HP: The Artisan's Path Chapter 108

Hi all, 

Here’s the first chapter of the week. 

Chapter 108

The next few days blurred together as Harry pushed himself through Sheena's gruelling training sessions, his body moving on autopilot as his thoughts circled endlessly around Lewis, trapped beneath that accursed black sword.

Without understanding the sword's true nature, he didn't know where to begin freeing Lewis. He decided to break the problem down into steps. First, he would find a way to separate the stone slab from the sword. This shouldn’t affect Lewis’ condition, and it might help him find the sword's weakness.

During breaks between training sessions, Harry found himself standing at Lewis' bedside, studying the stone slab from every conceivable angle. There was nothing especially unusual about it, as the appraisal scroll confirmed. Still, it made him wonder about the sword's true nature. Was it simply very sharp, sharp enough to cut through the stone slab, or did it have some magical property he hadn’t thought of?

He thought about breaking the stone slab surrounding the sword. But would that make the sword react negatively and possibly harm Lewis? His thoughts turned to Lynx’s theory about how the sword not reacting to them was a clue they could use to figure out the sword's nature. But how was he supposed to use that information? 

He tried to pull the sword out again, but found no success. Next, he tried to levitate the sword out of the stone. It didn’t react negatively, but it didn’t move either. He tried several other spells, but none of them worked.

On the third day after getting the quest, he was studying the stone slab once again when Slyther's voice cut through his contemplation.

"Have you considered using your blood on the sword?"

The question caught Harry off guard. He'd grown accustomed to Slyther's occasional hints and cryptic observations, but this suggestion felt odd.

"My blood? What would that accomplish?" Harry asked.

"Your blood carries something unique. It might disrupt the sword's effects."

Harry frowned, turning the idea over in his mind. The Source had saved him when Merlin tried to take over his body, but he couldn’t see any connection to his blood. Had the Source changed him in ways he hadn’t noticed yet? If that was true, then how did Slyther know about it?

"That's quite specific advice," Harry said. "Where did you get the idea from?"

Silence stretched between them, and Harry felt the familiar frustration of trying to pin down Slyther's motivations. The voice in his mind had been with him for over a year now, offering guidance at crucial moments, but its origins remained frustratingly opaque.

"Answer me," Harry pressed. "Where did you come from? What are you, exactly?"

Slyther didn’t respond.

“Stupid snake,” Harry muttered.

Drawing his wand, He cast a cutting charm across his palm, watching as blood welled up from the shallow wound.

Harry allowed several drops of blood to fall onto the sword's hilt, watching as the crimson liquid spread across the dark metal. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the weapon began to vibrate.

The vibration started as a barely perceptible tremor, but it quickly intensified. Harry stepped back instinctively as the weapon's tremors grew louder. Then the stone slab cracked. A jagged line appeared across the slab's surface, running from the sword's point to the stone's edge. But the crack wasn't the only change.

Lewis' body convulsed.

Harry watched in horror as his friend's unconscious form spasmed against the stone. Lewis' back arched unnaturally. Worse still, Harry could see the man's face changing. The skin grew paler, drawn tight across his cheekbones. His hair, already grey, seemed to whiten further. It was as if years were being stripped away from him in seconds.

"Lewis!" Harry lunged forward, reaching for his friend's convulsing form.

Lewis’ cheeks hollowed, and the skin around his eyes grew dark and sunken. Whatever the weapon was doing, it was feeding more aggressively than ever before.

Panic flooded through Harry's mind. This wasn't supposed to happen. Slyther had said the blood would disrupt the sword's feeding, not accelerate it. He'd made everything worse.

"Slyther, what's happening?" Harry demanded, but received no response. 

The infirmary doors burst open, and Grimshaven strode into the room, his strange, magical eyes immediately assessing the situation. 

"Stand back," Grimshaven commanded, raising his wand. He cast a spell that created a transparent barrier around Lewis, enclosing him like a protective cocoon. The convulsions slowed, then stopped, but Lewis' aged appearance remained unchanged.

"What did you do?" Grimshaven asked.

Harry's throat felt dry. "I applied blood to the sword's hilt. I thought it might disrupt the weapon's magic somehow."

"Whose blood?"

"Mine," Harry admitted.

The healer's expression grew thoughtful. “Strange. What gave you the idea to use your blood on the sword?”

Harry shrugged. “Just a stray thought I had.”

Grimshaven stared at him for a moment before retrieving a knife from his robes.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

Grimshaven ignored him, using the knife to cut his hand. He let a few drops of his blood fall onto the sword, but nothing happened.

