A/N: An illustration of Hermione's sword can be found on the 'Artemisgirl's Fiction' page on Facebook.
Hermione's parents were delighted to see her over the break, her father peppering her with questions about how her adventure with the monster was going. He beamed when she explained she'd come home for the holiday so she could pick up her sword. Her mother was pleased to see her as well, asking how classes were going, as well as congratulating her on getting her period with a hug and offer of menstrual supplies – which had been the limit of the fuss made over such a thing Hermione had been expecting. But it was a happy chat with her parents over tea, telling them lighter stories from her term so far.
Hermione expressed her intention to go to the bank to retrieve the sword as soon as possible and then return to the school early, if possible, to finish preparing for exams and practice with her sword in a safe place. To her surprise, her parents exchanged a look.
"Is… that a problem?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"Well, Hermione, it's just…" Her mother looked uncomfortable. "We wanted to ask you to come to Easter Vigil with us."
Hermione nearly fell off the couch.
"What?"
"Now, Hermione," her father admonished. "You're overreacting a bit, aren't you?"
"No!" Hermione boggled at her parents, astonished. "We've never gone to church – never. Why are you starting now?"
"We're not necessarily 'starting', Hermione," her mother clarified. "We've never gone to a mass before. But we were curious, and the Easter Vigil is supposed to be one of the most beautiful of the year."
Hermione stared.
"What brought this on?" she demanded. "Have you joined a cult?"
"Hermione!" her father snapped. "Mind your tone."
"Sorry, it's just—"
Hermione's mind was fundamentally rejecting the notion of her parents being religious. The idea was absurd – it went against everything she knew about them.
Her mind spinning, Hermione carefully looked at her parents, evaluating.
Her parents both looked uncomfortable. Which they should be, springing something like that on her, but…
"If I weren't home, would just the two of you go?" Hermione asked.
Her parents hesitated at the question, exchanging a look, and that was all she needed.
"So that's a no, then," Hermione said, satisfied. "So you don't actually care about the religion bit of this. So what are you actually driving at?"
"Hermione!"
Her mother looked stern, but her father was shrugging and relaxing, his tension loosening. He shot his wife a grin.
"She's already figured half of it out," he told her mother. "I told you she would."
"Yes, well…" her mother sighed. "Still…"
"We want to take you to an old church," her father told her. "It's rumored to be haunted. We want to see if you can see a ghost there."
"You… you want me to look for a ghost?" Hermione stared at her parents. "Why?"
"We're curious," her father said, a glint in his eyes. "No real greater motive than that."
Hermione stared at them, blinking.
"It'd probably be better to go at a time when it's empty, then," she told them slowly. "A ghost is less likely to hang around if there's a lot of noise or a lot of people around. We could go Saturday morning?"
"Excellent!" Her father grinned. "Surely that's good enough, Jean?"
Her mother sighed.
"It'll have to be," she conceded. She gave Hermione an uncomfortable look. "We'd appreciate this if you didn't spread this around."
"Sure, Mum." Hermione agreed easily.
She couldn't imagine ever wanting to admit her parents were going a bit mad.
Diagon Alley wasn't overly busy in the middle of the day Friday. Hermione had worn the belt with the fancy sheath Luna had given her for Christmas to put the sword into, and she felt somewhat self-conscious of how silly it must look without anything inside of it, so she was glad there weren't too many people about.
She was pleased to be able to reach Gringotts quickly. The goblin at the counter's eyes widened when she approached.
"I would speak with Bloodthorne," she began carefully, but already the goblin was off its seat and trotting away.
Hermione watched it go, confused. Was it going to tell Bloodthorne she was here, or had she offended it somehow? Either was possible. Had she been supposed to bow? She couldn't remember – she was supposed to bow, wasn't she? Oh no…
But Bloodthorne came across the bank floor toward her in short order, and Hermione relaxed.
"I think I offended your coworker," she said. "Can I apologize before we—"
Bloodthorne cackled.
"I would not have you apologize for nothing," he dismissed. "Maggotknife is young and overly excited. Come."
Hermione followed Bloodthorne back to a private room, mentally boggling. She knew goblin names were odd by human standards, but Maggotknife? Really?
Bloodthorne left her in the empty conference room to wait for several long minutes before coming back for her, his eyes glittering.
"Come. We would get your sword."
