Heir of Elessar

E. C. R. Potter

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 09/07/2004
Last Updated: 06/06/2006
Status: completed

2 years into the Second Magical War, Voldemort leads his followers to a long lost volcano. There, he makes a final pact with an ancient evil, granting him more powers than anyone could’ve ever imagined. Now, there is no one who can stand against the reborn Dark Lord save one: the heir of the ancient king Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, Harry Potter. HP/LOTR Crossover.

Chapters

1. Ash nazg durbatuluk...

2. Onen I-Estel Edain...

3. Echil en Elessar

4. Rauthoron

5. En Naruparv en Dundaur

6. Tinuviel

7. Doldas Girith

8. I Ninque Istar

9. En Torogwain Firionin

10. Olor

11. Prestol Siniath

12. Dagormin e Haered-dor

13. Kuduk

14. Athradoithil

15. Nazgul Hul

16. Mithrandir

17. Gwain Siniath

18. Ai Khazud-dum

19. Edraith en Gador

20. Suzat

21. Dagor en Cadhor

22. Eldar Rinno na Edorath

23. Le hannon a tholel

24. Metimaloche

25. Medui idh

26. Danto en Taurgul

27. Barad-Taur

28. Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

29. Belain na le

30. Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach

1. Ash nazg durbatuluk...

Heir of Elessar

By E. C. R. Potter

Summary: 2 years into the Second Magical War, Voldemort leads his followers to a long lost volcano. There, he makes a final pact with an ancient evil, granting him more powers than anyone could’ve ever imagined. Now, there is no one who can stand against the reborn Dark Lord save one: the heir of the ancient king Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Every beginning A/N of this fic will be an explanation of the title of each chapter, since they’ll all be in a Tolkien invented language. In this case, “Ash nazg durbatuluk” is Black Speech for “One Ring to rule them all”.

Chapter 1: Ash nazg durbatuluk...

Dark and frightening were good words to describe those woods deep in Eastern Europe. The forests ranging from Albania all the way to the Black Sea were long considered a forbidden zone. The locals spread many rumors about the zone, such as it was a lair of demons, or vampires, or even the very gates of Hell. Those skeptics who foolishly dared to venture into the zone never came back alive, adding further fear to the mystery of the area.

But of course, how could any of the locals understand the truth of the forbidden zone? They were mere muggles after all; even among wizards, only the wisest and the most learned had an inkling of an idea of what truly lay in the forbidden zone. In fact in the entire world, only two people knew the true terrifying secret of the zone and one of them was currently leading his followers deep into that very zone.

He was the wizard Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as the evil Lord Voldemort. He was the center of the many atrocities of the two Magical Wars, the supreme lord and master of the Death Eaters and their many allies, and one of the greatest champions of the Dark Side ever to walk the Earth. Following him were his followers, the collection of dark wizards and witches known as the Death Eaters. They were a highly elite society of power hungry psychopaths who sought to reshape the wizarding world into their vision of what it should be. Many of them had been killed or captured during the past two years the Second Magical War had been raging but the tide was still undeniably on their side. This was why many of them were confused as to why their master was leading them through the forbidden zone.

“Where is the master taking us?” whispered Lucius Malfoy, recently broken out of Azkaban Wizarding Prison. Despite his time in the fortress, he still had much of his aristocratic flair in tact.

“I do not know,” said his sister in law, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. “But wherever the master leads us, I shall follow willingly.”

“I bet you would,” snarled Lucius. “This had better not be another half insane scheme to kill Harry Potter is all I have to say.”

At that, Voldemort turned his hooded head toward Lucius, his scarlet eyes gleaming and his skull white face twisted into a smirk. “You are fortunate that I am in a good mood today Lucius or you might’ve been in great trouble,” he hissed in his high-pitched voice. Lucius cowered before Voldemort’s gaze.

“Where is it that you are taking us my Lord, and how much further is it?” asked Bellatrix.

“Patience, patience Bella,” said Voldemort. “You will learn soon enough where it is I am taking all of you for we have now arrived.”

The Death Eaters looked around to notice that they had left the forest and were now standing on a beach before the Black Sea. Voldemort looked toward the east over the waves, his face twisted in glee. Confused, the Death Eaters looked around. They noted that their allies the Dementors, foul soul sucking fiends who formerly guarded Azkaban Prison before joining Voldemort were swooping down to join them. But other than that, all they saw was the Black Sea before them and the dark forest behind them.

“Finally, ultimate power is at hand,” said Voldemort, still staring out to the eastern horizon. “I first learned of the secrets of the forbidden zone when I was just a young man, hidden in some ancient tomes. It revealed to me the ultimate way of achieving power and immortality; but as it meant sharing that power with another, I abandoned it in favor of searching for other means. However, then came that accursed prophecy and my first encounter with Harry Potter. Upon my defeat, the secrets of the forbidden zone were suddenly far more appealing so I journeyed here. Unfortunately, in my weakened state,” all the Death Eaters save Belatrix, her husband Rodolphus, and brother in law Rabastan cowered at Voldemort’s glare, “I was unable to make it past the zone’s entrance in the forests of Albania. After I was rejuvenated, I set out to find out the full contents of the prophecy but even then,” here the Lestranges cowered as well, “my Death Eaters failed me again. But no matter, once I claim the secrets of the forbidden zone for myself and my soon to be partner, nothing can stop me; not some troublesome prophecy, not Albus Dumbledore, not Harry Potter, nothing!”

Peter “Wormtail” Pettigrew stepped up to Voldemort and asked, “Master, what is it that you are looking at?”

“Fools! Are my servants so hopelessly blind?” exclaimed Voldemort, “Look closer, and you will see.”

The Death Eaters looked harder toward the east. At first they could see nothing but then, Wormtail gave a startled gasp and fell to the ground. The remaining Death Eaters soon saw what had startled Wormtail and were shocked themselves.

It was a volcano. A black volcano taller than any mountain they had ever seen had sprung up from the waters of the Black Sea billowing lava and smoke with tremendous booms. The clouds around the volcano were thundering with lightning and the commotion was so great that the Death Eaters couldn’t understand how it was that they hadn’t noticed any of this before.

“My lord, what is all this?” whispered Bellatrix.

“Perhaps a little explaining is in order,” said Voldemort. “For you see my friends, in ancient days the Black Sea was in fact the Black Land. Mordor it was called back then. And the mountain before is Orodruin, the Mountain of Doom. Be honored my Death Eaters for you are the first to lay eyes on Mt. Doom in millennia.”

* * *

Voldemort led his Death Eaters over the sea to the great volcano. As they grew closer, the glee on his face was growing more and more evident, which disturbed some of his followers. Soon, he was leading them up the slopes of the volcano itself. Many of the Death Eaters were forced to erect shield charms to avoid falling boulders issued from the volcano and even the Dementors appeared to be on edge. Voldemort however seemed oblivious to all this as he led them further up the mountain.

Eventually, Voldemort and the Death Eaters came up to a large crack in the surface of a particularly steep cliff. They entered the crack and traveled through a short tunnel before emerging in a wide opening within the volcano itself. The Death Eaters found themselves standing on a narrow ledge, overlooking a blazing river of molten magma. The sheer intensity of the heat was astounding and the Dementors were having a hard time staying in place, floating in the air near the Death Eaters. The interior of the volcano was shaped like a large amphitheater, and there were thousands of openings within the walls themselves, leading into dark caverns that undeniably ventured far underground where no light could penetrate. Finally, a single half bridge of stone led forth from the bridge to a point overlooking the river of magma. As the Death Eaters stayed behind on the ledge cowering in fear and confusion, Voldemort walked out over the bridge, surveying the cavern.

“Perfect, everything is just as the ancient tomes have had written in them,” he said. “And that should mean that the ancient minions are still hiding deep within the caverns under Orodruin, bidding for their time, waiting for their master’s return.” Voldemort suddenly raised his arms out and proclaimed, “That time is now! Let the Horde assemble again!”

At first nothing happened. But after a few seconds, the Death Eaters started hearing sounds of laughter, jeering, cursing, growling, drums, and the clanking of metal: and the sounds were coming closer and closer. Finally, the very source of the sounds appeared in the many openings in the cavern’s walls and the Death Eaters gasped. Wormtail started shaking in fright at the sight in front of him and even the Dementors seemed on edge at the sight before them.

Creatures, thousands upon thousands of foul, hideous creatures were standing at the entrances of these openings, jeering and laughing. They closely resembled goblins, but they were much uglier. Their skin was charred black, and their eyes were blood red, not too unlike Voldemort’s own eyes. They were generally hunched over but quite a number of them stood tall and straight, powerfully built. Their teeth were jagged and the armor and weapons they wore and carried were crude, ancient, foul, yet devastatingly effective as they seemed ready to demonstrate amongst themselves. Voldemort looked upon these creatures, his face alight with delight.

“What are these... these... these things my lord?” Lucius said, quite fearfully.

“Orcs,” said Voldemort. “See how the Orcish Horde has assembled once more. For millennia they have been hiding, cowering in fear from the forces that hunted them down so long ago. Many of their number left to diminish into the modern race of goblins. Pathetic is it not? A once proud and savage race degraded to nothing more than a collection of bankers. But I have long suspected that the original race of Orcs still hid within the caverns of Orodruin, waiting for the call: and how correct my suspicions turned out to be.”

“This is most incredible Master,” exclaimed Bellatrix, growing excited herself. “Now we have a powerful army at our command to take on our enemies. You have achieved ultimate power master!”

“Ultimate power?” said Voldemort, “Oh no, this is not the ultimate power I was talking about. While it is true that the Orcs shall serve as our new army, it is from their old master whom I shall gain ultimate power. And now I shall summon him!”

Voldemort pulled out his wand and flicked it, chanting silently. A pale, purplish light emerged from his wand and hovered over the magma. Suddenly, Voldemort spread out his arms and shouted in a language none of the Death Eaters heard before. Yet they somehow understood the words:

“Ash nazg durbatuluk...”

One Ring to rule them all...

“Ash nazg gimbatul...”

One Ring to find them...

“Ash nazg thrakatuluk...”

One Ring to bring them all...

“Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!”

And in the darkness bind them!

As soon as the words had been uttered the light shining over the magma imploded on itself before exploding in a blast of fire and wind. It opened up a portal and from there a being of great dread and malevolence emerged.

