[FF] Trinity VI: The Blood (Type-Moon/Harry Potter X-over)

[Techlet]

*On the rooftop of the Einzbern Estate*

Shirou: It is a good life we lead, father.

Kiritsugu, puffing on a cigarette: The best. May it never change.

Shirou: And may it never change us.

*The Sun rises over the horizon*

[burningclaw2]

The next day Shirou finds himself bound and gagged to the bed, nude with a very very very horny veela!Ilya over him.

[Alectai]

??? WTF? Everybody knew that Slytherin won House Cup because Snape is cheating bastard that punish other houses out of proportion, reward his house out of proportion and never penalties his house. They never were true winner. In that case Dumbles just reminded them that it is game with more than one player... There is reason why other two houses cheered for that and it's not Slytherin-hate. It would been better if Dumbledore acted more like that...

Possible I suppose, but I'm decently sure that one teacher can't singlehandedly declare "My side wins, end of story". I'm fairly sure while he favors Slytherin, the only ones outside the House who he really goes out of his way to abuse are the ones the viewpoint is focused on--because the alternative is that Every other professor shrugs and lets him do it, and doesn't try finding any ways to compensate for it.

Then again, that's entirely possible in this setting

Favoritism is one thing, actually breaking the system is another thing entirely, and even if that's the case, you still had a bunch of first year kids that suddenly saw their "Big Achievement" pulled out from under them at what was literally the last minute. That's still a horrible fucking thing to do to children.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Harry Potter and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of J.K. Rowling, along with her publishers and Warner Bros., as regards the movie material.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.



Writer's Note: Certain dialogue sequences in this story are lifted from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, but I trust in the intelligence of my readers (and the availability of the books) to recognise them when they see them.



Chapter 5 - Pillow Talk


July 27 - August 1, 1996






“Well,” Galen murmured as he leaned against the doorway of the forge, watching Shirou, “I must admit - I’m impressed.”

The redhead set the blade into its water tray, to begin the final cooling process, and then turned. “Thanks - it was a lot of work, but I think it’s turned out pretty well.”

Galen smirked. “Actually, it’s more by the fact that after two solid weeks with Ilya, you’re still able to walk under your own power. I’d half-expected to find you confined to a wheelchair.”

Shirou scowled, which made Galen’s smirk widen, even as the other wizard challenged him, “Do you really want to get into this?”

Galen shrugged casually. “No - but if I didn’t twit you at least a little, you’d be wondering if I was really me.” He laughed. “Besides, I know Milady reasonably well, and I honestly did half-expect to find you a worn-out shell of a man.”

Now it was Shirou’s turn to laugh, a sharp bark that nevertheless contained genuine humour as he admitted, “I can’t say that she didn’t try - and that’s all you’ll ever hear from me on the subject.”

Galen shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to hear more - I’ve gotten enough trauma-inducing news this week, thank you very much.”

“Oh?” Shirou raised an eyebrow, and Galen gritted his teeth.

“Apparently, Padfoot got his Japanese citizenship cleared - but apparently, one of the details of his acquiring it is the renunciation of all ties and titles in Britain.” Galen rolled his eyes. “Given his history, Ministerial pardon or not, I guess they were a little leery of taking him on without it. As a result, I now find myself the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” He shook his head. “I spent three days closeted with my mother and the goblins over how this all works and what it means.”

Shirou looked intrigued. “And what does it mean?”

“Not much, at least at the moment,” Galen admitted, trying to assemble the relevant details - even with Occlumency, it wasn’t easy. High finance and such had never been his area of interest, much less expertise. “Until I’m of age, the estate’s held in trust through Mum. It does give me access to the Black family vault, which is fairly empty, like I figured - no millions of Galleons lying around, or anything like that.”

“Shame,” Shirou admitted.

“Tell me about it,” Galen drawled theatrically. “It means that every fanfic I ever read about the subject lied to me horribly.” He shook his head. “Nah, it’s got a few thousand Galleons in it - mostly due to several years of inactivity and compounded interest, even with the annual tax deductions - but I’m not going to be buying an island, or basilisk-hide armour, or anything like that. I do own HQ outright at the moment - it’s the family home, such as it is - and there’s a hereditary Wizengamot seat, but there’s nothing I can do with that until I’m seventeen. He shook his head again. “And speaking of birthdays . . .”

