The Broken Sword of the Hero pt1
"...So, that's how it is."
Sally had asked a little out of curiosity, and the result was just what she imagined: the master book of the bookstore had notes on every volume, along with a brief description of what they contained. Useful enchantments, organized with such precision that they worked even better than any computer from the most advanced Muggle store.
Realizing how wizards managed to improve their lives to the fullest through magic, she understood a little why so many people preferred to remain in this world. Even so, Sally didn't necessarily feel a deep connection with it. Percy seemed to share the same thought, although both accepted this reality because of Harry.
Sally knew that Percy wasn't truly a wizard. Mor had told her. He could use magic through the Mist, yes, but it wasn't the same. Harry, on the other hand, was partly a wizard, thanks to his father.
Either way, that didn't really matter. The only thing that counted for her was that both of them were safe, and that those dangerous things that always chased them wouldn't threaten their lives again. She could accept living in one world or the other, as long as they were secure.
Sally smiled as she watched Harry and Percy's serious little faces, focused at the table with several books about tracking magic. They were trying to decide which one to take first, whispering to each other, while the shop assistant patiently pointed out some options.
She, not straying too far from the children, let her gaze wander to a nearby shelf. Although she had Mor's notes, they were still the notes of a professional, and she was still a novice. She needed to learn more in order to one day reach that level.
It was then that a book caught her attention. On its cover she read: Legends and Magical Mythologies.
Sally had always been fascinated by mythological stories. It was no coincidence that her son bore the name Perseus. Since they were little, she used to tell them tales of heroes and gods before bed. However, she had never stopped to think how those same beings might be seen within the magical world. That was why the book sparked her immediate interest.
She reached out her hand to take it.
But just as her fingers were about to brush the cover, another hand collided with hers.
Sally turned—and once again, it was that unpleasant man.
"You again?" Lucius Malfoy spat, as if by touching her he had contracted leprosy. His expression twisted in hatred. With a theatrical movement, he tore off his glove and threw it to the floor, as though that could rid him of her "impurity."
"Filthy Mudblood. Don't you know your place? Do you want me to remind you?"
His voice was filled with rage. In an instant, he drew his wand from the snake-headed cane, aiming it at her without hesitation.
Sally's heart skipped a beat. She knew Lucius despised others, but he had always maintained a façade of cold nobility. This time, however, he had lost all control. Even so, Sally placed her hand on her bag, touching her grimoire, ready to defend herself.
Before Lucius could cast a spell, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
"You'd better lower that."
Adrien's cold voice drew the blond's attention. Lucius turned furiously, but when he saw the knight in shining armor, hand resting on the hilt of his sword and that unyielding gaze fixed on him, his blood froze. For a moment there was confusion, even panic, before he forced himself to regain composure and feign calm.
Adrien didn't look away. His sword began to slide slowly from its sheath, releasing a faint metallic sound.
"I'll tell you once more: put it away... or you'll lose your hand."
Lucius swallowed hard. The threat didn't sound like an insult, but an inevitable fact. The sensation was clear: if that blade was fully drawn, his arm would be the next to fall.
"Hmph. Muggles with a bit of power... and they think themselves superior."
With disdain, he put his wand away and, just to leave a mark, snatched the book Sally had tried to take. He tossed some coins carelessly onto the counter and left the bookstore hurriedly, his steps quicker than he surely would have liked to show.
Adrien kept his eyes on his back until he disappeared. Only then did he push his sword back into the sheath, letting it rest with a sharp click.
"Thank you for that," said Sally, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"It's nothing. It doesn't seem like it's the first time you've crossed paths with that one," Adrien commented, still carrying a trace of disgust in his voice.
"Yes. I ran into him before, and while he showed his contempt, he never went this far. It was... too much."
She thought of that day, when a man had followed them—probably sent by him. It was clear she needed to be more careful; Lucius wasn't only vengeful, he was dangerous.
"Some wizards think themselves nobles by heritage and act as if the world belongs to them," said Adrien with a faint scowl. "If you don't mind, I'll stay close. In case he tries something again."
Sally blushed faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Ah... thank you very much."
Meanwhile, two pairs of eyes watched them intently from behind their books, pretending to read.
"Percy... does that mean Mom's a princess?" whispered Harry.
"Yes. If she's protected by a royal knight, then she's a princess," Percy answered with absolute certainty, nodding.
"Cool."
"Yeah, cool."
They both turned their eyes back to their mother and Adrien, while the tension they had felt earlier slowly faded away. The urge to rush at Lucius was leaving them: Percy released the collar he had been gripping tightly, and Harry put back the book he had been about to throw at him.
Luckily, someone had come to protect their mother. Otherwise, they would have done it themselves.
And though it was over, both Harry and Percy silently promised themselves something: one would improve his magic, the other would finally awaken his sword.
…
"Aaaah? Are you idiots? Why don't you just mind your own business and let me do my job?" Arthur said in a monotonous tone, sitting on a barrel and staring at the dozen wizards sprawled on the ground. They were dark wizards who had attacked him while he was investigating in Knockturn Alley. Their wands lay broken everywhere; the air reeked of metal and dust stirred up from the clash.
Some clutched their stomachs with trembling hands; others hugged their arms, twisted at painful angles. One of them no longer had an arm: blood flowed slowly between his fingers, like a red river marking the silence.
"What should I do with you?" Arthur asked into the air, not expecting an answer. His words bounced between the shadowy facades and dark windows.
