Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 62

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

"Ow!" Farnese lightly yelped as she put her finger to her mouth yet again. This was the fourth time now she had gotten a sliver from attempting to properly carve her staff from the wood of the masthead. She had more than enough to work with to have it at a length that would be proper for her height, that was not the problem. The problem was actually being able to craft the thing to how she wanted it.

Teacher Harry had told her not to be discouraged if she was having trouble as he had gone through quite a bit of wood himself trying to craft his first staff. Teacher Schierke had also interjected saying that his past tries often shattered into pieces when he tried to use them, much to Harry's embarrassment.

She hoped that wouldn't happen to her when she tried to actually use it, but before it even came to that she had to carve it out first and she already had enough splinters now as it was. Before she returned to her tedious task, a light presence seemed to float down to her.

"Having trouble, Lady Farnese?"

Serpico's face was as passive and calm as she remembered, but she had been in his company enough to know the difference between a simple question and light concern. Maybe it had to do with him knowing what she meant when she said one thing but meant another. Whatever the case, she was happy to have someone to confide in.

"I can see the design in my mind clear enough, but I don't seem apt in the actual process of making it a reality." She had spent more than a fair amount of time debating on what she wanted it to look like when finished. She had once been the commander of the Holy Iron Chain Knights, an organization bent on serving God; and it had been a lie. What was God's work was only a distraction for her, a way to get her out of the house and out of trouble.

People accused of witchcraft who were all but innocent in a world far too cruel, she had been tasked with lighting the pyre for those same souls who were now probably trapped in what her teachers called the Abyss, the lowest of the astral layers and where their enemy now draws their power from. Their enemy now was a being who was all but supreme, the Hawk of Light who was said to lead the people to prosperity. That too was a lie.

That being who paraded around as a savior was but a deceiver, one who would take the lives of millions to secure his kingdom, one who would sacrifice the life of an innocent queen because of her blood, and the one who had made Casca retreat into her own mind. Before meeting her and all the others, Farnese never would have thought she would ever truly call someone a friend, but going through near-death experiences would do that to a person. And having been Casca's primary caretaker for the duration of their journey, Farnese couldn't help but feel a sense of loathing for who made her like that to begin with.

"Would you allow me to assist you in your endeavor?" Serpico asked seeing the look on her face that was contemplative.

"I'm unsure," Farnese told him. "Teachers Harry and Schierke both made their own staffs on their own." Well, before Harry's first one broke.

"Hm." Serpico lightly nodded but made no move to leave her side. "The fruit of their efforts have shown, but I doubt that it was the result of just their work. I mean to deprive them of no credit," Serpico added when seeing her brief look of confusion. "But even Schierke had Miss. Flora as a teacher to assist her and Harry learned from them."

"Yes," Farnese admitted as much. "I do not wish to bother my teachers at the moment. They are both still trying to get an understanding of the spell used to repel those cloaked figures, the Patronus charm, I believe."

Serpico's thin brows knitted together for a fraction at the mention of the beings called Dementors. "I recall the feeling of being near them as well during that fight. It was... unpleasant to say the least." She regarded him with concern. This was the first Serpico spoke of being near those things. Guts had it the worst, but Serpico was still close to him when they had attacked.