Grimhaven frowned. “My blood doesn’t have any effect on the sword. There must be something unique about yours."

Harry shifted uncomfortably under Grimshaven's scrutiny. "Can you stabilise him again?"

"I've done what I can for now," Grimshaven replied. "But his condition has deteriorated significantly. Whatever your blood did, it seems to pissed off the sword."

The healer stepped back from the stone slab, his magical eyes never leaving Harry's face. "I have a proposition. Allow me to examine a sample of your blood. There's something unusual about it, and understanding its properties might give us the key to saving your friend."

"No," Harry said. "I'm not comfortable with that."

Grimshaven sighed. "I understand your reluctance. But consider this—without understanding why your blood provoked such a reaction, how can you hope to use that knowledge constructively? The sword responds to you differently than it would to others."

"That may be true," Harry replied, "but I'm not about to become a test subject. If there's something unusual about my blood, I'll figure it out myself."

"As you wish. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Time is running short for your friend."

Grimshaven left the infirmary. Harry stared at Lewis' withered face, guilt and frustration warring in his chest. He'd trusted Slyther's advice and made everything worse. Now he was back to square one, and worse off than before.

But there was something else nagging at him—something about the way the sword had reacted to his blood. The weapon had responded as if recognising a threat. That suggested a connection Harry didn't understand, one that might hold the key to everything if he could just puzzle it out.

“That’s the last time I listen to your advice,” Harry said, forgetting how helpful the presence had been up to this point.

Slyther didn’t respond. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Later that evening, Harry sat in his room, still thinking about a solution to Lewis' problem as he struggled with his failure.

His gauntlet chimed, indicating an incoming mirror call. Harry glanced at the interface and saw Gabrielle's name displayed.

"Accept call," he said, and her face appeared on the surface.

"Harry!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "Thank Merlin, you answered. We have a problem."

Harry straightened in his chair. "What's happened?"

"The property came under attack about an hour ago. Beast-kin—at least a dozen of them.” 

"Are you alright?” Harry asked. “Is everyone safe?"

"We're fine. My grandmere and the conclave managed to drive them off, but they seemed very interested in the unicorns—or rather, what they've become." Gabrielle's expression grew more troubled. "Harry, how could they have found out about the transformation so quickly? We've been careful."

Harry cursed under his breath. He should have anticipated this. The moment Lynx had transformed the unicorns into Pegasi, they'd become a target. The Beast-kin would be drawn to such a powerful magical creature, given that they were supposed to be extinct in both realms.

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But you're right to be worried. They'll likely return in greater numbers."

"That's what we're afraid of."

Harry frowned. If the Beast-kin mounted a proper assault, even the Delacour family's considerable magical defences might not be enough. 

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Harry said. "We need to move them."

"Move them where?" Gabrielle asked.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere the Beast-kin can't reach them." Harry paused, making a decision that had been brewing for days. "Gabrielle, there's something I need to tell you. Something about a place I've recently acquired."

After ending the call, Harry sought out Lynx, finding her in the castle's kitchen, devouring another plate of meat. She looked up as he entered, her expression immediately growing serious when she saw his face.

"The Pegasi are in danger," Harry said. "The Beast-kin attacked the Delacour property tonight."

Lynx's eyes flashed with anger. "Those bloody mongrels. I should have expected this."

"We need to move the unicorns—Pegasi—to somewhere safer. I have a place in mind, but first, I need to talk to my grandfather."

He had been thinking about telling others about Sovereign Earth for some time. He knew he couldn’t keep it a secret forever. It was a safe place his family and friends could use if they ever needed to. As long as he created a believable story, it wouldn’t expose his deeper secrets.

Harry found his grandfather in his room, who had decided to stay in the castle for a few days before returning home. Charlus looked up from the book when Harry entered, immediately noting the tension in his posture.

"Grandfather, the Delacour property was just attacked. Has Pierre contacted you?”

Charlus set his book aside. “No. What happened?”

Harry quickly shared what Gabrielle had told him, then took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something important. Something I probably should have mentioned earlier."

"Go on."

Harry took a deep breath. "I've acquired an island. A floating island, actually. It belonged to Galahad."

Charlus's eyebrows rose sharply. "Come again?"

"It's a long story, but the short version is that I discovered its existence when I was researching Galahad. It's completely secure, warded, and hidden. It would be the perfect place to relocate the Pegasi." Harry hesitated. "And potentially serve as a safe haven for all of us if things continue to deteriorate."