To her surprise, she was taken down a long stone ramp, around a corner, down a long hallway, and into a small stone amphitheater. The amphitheater was largely empty, her steps echoing in the space. Bloodthorne led her to the center of the floor, where six goblins stood on a dais, a seventh on the ground. This goblin was holding a package wrapped in cloth, long and fairly narrow, and the other six formed a semi-circle behind him.
This was to be a ceremony, Hermione realized. Metalsmithing meant everything to the goblins – of course there would be a sword presenting ceremony. She straightened her back and resolved to be as respectful as possible.
Bloodthorne guided her to just in front of the dais before assuming his own place in the semi-circle, bringing its total to seven. The goblins all looked at Hermione with beady eyes, and Hermione nervously gave them a respectful bow. There was a flicker of surprise across several of their faces as Bloodthorne took a step forward.
"Hermione Granger, of the House of Granger," he said. "You have come before the Horde with a request. You have commissioned a weapon, intended to defend you and yours, and you have entrusted this duty to the Goblin Nation."
There was a pause, and Hermione realized Bloodthorne was waiting for a response.
"I have," she said.
Bloodthorne stepped back. Another goblin stepped forward.
"When it became known House of Granger came to the Horde with a commission, there was a fierce battle for the honor of the job." The goblin grinned suddenly, revealing wickedly sharp teeth. "Many were injured, and two were slain, but one prevailed."
Hermione's eyes flew to Bloodthorne's, but Bloodthorne gave no indication of how she was supposed to react to this news. Slain, for a job? Surely the goblin was being figurative?
The goblin stepped back as another goblin stepped forward, Hermione turning slightly to look at the new one.
"Your sword has been forged using the secret techniques of metalsmithing privy only to the Horde," the goblin said, its eyes glinting. "Your sword has been made with the sharpest steel, the billet made from sky iron as well as iron from the earth. Its edge is hard and sharp to sunder your enemies, yet its back is soft and giving, showing your mercy to those you would forgive."
Hermione had no idea how to respond to this. Sky iron might be metal from a meteorite, she theorized, which would be kind cool. Part of her sword would be from outer space.
The goblin stepped back as another goblin stepped forward, and Hermione focused on the new one.
"To honor their debt to the House of Granger, many of the Horde petitioned to help hone the blade," the goblin said. "For weeks, goblins have come forward, offering their venom to temper and their blood to quench the final state of the blade." The goblin paused, its eyes fixed on Hermione. "Never before has there been a blade given to man with the strength of the Horde imbued within."
It was at this point Hermione realized she was seriously missing something crucial.
What great debt were they talking about? All Hermione did with the bank was let them use her account to make loans out of. Goblins were greedy, but surely helping them make money wasn't enough cause for goblins to want to bleed for her?
Bloodthorne was grinning now, pointy sharp teeth showing and eyes glinting. A new goblin had stepped forward.
"The hilt has been constructed to honor the Founder of the House of Granger," the goblin said, and she wondered why they all seemed to refuse to just say Hermione. "The emeralds represent her Slytherin heritage, the snakes of the she-serpent born to clear the path of Magic."
Wait wait wait. 'She-serpent' was one of the things Luna's prophecy had called her. How had the goblins learned about that?
"With the blade crafted thus, and the commission complete, the master craftsman would submit the sword to you," another goblin was saying. "Silversmite, if you would step forward."
The goblin holding the bundle stepped forward to Hermione, who turned to face the goblin.
"I am called Silversmite," the goblin told her, its head raised proudly. "It was I who prevailed for the honor of your commission, and it is I who have honored you through this blade. I would present it to you now."
"I would see the blade," Hermione said carefully.
The goblin unwrapped the sword, and Hermione gasped.
When she had drawn what she was looking for in a sword, she had only an idea of the size she wanted and that she wanted snakes and emeralds. Though she could see the influence of her original sketch in the blade, it was like comparing a child's drawing to a painting in the Louvre.
The blade looked sharp, and Hermione could see how shiny it was and how it glinted. There was an odd design in the metal, lines of slight differences in color composing the blade, and it looked cool. It was just the right length for someone of her size and strength to be able to wield with one hand, she estimated, which had been her primary concern.
The hilt was a work of art, and upon seeing it, Hermione understood why the goblins took their work so personally. The handle looked like it had been wrapped with braided silver wire to help give it a grip, and the intricacy was incredible. The hilt had a handguard made of snakes, curling around and up to the blade to protect her hand. Emerald eyes gleamed from the serpents' heads, and emeralds decorated the pommel and side arms as well. It was a stunning sculpture, the tiny scales on the serpents each so perfectly portrayed.