It was a single lidless Eye, wreathed in flame. The Death Eaters were completely terrified now and the Dementors tried to drift away from the intense heat of the Eye. Even the Orcs had quieted down in reverence and fear. Among those present, Voldemort alone looked confident enough to smirk as the Eye observed him. Finally, a deep, thundering voice issued from the Eye: “Why have you summoned me, human?”

Voldemort laughed. “Human? I abandoned my humanity a long time ago. I am something... better now,” he said.

The Eye did not seem impressed. “You still did not answer my question,” it said. “Why have you summoned me?”

“To make a pact,” said Voldemort. “You and I as equal partners, as one: a simple deal that will grant both of us ultimate power. Simply put, we both need each other’s help and I believe we could both benefit from it.”

“I do not need your help!” snapped the Eye, its flames flaring up. The Death Eaters, Dementors, and Orcs all flinched but Voldemort seemed unaffected.

“Fair enough,” replied Voldemort. “Ultimately I can do without you; your help just would have made my life easier. I suppose you can just wait in the void for another few millennia until someone else decides to unleash you.” That caught the Eye’s attention. Smirking, Voldemort moved in for the kill: “With our powers combined, we’ll even have the power to restore your precious.”

The Eye gave pause. “My precious?” it asked.

“Yes, your precious,” said Voldemort. He stuck out his hand and continued, “So what do you say, partner?”

The Eye appeared to consider for a moment before it answered, “The pact is sealed.” Unexpectedly, it dove down toward the Dark Wizard and engulfed him in an inferno of flames, much to the Death Eaters’ horror. Voldemort however was laughing as his body started levitating into the air. As he hovered above the magma, black metal began to spring forth from Voldemort’s skin, completely encasing him in black armor. Voldemort’s cloak now draped behind his back like a cape and a horned helmet completely encased his head, leaving only his scarlet eyes visible. He also appeared to have grown a full foot taller as he was lowered back onto the half bridge, the flames absorbing into his body. Finally, like a grand finale, a single gold ring with writing on it formed around his right middle finger.

The Orcs immediately started cheering but the Death Eaters remained speechless as the Dark Lord started examining his own body. Finally Bellatrix walked up to him and fearfully asked “Master?”

The Dark Lord chose to ignore Bellatrix for the time being as he continued examining his now armor encased body. “This shall suit our purposes well,” he said, and when he spoke, the Death Eaters received another shock for two voices had just spoken as one: the high-pitched voice of Lord Voldemort and the deep, booming voice of the Eye.

He next examined the ring on his finger. “Finally, the precious has returned to where it rightfully belongs, on our finger.” The Dark Lord looked up and noticed the Death Eaters. He spoke in Voldemort’s voice, “Why do you cower in fear my friends? It is still I, only greater.”

Slowly, the Death Eaters crowded around the Dark Lord, their curiosity overcoming their fear. The Dementors joined them as well and the Orcs’ cheers were now greater. Soon, the Death Eaters were starting to cheer as well and within minutes, a great jubilation of evil arose within the volcano.

“It is done!” exclaimed Lucius Malfoy. “You have finally achieved ultimate power, master!”

“Now, none can stand in the way of Lord Voldemort!” shouted Bellatrix, surprising all the Death Eaters including herself for daring to say the name.

“Voldemort?” said the Dark Lord, speaking in two voices again. “Not quite anymore, Bella. We are Voldemort-Sauron!”

* * *

Far away, deep within a magical castle, the only other man who knew the true secrets of the forbidden zone started in alarm. Somehow he sensed what had just happened and he alone knew the ultimate consequences of Voldemort’s actions, the thought filling him with great dread. Silently, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore walked up to a window and looked out toward the east.

“My God, Tom,” he whispered. “What have you done?”

To be continued...

A/N Well now, here’s the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. I had actually written this chapter about a week ago but the file was lost so I had to rewrite the whole thing. This fic may venture to AU areas in the LOTR saga to make it work with the plot and HP saga but I’ll try to keep both as close to canon as possible. For now, read and enjoy.

2. Onen I-Estel Edain...

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, the phrase “Onen I-Estel Edain” is a phrase in Syndarin meaning “I gave hope to Men”. It comes from a longer phrase in LotR, “Onen I-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim” (I gave hope to the Dunedain, I have kept no hope for myself). These are the words Aragorn’s mother Gilraen said to her son on her deathbed. Note the double meaning of “Estel” which means “hope” but was also Aragorn’s childhood name while he was growing up in Rivendell. I considered just making “Estel” the title of this chapter but I decided to go with the phrase.

Chapter 2: Onen I-Estel Edain...

Deep in the Highlands of Scotland, there stood a mighty castle high upon a cliff. It was surrounded by a vast lake on one side and a dark, foreboding forest on the other. To the untrained eye, the castle looked nothing more than an derelict ruin, long abandoned with danger signs posted all over it. But the eye of the muggle is so easily deceived for in reality this castle was none other than the great Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Close to one thousand students ranging from ages 11 to 17 attended this most prestigious school of magic. They were divided into four houses depending on their personalities: the brave and adventurous in Gryffindor, the loyal and hardworking in Hufflepuff, the clever and the witty in Ravenclaw, and the cunning and the ambitious in Slytherin. Students here studied subjects ranging from Transfiguration, Potions, Charms to Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Divination, and even the highly popular wizarding sport of Quidditch.

Most controversial amongst these classes was the subject of Defense against the Dark Arts. Though the subject was exceptionally important in light of the Second Magical War, the position for instructor was rumored to be jinxed since none seemed to be able to keep it for more than a year. There were even those who thought Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had finally lost his marbles that year for he had hired in that position, not a wizard or a witch but a Dwarf.

Professor Angnathron was merely 4 feet 5 inches tall with thick grayish brown hair and a long beard. The Charms Professor Flitwick was shorter than he was but while Flitwick was human, Angnathron made it quite clear that he was not a human, but a Dwarf. He was rather boisterous and loud but could also display a very cheerful countenance. While his knowledge on Dark Wizards and the curses they used was phenomenal, Angnathron preferred to drill his students in the arts of hand to hand combat using various weapons and even unarmed. He also sponsored the creation of fencing and archery clubs and held regular dueling competitions. Though he was popular among the students for his cheerful and engaging teaching methods, his classes were still very exhausting. The Slytherins in particular were resentful for being forced to participate in the “uncultured” drills of unarmed combat, saying no self respecting wizard would participate in such “barbaric, brutal, muggle” activities. Angnathron in return simply reminded them that they would have no choice if they were disarmed in a duel.

On this particular day, Professor Angnathron was teaching some of his favorite pupils, the seventh year Gryffindors. “Now keep in mind that it’s very much conceivable for you to get disarmed in a duel,” instructed Angnathron, his Scottish accent rather heavy. “Its true that most dark wizards or witches would just blindly attempt to use the Unforgivables or dark curses against their opponents either to dispatch them right away or to torture them mercilessly, often forgetting that their opponent is still carrying their wand and is perfectly capable of using it. However, some dark wizards are in fact smart enough to disarm their opponents first; should that happen to you, you will have to be able to defend yourself unarmed.”

Angnathron pointed at a chart hanging in front of the class. “Often, your enemy will be quite bigger and stronger than you. If that were the case, don’t hesitate to attack your opponent in a vulnerable spot,” the smaller figure in the chart kicked the larger figure in the ‘family jewels’, “or use their strength against them.” The larger figure threw a punch at the smaller figure but the smaller figure grabbed the arm and threw the larger figure over with a judo throw. “Now, I have spent the last several weeks drilling you in the methods of unarmed combat and martial arts...”

Several rows back, Head Girl Hermione Jane Granger sighed, her heart not really into the lesson. The once bushy haired, bucktoothed, small girl had grown it quite a young beauty with her chocolate eyes and wavy brown hair. Her figure was rather modest as was her choice in clothing but she still managed to turn the heads of many a young male, though she never paid attention to them. No, her thoughts even during class were always centered on the Head Boy sitting right next to her.

Harry James Potter had grown into a tall, strong young man himself. His hair was still an ebony bird’s nest, his eyes still sparkled emerald green behind his glasses, and the lightning bolt scar was still there on the right side of his forehead under his bangs. However, he now radiated a strong sense of power, hidden behind his humble exterior. He had better control over his emotions now but they were still quite volatile. There was simply something about his brooding, angst ridden character that made him so appealing, especially to the female population, though Harry didn’t pay them any heed.

Hermione sighed again. She couldn’t quite recall when specifically she had fallen in love with her raven haired best friend: most likely sometime from her fourth to fifth year. But she hadn’t ever had the opportunity to really act on her feelings, especially after Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black had been killed. Since then, Harry had seemingly gotten more aloof on one hand, yet more determined to protect his loved ones on the other. Harry and Hermione had also grown considerably closer during that time though a part of them had drifted apart as well.

“Well class, remember to read up on that chapter about protection against spells,” said Angnathron, catching Hermione’s attention. “And if there are no questions, class dismissed.”

* * *

“Damn that bloody Professor Angnathron,” muttered the tall redhead, Ronald Bilius Weasley as he munched on a chicken leg. It was lunch time and all the students were sitting at their various tables. “You know, I like him. I really do. But he can be such a terror with all these drills he’s making us do. I’m sore all over.”

“Aw, is my poor big brother sore all over?” teased Ron’s sister, Ginerva Molly Weasley from the other side of the table. “Does Ronniekins need a massage?”

“Shut it Ginny!” snapped Ron as he took another bite of his chicken. “So anyway, you’d think that with the way Angnathron’s going over everything Hogwarts would be attacked tomorrow. Ridiculous, don’t you think so Hermione?”

Hermione had been rather preoccupied staring at Harry’s empty spot next to her that she hadn’t been paying attention to what Ron was saying. “Huh? What?” she asked looking up at him.

Ron looked irritated as he said, “I was saying it looks like Angnathron’s thinking Hogwarts could be attacked any day.”

“It could be Ron,” said Hermione. “With the War going on, Hogwarts could be attacked any time.”

“Well I say it’s still the safest place around. That’s got to count for something,” said Ron as he finished his chicken. He suddenly blushed red as he said, “Say Hermione, later on in the evening you think we could... uh... I don’t know... have a study date?”

Hermione looked confused while Ginny looked at them interestedly. “We have study sessions with Harry every night Ron,” replied Hermione.

“Not with Harry!” exclaimed Ron. “I meant a study... study date... You know, just... er... you and m...” Unfortunately for Ron, he was unable to finish his sentence as a Ravenclaw girl with waist-length straggly blonde hair, large silvery eyes, and a butterbeer bottle cap necklace around her neck squeezed into the seat in between Ron and Hermione.