Shirou glanced at the blade, and nodded. “It ought to be just cool enough to handle and still be malleable, but it’ll harden fast. Work quick, but careful - because we won’t get a second chance.”

Galen nodded and drew his lignum vitae wand as Shirou withdrew the sword from the water and set it on the anvil. This was going to be tricky. Ciel had been particularly helpful in refining his “writing” technique with his wand, and Rin had helped him work the kinks out of the rune sequence - but ultimately, this was all going to be down to him. Still, he’d practised as often as he could get away with, when visiting the Einzberns and Aozakis over the summer, so here was hoping . . . He shook his head again, and began sketching the kanji characters, which were the Asian equivalent, even as he chanted spells to empower them.

“Protego maxima,” he said firmly, and the air around the sword rippled. “Salvio hexia . . . Sectumsempra . . .” An Unbreakable Charm, a Scouring Charm for dirt and corrosion repulsion, a Featherlight Charm - every spell he could think of to make the sword of use to her, or easier to use. He couldn’t make it a second wand - Shirou hadn’t the skill, not yet, but if Galen had his way, it would be a weapon and armour. The protective spells anchored to the blade would ward her, at least partially, allowing to be shielded as she moved through a battlefield - or at least, deflect a spell with the sword itself. And as the magic rippled in the air around the blade, Galen paused and took a deep breath. Now came the most dangerous spell - but the one which, if successful, would hopefully make Takara’s sword a terrible weapon, indeed.

“Lady Athena, wisest of goddesses, champion of men, protector of Athens, and mentor of heroes, hear me,” he whispered. “For one who wears the form of your favoured, I beseech thee. Grant me thy wisdom, that I might persuade your father, for the sake of she whom I champion, to grant my desire.”

Shirou blinked. “Galen, what are you - ?”

“Mighty Zeus,” Galen intoned. “Ruler of the heavens, lord of the skies, and most puissant of all Olympians, hear me. I ask of you a boon. Grant thy fire to this sword, that it might cleave the darkness, as you do, and champion the best of mankind, those qualities that you have so often sought to promote in us. That the sword might deliver your wrath upon one who would in his hubris count himself a god, and those who serve him. Let it serve as a reminder that even in these times, though they may be forgotten, the gods of old are not yet gone - and only fools would not fear their might. For the sake of justice, I ask for your strength - for your judgement!”

He made a quick series of slashing motions, ascribing a thunderbolt in the air above the sword, and pointed the tip of his wand above the blade. The incantation had taken him an entire summer to learn, as he’d sought to pronounce it the original, ancient form of Greek.

“Zeus the Thunderer, your judgement!”

The world went blue - then white . . .

Galen winced at the ringing in his ears as he woke up, and sincerely hoped it wasn’t permanent - he didn’t want to have to get used to tinnitus again. Although given how drained he was feeling, the temptation to just fall back to sleep was really enticing just now . . .

“- the hell did you do?!”

It took him a minute to understand that he was hearing someone speak, and that it was from closer by than it sounded. Lycanthropic healing was apparently not up to the task of handling this with any real speed - which was worrisome. He was a far cry from Wolverine, but he usually managed a good Harry Dresden impression - so for him to be this hard hit, it had to have been bad.

Blinking away the persistent spots, he beheld a spiky-haired Shirou, which gave him an odd resemblance to Chrono Trigger’s main character, looking more than a little freaked out.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?” Shirou roared, and Galen realised that he’d been the one speaking earlier.

“Magic,” Galen croaked.

In a far-too-calm voice, Shirou ground out. “You. Blew. Up. My. Forge.” His glare was murderous. “I want a hell of a lot better explanation than ‘magic.’”

“Thunderbolt Charm,” Galen rasped. God, his throat felt raw. “Fixed it.”

“. . . Really?” Shirou arched an eyebrow, and directed his gaze - with Galen’s own following it - to a stone outbuilding whose doors, windows, and roof had been blasted to pieces.

“Sort of fixed it,” Galen clarified. “Water?”

“Aguamenti,” Ilya’s voice rang out, sharp and clear - and rather than the glass-filling trickle usual to the spell, Galen was blasted by a torrent of ice-cold water.