Most surprisingly was the decoration down the center on both sides of the blade – one she had not expected.
HERMIONE GRANGER
Her name had been put onto the sword. Her name.
To help her leave a legacy behind.
There was a noise from the side, and Hermione jerked. Torn from her awe-struck examination, she raised her eyes to the goblin's.
"I would accept this sword," she said, trying to remain formal in spite of her delighted happiness. To her surprise, the goblin in front of her beamed, and it quickly knelt in front of her feet, holding the sword up in the cloth.
"With a commission created, a blade forged, and a sword supplied, the contract is at an end," one of the goblins pronounced. "Silversmite has offered his blood to the blade as his part of the contract. Hermione of the House of Granger, now you must offer yours."
Hiding any uncertainty, Hermione reached out and picked up the blade with a confidence she didn't feel. She swung it around her sides, testing the balance and weight, before grabbing the blade with her left hand, cutting rather deeper into her palm than she'd intended. She fought not to flinch at the sharp, sudden pain as blood oozed down the sword.
The goblins all held their arms up high upon seeing the red running down the blade, so it must have been what was expected. They began to hum, an odd, jarring frequency filling the air of the amphitheater.
"Blood for blood, and bound by blood, the contract is complete!" one of the goblins cried out. "May you sunder your enemies and defend your friends!"
All at once the goblins clapped, and there was a bright flash of light from the sword, blinding Hermione for a moment. When her vision cleared, the ceremony seemed to have finished; goblins were talking quietly with other goblins, all of them looking highly pleased. Hermione looked down at her hand; the cut on it had healed, without leaving so much as a scar.
"I would explain your blade to you," Silversmite said, stepping towards her. He gestured to the sword, which had somehow sucked up her blood. "Your sword has been claimed by your blood. It will not hurt you and yours."
"It won't hurt me?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"The sword won't, but the blade may well," Silversmite clarified. "A goblin-forged blade would absorb whatever it encounters, making it stronger. Your blade has been tempered in venom. Any foe you would face would be poisoned with a cut, while your flesh would only split, not rot."
"So it can still cut me, but it won't poison me?" she clarified. The goblin nodded.
"Regardless of the strength it absorbs, the blade is bound to you in blood," Silversmite said. He looked pleased with himself. "The House of Granger will not be able to be harmed by naught but the edge."
Ah, so her descendants would also be immune to the venom in the blade, Hermione figured out. That's why she'd bled on it.
She swung it around a few more times, grinning, before sheathing it in the sheath Luna had given her. And of course it fit into the sheath perfectly.
"Thank you," she told him forthrightly, bowing. "I'm honored."
The goblin's eyes went wide, and he bowed very deeply.
"I would not accept your thanks, but would offer my own," he told her. "When I would have perished, the House of Granger saved me and mine. When my forge would have failed, the House of Granger restored it to flourish. I would not forget this debt, Hermione Granger."
"We would not think you would," Bloodthorne said, coming up to Hermione's side. "But we would leave at this time."
"I would see you again, should you but will it," Silversmite assured them, and he hurried off to the side.
Bloodthorne and Hermione both nodded deeply to him as they passed. Hermione followed him back through the stone corridor and up the ramp, then into a room that was more like the usual private room she met with him in.
Bloodthorne closed and locked the door before seating himself at the table, withdrawing a quill.
"There are contracts I would have you sign," he told her, his eyes glinting, and Hermione nearly screamed.
"I will sign the papers only after you tell me what all that was about!" Hermione demanded. "What was that? Why didn't you warn me? What debt was Silversmite even talking about?"
Bloodthorne cackled, and Hermione put her hands on her hips, glaring.
"You will tell me what is going on here, Bloodthorne," she said dangerously. "I will not be the fool anymore."
Bloodthorne settled himself down, looking maliciously amused.
"You authorized the Bank to make loans from your account," he told her. His smile was nasty, and Hermione didn't like it. "But you did not specify who the Bank could loan to."
She blinked. "Okay…?"
Bloodthorne's teeth were spiny as he grinned, eyes glinting.
"The Bank has been loaning gold to those of the Horde," he told her with a cackle. "The House of Granger has been nearly single-handedly restoring the Goblin Nation to its proper state."