“Hello Ronald,” said Luna Lovegood, her voice sounding as dreamy as usual. She was the daughter of the editor of the wizarding tabloid, The Quibbler. Ron groaned as Luna turned her attention Ron’s sister in front of her.

“Hi Luna, what interesting stories have you got from your side of the world today?” asked Ginny.

Luna smiled and said, “Well Ginny, have I talked to you about the Elves?”

Hermione whom was just about to start reading a book perked up at the word “Elves”. After all, was she not the founder of S. P. E. W.? Wasn’t she the one campaigning for the better treatment of House Elves everywhere? As she listened in on Luna and Ginny’s conversation however, she found that the two younger girls weren’t quite talking about House Elves.

“Daddy found out a lot of stuff about the Elves over the past few years,” Luna was saying. “He’s writing up an exclusive for next month’s The Quibbler. Apparently, the Elves used to live all over Europe. They built some many wonderful things: cloaks that camouflage you, rings that turn you invisible, jewels more beautiful than anyone has ever seen, swords that glow when danger is near, ships that can sail through any water. There also seems to have once been many Elvish kingdoms throughout Europe.”

Hermione scoffed at that. “Oh honestly,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “House Elves may be able to do a lot of things but with the way the wizarding world treats them I doubt they’ve ever been able to have their own kingdoms, though they probably deserve one, let alone create so many such preposterous things.”

For a moment, Luna starred at Hermione in confusion before realization dawned on her. “Oh! No, no Hermione. I’m not talking about House Elves. I am talking about the Eldar.”

“The Eldar?” said Ron and Hermione at the same time.

“Yes, the Eldar: High Elves,” said Luna. “They’re around the same height as humans but they were immortal, meaning they couldn’t die of old age or sickness, though they could be killed. It’s said that they had the stars in their eyes and they created so many wonderful stuff; a lot of stuff Daddy thinks are in wizard museums these days. They had great kingdoms all over Europe, but in the end all of the kingdoms collapsed and the High Elves disappeared into the west.”

“Into the west?” snorted Ron as he bit into a ham sandwich. “So what, are there a whole bunch of immortal, 6 feet tall American Elves on the other side of the Atlantic?”

Luna grinned and said in her dreamy voice, “There just might be.”

“I’m going to the library,” Hermione said, as she stood up from the table. She hurriedly packed her books away and left.

“What? You’re leaving me alone with these two?” exclaimed Ron. By then however, Hermione was already gone, leaving Ron to deal with his sister and her eccentric friend.

* * *

In truth, Hermione didn’t go to the library: she went outside onto the grounds. There was still a lot of snow on the ground that early in March, but it was definitely getting warm enough where all Hermione really needed to stay warm outside was her cloak. And even if she were to grow too cold, she could always whip out one of her bluebell flames.

Hermione thought back to the fact that several years ago, she had always imagined herself stressing about the N. E. W. T.s whenever she thought of what she would be doing late winter, early spring during her seventh year. Of course she still stressed about the exams, but her priorities were definitely centered more on Harry: worrying about Harry’s well being, thinking about his smile and blushing, making sure Harry wasn’t getting into trouble. She almost considered it her obsession.

As she was making her way down toward the lake, Hermione looked back toward the castle and was surprised to see the object of her obsession standing on top of the Astronomy Tower. ‘Harry? What are you doing up there?’ she thought. Harry was simply standing on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, looking toward the lake, his cloak billowing behind him in the wind. Deciding to confront Harry, Hermione started making her way back to the castle. It was then to her shock and horror, that Harry jumped.

“Harry!” she screamed. She started running toward the castle, desperate to make it there before Harry hit the ground.

Harry was falling to the ground, face first at an alarming speed. Seconds before he was about to impact the ground however, he suddenly twisted himself feet down, pulled out his wand and yelled, “Accio Firebolt!” Harry’s trusty broomstick suddenly flew up right under him and Harry landed on the Firebolt feet first. After sinking somewhat to absorb the shock, Harry coasted on the Firebolt still standing on it like a snowboard as he zoomed out over the still half frozen lake. Finally, he jumped down so that he was seated properly on the broom, flew around a little bit more before landing on the shore of the lake. He had just dismounted when he was surprised to find Hermione barreling into him.

“Harry how could you!” she screamed at him, tears streaming down her hysterical face. “How could you even think of doing such a thing? How could you do that? Were you thinking about leaving me behind?” She started beating on his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that understand? Don’t you dare scare me like that! I thought you were going to die!” She suddenly threw her arms around him and started sobbing into his chest.

To say that Harry was confused by all this was an understatement. “Er, Hermione, I wasn’t committing suicide,” he said, somewhat guiltily.

Hermione disengaged herself from Harry and put her hands on her hips. “Then just what were you doing?” she demanded, her eyes flaring up in anger.

“Er... dealing with my grief by giving myself an adrenaline rush?” squeaked Harry.

“What?” asked Hermione, “Harry, how long has this been going on? How long have you been doing stunts like that?”

“Since Sirius died,” said Harry. “About once a week; it really does help.”

“How could something like that help you deal with your grief?”

Harry walked a bit of a distance away before turning to Hermione saying, “Hermione, have you ever gone bungee jumping?”

“No,” said Hermione, wondering where he was going with this.

“You should try it sometime,” said Harry, “the rush of the wind in your face, the freedom you feel when you’re completely airborne. For just a moment, all your troubles and problems are gone. For just a second, that accursed prophecy doesn’t exist. For just that brief second, you feel like everything is going to be all right.” He smiled at her wistfully.

Hermione’s eyes went downcast. Harry had told her the prophecy the previous year and she understood the pressure he was under. “Oh Harry. Must you always place yourself in such danger?”

“It’s what I do, Hermione,” said Harry.

Hermione walked up to Harry and pulled him into another hug. “Oh, Harry,” she said, “I wish you had told me.”

“You probably would’ve discouraged me,” replied Harry.

“I probably would have,” agreed Hermione. They stayed there, out in the snow, just hugging, and that was how Transfiguration Professor Minerva McGonagall found them.

“Mr. Potter. Miss Granger,” she called to them. Harry and Hermione disengaged themselves from each other quickly, blushing furiously while missing the slight smile on their head of house’s face. “I do not believe there are any rules against showing a little affection on the grounds,” McGonagall said to the blushing teens. “Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you.”

Harry’s eyebrows perked up. “He wants to see me Professor?”

“That is what I said, Mr. Potter. Come along now. Miss Granger, you may accompany us if you wish.”

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other before following their Transfiguration Professor into the castle.

* * *

“You sure he’s ready for this Dumbledore?” asked Angnathron, peering out of the Headmaster’s office window at Harry and Hermione as they followed McGonagall into the castle. “He’s still very young.”

“If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is that withholding information could be fatal,” replied Dumbledore. He walked up the perch of his pet phoenix, Fawkes and stroked the neck of the scarlet and gold bird. “Harry is mature enough to deal with anything. I have already withheld too much from him with dire consequences. I will not repeat the same mistake.”

“I for one cannot believe Riddle was actually foolish enough to take that plunge,” said Angnathron, walking back into the office, lighting his pipe.

“I long suspected that Voldemort may attempt to revive Sauron some day,” said Dumbledore. “I just didn’t think he would do so this soon. I had been under the impression that he was saving the trek to Orodruin as a last minute, desperate attempt at victory, when he felt like he had no other choice.” Dumbledore sighed wearily and said, “I’ve misjudged him.”

“We’re all just human Dumbledore,” said Angnathron. He grinned and said, “Well, you are. I’m not. I’m Dwarf.” That brought out a chuckle from Dumbledore. “Still, are you positive that Potter will be able to handle the entire prophecy? He had enough problems with just the abbreviated version you gave him after Sirius Black died two years ago.”

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, lost in thought for a moment. “You know Angnathron, I am reminded of what Harry’s mother said to me when I told her the entire prophecy.”

“Oh?”

“It was the first of August, 17 years ago. Lily was sharing the Maternity Ward with Alice Longbottom, both having just given birth to sons the previous day. James and Frank were there of course, proud parents they all were and I had to tell them that one of their sons would be destined to kill or be killed by Voldemort. I told them the prophecy right then and there. Frank, Alice, and James were stunned, naturally. Lily however... do you know what she said?” Dumbledore took a breath and said, “Onen I-Estel Edain, u-chebin estel anim.”

Angnathron dropped his pipe. After spluttering for a moment, he finally managed to say, “I-I didn’t even know she knew that language.”

Dumbledore smiled wistfully and replied, “Lily Evans Potter had a tendency to surprise me from time to time.” He then added as an afterthought, “As does her son.”

The two friends shared a chuckle but the meaning of the words Lily Potter had spoken that day still hung over them:

I gave hope to Men, I have kept no hope for myself.

To be continued...

A/N Ah, second chapter done already. If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will answer to the best of my ability. If you want to criticize, be my guest; I’ll pay attention to it if it’s good advice. If you’ve got flames, I’ll use them to roast marshmallows. Several readers have already complained about Voldie and Sauron’s merging, how it’s so OOC for Sauron and all that. I know its OOC, OK. It’s deliberate to make the plot work. That’s why it’s called fanfiction, and why this fic is posted on Harry Potter sites rather than Lord of the Rings sites. Just read and enjoy, that’s all I ask.

3. Echil en Elessar

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, this title is a little forced since I formulated myself. “Echil en” is Sindarin for “Heir of”, “echil” being a reading of “heir”. And of course, “Elessar” is Quenya for “Elf Stone”. So basically, this chapter is “Heir of the Elf Stone”, or more accurately, “Heir of Elessar”. Basically, it shares the title with the story itself.

Chapter 3: Echil en Elessar

Back at Orodruin, the landscape was already changing. The erupting volcano was still surrounded by the Black Sea, hidden from view by the raging thunderstorms only the thunderstorms now hid something else also standing next to the volcano.

It was a dark, fortress tower, standing an immense mile tall. Ramparts, dungeons, turrets, majestic halls, so much of everything filled this great tower now occupied by power-hungry Death Eaters and soul-sucking Dementors, alongside Orcs. Long ago, this same tower stood in this exact spot but had been destroyed along with the fall of its master. Now, it had been rebuilt once more, its foundations reestablished. It had been known by many names in the past but the common of tem all was Barad-dur, the Dark Tower. And once again, after millennia, its old master was seated within its top floor, merged with another.

