Hermione's mother had denounced her father's idea as the most careless, irresponsible thing he could possibly do.
"It's like you're encouraging her to face down a monster!" she said. "Giving her a blade. Honestly."
"Like it or not, our daughter is living in a fantasy novel," her father said stubbornly. "And it is our sworn duty, as her parents, to do all we can to equip her and protect her in her fight."
Hermione had left her parents to argue it out, which they continued to do so over the next several days, her father researching different kinds of swords they could get her, with her mother researching all the ways every blade he found was outlawed in the UK.
Hermione knew she was lucky she'd gotten off as lightly as she had. She was well aware that her parents could have pulled her out of Hogwarts. Though she thought she put up a decent argument (magical schools were inherently dangerous; Mahoutokoro was the only one that regularly reported next to no magical accidents, but that was on top of a volcano, so how safe could it really be?), Hermione suspected her parents were willing to accept the danger for her more for... other reasons.
Hermione was well aware that her parents were proud that she had finally made friends and had a sense of belonging somewhere for the first time, and she suspected that played a large role in their decision. Hermione remembered all-to-well the loneliness and isolation of muggle school, and she knew her parents would be heartbroken to make her lose the first friends she'd ever made.
They had agreed to let her go back, though, with the stipulation of taking a weapon with her.
In her mind, that was about as close to a best possible outcome as she could possibly get.
Hermione went back to Diagon Alley to do her Christmas shopping alone on a weekday, unnervingly close to the holiday itself, but it was unavoidable. A lot of her gift shopping she had actually done in the Muggle world this year, but she walked up and down the alleyway anyway, toying with an idea and mulling it over in her mind. She stopped at The Hopping Pot for warm butterbeer and to doodle on a piece of parchment, before finally nodding, resolute.
Her hands felt nearly frozen by the time she finally made her way to Gringotts, nodding respectfully to the goblins standing guard.
Gringotts, despite its imposing structure, was warm, and Hermione rubbed her arms and hands as she waited her turn in line. When she was at the front, she offered the goblin a short bow.
"I would speak to Bloodthorne," Hermione said, and the goblin gave her a suspicious look.
"Bloodthorne is busy," he said slowly. "I would help you."
"I would wait for Bloodthorne," Hermione said. "My time is my own, and I would spend it waiting."
The goblin gave her a searching look.
"You would speak with Bloodthorne," he said, "but would Bloodthorne speak to you?"
Hermione held up chin up defiantly. "He would."
With a scowl, the little goblin popped off his chair and trotted away, and Hermione let out a breath of relief. With the goblins she didn't know, she felt like she was stumbling around on a minefield, trying her best to observe their ways and not disrespect them.
The goblin returned with another in turn, and Hermione was surprised to realize that she could recognize Bloodthorne this time – something about the tilt of his nose and gleam in his eyes. All the other goblins blended together, but at least being able to recognize one goblin was progress, right?
"Miss Hermione Granger," he greeted her, giving her a deep bow and a grin full of pointy teeth. "I would do business with you on this day."
"Bloodthorne," Hermione said, bowing deeply as well. "I would do business with you as well."
Bloodthorne's eyes gleamed. "Then if you would follow me…?"
He led her to a private consultation room.
"I have contracts for you to sign," he told her. "You would sign with this quill."
With a sigh, Hermione took the quill from him, looking reluctantly at the thick stack of parchments.
"This hurts, you know," she informed him, and Bloodthorne only grinned.
Signature after gleaming signature appeared on the parchments as she signed, hissing in pain as the quill scratched and stole blood from her body. She paused after a few, taking a moment to dry the 'ink' with a puff of air so it wouldn't smear.
"You said you would do business with me on this day," Bloodthorne repeated. His eyes gleamed greedily. "Do you have a new scheme?"
"Not quite," Hermione admitted. "I would commission a weapon from the horde."
Bloodthorne froze.
"You would commission a weapon," he said, his voice oddly casual. It was an odd tone for a goblin to hold.
"I would," Hermione said carefully.
"And this weapon," Bloodthorne said, not looking at her. "What would it be?"
Hermione took a deep breath.
"It would be a sword," she said. "It would be a djinn flyssa, or a rapier, with a blade that is strong but a length I could manage. The handguard would be decorated with Slytherin motifs and stones. I would have it look something like this."
Hermione pushed the drawing she'd carefully worked on across the table, and Bloodthorne took it carefully.
"You have drawn this?" he questioned. His eyes glinted, and Hermione swallowed.
"I have," she said.
"Your craftsmanship is admirable," Bloodthorne said. Hermione couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "You would be a skilled metalsmith, if you were a goblin."
"And yet, I am not," Hermione said carefully. There was a tension in the air, one where Hermione wasn't sure of the source. "I would commission such a blade."
"And this blade," Bloodthorne said. "What would you do with it?"