Bloodthorne was looking at Hermione as if he had beaten her in something, as if he had won, his grin nasty and triumphant. Hermione just looked at Bloodthorne quizzically.
"Is that why Silversmite was so grateful?" she said, thinking back on his words. "He said that he would have perished and his business would have failed. Did the Bank give him loans so he wouldn't starve and so he could rebuild his business?"
"It is as you said," Bloodthrone said, still grinning viciously. "And Silversmite is just one of many of the Horde you have helped."
Hermione stared at him.
"Umm, I think I'm missing something," she said. "Surely… isn't that a good thing?"
Bloodthrone abruptly stopped grinning, looking at her with suspicious eyes.
"Your gold has been restoring the Goblin Nation," he explained slowly, his eyes beady and suspicious. "After the last rebellion, our cities lay in tatters, our homes and stores in disarray. Your gold has been helping feed our weakest and restoring them to strength, has been rebuilding their shops and their homes."
"The last rebellion?" Hermione was horrified. "But that was over a century ago!"
"1875," Bloodthorne agreed. "We have long lives, and long memories."
"No, no," Hermione said. "Not that – I'm sure there was a good reason for rebelling – but… your cities have still been ruined all this time?"
Bloodthorne stared at her.
"Yes," he said finally. "Physical construction of dwellings is very, very difficult for goblins. We are not strong, and the magic to raise buildings as wizards do has been denied to us."
"You mean with wands?" Hermione asked.
Bloodthorne's face twisted with hatred. "Yes. With wands."
Hermione didn't want to argue about wands with Bloodthorne today. That seemed like something to address another day, when she didn't have a basilisk to go and slay. Trying to dismiss the topic, she took the stack of contracts from in front of Bloodthorne and picked up the quill.
"Well, I'm glad that the loans have been helping the Goblin Nation," she told Bloodthorne. The quill stung her hand as she signed her name. "I didn't think I had that much gold to make loans with, but if you keep reusing the same gold over and over, I guess it would work over time."
Bloodthorne looked skeptical, but Hermione continued.
"I've been keeping track of what I've been putting in, but not of what I've earned in interest or from the loans," she said. "I know Gringotts typically charges a fee for a full accounting of a vault, but could we please work out a deal or something over the summer? I really don't want to spend hours counting out gold coins if I don't have to."
Bloodthorne ignored her, looking at her with sharp eyes.
"That contract," he told her. "That contract you are signing will loan a goblin named Bloodrod enough gold to rebuild his home."
"Okay…?" Hermione said, not understanding his point as she signed it, pushing it toward him. "And?"
"That one will give Urgherk gold to build a target range," Bloodthorne told her.
"A target range?" Hermione said, signing it. "For archery?"
She went to sign the next, but Bloodthorne put his hand down on top of it, blocking her quill.
"Your gold is actively helping the Goblin Nation," he explained very slowly, as if talking to a small child.
"Yes," Hermione said. "You said that already."
"You are helping rebuild us," he told her. "You are helping us regain our strength."
"Am I supposed to think you tricked me?" Hermione asked finally. "Am I supposed to be mad?"
"Yes!" Bloodthorne cried. Her glared at her, his teeth flashing. "We are stronger, through your gold and foolish contracts. You have unknowingly strengthened your foe!"
He glared at her, his beady eyes nasty, and Hermione moved his hand from the parchments and picked up the quill.
"Bloodthorne, I think there's been a fundamental misunderstanding somewhere along the way," she told him frankly. "You seem to think that I would be upset at helping the goblins. But I'm rather pleased to hear the loans have been so helpful."
Bloodthorne stared at her.
"I have no quarrel with the Goblin Nation," she told him patiently. "I've read about the rebellions, and honestly, they all seem to be entirely justified. There's no reason the Ministry should look down on goblins like it does."
She finished signing the contracts, standing up.
"I've really got to get back. My parents weren't expecting me to take this long," she told him. She paused. "I would do business with you again this summer. We can do an accounting of my vault?"
Something funny was happening on Bloodthorne's face. It was twisting, the folds of his flesh moving to odd places as his mouth opened. His eyes were opening oddly far, and his cheekbones jutted out. Abruptly, Hermione realized that he was smiling – and a genuine smile on a goblin, it seemed, was a far cry from a devious grin or smug smirk.
"You are a wizard unlike any other, Hermione Granger," Bloodthorne pronounced, smiling and showing many pointy teeth. "I would be happy to do business with you again."