On a black and gold, cobra head shaped throne at the very top floor of Barad-dur, Voldemort-Sauron was seated, starring pensively at the shadows of the chamber around him.

“We are amazed at how much more powerful the Numenoreans have grown after all this time,” he said to himself in both voices. “To be able to rebuild the tower in a matter of hours, not even the Elves could accomplish such a feat: how much advantage it gives to our position.”

The Dark Lord noticed something stirring from the shadows before him. Without hesitation he said, “Come.” Eight figures of pure and utter dread walked out of the shadows. Their close resemblance to Dementors was uncanny, from their black, hooded robes, and the frosty breath sucking out all things positive around them. Yet, these eight were clearly far more powerful than the Dementors: they carried great swords worthy of kings, their hands were covered in gauntlets, and they had metallic boots. They carried themselves with a strong sense of pride and royalty, yet all eight of them bowed down when they came in front of the seated Voldemort-Sauron.

The Dark Lord looked at the eight, robed figures feeling very pleased. “Most excellent, our greatest of servants have returned from the shadow, ready to serve us once more. Behold the Nazgul!” The eight robed figures, the Nazgul stood up to face their master. Voldemort-Sauron’s tone changed instantly however. “Yet, nine rings there were and only eight have returned. Tell us, where is the Witch-King of Angmar for he was the greatest of all of you.”

The Nazgul looked among themselves whispered murmurs coming from them. They looked ready to answer when their master raised his hand and said, “No, we recall now. He was destroyed by the shield-maiden of the Rohirrim while the rest of you were swept away into the shadow when the Ring was destroyed.” The Dark Lord extended his hand forward and muttered a spell. A single ring materialized in the out-stretched hand. “It is of no matter to us,” he said. “We shall simply present this ring to the most promising of the young Death Eaters. Eventually, there will be nine Nazgul once again.” Placing the Ring on a nearby table, the Dark Lord looked toward the Nazgul again and said, “Go and do my bidding. You know what we wish. Four of you search for the heir. The remaining four gather the Orcs for the missions.” The Ring-wraiths bowed once more before disappearing again into the shadow.

The Dark Lord slouched back onto his throne, gaining a far away look in his eyes. Suddenly he spoke in Voldemort’s voice, “Why do you fear this line so much? Why is it so necessary to send four of them to search for the heir of this line when we could have all eight of them commanding the Orcs for the missions?”

The Dark Lord then said, this time in Sauron’s voice, “Is it so wrong to fear something, to be cautious? You fear this man Albus Dumbledore and this boy Harry Potter. I fear the heir of this one lineage. It would be wise to learn of it in this day.”

“Certainly this lineage would’ve died out by now? It has been so long,” said the voice of Voldemort.

In return, the voice of Sauron replied, “If there is one thing I have learned, it is that the lineage of the Kings of Numenor never dies out. How many times have I been defeated and humiliated by that line.” The Dark Lord looked up and started reminiscing. “It goes all the way back to the First Age. To Luthien, the Elf maiden; it was she who defeated and humiliated me before my very tower. During the Second Age it was Elendil the Tall who defied me in Numenor and once again Elendil who along with Erenion Gil-Galad brought me down in front of this very tower. And it was Elendil’s son Isildur who took up the broken sword Narsil and cut the Ring from my finger!” The Dark Lord unconsciously clutched at the Ring. “And finally during the Third Age, it was Aragorn Elessar who deceived me, turning my attention away from the Halflings that had infiltrated Mordor. To this day, I still cannot believe they cast the Ring into the Cracks of Doom; how could they cast ultimate power away so easily?” He gripped the side of his throne and spoke once more in two voices, “But know this, if the Heir of Elessar has indeed survived to this day, we shall crush him!” With a crunch, the Dark Lord’s hand crushed the side of the throne.

* * *

“Ah, Harry, welcome, make yourself at home,” said Dumbledore as Harry Potter entered his office followed by Hermione, “and Miss Granger. Please sit down.” Harry and Hermione looked at each other as they sat down in the two comfortable chairs in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Professor McGonagall sat down in one of the seats along the wall next to Professor Angnathron who was smoking a pipe. “Would either of you like some tea? Some sherbet lemons perhaps?” offered Dumbledore. “If either of you are hungry I could ask Dobby to fix us a quick meal.”

Through the corner of his eye, Harry saw McGonagall roll her eyes and Angnathron start puffing on his pipe impatiently. Harry looked at Hermione catching her eye, clearly noticing that she was thinking the exact same thing he was: Dumbledore was stalling for time.

Harry cleared his voice and said, “Professor why exactly have we been called up here?”

Dumbledore sighed wearily and said, “I suppose there is no beating around the brush for you Harry.” He looked up at Fawkes whom had silently started singing and said, “Harry, I owe you another apology.”

“What? Why sir?” asked Harry.

“An apology Harry for I have once again withheld vital information from you.”

Harry felt a familiar flaring of anger grow within him but suppressed it when he felt Hermione’s eyes on him, begging him to restrain. “What is it that you withheld from me Professor?”

“Ah, technically I only withheld half of the information, the less vital part of it,” answered Dumbledore. “To be specific I didn’t tell you the latter half of Sybill Trelawney’s first prophecy.”

“Latter half?” explained both Harry and Hermione at once. “Why didn’t you tell me the entire prophecy two years ago?” asked Harry, his voice more curious than accusatory.

“Because at the time, the latter half did not really have anything to do with Voldemort,” said Dumbledore. McGonagall flinched but the others remained passive. “Only the first half of the prophecy was stored in the Department of Mysteries, the latter half didn’t seem of much consequence since at the time we didn’t know if it referred to you or Neville Longbottom. The latter half of the prophecy has more to do with the Harry’s life after Voldemort should he emerge victorious.”

“So why are you telling Harry the latter half now?” asked Hermione. “I assume that is what you are doing.”

“Correct you are Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore. He turned to Harry and continued, “Why now? That would be because recent events have necessitated a need for the return of the King, your majesty.”

For a brief moment, very was complete silence in the office before both Harry and Hermione shouted, “WHAT?!”

“Mind your manners. You are before the Headmaster,” snapped McGonagall. Hermione sank back into her chair looking sheepish and shocked. Harry just sat there in a daze.

“What did you call me?” he asked.

Dumbledore answered, “Your majesty, the king,” the twinkle back in his eye.

Harry and Hermione said nothing, both of them looking completely shell-shocked. Dumbledore walked over to his Pensieve and stirred up a memory with his wand. Slowly, the image of Sybill Patricia Trelawney faded into view and started speaking:

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

For he shall be the Heir of the Elf Stone, of kingdoms long since past... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord shall be the heir of kings long since gone... And the Empires and Kingdoms of old shall be reestablished, whichever one survives... The Dark Lord shall wield the Ring and the Heir shall wield the sword reforged... for either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... for either of the kingdoms shall be reestablished for neither can stand while the other reigns... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, the Heir of the Elf Stone, will be born as the seventh month dies...”

To say the least, Harry and Hermione were completely perplexed. “There’s something about all that sounds so familiar,” muttered a dazed Hermione, losing herself in thought.

“Well I had absolutely no idea what the heck all that was about!” exclaimed Harry, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Elf Stone? Empires and Kingdoms? Sword reforged? HAVE I LOST ALL SENSE OF REASON HERE?” Snapping back to reality, Hermione started soothing Harry by rubbing his back. Harry quickly calmed down.

Angnathron took another puff of his pie and said, “Perhaps a history lesson, Dumbledore?”

“A most excellent idea,” said Dumbledore. He stood up and started pacing, clearly in a teaching mode. “Perhaps the best place to start would be from the beginning, from the very origins of modern day wizards and witches. Tell me have either of you heard of a land called Atlantis?”

“Of course we have, Headmaster,” said Hermione. “Basically, it was a great island that sunk beneath the ocean. The Atlantic Ocean is named for Atlantis because that’s where it is believed to have existed. The philosopher Plato describes Atlantis as...” Hermione quickly realized she was sprouting useless information and said, “But isn’t it only a legend?”

“Ah, but all legends have a basis in truth Hermione,” said Dumbledore, winking at her. “In the case of Atlantis, the legends are very true. The land may be remembered as ‘Atlantis’ now but its more proper name is Numenor. It was the greatest kingdom of the race of men, or in this politically correct world, the race of humans there ever was. Yet, in their splendor and might, the Numenoreans became arrogant, greedy, and ultimately were corrupted. They dared to make war on the Angelic powers that ruled this world and were destroyed. The saying is that the Angels called on God and God destroyed the island. Something to that affect.

“Naturally, there were many Numenoreans who remained faithful to the Angelic powers: the Faithful. Their leader was a member of the Royal family, Elendil the Tall and he led the Faithful away from Numenor as it was being destroyed in nine ships. Basically, they landed in Europe and Elendil and his sons established two kingdoms: Arnor and Gondor.”

“OK,” said Harry hesitantly. “So what does ‘Heir of the Elf Stone’ mean?”

“The more accurate term would be ‘Heir of Elesar’,” said Dumbledore. “Elf Stone or Elessar would be referring to Aragorn Elessar Telcontar, the greatest king of men there ever was. He reunited Gondor and Arnor and established the age where men came to dominate Europe and the world. The Royal family may have eventually dwindled out but the Numenoreans certainly didn’t.”

“Oh?” asked both Harry and Hermione.

“Indeed. Modern day wizards and witches are the descendants of the Numenoreans. Yes, that includes Muggleborns as well Miss Granger; so many of the Numenoreans intermarried with common humans that the Numenorean blood flows in all humans. That is why Muggleborns spring up from Muggles,” said Dumbledore. “Of course, in ancient days Numenoreans lived up to 600 years while modern wizards only live about 200 years. On the other hand, our magical powers have vastly improved from those days.”

“So why are you telling me this now?” asked Harry.

“Because Voldemort has reawakened a vast evil,” said Dumbledore. “You see Harry, believe it or not this there are many supernatural beings in this world beyond what you have seen in your Care of Magical Creatures classes. Perhaps the most powerful of these are the Maiar: known in common terminology as ‘angels’. Of course, let’s not forget about evil Maiar, ‘demons’.”

“Angels?” asked Harry and Hermione. Dumbledore nodded.

“I haven’t heard of this part,” said McGonagall. “What is it you are trying to tell us Albus?”