From one of the nearby shops, a figure emerged: Luther, calm yet with a frown of annoyance painted across his face. Smoke seeped through the crack of the door, and beyond it, flames could be glimpsed devouring shelves and furniture.
"What are you doing?" Luther shouted, forcing his way forward, his voice laden with tension.
"These idiots attacked me out of nowhere. I'm thinking what to do. If I kill them all, maybe the Wizarding World will start putting obstacles in our way to keep us from finding what we need," Arthur replied, his gaze steady, as if he were speaking about something ordinary.
"They tried to kill you?" Luther asked again, this time in a lower voice.
"Only five serious attempts. The others just seemed to want to steal my armor," said Arthur, shrugging.
"Then an eye for an eye," said Luther with tense calm, turning toward the next shop. Through the window of the previous one, fire could be seen licking the shelves; for an instant, a human silhouette was outlined against the glow before collapsing into the shadows and the flames.
Arthur drew his sword once more. It was a silver blade whose edge was engraved with ancient runes; a flash ran along the metal and, as if the sword were the key to some activation, his armor lit up for an instant with golden symbols that powered every part of it.
Luther pushed open the door to the next shop and, in doing so, heard something he simply ignored: a strangled cry, the dry sound of a body collapsing, and people begging for mercy—while Arthur dealt with the five who had tried to kill him, showing them no mercy, just as they had shown him none.
Luther paused for a moment to glance back at the shop's sign: Borgin and Burkes.
Then he entered with composure.
…
In the office of the Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, tension pressed down like a weight on the chest. Millicent sat with a discarded newspaper on her desk, rubbing her temple with her fingers against a headache that wouldn't subside. In front of her, Mad-Eye Moody and Amelia Bones listened seriously when the door suddenly burst open.
Kingsley Shacklebolt entered, panting as though he had run a great distance. His face showed a mixture of fatigue and alarm.
"Kingsley, what's happening?" Moody asked, frowning.
"This is bad. Very bad. The knights are in the Alley," Kingsley replied, trying to catch his breath.
"They arrived so quickly?" Amelia asked, concern painted across her voice.
Millicent removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm the throbbing pain behind her eyes. "Tell me nothing's happened yet," she muttered, not wanting to hear the confirmation.
"There are already five dead and two shops destroyed. They're looking for 'the broken sword of the hero,' and they don't seem like they'll stop until they find it," Kingsley said gravely.
Moody clenched his jaw. "What fool was it who stole that thing? Does no one think before touching relics?" he growled, his irritation edged with danger.
"This isn't the time to lose it," Millicent interrupted with authority. "Moody, go with them. Help them find that object as quickly as possible so they'll leave. Drive off those who attack them. If necessary, use every Auror. We don't want another case like the last one."
"This couldn't be at a worse time," Millicent whispered, her voice heavy with fatigue.
"They only attack those who attack them, and the only ones foolish enough to do so are dark wizards, so… I don't see it as that terrible," Moody said, trying to downplay the matter as he rose quickly. Kingsley followed without hesitation.
Millicent let out a long sigh. Even if the victims were mostly wrongdoers, spilled blood would bring fear to pure-blood families, and letters demanding action would soon follow. Politics would have to wrestle with panic.
"Perhaps I should retire early," the Minister murmured, exhausted, sinking back into her chair.
"Minister, would you like me to do anything?" Amelia asked, visibly concerned.
"No. Keep preparing everything for Black's trial. Let's finish that once and for all," said Millicent, trying to regain her composure.
Amelia, lowering her voice, asked: "Why would they want the broken sword of the hero?"
"I have no idea," Millicent answered. Unease spread across her face. "Let's hope it's only for some fool obsessed with relics," she added, not daring to name her darkest suspicions.
…
Lucius Malfoy appeared in a smoke-filled room, stepping out of the Floo fireplace and coming face to face with the old man who awaited him. His voice carried a tremor he couldn't conceal.
"This is bad. The knights are here," said Lucius, his usual arrogance laced with a thread of fear.
"They arrived quickly," the old man answered, outwardly cold. "No matter. We must hurry. Where are those idiots with the object?"
"Don't you understand the problem?" Lucius protested, pacing back and forth. "Those cursed knights made our master hesitate to attack the Wizarding World directly. Ten years ago, one of them killed half of our dark wizards in Knockturn. I think it was the one I ran into."
The old man growled. "Where is the object?"
Lucius looked at him, took a deep breath, and clutched the book against his chest. He knew he was in over his head; there was no turning back.
"It's ready. It's on the coast," he said, his voice barely steady.
Lucius felt his mouth go dry. Even his efforts in Occlumency hadn't fully hidden his fear when that knight had faced him with sword in hand. The image had chilled his blood: a tall man, shining armor, and implacable eyes. He himself had entered the castle to steal the sword from its vault; the Malfoys, once servants of the crown, possessed maps and keys that allowed them to pass through doors that otherwise would have been impossible to cross. If not for those keys, a knight would have decapitated them all before they could even touch the relic.
"Let's hurry. When that person appears, not even the knights will be able to stop him. After all, they're nothing but a creation of the wizard Merlin and the Muggle king he aided," the old man said with a confident, dangerous smile, stepping toward the fireplace.
"If this doesn't work, we're finished, Arcturus," Lucius murmured, following him, his mind crowded with strategies and a fear he didn't dare speak aloud—just before the Floo flames consumed them both.