Son of Magic

Chapter 21

11th December, 1941

Fae Realm,

Northern Wales

Harry didn't know what compelled him to come here, to this place he'd fashioned for the fae aeons ago—didn't know what compelled him to even remotely contemplate accepting this alleged bond between him and the sword.

It came to him in a dream, yes, but he was unsure of this sudden, inexplicable acceptance of his destiny—the one he'd turned tail and run from so long ago.

He had no desire for it or the power that it would grant him. He had more than enough power in his own right—far more than he was necessarily comfortable with. Seeking any more of it seemed foolish to him and felt too much like he was tempting fate. And while Fate had always seemed to favour him, it wasn't lost on him—the way she'd always played him for her own divine entertainment—the way she'd hurdled one impossible obstacle after another at him just to watch him flounder and scrape for his life by the skin of his teeth.

So, why was he here? After all this time? After promising himself that he would never accept the sword and all that it entailed?

He didn't know why. Didn't know where this unbidden longing had come from. It had crawled under his chest cavity, affixed itself to his heart, sunk into his bloodstream, and then it began to itch, itch, and itch.

But the reasons didn't much matter anymore, not with Aithusa at his side waiting on his command—waiting for him to take the first plunge into the Shadow Realm where he would be tested for his worth.

His worth.

It came as a surprise to him, that he had to fight for the sword and earn his right to wield it—that Merlin, in his old age, had decided that he must complete a series of trials before it— No, she—before she could truly belong to him. Before she would bond with him for the rest of eternity.

Because, most naturally, the sword that was destined to belong to him was a sentient object with a mind of her own.

"She felt slighted by your rejection," Merlin had told him with a damning twinkle in his eyes that unpleasantly reminded him of Dumbledore. "She would not choose another master, although many have tried," he went on to say. "But she will not simply allow you to wield her any more. Not after you've abandoned her for so many centuries—left her longing to be whole for so long. She wants you to fight for her."

Of course, she did. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Nothing could ever be easy and straightforward for Harry. Why ever should it?

So, now, Harry had to fight for the allegiance and affections of a sword he wasn't even certain he wanted.

Harry was being sent on a glorified treasure hunt—a hunt with no clues and no idea of how long it would last. Days, months, perhaps even years if Harry was really unlucky. The only reassurance he had was that he wouldn't be alone. No, thankfully, his old friend and trusted dragon Aithusa was allowed to accompany him on this dangerous quest where his magic would be rendered useless. Because, naturally, in the Shadow Realm magic was inaccessible. Instead, the only weapons Harry will have on him were his old twin swords, his bow and arrows, and a single dagger, all of which had been forged by goblins and fae as a gift to him so very long ago.

"It's time," he told his old friend while steeling his nerves for the battles to come.

"I will not leave your side, Harry," he heard Aithusa's reassuring melodious voice in his head. "I will protect you from the demon shadows below," she promised, lowering her head to lightly nudge the wizard she'd missed so much.