Dumbledore sighed. “One of the most powerful demons ever was a fire Maiar. He was the Sorcerer Dark Lord Sauron, Necromancer of Dol Guldar, Lord of the Rings. It was he who led to the destruction of Numenor by deceiving them and he spread so much terror throughout the lands before he was deceived in return by Aragorn Elessar and was destroyed.” Dumbledore sighed again and said, “Voldemort has revived Sauron and merged with him. Sauron fears the Heir of Elessar above all others. Voldemrot is obsessed with destroying Harry. Most convenient that they happen to be the same person does it not?”

Harry still looked a little shell-shocked. Hermione perked up and said, “Um Professor, is there any way we can really, I mean really confirm that Harry is well... the long lost king?”

“Ah, this lass is very straight to the point,” said Angnathron. “She’s right though. Dumbledore, you’ll have to take Potter to the White City.”

“Ah good idea,” said Dumbledore. He picked up and a quill on his desk, pointed his wand at it and said, “Portus.” He turned to McGonagall and Angnathron and said, “Please excuse Harry from his classes as we will probably be gone a few days.”

“You got it laddie,” said Angnathron. McGonagall nodded her consent.

Still dazed, Harry turned to Hermione who was lost in thought. “Er... I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”

“What?” Hermione snapped to attention. “Oh, of course. Take care, Harry.”

“Um, would you mind telling good bye to Ron for me?”

“OK. Shall I tell him about all this?”

“NO!” exclaimed Harry. “Er, no. Please, just keep it quiet until I can make some sense of it. I’ll tell him myself then.”

“OK,” said Hermione. She drew Harry into a tight hug. “Be careful, all right?” she whispered.

“I will,” said Harry, hugging her back. He disengaged himself from Hermione and walked over to Dumbledore.

“Ready Harry?” the venerable headmaster asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” said Harry. He touched the quill and in an instant, he and Dumbledore were gone.”

* * *

Harry tumbled onto the grass. “Ugh, I never did like traveling by portkey,” he muttered.

“It does take some getting used to,” said Dumbledore as he helped Harry up. Harry looked around and the first thing he noticed was the vast temperature difference: it was much warmer here than in Scotland. Also, the lack of snow suggested that they were no longer in Britain.

In answer to Harry’s unasked question, Dumbledore said, “We are about 3 miles north of Florence, Italy. This area is charmed to repel muggles, similar to the charms used at the Quidditch World Cup and Hogwarts. Now come.”

Dumbledore led Harry up a hill, the poor boy still wondering what was going on. At the top of the hill, Harry received one more shock so big, his jaw dropped.

In the distance built into a mountain was a city: a white city. It was a huge fortress of white marble, built in seven levels all going higher up the mountain. At the top level was a white tower the shone brightly like the sun. In all his life, Harry had never seen anything so incredible in his life.

“Welcome Harry,” said Dumbledore, “to Minas Tirith: the sole all wizard city in the world and the last existing citadel of ages long past.”

To be continued...

A/N OK, here’s chapter 3. I’m having a hard time finding time to write this stuff because some new Marines came in, who happen to be computer users themselves (unlike before where I was the only computer geek around). So I can’t monopolize the computers anymore. But I’ll still find time to write, no worries.

4. Rauthoron

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N The title of this chapter is simple enough. "Rau" is Quenya for 'lion'. "Thoron" is Sindarin for 'eagle'. Hence, "Rauthoron" becomes 'lion-eagle'. Kind of self explanatory don't you think?

Chapter 4: Rauthoron

Harry was shell-shocked again. Idly, he wondered just how many times he had gone into that state during that day alone. But when one viewed the sheer magnificence of the White City how could one not be awed? The gate alone was huge, rising three times as high as the main entrance to Hogwarts. The streets were made out of marble, glistening white in the sunlight. Walking through the cobbled streets of the city after Dumbledore, Harry could tell that the city was ancient, perhaps the oldest city in the world. It was clear that a good many of the structures were being held up by magic, much like the Burrow.

For all its magnificence however, Minas Tirith was practically deserted. They did run into an occasional witch or wizard who greeted them but overall, the majority of the city appeared to not have been resided in for centuries.

"It's so... empty," he remarked.

"The unfortunate result of a lack of a king," said Dumbledore. Once, this city was the capitol of all Numenoreans and wizarding kind. But when the Royal Family dissipated, so did the city."

"Er... until now?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed. At least I believe so."

Dumbledore continued leading Harry higher and higher up the levels. It was quite clear that they were going higher up the mountain along with the city for the air was getting a little thinner and the temperature a little cooler. Given the Mediterranean weather, Harry decided that the higher levels of Minas Tirith would be brilliant in the summer. He looked out to the east and gasped.

"Professor Dumbledore! Over there!" he pointed. Out to the east there were thick thunderclouds rumbling maliciously and Harry could even see lightning crack. Despite the vast distance, Harry swore he could see the silhouette of a large volcano and a tall tower right next to it. "Professor, is that..."

"Yes Harry. That would be Orodruin the Mountain of Doom and the Dark Tower. Muggles cannot see it yet for the enchantments of the forbidden zone are still in place. But for a wizard, it looks so close despite how far it really is." He pointed to the tower and said, "That tower would be the rebuilt Barad-Dur: the rebuilt one of course as the original, older even than Minas Tirith was destroyed long ago. That is where Voldemort-Sauron now resides."

Harry grimaced. "But if we know where he is..."

"We cannot just storm Barad-Dur Harry: that would be suicide. The tower is littered with foul beings I dare not mention and unspeakable horrors. And Voldemort himself too has grown so much more powerful for merged with Sauron he now has the most powerful weapon ever created at his hand."

"What?" asked Harry. "What is that, Professor?"

"The One Ring," answered Dumbledore. "Forged by Sauron in the fires of Orodruin and remade by Voldemort when they merged. That Ring is the life essence of Sauron; so much of his power is in it that it is essentially the great Maiar himself. With that Ring, Voldemort-Sauron wields immeasurable power and is practically invincible."

Harry looked defeated. "How am I... how are we supposed to fight an enemy like that?"

Dumbledore looked toward Harry looking grim. "I will not lie to you Harry; the odds are highly against us. Yet, not even the Maiar are omnipotent. Voldemort has been defeated, by you more than others. Sauron has been defeated, by the line of the Royal family of Numenor more than others. Thus, for all their power, even Voldemort-Sauron can be defeated."

"How?" asked a morose Harry.

"Faith Harry," said Dumbledore. "We must have faith that the way will be open to us. Keep in mind, that I am about to bring you before the very legacy of Sauron's defeat."

Dumbledore led Harry further up the city. Finally, they came to the seventh and final level. Harry looked around as they walked into what was clearly a royal courtyard. "So is this where the Royal family lives?" he asked.

"The seventh level is indeed usually reserved for the Royal Family," said Dumbledore. "Now of course there it's almost deserted, save by one resident."

Harry was about to ask Dumbledore who that resident was when he noticed for the first time a single white tree standing in the middle of the courtyard. It was clearly of majestic origin but appeared to be only barely hanging onto life. Harry looked toward Dumbledore.

"That would be the White Tree of the King," said Dumbledore. "It lives so long as the Royal Family survives. Just until recently it was practically dead but it seems to have gained a little bit more life into it."

Dumbledore continued on to the tower before them. Harry continued looking at the tree for a little longer before he followed the old wizard. He tried looking around trying to absorb everything around him. He even chanced looking up at the top of the mountain noticing the snow, the occasional bush, and the gold figure starring down at them.

'Gold figure starring down at them?'

Before Harry could comprehend what was going on, the gold figure suddenly started leaping down the mountain at an astounding speed. It let a shrill screech is it got closer toward Harry and within seconds, it had landed in front of he and Dumbledore, blocking their way to the entrance of the White Tower.

In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never seen a beast both so magnificently awe inspiring yet terrifying at the same time. For a brief moment, Harry thought the creature before them was a golden Hippogriff, but he quickly noticed that that was not so. The beast was about the size of a small elephant, its head was that of a golden eagle and its front legs were eagle talons. From its shoulders sprouted two eagle wings that glistened gold in the son. Unlike a Hippogriff however, the hind side of the beast was that of a powerfully built lion, right down to the feline claws on its hind legs. Though Harry had never seen one before, he instantly recognized the beast from its description in Fantastic Beasts and where to find them: a Griffin.

The Griffin crouched in front of the entrance way as if guarding it. Harry started getting nervous as the griffin looked ready to pounce any second. Dumbledore however looked unfazed as he smiled at the griffin. "Why hello Rauthoron," he said, "How may you be doing this fine day?"

The griffin cocked his eagle head a little, observing Dumbledore. It opened its beak and to Harry's immense surprise, it spoke in a deep, melodic voice: "Albus Dumbledore. It has been some time since I have seen you in Minas Tirith."

"I have a sudden need to enter the tower," said Dumbledore.

The griffin squawked and crouched lower. "None shall claim the sword reforged save the Heir of Elessar! I have dedicated my life to guarding it and guard it I shall!" it exclaimed. Harry vaguely remembered that Hermione had once explained to him that wizards often trained griffins to guard their treasure. It was then that the griffin noticed Harry for the first time. It stood up straight and twisted its head a little, getting a better look at Harry. Subconsciously, Harry brushed his bangs over his scar though he doubted the griffin really cared if he was the Boy-who-lived.

Finally, the griffin turned to Dumbledore. "You think it to be this boy?" he asked.

"Indeed I do, Rauthoron my old friend," answered Dumbledore.

The griffin observed Harry a bit longer before walking over to him. For a moment, Harry thought the griffin was about to attack him but instead, the griffin bowed his head before Harry.

"Greetings young one," he said. "I am Rauthoron, King of Griffins and Guardian of the Sword Reforged. For centuries, I have waited for the one who could take forth the sword and reestablish the great kingdom of Gondor-Arnor, as have my ancestors before me. Who is it who has decided to take the challenge?"

Harry blinked before stuttering, "Er, uh, H-Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter. Of course I have heard of you," said Rauthoron. "Indeed, you are a highly likely candidate for the long lost Heir of Elessar. But we will not know for certain until you take the challenge. Do you accept?"

"Er, I guess so," said Harry.

"Then follow me," said Rauthoron. He turned around with a swish of his wings and tail. After hesitating for a moment, Harry also followed after Rauthoron followed by Dumbledore. The mighty griffin walked over to the high, double doors of the tower he had just been guarding and tapped them with the talons of his right foot. With a large creak, the doors swung open.