“That was for nearly flash-frying my husband,” she said frostily. “I’ve barely even broken him in yet.” A clatter of wood struck his chest. “And that’s yours.”

Now soaked and choking on top of everything else, Galen clambered to his feet with agonising slowness, and summoned a towel as quickly as he could gather himself to do so.

“Seriously,” Shirou said, “what did you do in there? And why did you think it would work?”

“Magic, at its core, is about faith - about belief,” Galen sighed. “That’s part of the reason I have trouble with more advanced stuff, like the Patronus - it relies on concepts or conditions I just don’t comprehend. That was part of the clue Firenze gave me last year. While pretending to do nothing of the sort, of course.”

“All that cryptic crap Takara and Nev got out of their Divination class?” Shirou nodded. “I remember - you got something out of it. That explanation was it, I guess?”

“And a reminder,” Galen admitted. “One of my earliest sources for belief in magic was Greek mythology. Athena was - and is - one of my favourite deities, and classics was one of my best subjects. So if I needed to believe to make the charm work . . .”

“‘Zeus is a jealous god,’” Shirou repeated, remembering. “You had to invoke Zeus?”

“King of the gods, ruler of the universe, storm god, etcetera,” Galen agreed. “Also with a pile of flaws the size of Olympus itself, but a civilised god, for all that. He was very big on hospitality, proper customs - law and justice. As often as he lashed out at innocents, he punished oath-breakers, monsters . . . He might have been from the barbaric fringes of the age of civilisation as we see it, but it was the beginning, when men and women were expected to be more than savages. And his example has existed for thousands of years, from Athens, to Rome, to today. Zeus and his kin have power, even now.”

“So - you’re telling me the Greek gods are real, here?”

“Not unless we run into a kid named Percy Jackson - but I wouldn’t rule it out, either,” Galen said. “Not with creatures like centaurs and cerberuses - or is that ‘cerberii?’ - running around.” He shrugged. “Whether I invoked the genuine deity, or it was merely an acceptable channel for my mind to utilise my magic the way I wanted, I can’t say. I don’t know, and I don’t really think I ought to - but I still say it worked.”

Galen paused, and stared at Shirou. “It did work, didn’t it? Where’s the sword?”

“Still inside,” Shirou admitted. “I was afraid to look at it, after all the damage.”

Galen half-ran, half-staggered inside - and stopped dead. “Holy . . .!”

Shirou stared for a long moment, before muttering, “I don’t think you’re too far off.”

The sword sat on the anvil, a katana of Damascus steel whose patterned surface seemed to form, for those who looked at it correctly, the glyphs Galen had drawn. And looking at it correctly wasn’t hard, because the weapon pulsed every so often with blue-white light along its length, like heat lightning, illuminating them.

Shirou walked over to the blade and carefully held his hand over it. “There’s a static buzz here - fairly strong, too. I think the sword will actually defend itself if it doesn’t like whoever’s holding it.” He grimaced. “Here’s hoping . . .” He snatched it up, screwing his eyes shut in anticipation - then opened them wide in wonder.

“Holy . . .!”

“That’s what I said,” Galen muttered. “Problem?”

“I think we just created the world’s first Noble Phantasm,” Shirou said drily. “You tell me if that’s a problem.”

“. . . So it’ll destroy Horcruxes?” Galen wondered aloud, and Shirou snorted.

“I’m not sure it can’t destroy Hogwarts, if Takara really wants it done. This feels like it would be a high C- to upper B-class Noble Phantasm - it’s hard to tell until it’s actually used, and I can get an idea of how well it utilises its potential. It’s not Excalibur - neither of us is divine enough for that - but good enough to match a Traced copy, I think.”

“Makes sense,” Galen admitted. “As near as I can tell, that’s what my wand is - an imitation of the Elder Wand fashioned by mortal hands.”

Shirou shook his head. “Still, it’s one hell of a sword. I didn’t think you’d manage something like this when I asked you to help me enchant it.”

“Neither did I - so I think I have to buy some chickens. Maybe a cow.” At Shirou’s questioning look, Galen explained, “I think a couple of sacrifices to the gods are in order, to thank them.”

Shirou blinked. “You mean, you really think the Greek gods are running this universe?”

“I think it doesn’t hurt to show the proper respect - just in case,” Galen said in a noncommittal voice. “And that given the history of the gods in question, not showing the proper respect would be a Very Bad Thing.”