"A floating island," Charlus repeated. "Harry, that's..."

"Completely mental, I know. But it's real, and it's mine. I secretly built a workshop there over the past few months, and it has plenty of space to expand further. I think it's time I showed you."

Charlus studied his grandson for a long moment. "You're serious about this."

"Dead serious. I know how it sounds, but I can prove it. The island is connected to the Cursed Vaults somehow—it was Galahad's base of operations."

"Very well," Charlus replied. "Show me."

Half an hour later, Harry led Charlus and Lynx through his trunk workshop to the circular transport chamber, where the Vanishing Cabinet stood waiting.

"This connects to my main workshop in France," Harry explained as they stepped through. 

They appeared in Harry's workshop and quickly made their way across the Potter property to the Delacour estate.

The Delacour property was buzzing with activity when they arrived. Members of the conclave stopped them and tested them to make sure they were not disguised intruders.

"Harry!" Gabrielle rushed over to embrace him, relief evident in her voice. "I'm so glad you're here."

Pierre and Apolline appeared shortly after, both looking haggard from the evening's events. Seraphine followed, her expression thunderous.

"The attack was coordinated," Seraphine said. "They knew exactly what they were looking for. Someone told them about the Pegasi."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked. "We've been careful about who knows."

“Why don’t you ask your little friend?” Seraphine muttered. 

Lynx scratched her nose with her middle finger, making a rude gesture. “Why would I put my worshippers in danger? Not very smart, are you?”

Seraphine took a step forward, but Appoline held her back. 

"I know it's hard to trust Lynx because she seems a bit shady," Harry said, ignoring the girl's protest. "But she doesn’t have anything to do with this."

As they walked towards the house, Harry noticed Daphne emerging from the garden, Fawkes perched on her shoulder. She carried several vials in her hands.

"Daphne? What are you doing here?"

"I’ve been staying here for the past few days," Daphne replied. 

“What are those vials?” 

She gestured to the phoenix on her shoulder. "Fawkes has been generous enough to provide tears for a new experimental potion. It's designed to heal all types of wounds and curses—essentially a universal healing draught."

Harry's pulse quickened. "How universal?"

"Theoretically, it should work on any magical ailment, regardless of its source or complexity. I've been refining the formula, using Fawkes' tears as the base component. I think it might be exactly what Lewis needs."

“But I only told you about Lewis’ situation a few days ago. Were you able to develop a solution within that short amount of time?”

“I started developing a similar potion with Snape during our second year,” Daphne said. “But we haven’t made much progress. When Fawkes visited me, I got the idea to add phoenix tears.”

Harry stared at the innocuous-looking potion, hope and apprehension warring in his chest. After his disastrous experiment with his blood, he was hesitant to try another untested solution. But Lewis was running out of time.

"You think this could counteract the sword's curse?"

"It's our best shot," Daphne said. "The potion combines phoenix tears with several other rare ingredients that amplify healing properties. I've tested it on various curses and injuries—the results have been remarkable."

“Worth a shot,” Harry said. “But wouldn’t phoenix tears work better as a treatment on their own?”

Daphne shook her head. “On healing injuries, yes, but the tears don’t have any effect on curses.”

“You’re amazing.” Harry hugged her. “But why are you here?”

“My sister was getting on my nerves. I needed a quiet place where I could concentrate.”

Harry grinned. “Astoria can be annoying when she puts her mind to it”

“Hello? Why are we just standing here talking?” Lynx interjected. "The Pegasi are still in danger."

Harry looked around at the assembled group—his grandfather, Lynx, the Delacours, and Daphne. These were the people he trusted most in the world. If he was going to reveal Sovereign Earth to anyone, it should be them.

"I have a place," Harry said. "Somewhere completely secure.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry pressed his hand against the workshop's back wall, and the familiar door materialised. 

"This way," he said, gesturing for the group to follow him into the circular transport chamber.

The Vanishing Cabinet stood waiting, its doors already open. One by one, the group stepped through—first Charlus and Minerva, then the Delacours, followed by Daphne, and finally Lynx. The Pegasi followed last, their newly sprouted wings folding tightly against their sides as they navigated the narrow space.

They emerged into an identical chamber.

"Everyone ready?" Harry asked, moving towards the exit.

He pushed open the door and stepped aside, watching as his companions emerged into the sunlight. 

Gabrielle was the first to find her voice. "Harry, this is..."