As Rauthoron led them into the white tower, Harry couldn't help but ask, "How is it that griffins can be trained to guard the treasure of wizards?"

"We are not trained," said Rauthoron. "We enter an agreement. A business contract as humans would say. You see young Harry the ancestors of the griffins were the mighty eagles of old. In general they were about the size of modern griffins, but some were even larger. In the many wars, my ancestors aided the Numenoreans consistently throughout their struggle against evil and thus my kind was greatly honored by the Angelic Powers. Most eagles have diminished to the modern birds you see but a sect of them were interbred with another species so greatly honored by the Angelic Powers: the lions. Thus, the griffins were born, and though we take pride in our independence, we have never forgotten our friendship with the Numenoreans."

Rauthoron led them into what was clearly the throne room of the Royal Palace of Minas Tirith. They were walking down a long, white marble corridor with high arches and windows to let in the sunlight. Great statues of Numenorean kings and queens long past were lined up along the corridor. Harry looked over each of them with a passing eye. However, two particular statues caught his attention. They were two statues of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen. Despite the fact that they were mere images of marble, they appeared to be smiling angelically at Harry. The two statues were practically identical though Harry could tell they were two different women. The woman on the right looked more stately and regal, but had a definite softness in her features. The woman on the left looked more youthful and almost mischievous.

Rauthoron noticed that Harry was no longer following him and walked over to him. "I had a feeling you may want to observe these statues. In life, these two were said to be the most beautiful women ever to walk the world."

Harry blushed and said, "I wasn't looking at them."

"Do not be embarrassed young one. It is perfectly natural," said the griffin.

"It's not that," protested Harry. "It's just that... well these two are identical even though they are different people. I was just thinking that I think they resemble someone I know but I can't remember who it is they resemble..."

"Most interesting," said Rauthoron. He looked to the statue on the right. "That one is Arwen Undomial, the queen of Aragorn Elessar Telcontar: the Evenstar to his Elf Stone. She was said to have brought much joy and reverence to Minas Tirith." He looked to the statue on the left. "That statue is of Luthien. She is an ancestor to both Arwen and Aragorn. Hers is a great love story with the warrior Beren and how they came together through impossible odds and that not even death could separate them."

"I know they're only statues, but there's something different about these two," said Harry.

"That would be because they are not human," said Rauthoron, "They're Elves, Eldar."

"Elves?" exclaimed Harry. Before he could ask anymore questions however Dumbledore came up to them.

"We can explain everything to Harry later," said Dumbledore. "But first we must complete the challenge. We must learn the truth about the Heir of Elessar right away."

Dumbledore continued on down the pathway, Harry and Rauthoron following behind him. Finally, he reached the very end of the chamber. There, elevated before them was a white throne. And standing erect in front of the throne held up by magic was a single, long double-edged sword. Harry somehow felt a familiar kinship with the sword, as if he were being drawn to it. He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Professor?"

"Take it, Harry," was all Dumbledore said. Harry gulped and walked up the steps toward the sword. Harry felt a great trepidation as he brought his hand toward the sword, before he finally took it and picked it up. With a final look toward the anxious looking Dumbledore and Rauthoron, Harry took a deep breath, grabbed the hilt, and drew the sword.

The great sword sang with a metallic cry of triumph and it gleamed in the light as if sunlight and moonlight were trapped into it at once. The blade was 5 feet long and on it wastraced a device of seven stars set between the crescent Moon and the rayed Sun, and about them was written many runes. It was truly a sword fit for a king yet Harry marveled at how easily he was able to wield it.

Harry snapped out of his daze when he heard Rauthoron screeching behind him. Harry turned around just in time to see the mighty griffin bow down before him. "It is true," said the griffin. "You, Harry Potter are indeed the Heir of Aragorn Elessar Telcontar. My allegiance is to you."

"It is exactly as I have believed," said Dumbledore, looking both pleased and triumphant. "I had no doubt in mind Harry and you have just passed the test. You are indeed the King, Harry."

"H-how did I pass the test?" said Harry as he sheathed the sword. "All I did was draw the sword."

"That sword is no ordinary sword," said Rauthoron. "During the first age, when it was forged by the greatest of Dwarf smiths Telchar, it was known as Narsil, 'the sun and the moon'. During the second age, this sword became the personal sword of the great king Elendil the Tall, and with it he fought Sauron. And when Elendil was slain and even Narsil was broken, his son Isildur took up the broken sword and cut the Ring from Sauron's hand, defeating him. Yet, Isildur was not worthy enough to have Narsil reforged, proven soon afterward when he couldn't resist Sauron's Ring. It took his greater descendant, Aragorn Elessar to have the sword reforged as Anduril 'the flame of the west' and reestablish Gondor and Arnor."

"Do you see what Rauthoron is explaining Harry?" said Dumbledore. "Only the Heir of Elendil and by default the Heir of Elessar can draw Anduril as you have done so just now. Anybody else who tried to would be killed."

"Meep!" squeaked Harry. He had just been floored by the fact that had he not been the Heir of Elessar, he would've been dead by now. The fact that he drew the sword was the proof he needed that he was indeed the lost king.

"Well then, we must be on our way. It is necessary to spend a few days training Harry in the wielding of Anduril before we return to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. "There are several places around the world where that can be done."

"And I shall accompany you from now on," said Rauthoron. "It was my charge to guard Anduril with my life. I am still under that charge and I now guard the Heir of Elessar who wields the sword."

Harry simply nodded, still rather dazed. He had a distinct feeling that his life was never going to be the same again.

To be continued...

A/N Ugh, how tough it is to write these chapters. I admit that nothing necessarily so serious happened in this chapter. But these first few chapters really are here to get the plot started. The main will be getting underway soon so all I ask is that you bear with me until the more exciting parts come up. There will be action, suspense, and romance. Afterall, you H/H shippers know what's coming up right?

5. En Naruparv en Dundaur

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Once again the titles are decently simple. The entire title is written in Sindarin. “Naruparv” is “Red Book”. “Dundaur” is simply a literal translation of the name “Westmarch”. So, the title of the chapter is “The Red Book of Westmarch”.

Chapter 5: En Naruparv en Dundaur

Back at Hogwarts, Hermione spent several hours walking around in a daze. Harry was a long lost heir to a throne and was supposed to be the king of wizard kind. Hermione couldn’t even begin to comprehend the magnitude of such a revelation. She had no doubt in her mind that Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge would be outraged at such a prospect and probably begin another outrageous campaign to discredit him. She also knew that if the general wizarding populace were to find out, most of them would throw Harry on to the throne without a second thought giving that he was the Boy-who-lived and that they were frustrated with the Ministry’s incompetence at dealing with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Of course, she was dreading telling Ron about where Harry had gone. Like she had promised, she had no intension of telling Ron that Harry was due to become a king but she still had to explain to him that he would be gone for a few days. She didn’t think she could offer a good explanation for Harry’s departure from Hogwarts to find out if the king was indeed him.

The king; the thought still sounded so unbelievable to her. She always knew that Harry was special but that was certainly something she hadn’t thought of him. She didn’t know if this was only her insecurities talking but suddenly, Harry seemed to be even more out of reach and distant to her. Of course, she knew that Harry wouldn’t break off their friendship just because he became king. And as if all of that weren’t mind boggling enough, she couldn’t help but think that the stories Dumbledore had told her were eerily familiar, as if she had known all about them at some point.

Suddenly she snapped to attention when an icy voice hissed, “It will suit you well Miss Granger to PAY ATTENTION IN MY CLASS!” Hermione cursed herself for drifting off in her thoughts in Potions of all classes.

“I am sorry Professor Snape. It won’t happen again,” she said.

“See that it doesn’t! 10 points from Gryffindor,” snapped the Potions Master Severus Snape. “All you Gryffindors constantly zoning out like the airheads you seem to be. Never take authority seriously. NOW GET BACK TO WORK BEFORE I GIVE ALL OF YOU DETENTION FOR THE WHOLE WEEK!” It seemed that Snape was in a particularly bad mood as he couldn’t bully Harry for the next few days and was taking this out on the rest of the Gryffindors. From the front row, Harry’s school nemesis, Slytherin Draco Malfoy smirked at Hermione as well as sending her, what she uncomfortably thought looked like a leer. Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to work.

* * *

“What the bloody hell do you mean he left with Dumbledore?” demanded Ron Weasley. “Where did he go that’s so important that he go at this time?” They were having lunch in the Great Hall.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh honestly Ron, you know Harry’s very busy with everything. If he’s called away, I’m sure he’ll tell you about it when he comes back.” She pulled out Hogwarts, A History and started reading it. “Besides, why is it such a deal that he’s gone for a few days?”

“Why is it a big deal? Because we have the Quidditch Match against Ravenclaw coming up!” yelled Ron, as if it were a taboo that Harry had left before that.

“While I do believe my childish big brother is overacting a little,” said Ginny from next to Ron, “I must say that as Gryffindor Team Captain, I prefer my seeker to be ready for the final game of the Quidditch Cup.”

“Harry will be back in time for your oh so precious, Quidditch Game,” said Hermione sarcastically. She then muttered, “You’d think that no longer taking Potions and Divination would make you less aggravating, Ron.”

Ron’s look of anger instantly changed into a grin. “Ah, but there lies my moment of wisdom in that I, unlike you and Harry, decided to not take Potions anymore and stay out of Harry’s hair.”

Ginny snorted. “You mean you couldn’t get an OWL score high enough to get into NEWT Potions,” she said.

“Whatever. I’d still say it’s a relief,” said Ron. “I don’t think I could take anymore of Snape’s sadistic Gryffindor torturing pleasures for a further two years.”

“Well that just proves that you’re a chicken Weasley,” said a sleazy voice from behind Hermione, “Too much of a coward to stay under the eye of the big, bad Slytherin head.”

“Sod off, Malfoy!” snapped Ron. Draco Malfoy had come up to harass the Gryffindor like he often did. He was flanked by his two ‘bodyguards’ Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Also accompanying them were Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode.

Pansy looked around for a moment before she said, “Well, looks like Potter’s missing. I suppose he finally came to his senses and dumped this crowd of losers.”

“About time I’d say,” said Draco breezily. “Took him long enough to realize his so called ‘friends’ are nothing more than a pathetic poor boy and a Mudblood.”

“You take that back!” shouted Ron, leaping to his feet and brandishing his wand.

“Ha! Make me Weasel!” said a smirking Draco.