Shirou was silent for a moment, and Galen waited, knowing that he’d studied the myths of Medusa and Medea after facing them in combat.

“. . . Good point.”






As she roused gently from her slumber, she became aware of Takara’s heartbeat pulsing against her hand, steady and strong. She knew it was Takara’s, because the smell of the other witch’s hair was thick in her nostrils. However, it wasn’t until she became a little more aware that Hermione realised that she could feel Takara’s heart underneath her palm - and nothing else.

Rousing fully and sharply with a widening of her eyes and a flushing of her face, Hermione recalled the prior night, where Takara had admitted that the summer heat, with another warm body against her, made it too uncomfortable for her to sleep. It was followed by the shy removal of Takara’s pyjama top, and the firm admonition that it didn’t change their usual arrangement - which had caused them both to blush after Hermione had been unable to resist asking whether or not their “arrangement” should be considered regular enough to be “usual.” To the British witch, it was a valid question - this marked only their third night of being bedmates - but the implications . . .

The first night, their first back from school, had been Takara’s attempt to accommodate Hermione, and to see if Takara could learn to be flexible enough in her thinking to overcome some of her more rigid prejudices. But the rules had been set - no matter what her instincts told her, Hermione was to keep her hands above the waist. However sexualised the act may have been, sex was not Takara’s intention in doing this - and save for her human reaction to the lioness’ acts, it wasn’t Hermione’s, either. She needed the comfort and reassurance which Takara’s presence provided, and Takara was trying to give it to her, but nothing more than that.

The second night had been after Shirou’s wedding, when Alex and Arcueid had gone away. It had been Takara who was hurting, then - and Hermione’s instincts had been to provide for the Japanese witch as Takara had done for her. That would’ve been her inclination even without the lioness’ pride mentality driving her, just changing the methods by which she sought to fulfill that inclination. Last night, it had been Hermione’s turn again, as the deadline for receiving their O.W.L. scores came closer, and the anticipation and nervousness wore her to a frazzle. The only real difference was that Takara hadn’t needed to sneak through her window this time - she’d just asked for and received permission to spend the night. They’d stayed up and hung out with Miranda, and gone to bed afterwards. It had just been one bed, that was all.

Which led to now, with Hermione lying on her side, pressed up against her - what? “Friend” was accurate, but seemed too weak a word. They weren’t lovers, in the conventional sense - aside from a lack of proper biological equipment, this wasn’t done for sex, and they’d never tried to make it so. There had been hugging, and holding, and the stroking of hair or skin, the occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead . . . And maybe, Hermione admitted, a little more intimate than that when her leonine urges were particularly strong. They were “lovers” in the sense that they loved one another deeply, she supposed, but aside from the fact that this kind of position was a little too outré for even close friends, it wasn’t much more than that.

And Hermione did love Takara. Aside from the fact that the Japanese witch was her oldest and closest female friend, the fact that she’d been willing to do this for her - to be as intimate as they were being, just because Hermione needed it to help retain her sanity . . . She would never be able to repay Takara for that, not if she lived for a thousand years. Especially since Hermione knew that it made Takara uncomfortable, at least as much as it made her - but she did it anyway. Hermione watched her sleep, unable to believe how lucky she’d been, to make a friend like her.

You really are aptly named, “treasure,” the British witch thought, absently reaching out to gently play with a loose lock of Takara’s hair, a feline guilty pleasure.

She’d always envied Takara’s hair - long, straight, and silky . . . For that matter, the rest of the Japanese witch was hardly a disappointment. Her skin was as smooth and soft as her hair, her features an ideal mix of the familiar and exotic. Her athleticism endowed her with the kind of subtly-muscled figure gifted to professional gymnasts and swimmers - strong, but not so bulky as to look at all unfeminine, like Millicent Bulstrode, as an example. Long, dancer’s legs, and her chest . . . Hermione wasn’t exactly flat-chested, but her breasts weren’t exceedingly impressive on her slender figure. Takara’s, on the other hand, were big without seeming ridiculously out of proportion. She couldn’t even say it was Takara was small - the Japanese witch was only about three-quarters of an inch shorter than she was!

