, to the garden?"

"Of course Harry. What is it you wish to show me?" Jacques' eyes glinted with curiosity, as he quickly packed up his papers strewn across his desk, and slipped them into a draw.

"The finished project I spent the last two years making!" Harry said with a wink.

"The last- Oh. I see what you did there! Yes, come, let's go outside and see this!"

With that, the three followed Harry eagerly walking ahead until they reached the expansive gardens.

Once there, Harry bade them stop, and walked on five paces. He then whirled around, with an air of overly-dramatised pretence:

"Ladies and gentlemen! What you are about to witness is not for the easily-frightened! You may turn away at any time!" Harry bowed a sweeping bow, deeper to Fleur than Jacques, and then pressed his finger to the scythe ring on his leather holster.

A brief haze of deepest black smoke washed out of his holster, obscuring Harry for a second. Then, his audience gasped. Before them stood Harry Potter, Lord of Hogwarts, Azkaban and Old Mercia. He was not just their friend, but a man with fire in his Killing-Curse-green eyes, a white-bladed scythe held in his right hand, a wand in his left. The scythe emanated a feeling of death, but not the dark, grim after-life- no, it was the sweet relief for a tortured soul, the ultimate mercy. Harry swung the scythe in a few test-sweeps, feeling the way it slid through the air without the slightest resistance- if the blade was any sharper, then he knew he'd be dealing with atomic destruction. The thought made him absurdly happy.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Jacques subtly wave his wand, conjuring several lions, tigers and birds of prey. The predators burst from his wand, straight at Harry. Fleur's eyes bugged out, suddenly fearful for Harry's safety.

"Let's see how you use this scythe, Harry! Opugno!" Jacques commanded the animals to attack, each going in for a different approach. The birds swept skywards, wheeling up into the blue. The tigers leapt forwards, slinking through the grass to surround the man whilst the lions rushed straight in.

Sweeping Soulreaver around in an arc, Harry held the haft end-down to the dirt. The first lion rushed towards him, faster than Fleur could track, and yet slower than Harry would wish. It leapt into the air, intending to collide with Harry's chest and tear him to shreds.

It swiftly met its end as the white scythe slid through its length, cleaving the beast in two. A low pant from behind was enough of a warning to Harry before a tiger bolted out of the bushes of the extravagant garden, and up behind him while the lion was resting in pieces. At the same time, a hawk dived down from above, angled to slam directly into Harry while he dealt with the more pressing tiger.

The green-eyed man slid one foot forward, grounding himself, as he felt the tiger rear up behind him. The curved blade of the scythe slid up into its belly, and then its heart, while the unlucky hawk speared itself on the ferule at the end of the haft. Wandlessly dispelling the remains, Harry sniffed lightly. To his right was a small posse of lions, and all around him in an even circle were the remnants of the tigers. Harry crouched down low, watching Fleur's reaction- he wasn't sure how she would react to the casual spilling of blood.

The woman was entranced with his finesse and lithe movements, not taking an eye from his lightning-fast strikes. He held his position, as Jacques once more prodded the conjured animals to fight. They all rushed forwards at once, allowing Harry to use his master-plan.

Leaping up, Harry twirled the scythe around his head, and slammed back into the ground, cleaving every beast into chunks before they could put one more paw or claw near him.

Harry settled back into a nonchalant lean against an apple tree, as it rained fast-evaporating gore. The neatly-trimmed grass surrounded him in a circle, a remnant of where he'd struck. It stretched further than his blade could possibly have reached!

"Oh, well done Harry! I had no idea that you had taught yourself so well! You will indeed be able to protect yourself and those you care about- no matter the situation, I am sure! I presume you have other weapons?"

The question delighted Harry- there was only so much training with mannequins could do.

"Conjure up some more beasties, and I'll show you!"

BONUS CHAPTERS MFUFFERS! AHAHAHAHAHA *chokes quietly

Song of the Week: Pokémon Theme- Billy Crawford

Film of the Week: Pokémon the First Movie

Book of the Week: Sun Soul by 50caliberchaos (FFDOTnet)