Ron looked ready to curse Malfoy to oblivion any second. Hermione hurriedly stood up and soothingly said, “Stop it Ron. He’s not worth it.”

Draco was about to continue his taunting when an Eagle Owl suddenly flew into the Great Hall and deposited a letter on his head. Draco and his gang walked off a little ways and started reading the letter as Ron sat down, calming down a little.

“Damn that ferret!” grumbled Ron. “One of these days I’m going to corner him and...” Ron made a violent gesture with his hands.

“I could use him as a test subject for Fred and George’s tricks,” said Ginny. “I think I’ll try to convince them to make ‘Ferret Creams’. Then we can use it on Malfoy and bounce him around.”

“Ah yes Draco Malfoy, the return of the bouncing ferret.” Ron pushed his plate away and said, “I just lost my appetite talking to Malfoy. Let’s go nick some food from the kitchens instead.”

Hermione groaned as Ron and Ginny gathered there stuff but decided to accompany them anyway. The last thing she noticed before leaving the Great Hall was the look of interest and glee on Draco Malfoy and his gangs’ faces as they read the letter.

* * *

“Harry Potter’s friends are here! Harry Potter’s friends are here!” exclaimed Dobby the House Elf as he bounded toward Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, still looking outrageous in his tea cozy and mismatched socks. “Dobby is honored that Harry Potter’s friends have come to visit.”

The multitudes of toga wearing House Elves all turned toward the party while still working on their various tasks. The Hogwarts kitchens were always staffed with a large number of Professional House Elves, ready to serve at the beck and call of anyone who entered. This was a constant source of annoyance for Hermione.

“Hey Dobby, get me a full course of all the sweets and desserts around here,” said Ron. Dobby happily skipped away, followed by several other House Elves as Hermione scowled at Ron.

“Why do you insist on giving more work to the House Elves?” she demanded. “They’re overworked enough as it is.”

Ron scoffed and said, “Oh please, don’t start going on and on about spew again.”

“Its S.P.E.W.,” hissed Hermione, “and maybe you wouldn’t be so desensitized if you were being forced to work for some snobbish kids yourself all the time!”

“Well, good thing I’m not a House Elf then, eh?” said Ron. Hermione started fuming.

“Oh lighten up Hermione,” said Ginny as she took an éclair one of the House Elves had given her. “The House Elves want to serve so who are we to get in the way of what they want to do?”

Hermione was about to retort when the entrance to the kitchens suddenly swung open and Luna Lovegood all people walked through. “Hello Ronald,” she said as if she were expecting to see him there. Ron groaned. Luna turned to Ginny and said, “So Ginny, about what we were talking about earlier...”

Hermione never knew what it was exactly that made her snap but as it was, the irritation she was feeling at Ron over the House Elves’ plight was released on Luna: “Oh must you go on about your so called ‘Eldar’ with House Elves present?!”

Luna naturally was completely unfazed by Hermione’s outburst. However, the fact that the entire kitchens had grown completely silent was unnerving enough. All of the House Elves were starring at Hermione in total disbelief and something akin to wonder. Even Dobby had dropped all the snacks he was carrying to Ron and was starring at Hermione.

Hermine instantly became anxious. “What? What did I say?” she asked, looking around at the silent House Elves.

“Miss Hermione mentioned the Eldar,” said Dobby, his voice laced with awe. “Miss Hermione mentioned House Elves’ great cousins, High Elves!”

“C-cousins?” asked Hermione.

Dobby nodded and said, “House Elves were once Avari: unwilling to go west when called like the Eldar. House Elves no longer look anything like Eldar or original Avari but we still feel kinship with the great Eldar. Many House Elves believe that the Eldar will return one day. Dobby believes the Eldar will return one day.”

Hermione’s head started swimming as she digested this information. On the one hand she was trying to understand all Luna and Dobby were talking about concerning the so-called ‘Eldar’. On the other hand, she was still trying to settle into the new understanding that Harry was the rightful king of wizarding kind due to his ancestry to Atlantis, or rather ‘Numenor’. Yet, there was something so familiar about everything. Something at the back of her mind was telling her that she knew something about all this but she couldn’t recall what.

“Freaky, Looney was actually saying something that may have some truth to it,” muttered Ron.

“Everything I say has some truth to it,” said Luna dreamily. “But you weren’t quite right Hermione. I wasn’t here to talk about the Eldar; I’m here to talk about Hobbits. They’re about two to four feet tall, live underground, have large furry feet, indigenous to Britain, practically muggle in that they have no magic whatsoever...”

As soon as Luna had said the word ‘Hobbit’, something clicked in Hermione’s mind. “Oh my God,” she whispered. She then exclaimed, “Oh my God! Why didn’t I realize it before?” Before anybody could ask her what she was going on about, Hermione ran out of the kitchens and down the hallway.

“Mental she is,” said Ron. “Mind you, she’s always been mental but I think Hermione’s finally lost it.”

“I want to see what it is she realized,” said Ginny. “Let’s follow her.”

* * *

Hermione burst into the library ignoring the glare the librarian Irma Pince shot her. She simply made her way over to the shelves and started looking over the books at a fast pace. She was worried that the particular book she was looking for may not be in the Hogwarts library as she was under the impression that it was a muggle book. Luck was on her side however and Hermione let out a joyful shriek (inciting another glare from Madame Pince) as she located the large book hidden between Life by the Quaffle and Lover Witch. She set the book with a thud on the table as Ron, Ginny, and Luna joined her.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t remember this book!” exclaimed Hermione. “I read it when I was 7 years old for some light reading though I probably forgot about it over all the chaos at Hogwarts.”

“You read that for light reading when you were seven?” said Ron incredulously, pointing to the extremely large tome on the table. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and started examining the pages of the book.

“Well what is it?” asked Ginny as she and the others sat in the chairs surrounding the table Hermione was sitting at.

“The Lord of the Rings by John Ronald Reuel Tolkien,” said Hermione. “It’s all here: Hobbits, the Eldar, the Numenoreans, Sauron, the White City... I thought everything I’ve been hearing the past few days sounded familiar but I couldn’t correlate between them all until I heard Luna mentioned Hobbits.” She beamed at Luna who smiled dreamily back at her.

“What the heck is she going on about?” whispered Ron.

“I have no bloody clue,” answered Ginny. Hermione continued skimming the large book.

“The Fellowship of the Ring… The Two Towers... The Return of the King... I wonder.” She stood up and went back to the bookshelves. After searching for several minutes, she shouted “Eureka!” and pulled out two more books: The Hobbit and The Silmarillion.

“So there was someone else who knew all about Elves and Hobbits,” said Luna.

“It looks that way,” said Hermione. She appeared to be lost in thought as she skimmed the books once more. Suddenly, her face took on a look of alarm. Gathering the books, she stuffed them into her bag before running out of the library shouting, “I’ve got to see Dumbledore!” leaving a bewildered Ron and Ginny behind with Luna in the library.

* * *

Dumbledore, recently returned from Minas Tirith, looked up from his desk as Hermione burst into his room. He smiled and said, “Why Miss Granger, how may I be of service to you?” as he placed the copy of the Quibbler he had been reading on his desk.

“Is Harry back yet?” Hermione asked.

“Alas not yet,” said Dumbledore. “I myself have only just returned about an hour ago. I have left him in the charge of a trustworthy friend of mine, Rauthoron. He will be back in about three days. Now once again I ask, how may I be of service to you?”

Hermione said nothing and merely dumped the books on Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore looked over his half moon spectacles at the books before smiling at Hermione and saying, “So I see you’ve found Professor Tolkien’s books. I assumed you had already read them, which is why I allowed you to listen in on the latter half of the prophecy along with Harry.”

“Then the books are true,” said Hermione, more like a statement than a question.

“Indeed they are,” said Dumbledore as he stood up and walked over to one of the cabinets. “Everything Professor Tolkien wrote about in his books is the genuine retelling of the History of Middle-Earth, as Europe was known as in those days.” He pulled out an even larger book and blew the dust off of it before placing on his desk in front of Hermione. Its cover was made of tough, red leather and its pages were made of pamphlet. Hermione couldn’t read the title of the book but she recognized a few of the letters as ‘Tengwar’ the alphabet of the Eldar.

“Professor...” asked Hermione as she ran her hand over the books cover. “Is this...”

“This is indeed what you think it is,” said Dumbledore, already knowing what Hermione was about to ask. “This is the last surviving copy of the original Red Book of Westmarch: written by the three Ring Bearers, the Hobbits Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins, and Samwise Gamgee. As a child, J. R. R. Tolkien discovered it in the English countryside in what I know believe to have been an abandoned Hobbit hole. He spent his entire life translating it into the very books you have before you.”

“Then how... how did Voldemort come to know about Sauron and the Forbidden Zone if this is the last copy?” asked Hermione. “And how come it is now in your possession?”

“The answer is simple enough: Professor Tolkien showed the book to him himself,” said Dumbledore. Noticing Hermione’s confused face he explained, “Not too many people know that Tom Marvolo Riddle attended Oxford University for four years after leaving Hogwarts: Professor Tolkien was one of his instructors. Tom may have despised muggles but he definitely knew how to take advantage of them, including their education system. Tom ultimately impressed Professor Tolkien so much that he showed him the Red Book and the translations he was working on.”

Dumbledore sighed wearily as he flopped back into his chair. Fawkes eyed the Headmaster concernedly as Dumbledore continued, “Of course, no one could’ve ever imagined that Tom would eventually emerge as Voldemort. Mere weeks before he passed away, Professor Tolkien gave the Red Book to me, believing that I should know what he had unwittingly told Voldemort. I half expected Voldemort to go revive Sauron that very instant but obviously it didn’t happen yet. And I certainly had no idea that the Heir of Elessar would reemerge.”

“So Harry really is descended from Aragorn and Arwen?” asked Hermione. “One of his parents carried the Numenorean Royal Blood?”

“Actually, both Lily and James were descendants of Aragorn and Arwen,” said Dumbledore. “For Harry to truly have a legitimate claim to the throne of Gondor-Arnor, both of his parents needed the blood within in them, as some research I conducted several years indeed proved.” The wise old man started thinking for a moment before he started chuckling. “Of course, its also somewhat humbling, not to mention amusing to realize that Harry’s Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley have Numenorean Royal blood in them as well, though miniscule compared to Harry.”

To be continued...