“You’re as bad as Mirai,” came Takara’s thick-voiced murmur in her mind.

Hermione jumped, her eyes snapping from the strands of hair in her hand to a pair of sky-blue eyes, looking at her with a mixture of affection, amusement and annoyance, overlaid with a fog which told Hermione that her friend wasn’t fully awake yet. Her mental “voice,” however, sounded stronger and more aware as Takara continued, “The pair of you insist on treating my hair like a toy - why?”

“It’s fun,” Hermione whispered lamely, looking down - and then away, as looking down locked her eyes on Takara’s bare torso. Embarrassed, she added hastily, “It felt wonderful to the touch even before I was part cat - and now it’s fantastic.”

Takara rolled her eyes. “You ought to try having to brush it at least twice a day. Your hair’s not as long as mine, but you’ve got to have some idea of what a pain it is to take care of.”

“I would if you wanted me to,” Hermione said, a little shyly. “It’s only fair, after all - though I’d still like to learn how to use Legilimency as well as you do.”

Takara mimed a shrug with one shoulder. “I’m not really all that good. This is more like yelling over the maze wall - your mind is a bloody labyrinth. Even against your passive defences, I doubt I could actually probe your mind. As for how - well, to quote Galen, ‘it’s a knack.’”

Silence reigned between them for a moment as they were reminded of the proverbial elephant - or in this case, werewolf - in the room. As comforting as this was for Hermione, her mind couldn’t help but follow the logical implications of it. Takara had agreed to this activity initially in an attempt to make herself more flexible as a person, able to work her way past her own internal prejudices. One of the biggest prejudices was the one that kept her from pursuing Galen as a romantic interest, her admitted love for him aside. If she ever did work her way through it, Takara would then be the competition for him that Hermione had always feared she would be - a competition that she feared she would lose. And just when she thought that Galen might finally have reached a point where he would really consider her as a girlfriend . . .

“Earth to Hermione . . .”

“Sorry - just woolgathering. I was thinking of another of Galen’s ‘knacks.’ That sword was an impressive piece of work.”

“Yeah,” Takara admitted. “It is. I’m still trying to think of an appropriate name for it, but it’s hard - I think the sword is holding itself back for a proper target, a real enemy, so I don’t really know it yet.”

Hermione stared at her friend, before reminding herself that the Japanese had always believed that their swords had souls - and that similar beliefs weren’t uncommon in the wizarding world, either. Mr. Ollivander certainly spoke of wands as being alive, and capable of choosing their wielders. And having felt the rightness of her own wand, and the comforting warmth of Galen’s, she couldn’t quite bring herself to disagree with the notion.

“Considering what he intended it for,” Hermione murmured, “I hope you won’t for a long while.”

Takara’s lips quirked in a half-smile at that, and she asked, “So - if Galen’s right, our O.W.L. results should arrive today. Think you’re ready for them now?”

A bolt of panic shot through Hermione, as all her fears came surging back. What if she didn’t get the marks she wanted - what if she hadn’t passed any of them? She just knew she’d made mistakes in a couple of the exams - and her entire future depended on her O.W.L. results . . .!

Hermione’s breathing became shorter and sharper, as she began to hyperventilate Takara shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Hermione and rolling onto her back so that she could lift Hermione atop her, and embrace the British witch with both arms.

“It will be all right,” Takara whispered into her ear, one hand stroking her back as the other did her hair. “You are the cleverest witch we know, you studied hard, and you’ll have done well - we all know it, and we believe it, Hermione. It will be fine - your marks will be amazing. Trust me.”

Gradually, Hermione felt the panic recede as Takara’s hands went to work, as she buried her face in the other girl’s hair, and let the familiar scent wash over her. The Japanese witch’s long, delicate fingers rubbed Hermione’s back and ran down her spine, even as the second set entangled themselves in the brunette waves that cascaded from Hermione’s head. And all the while, Takara murmured soothingly, “Shh . . . It’ll be fine, Hermione - you’ll be just fine . . .”

When she was once again calm, Hermione raised her head to look down at her friend, who wore a reassuring smile.

“Takara . . . Thank you,” Hermione said. “I love you for doing this for me - ”

“And I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love you,” the Japanese witch replied, before smirking. “And Galen would likely have a heart attack if he ever heard that.”