"Impossible," Charlus finished, staring at the landscape stretching before them. "Absolutely impossible."

"We're flying," Daphne whispered. "We're actually flying.”

The Pegasi seemed less impressed by the height than the humans, but their ears pricked forward with interest as they caught the scent of the island's unique magical ecosystem. They trotted forward, already exploring their new temporary home.

"How big is it?" Pierre asked, shading his eyes as he tried to gauge the island's dimensions.

"About half a kilometre across," Harry replied. 

Seraphine examined the barrier shimmering at the island's edge, her expression thoughtful. "The ward work is extraordinary. I can feel at least a dozen different protection spells layered together."

"The wardstone's buried in the heart of the island," Harry explained, leading them away from the workshop. "It's powered by a massive rift. The whole island is essentially a floating magical ecosystem."

As they walked, Harry pointed out various features. "It's completely hidden from Muggle detection, positioned in international waters between France and England. Commercial flights don't come anywhere near it."

"This belonged to Galahad?" Apolline asked.

"That's right. I discovered its existence whilst researching the Cursed Vaults. This was his base of operations." Harry glanced around the group, noting their varying expressions of awe and disbelief. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in. Daphne, Gabrielle—you can tell Hermione and Susan about this place, but no one else for now. The fewer people who know, the better."

Both girls nodded, understanding the gravity of the secret they were being entrusted with.

"How did you manage to keep this hidden?" Minerva asked. 

"The transport network helps," Harry admitted. "I can travel from my trunk workshop to France, then here, without anyone noticing I've left the country. As far as anyone knows, I'm just spending time in my workshop."

Lynx had been unusually quiet since emerging from the transport chamber, her dark eyes taking in every detail of the island with an intensity that made Harry uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke.

"I have never heard of this Galahad,” Lynx said. “But he must be related to the fae somehow.”

“What makes you say so?” Harry asked. 

“Because a typical wizard couldn’t create this place.”

“I’m sure wizards can create something like this, given the right amount of resources and time,” Harry said. “But I think Galahad is linked to the fae. Do you remember me mentioning Merlin? There's a complicated and messy story behind that.”

Lynx nodded. "I'd like to hear it sometime."

"This is where I was planning to build your temple."

The effect was immediate and dramatic. Lynx's excitement was so intense it practically radiated from her small form.

"Here? Really?" She spun in a circle, taking in the island with fresh eyes. "Oh, Harry, this is perfect!"

"What exactly does a temple do?" Gabrielle asked.

Lynx clasped her hands together, her earlier doubts forgotten in her enthusiasm. "A temple isn't just a building—it's a focal point for our magic. It amplifies the connection between a deity and their worshippers."

Daphne looked between Harry and Lynx. "How long would it take to build?"

"That depends on how elaborate we make it," Lynx replied. "A basic temple could be completed in a few weeks with the right materials and magical assistance.”

"We'll start planning immediately," Harry said. "But first, we need to test the potion on Lewis."

He wasn’t sure how the potion would help remove the sword from Lewis, but it could bring back some of his strength. That would buy him some time to figure out another way to fix the problem. The quest still had a few days left, and he had to find an answer before then.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry pushed open the infirmary door to find Grimhaven hunched over his desk, surrounded by open books and scattered parchments. 

"Mr Potter," Grimhaven said without looking up. "I wasn't expecting to see you again tonight."

"I've been thinking about Lewis' condition," Harry said, approaching the desk. "There might be something we can try."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Harry withdrew a small vial from his robes. "A vitality potion."

The healer examined the vial with obvious scepticism. "Where did you acquire this?”

“My girlfriend brewed it," Harry interrupted. "The main ingredient is phoenix tears."

Grimshaven opened the vial and sniffed it, but his face showed no reaction. He poured a drop into his mouth next. His expression shifted to surprise.

"Will you let me try it on Lewis?" Harry asked.

The healer was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the desk. "The risks are considerable. If the potion interacts poorly with the sword's magic, it could accelerate the patient’s demise."

"Lewis is dying anyway," Harry said. "At least this gives him a chance."

"Very well. But I'll monitor every step of the process."

They moved to Lewis' bedside, where the unconscious man lay as still as death. Harry uncorked the vial, preparing to pour the contents into Lewis' mouth.

"Wait," Slyther's familiar voice spoke in his mind. "Add some of your blood to the potion first."

Harry froze, his hand hovering over Lewis' lips. After the incident earlier, he was deeply wary of following Slyther's advice blindly.

