EXERCISE: #8
TITLE: Silver Blades
AUTHOR: DragonLady
RATING: G
CHARACTERS: Rowena Ravenclaw, primarily. Mentions of other Founders.
SUMMARY: Rowena Ravenclaw reflects on past magics and preparations for the future.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling invented Harry Potter and his world, she owns both copyright and credit. She's the one paid, not me.
DATE: 2/23/02

Silver Blades

Rowena Ravenclaw stood stiffly, arching her back until it popped. Sighing, the gray-haired witch looked around her quaint home in Hogsmeade. It was neat and orderly, with bookshelves everywhere. Books filled every shelf, books like the one she'd been reading for the past four hours. Time was when she could read for five and not be stiff. But those times had past, she was well over forty now. For her time, 1024 AD, she was an ancient, even among the long-lived wizard- folk.

Rowena glanced down at the book again. It was a book on Greek mythology, but Rowena's concerns were more than academic. It was there in the book, validation of what she had supposed for twenty years, ever since the shiver of dark magic and unfathomable power that had woke her in her bed, shivering, on the final day of Hogwarts' construction. The feeling of something terrible starting. And here it was, proof in a dust old tome.

I told Godric he should study more. Rowena sighed again in fond disgust. Perhaps together, old friends, we could have stopped Salazar. But the past was written, and only Chronos, God of Time, the personification of all temporal energy, could undo the past. But he wouldn't.

It was Chronos that had made the black power that night long ago. Salazar had made a deal with Time; in return for crafting Slytherin a chamber impossible to find, accessible only to his Heir, and containing a weapon capable of destroying all of "impure" blood, Salazar had sold a descendant of his to Chronos, to serve as the Guardian of Time. The twin to Slytherin's Heir would be responsible for ensuring History was never re-written, that none unworthy could breach Time's Gates.

Rowena didn't know which frightened her more - that the tower existed or that an Heir to Slytherin was Time's Guard.

Rowena shuffled into the back room of her home. Her special room, her sanctuary. The forge. She was too old and frail now to work the metal, but the heat and smells warmed her soul. Hanging on the back wall were her babies, the culmination of her hobby. The Nine Swords of Power she had crafted in response to Salazar's weapon. Each sword was as magical as Hogwarts, with a name and a specialized purpose. They weren't alive, but close. They could be used for great evil, true, but that was a risk Rowena had to take, a risk she had planned for. Each of the swords could be balanced by another.

A cough racked Rowena's body, reminding her that death wasn't too far behind her. Nodding at the unseen reaper, Rowena took down the nine swords, and four others from their racks. She shuffled to the well she had dug with magic when the house was first built, and spoke the incantation needed.

"In steel I have poured strength,
In mere metal alone I have added power.
To protect the innocent, I hide the blades,
Until the needy hour."

The water shimmered, showing a snow-swept waste. Rowena picked up the first sword. "Charmender, slayer of the Mortal, Immortal and Undead - I consign you to the North." Rowena dropped the sword into the well, which teleported the rust-proof sword to the location shown in it's depths.

The water shimmered again, showing a bizarre and colorful land, with towering temples and paper houses. "Spellbreaker, who grants immunity to the Wielder against all magics - I consign you to the East." Rowena released her hand, sending Spellbreaker to the Orient.

Ripples changed the image and destination again, this time showing a land filled with odd, cow-like creatures, open plains of grass next to towering, rocky mountains. "Senseblinder, who makes its Wielder invisible to all senses, magic or mundane - I consign you to the West." Senseblinder plunged into the water, coming to rest in a new continent.

A desert came to life in the water, filled with dark-skinned and rich- voiced people. "Planetslicer, unbreakable sword with nothing you cannot cut through - I consign you to the South."

Next, a cave was shown, with stalagmites and stalactites everywhere. "Necromancer, ruler and raiser of the Dead - I consign you to Rock."

A volcano appeared in the water, it's heat making steam rise from the surface. Rowena held the next sword aloft, choking back coughs that would shatter the magic. "Heartcaller, who give the Wielder power to enslave any man's soul, to call unswerving obedience to all who are near or cut by you - I consign you to Fire."

The ocean came next, cool and deep. "Windhearer, listener to thoughts and sounds no matter how distant - I consign you to Water."

The last transformation shook the water, showing a desolate place ruled by wind - her own Scottish Moors. "Soulmender, who heals wounds that others make - I consign you to Air."

"Remain hidden in your places sound,
Until Pathtaker calls your circle round.
Perchance to fight in Light's own hand,
Or in Darkness to destroy the land."

Rowena sagged against the well, shaking and pale with exhaustion. The spell was complete, the swords hidden. There was less chance now, of a nefarious mage finding them, but it was always a possibility. That was why she wasn't done. Grunting, Rowena stood and made her way to Hogwarts, carrying the last Sword of Power.

Rowena was panting by the time she reached the drafty, echoing castle. Rowena slowly made her way to the Headmaster's office. Once, she'd filled that office, but no more. She knew the opening and the stair so well, she didn't need to light the torches. No need to wake the few students who hadn't gone on Yule holiday.

She reached the warm office relatively quickly. With a flick of her wand, Rowena hung Pathtaker above the fireplace. The sword glittered there, a shining, silver beacon.

"Tell the Headmaster about the swords, tell every Headmaster from her onwards about them." Rowena instructed weakly, settling into a chair. "Don't reveal their hiding places, only that they are." Was it just her imagination, or was the room getting dark? No, it was time for her to join the other Founders. "Tell them all, each and every one about the Soulswords as well." Pathtaker blazed in acknowledgment. Maybe they're more alive than I give them credit for.

Sleepy, Rowena summoned the Sorting Hat they'd made. Was it only twenty years ago? It seemed like only a few weeks. But it had been a generation, and a generation had passed. Weakly, she dropped one Soulsword into the Hat. Helga Hufflepuff, it read.

"Keep them safe for me." Rowena whispered to the hat.

"The Founders Four live on, do they?" The hat said kindly, wisely. "I will keep them here, together, until they are needed."

"Thank you." Rowena muttered, dropping a green-jeweled sword into the hat, then a red and gold one. Both disappeared. "Good-bye, Helga, Godric... Salazar." In the end, she'd infused a soulsword with his spirit. Despite his mistaken beliefs and wrongs, Rowena couldn't bear leaving him to Eternity. *I think we'll pay for that, someday.* Rowena thought, then picked up the last blade, made of sapphire and seeming moonlight. Pressing the cross-hilts to her forehead, Rowena spoke the spell words.

A blaze of light, and the final blade fell into the Sorting Hat. On its hilt was emblazoned Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Yes, I'll keep you all safe until you are needed. All safe indeed." The Hat whispered into the cold winter night. "Until you are needed, here you'll stay. Sleep well, friends, sleep well."