“Or try and commit suicide again,” Hermione muttered. “The idea that we rejected him so thoroughly as to turn to each other, instead? He’d be so convinced of his own uselessness then, he’d be halfway into the Black Lake before we’d finished drawing breath to deny it.”

Takara’s laugh was entirely mental - no doubt she’d worried it would be loud enough to wake the household, otherwise. “Our current position aside, I’m not that comfortable with you, Hermione. As nice a pillow as you are, I’d much prefer to have a boy to cuddle with.”

“Agreed,” Hermione murmured, before arching an eyebrow. “Any boy, or one in specific?”

“In general.” Takara’s mental “voice” gave nothing else away. “Now, from the way Crookshanks is glancing at us, I think he’s hungry - which means Flame, and Miranda, will likely be up soon, too.”

“Which means that you need to put your top back on,” Hermione agreed. “And for that, I need to get up.” She very deliberately did not say “get off” - but the phrase and its connotations had occurred to her. Hermione leaned down first, and kissed the Japanese witch’s forehead, and she repeated, “Thank you.”

Takara smiled, and kept smiling as she rose off the bed to retrieve her top from where it hung over Hermione’s desk chair. Slipping into it, she turned to face Hermione, and the smile brightened.

“Not quite ‘any time,’ Hermione - but I’m getting used to it,” the Japanese witch admitted softly. She turned serious. “We’re going to have to think of some other way to cope with your stress problems, though - once we’re back at Hogwarts, there’s no way either of us can sneak into each other’s beds without someone catching us. And considering the kind of gossips that Parvati and Lavender are . . .”

Hermione nodded. It was a concern - but only if her stress level actually got that high. Otherwise, just sleeping with Takara in the same room would keep her calm, as it always had.

“Maybe this year won’t be so bad as to cause that problem?” she offered hopefully.

Takara’s return look made it plain that she didn’t believe it - and in her heart of hearts, neither did Hermione. Her experiences at Hogwarts had taught her that things were always stressful, every year - and that every other year was even worse. And this year was likely to be the most horrible of all, because they had no real idea of what to expect, this time. Hermione found herself hoping that her tolerance to catmint had worn itself down over the summer - because she expected that she’d need the tea’s soothing effects very badly, this year . . .

. . . But given the way that “other” years seemed to work out for them, she suspected that not even that small a favour would be granted to her.

[SeiKeo]

Oh Galen. Always a bit too much power, no? Badass though.

[burningclaw2]

What is the newly forged NP's name?

[Kratosirving]

I doubt he'll tell us, but I'm sure it'll have something to do with lightning, heheh.

Otherwise, I only have one thing to say about this sword.


"HOLY..."

[Kieran]

Like the lady said - no clue.

[burningclaw2]

If that thing breaks and summons Zues people will be sh*tting bricks.

[Hymn of Ragnarok]

Wow. Just...wow.

Gotta admit, I liked the forging of the sword so much that Takara and Hermione were boring. It's not bad, but I'm definitely looking forward to seeing that baby in action.

Good Lord, that Shirou and Galen can make this ought to terrify people, especially Dumbledore and Voldemort. If it occurs to them that the Trinity forged a Horcreux killer...well.

Shirou's got to try to recreate this process. Even if he suffers frustrating failure after failure I just know that the refining process is going to make a veritable armory. If Galen can't do it again, Ilya deserves to give armaments to either he husband or her former knight.

[NanayaMode]

Who needs the Sword of Gryffindor when you have the Sword of Zeus(name subject to change)?

[ringlhach]

At least it's not bronze. That'd be the only more appropriate material for something associated with them.

I'll admit, I'd had this idea in my head that they were going to layer in the enchantments as they worked the steel, not cast them as a finishing touch.

[Kieran]

If that thing breaks and summons Zues people will be sh*tting bricks.

Galen and Shirou won't exactly be pleased, either. Fleeing for the other side of the Atlantic, more likely.

Wow. Just...wow.

Gotta admit, I liked the forging of the sword so much that Takara and Hermione were boring. It's not bad, but I'm definitely looking forward to seeing that baby in action.

Takara: I get half-naked, and he likes the SWORD better?! *fumes*

. . . I'll try to keep her from killing you.