"What would that accomplish?" Harry asked silently.

"The potion alone won't work," Slyther explained. "But there's something about your blood that the sword doesn't like. I theorise the potion will help Lewis maintain his vitality whilst the sword fights against your blood."

Harry's grip tightened on the vial. Slyther's suggestions had led Lewis into danger earlier, but they'd also helped on multiple occasions. Should he trust him?

"Mr Potter?" Grimhaven said, noticing his hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

Harry made his decision. He drew his wand and nicked his thumb, allowing several drops of blood to fall into the golden liquid. 

"Interesting modification," Grimhaven said. "Though I can't say I understand the reasoning."

Harry tilted Lewis' head back and poured the potion between his lips, massaging his throat to ensure he swallowed. The reaction was immediate and dramatic.

The sword began vibrating violently. But rather than harming Lewis, the trembling seemed to be causing him less distress. Colour flooded back into his pale cheeks, and the lines of pain around his eyes began to fade. He looked younger, as if the years of suffering were melting away before their eyes.

"Remarkable," Grimhaven breathed, leaning closer to examine his patient. "His vital signs are strengthening rapidly. Whatever you've done, it's working."

The sword's vibrations grew more violent, and Harry felt a sudden chill of premonition. 

"Get back," he warned, grabbing Grimhaven's shoulder and yanking him away from the bed.

The warning came just in time. With a wet, tearing sound, the sword ripped itself from Lewis' shoulder and spun through the air, its point aimed directly at where Grimhaven's head had been moments before. Dark blood dripped from the blade as it hung suspended in midair, turning slowly to face them.

Grimhaven stared at the floating weapon, his magical eyes wide with disbelief. "Bloody hell. It's sentient."

The sword dove at them, cutting through the air with a high-pitched whistle. Harry activated his Velocier ability, pushing it straight to level eight as the familiar rush of enhanced agility flooded through him. He threw himself sideways in a desperate roll, feeling the metal pass through the space where he'd stood with barely inches to spare. 

The weapon wheeled around for another attack. Harry's gauntlet responded to his mental command, providing him access to his spell cards. He grabbed several and fired a rapid succession of fireballs and scythes, the magical projectiles streaking across the room.

The sword dodged most of them, its movements becoming a deadly dance as it twisted and spun through the air. The few spells that came close struck its surface with ringing impacts. The fireballs that missed their target exploded against the infirmary walls, scorching the stone and sending medical instruments flying in all directions. 

Harry backpedalled across the room, his enhanced speed barely keeping him ahead of the blade's relentless assault. The sword seemed to anticipate his movements with uncanny intelligence. It cut off his escape routes systematically, driving him steadily towards the far wall where a tall window. 

The sword came at him again, this time feinting left before slashing right in a move that would have opened his throat if he hadn't seen it coming. Harry ducked under the blade and rolled behind an overturned table, using the brief respite to think. Conventional spells weren't working.

A desperate idea struck him. Harry pressed his already bleeding thumb against several of his Scythe spell cards, coating them with fresh blood.  

He sent wave after wave of Scythe cards at the sword. Each impact sent visible chips flying from the weapon's dark surface, and its movements became increasingly erratic. With a final, furious spin, the sword shattered the infirmary window and disappeared into the night sky.

Harry released his Velocier ability and staggered, the sudden return to normal time leaving him exhausted. He turned to find Grimhaven huddled in the corner.

"Why didn't you help?" Harry demanded.

"It looked like you had everything under control," Grimhaven said.

A sudden gasp made them both turn. Lewis was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide and unfocused. 

"Lewis!" Harry rushed to his side, hope flooding through him.

But Lewis didn't seem to hear him. The man looked around the room blankly, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. After a moment, he collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes closing once more.

Grimhaven pushed Harry aside and began casting diagnostic spells over Lewis' prone form. "Let me examine him properly."

"How is he?" Harry asked.

"Remarkable, given his ordeal," Grimhaven said after a long moment. "But he won't be waking again anytime soon. He's experienced significant trauma. He needs time to recover."

Harry felt frustration building in his chest, a tight knot of disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him. After everything he'd been through to find Lewis—the months of searching, following dead-end leads, tracking down members of the old resistance movement, and finally discovering him in that godforsaken clearing in Wales with a cursed sword through his shoulder—the man was still beyond reach. 

He stared down at Lewis' peaceful face, noting how much younger the man looked now that the sword's influence had been removed. Harry's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he fought the urge to shake Lewis awake, to demand the information that felt so tantalisingly close yet impossibly far away.