Hermione paused.
"I—I would try—"
"Yes?" Bloodthorne's eyes glinted beadily.
Hermione's mind blanked, and she took a deep breath.
"Honestly, I want it in case I get the chance to kill Slytherin's monster," she admitted, dropping her efforts at copying the goblins' language patterns. "I don't think I know enough magic to take down a monster, but a blade would probably help a lot. Most things die if you make them bleed enough."
Bloodthorne cackled.
"And this sword, that you would murder a monster with," he said, eyes glinting. "What would you do with it after?"
"Um, I don't know," Hermione said. "Hang it up on the wall in the house until I need it again? I don't really anticipate—"
She broke off and groaned.
"I forgot," she said. "Goblin ownership is different, isn't it? You're concerned I would keep it forever."
Bloodthorne looked surprised and suspicious, but Hermione carried on.
"I would keep it for my life and a day," Hermione said. "That's what you say, isn't it? And then it would return to its maker. I'm fine with that. We can make a contract, if you want, saying that if my descendants want to keep the sword, they need to pay X amount of galleons in order to keep it. That way, no one will ever be able to object, and no one will be claiming so-and-so stole the sword from whatever what's-her-name."
Bloodthorne looked at her suspiciously.
"You would strike such a deal?" he asked her skeptically.
Hermione shrugged. "Why not? We've been on such good terms this whole time. I'm not about to end it by disrespecting your ways. And if the goblins are helping me, why would I object?"
Incredibly, Bloodthorne began to laugh.
"You respect our ways," he told her, pointy teeth glinting with his grin. "Your attempts are noted and recognized. But the goblins honor their debts with their skill, aware or not."
He smirked at her, and Hermione blinked.
"You and I will strike a deal," he told her. "We would both sign a contract, and your sword would be commissioned by the finest."
"That's… that sounds perfect," Hermione said hesitantly. "But… what debt…?"
Bloodthorne only grinned.
"It will be an honor the goblins will fight over, to craft this sword," he said. "Finish the contracts you were signing; I will draft one of commission for us now."
Eyes wide and blinking, Hermione uncertainly resumed scrawling her name over the contracts. There were another two dozen she had to get through, which seemed a lot. She wondered if any of these were already completed and just backdated – maybe Bloodthorne was just finalizing paperwork.
"We have a contract," Bloodthorne announced. "If you would sign."
Bloodthorne's name already shone at the bottom in his blood, darker than human blood, but Hermione took her time to read over the contract, her eyes growing wide.
"My descendants can keep it?" she said, astonished. "Really?"
"So long as the House of Granger continues to hold the loan contract previously made," Bloodthorne said, "the Goblin Horde will grant the House of Granger this sword."
That was incredibly generous, and it was Hermione's turn to be suspicious. "Why?"
Bloodthorne sneered. "Why what?"
"Why would we get to keep it?" Hermione wanted to know. "I went to the trouble of respecting your culture and ways, and now you're not even using your own customs? I don't get it."
Bloodthorne's teeth glinted.
"I would keep my secrets, as you would keep your own," he informed her. "The contract has been made, plain and bold. If you agree to it, sign, but I may keep my reasoning to be my own."
Hermione read through the contract again, carefully. The goblins would make her a sword as requested, made of silver and decorated with emeralds. The sword would be sharp, able to cut through the hide of any beast, from dog to dragon. The contract held that as long as Hermione and her House kept allowing the goblins use of her vault to finance loans, she could hold onto the sword indefinitely. There was no complicated legalese; the contract was stark in its forthrightness.
"Alright," Hermione said finally, gesturing, and with a grin, Bloodthorne handed her back the blood quill.
As soon as her signature gleamed at the bottom, Bloodthorne snatched the contract and rolled it up, securing it with a ribbon.
"If you would give me your drawing," he asked her, "so the smith might know what you want."
Hermione nodded wordlessly, handing him her sketch, and Bloodthorne wrapped that up too.
"How long does it take?" Hermione asked. "To make a sword?"
"Any sword? Days," Bloodthorne dismissed. "But this sword? This sword will take longer. The finest goblin-wrought silver and enchantments take time, and your sword will be made right."
Hermione wasn't sure about the integrity of silver as a metal to make a blade from – she'd rather thought carbonized steel would be the way to go – but perhaps magic made up for a lack of technology there. She still wasn't sure why the goblins would be willing to make her a sword and let her keep it, and she suspected she was missing some key element of the trade, but Bloodthorne didn't seem inclined to inform her any time soon.
"I would send for you when your blade is complete," Bloodthorne told her. He bowed deeply. "A pleasure to do business with you once again, Miss Granger."
"The pleasure was all mine," Hermione said bowing back. "I will see you again when the blade is done."
Bloodthorne's eyes gleamed.
"Yes," he said. "You will."