Good Lord, that Shirou and Galen can make this ought to terrify people, especially Dumbledore and Voldemort. If it occurs to them that the Trinity forged a Horcreux killer...well.

With luck, they'll never know.

Shirou's got to try to recreate this process. Even if he suffers frustrating failure after failure I just know that the refining process is going to make a veritable armory. If Galen can't do it again, Ilya deserves to give armaments to either he husband or her former knight.

Shirou's ability to create weapons is going to get a boost this year - just wait and see.

Who needs the Sword of Gryffindor when you have the Sword of Zeus(name subject to change)?

Exactly - leaving it safely available for somebody else to use . . .

At least it's not bronze. That'd be the only more appropriate material for something associated with them.

The colour's not too far off, though - from the pics I've seen of Damascus steel, anyway.

I'll admit, I'd had this idea in my head that they were going to layer in the enchantments as they worked the steel, not cast them as a finishing touch.

Easier to pattern the runes when the sword was finished, rather than trying to keep them intact through hundreds of folds. The actual casting is then just anchoring specific enchantments to the runes in question, and charging them up.

[burningclaw2]

If Shirou ends up making a perfect copy of Excalibur or Caliburn on complete accident I will laugh.

[YamiheKazeto]

Takara: I get half-naked, and he likes the SWORD better?! *fumes*

. . . I'll try to keep her from killing you.

It's a male thing, most probably. I, too, prefer bladed weaponry over sexless lesbian scenes (especially when the last chapter had a lemon, and there are Greek gods involved in making said bladed weaponry).
But whatever, I doubt you wanted to hear that.

Shirou's ability to create weapons is going to get a boost this year - just wait and see.

Mhm, hell yeah.
Long live Unlimited Blade Works, even if they are quite limited.

Exactly - leaving it safely available for somebody else to use . . .

For Ronald?

I'm sorry, I had that irresistible urge to troll...
Must be something about it being late at night and me having the last day of work today before my annual leave.

Easier to pattern the runes when the sword was finished, rather than trying to keep them intact through hundreds of folds. The actual casting is then just anchoring specific enchantments to the runes in question, and charging them up.

That is a plausible explanation, actually.
Regardless of magic system, unless one is working with only magically enchanted metal to begin with (like Orichalcum in Slayers universe, or something), it's easier to enchant stuff and engrave runes after it's already forged.

If Shirou ends up making a perfect copy of Excalibur or Caliburn on complete accident I will laugh.

Those two are probably beyond his reach, but if he were to make Kanshou and Bakuya, or some new weird modification of Caladbolg (or something alike Rho Aias - a physical shield capable of blocking powerful attacks), then I would say that we reached Nirvana (or Valhalla, but with Shirou it's just as funny).

[Hymn of Ragnarok]

Takara: I get half-naked, and he likes the SWORD better?! *fumes*

. . . I'll try to keep her from killing you.

She wasn't holding the sword while half naked. That would have made me pay attention.

Ah well, we can hope.

EDIT: I'm with YamiheKazeto. He summed my fascination up pretty well right there. It's potentially Zeus giving a divine blessing to kick enormous amounts of ass. Half naked cuddling does not compare. Throw Aphrodite in that pile and we'll talk.

With luck, they'll never know.

Right...what was their luck score again?

Actually that probably doesn't matter. I'm convinced that having chronically unlucky people in the same room exponentially increases the misfortune. I am reasonably certain that those two are doomed to misfortune when working together and that only their sheer awesome keeps them afloat despite the many odds against them.

Shirou's ability to create weapons is going to get a boost this year - just wait and see.

Yesssssss.....

Exactly - leaving it safely available for somebody else to use . . .

C'mon Neville, it's time to shine! Again.

[reborn214]

Shirou isn't going to run around saying "Gate of Babylon" as he shoots swords that he has stored in some hyperspace container like Gil is He?

[jwang]

Now that we have a sword, how about a shield or chainmail? Or is Shirou's smithing abilities lies only in swords? Since we're invoking Greek gods, how about something like Athena's shield, reflective and capable of petrification? Or how about the Norse gods, with a spear that guarantees victory (or enhances your chances of it)?

[Kratosirving]

Shirou = swords, and only swords. Otherwise UBW would be a bit more...diversified.

[Techlet]

Oh god. They made a FUCKING LIGHTNING SWORD.

Holy shit.