"I need to report this incident to the higher-ups immediately," Grimhaven said, straightening up. "That artifact is sentient, and it can harm anyone it encounters. The guild must be warned."

"How long until he wakes up?" Harry asked. 

"Hard to say. It may be tomorrow or a week from now. His body will know when he’s ready.”

After Grimhaven left, Harry slumped into the chair beside Lewis' bed, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He was about to close his eyes when a familiar warmth spread across his forearm.

Harry glanced down at his gauntlet. He activated the interface with a mental command, and the small screen flickered to life, displaying a message notification.

===========

The host has completed a task: Sword of Shadows

Reward: 500,000 General Experience

> Level 20: 775100 / 1000000 

===========

He closed the message and looked back at the sleeping man. "When you wake up, we're going to have a very long conversation."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The days following the sword incident had sent ripples of unease throughout the castle. Word spread quickly among the knights and apprentices about the sentient weapon that had attacked Harry and Grimhaven in the infirmary. Several senior knights increased their patrols, whilst others demanded a full investigation into where it had disappeared to. 

Harry found himself the subject of whispered conversations and curious stares whenever he walked the corridors. Some of the younger apprentices looked at him with newfound respect, whilst others seemed wary of getting too close to someone who attracted such dangerous encounters. 

Lewis remained unconscious despite Grimhaven's continued efforts. The healer had moved him to a more secure wing of the infirmary, surrounded by protective wards and constant monitoring charms. Harry visited twice daily, hoping for any sign of improvement, but Lewis showed no response to external stimuli. 

The training had intensified significantly since that night. Sheena seemed determined to push Harry and the other apprentices harder than ever, as if the incident had reminded her of the real dangers they might face as knights. Morning runs became longer and more gruelling, and combat practice grew more demanding.

Harry was sparring with Erik in the main courtyard when Sheena approached, accompanied by another knight Harry recognised as Sir Magnus, a grizzled veteran with silver hair and numerous battle scars. 

"Attention, apprentices," Sheena called out. 

The sparring matches gradually ceased as everyone turned to face her. She withdrew a rolled parchment from her belt and unrolled it.

"The following names are to report immediately," Sheena announced. "Harry Potter, Erik Lindgren, Jorge Mendez, Astrid Karlsson, and Mikhail Petrov."

Harry lowered his practice staff. "What's the list for?"

Sheena smiled. "The names I just called out are the ones we believe are ready for the next part of your training."

"What’s that?" Harry asked.

"You will be fitted with your own Knight's armour," Sheena said. "Follow me."

Harry felt a surge of excitement run through him. The runic armour worn by the knights was legendary throughout the magical world, each suit a masterpiece of enchantment and metallurgy. He'd been eager to examine the complex magical arrays that powered the protective systems ever since Sheena had first mentioned them.

The selected apprentices eagerly followed Sheena and Sir Magnus as they led them through winding corridors to a part of the castle Harry hadn't explored before. They passed through several courtyards and crossed a covered bridge that offered spectacular views of the surrounding Finnish countryside. The path eventually led them outside the main castle walls, following a well-worn trail that wound down the hillside.

Soon, the rhythmic sound of hammering reached their ears, growing steadily louder as they approached their destination. Harry's anticipation built with each step, wondering what kind of workshop could produce armour of such renowned quality.

They crested a small rise and saw their destination spread out before them—an impressive open-sided structure built directly into the hillside itself, with multiple forges blazing within. But it was the figures working at those forges that caught Harry's attention and made him stop in his tracks.

They were dwarves.

Harry blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. He'd read about dwarves in his History of Magic textbooks, of course, but they were supposed to be extinct, wiped out during the goblin wars centuries ago. Yet here they stood, very much alive.

The nearest dwarf stood barely four feet tall, his broad shoulders and thick arms hammering out what appeared to be a breastplate on his anvil. His beard, shot through with grey streaks, was plaited into intricate braids that clinked softly with each strike of his hammer. Protective leather covered his forearms, but his hands moved without gloves despite the obvious heat radiating from the forge.

"Close your mouth, Potter," Sheena said. "You're catching flies."

Harry realised he'd been gaping and snapped his jaw shut. Around him, the other apprentices wore similar expressions of shock and wonder. 

All the training up to this point was worth it to see a scene like this.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Lewis awakens, and Harry’s third year at Hogwarts approaches. 

Thanks for reading.