A/N I am about ready to curse these computers at Fort Jackson. They won’t let me go into Aim, Yahoo Groups, FF.net. So that means only my Portkey frequenters will be getting the updates regularly until the 9th, unless I can find a different computer to upload at. Hmm... that’s something to think consider. I think I’ll do just that.

6. Tinuviel

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Anybody who knows anything about J. R. R. Tolkien’s writings should know what ‘Tinuviel’ means. It’s Sindarin for ‘nightingale’. But for people who know the story of Beren and Luthien and the story of Aragorn and Arwen, it becomes so much more. And now it applies to this fic.

Chapter 6: Tinuviel

Hermione was about to say something more when the door to the Headmaster’s office suddenly burst open and none other than Severus Snape strode into the office looking absolutely livid. “Dumbledore! One third of my House has left!” he bellowed, completely ignoring Hermione.

“Now, now Severus, calm down and explain from the beginning,” said Dumbledore.

Snape took a calming breath and explained, “Earlier this afternoon Draco Malfoy received an owl from whom I believe to have been his mother. This in itself is nothing new until Professor Sprout contacted me about 40 minutes ago saying that at least half of the 5th year Slytherins in her class were missing. I went down to the Slytherin Common Room to give my students a reprimand, only to find it just about void of all upper classmen. I finally gleaned from those obnoxious portraits that the majority of the Slytherins in 5th through 7th year had taken portkeys out of Hogwarts. It appears these portkeys were delivered in the letter sent to Draco Malfoy as well as a few other letters sent to the students of my house.”

Dumbledore started stroking his beard pensively. “This news could be somewhat alarming,” he said. “I certainly find it far too coincidental that these Slytherin students left the school so close after what Vodemort had done.” He looked up at Snape and said, “Severus will you please gather a list of all the students who are missing?”

Snape nodded. However, he hesitated leaving and started fidgeting a little, clutching his arm. “There is actually one more thing,” he said. Slowly, Snape stuck out his arm and pulled back his sleeve revealing the Dark Mark, the sign of Voldemort. It was a malicious looking skull with a serpent slithering out of its mouth like a tongue. However, there appeared to be a new addition on Snape’s mark: a single red eye was forming just behind the skull.

Hermione couldn’t help but shudder a little bit as the glint in Dumbledore’s eye took on a sinister quality. “Contact #12 Grimmauld Place,” he said. “Call all available members of the Order of the Phoenix to Hogwarts. It is beginning.”

* * *

A few days later things had gotten quite high alert. Order members were constantly frequenting between #12 Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts, aside from their usual patrol zones: it seemed as if they were making security at Hogwarts an even higher priority. Hermione even occasionally heard rumors that Dumbledore was attempting to convince the Ministry of Magic of foreign nations to post higher security at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang though there didn’t appear to be much progress with his efforts. It was clear to everybody that security at the three top European Schools of magic was a new priority though for the life of her Hermione had no idea why.

Still, there were many small concessions along the way. Namely spring had arrived and the snow had melted to reveal a green Hogwarts grounds with bright sunshine, birds chirping, and flowers blossoming.

Hermione loved spring. Of course winter had its occasional good times such as Christmas or having fun in the snow but overall it was far too cold and miserable. Spring was a time of growth and rebirth where everything was made new. Hermione delighted in the season because in her mind, she wished to erase the winter from Harry’s life and bring him into spring: a world without Voldemort where Harry could finally live his life.

Hermione woke up rather early that Sunday well before anybody else did. Most of the Hogwarts students preferred sleeping in that day and even Hermione herself occasionally aloud herself a few extra minutes of rest. However, it was such a beautiful day that she couldn’t help but want to enjoy the sunshine for herself.

Making her way out of Gryffindor tower and later out of the castle, Hermione stepped out into the morning sunshine and happily sighed. She slowly made her way over to the Forbidden Forest, not within the deeper, dangerous parts but rather around the slightly wooded areas of the outskirts of the forest where there was no danger of her being ripped to pieces by some hungry manticore or chimaera.

The sun was so warm that she took off her cloak and book-bag, leaving it on the ground. Dressed in her blue, sleeveless dress, Hermione considered taking off her shoes. ‘Well why not?’ she thought. She took off her shoes and her socks and started walking on the soft grass barefoot as she observed the birds flying about. Before she knew it, Hermione had started twirling around and within a few seconds, she was lost in a delicate dance between the trees, under the spring sun.

Meanwhile, not too far deeper into the Forbidden Forest, a mighty griffin touched down onto the ground. “You can make your back to the castle from here,” said Rauthoron as a young wizard slid off his back. “I plan on staying in the forest for a while but I will be ready to come over whenever I am needed.”

Harry groaned as he tried to massage his shoulder. Holstered on his back was Anduril. “Ugh, I’m sore all over,” he groaned.

“All I said was I would carry you back to Hogwarts,” said Rauthoron. “I never said it would be a comfortable ride.”

“It’s not just that,” said Harry. “I’ve just had to go through a crash course in wielding Anduril as well as basic Ranger school 101. Even Angnathron’s drills weren’t as brutal as the last few days.”

“What cannot kill you can only make you stronger,” said Rauthoron. Harry rolled his eyes before saying good bye to the griffin and making his way over to the castle. ‘I could use a nice, long shower and a nap,’ he thought. However, he hadn’t gone very far when something caught his eye.

It was a maiden dancing amongst the trees. She was most graceful, twirling barefoot along the grass and the flowers. She wore a blue, sleeveless dress that seemed to shimmer in the morning sunlight and she was also was singing softly, a song that sounded like the chorus of angels to Harry’s ears. Her soft brown hair fluttered softly with each twirl and the smile she wore shone with a radiant beauty. The birds chirping and flying around her further added to the wonder of this Heavenly being, who had come to entice Harry with feelings he had never felt before. It was as if Harry had walked into a dream.

‘Luthien?’ thought Harry. For in Harry’s mind this maiden could be nothing more than the elf maiden who’s image Harry had seen at Minas Tirith: the maiden whom was said to have been the most beautiful woman ever to have walked the world. For in Harry’s mind, this heavenly sight could be none other than the most beautiful of maidens ever: Luthien’s image returned to life upon Middle-Earth.

For what seemed like hours but was probably only about a few minutes, Harry continued starring entranced at this ‘image of Luthien’. It was only when her dancing had started to take her farther away did he react. ‘No don’t go! Please continue to dance!’ he thought. He took off after the maiden but he didn’t appear to have much strength in his legs as he couldn’t keep up with her. ‘She’s slipping away!’ he thought. Desperate to hang onto the dream for a little longer he cried out the first words that filtered into his mind:

“Tinuviel! Tinuviel!”

Hermione immediately snapped out of her the little daze of dance she was in and stopped abruptly. She looked up into the green eyes that enticed her for so long. “H-Harry?” she asked.

Harry instantly snapped out of his dream. “Wha... Hermione?”

‘Oh my God!’ she thought blushing red, ‘He just saw me dancing! How could I be so silly? What would he think of me now, to be dancing like that? And barefoot no less? And was I singing? Or dear God what was I thinking? I’ve never let anyone hear me sing before. What if he thinks I sound horrible? And for that matter what am I wearing? Just my blue dress? It may not be too revealing but it isn’t all that much to be wearing and...’

“What are you doing here?” asked Harry.

Hermione started getting flustered. “I... I... I was...” she suddenly registered what it was Harry had said. “Harry, what did you call me?” she whispered.

Harry thought for a moment before he said, “T-Tinuviel. I-I don’t know why I called you that or what it means for that matter...”

“It means ‘nightingale’,” said Hermione, her eyes alight with something.

“How did you know that?” asked Harry looking confused.

“I... read about it.”

“Oh,” said Harry, still somewhat dazed. It was then that Hermione noticed the sword holstered on Harry’s back.

“Harry, that sword...”

“Oh this?” said Harry gesturing to the sword. “It’s apparently called ‘Anduril’: ‘Flame of the West’ or something like that.”

“Oh my,” gasped Hermione. “Then, you really are the Heir of Elessar.”

“Er... yeah,” said Harry wondering how she was able to easily come to that conclusion. He hadn’t even explained to her that only the Heir of Elessar could take forth Anduril and all that other stuff.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out for a few moments before Hermione suddenly exclaimed, “I know! Harry I need to show you something!” She grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him over to where her book bag was. Hermione hurriedly sat him on the ground and pulled out The Lord of the Rings and other books by Tolkien and began to explain them to Harry.

“Oh my God it’s all in here,” said Harry as he skimmed over the books, “even Minas Tirith.”

“What about Minas Tirith?” asked Hermione.

“That’s where I was on the first day I was gone,” said Harry. “That’s where I found Anduril.”

“Minas Tirith still exists?” said Hermione, her eyes shining with wonder.

“Practically a ghost city though,” said Harry. “After that, I spent several days in different parts of the world training.” He glanced through the appendixes of The Lord of the Rings when one of them caught his eye: the story of Aragorn and Arwen. He started skimming over it when he suddenly noticed the word “Tinuviel”.

“What?” exclaimed Harry. Reading over the passage quickly, he realized with a jolt that as a young man, Aragorn had called Arwen that name when they had first met because he had thought he had encountered Luthien. Harry had called Hermione by that name because he too had thought she was Luthien. Grabbing Hermione’s copy of The Silmirillion, he turned to the tale of Beren and Luthien. Sure enough, he immediately realized that “Tinuviel” was what Beren had called Luthien that first day they ever met and fell in love.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Harry, leaping up to his feet and backing away, blushing bright red: it was easy enough to figure out the implications of his calling Hermione “Tinuviel”. Hermione also seemed to have understood what Harry had just realized and was blushing as well.

“Oh my God! Hermione I’m so sorry!” exclaimed Harry. “Not to mean that you’re not Luthien. I mean, of course you’re not. But you resemble her quite a bit and... well you were absolutely so beautiful dancing like that... I mean of course you’re always beautiful. You’re just a beautiful girl... woman! And of course here I am trying to remedy our friendship and most likely I’ve destroyed all hope of restoring it now. I mean, you’re so beautiful... like Luthien... but you’re not Luthien, you’re Hermione and I’d still think you’re beautiful even if you didn’t resemble Luthien... which you do... and I’m your best friend who really shouldn’t be saying stuff like this... for that matter even thinking stuff like...”

“Harry,” said Hermione, coming up to him with a slight smile and dreamy eyes. “Shut up.” Then before Harry could say anything more, Hermione pulled his lips down to hers for a sweet kiss.

It was only a few moments before Hermione pulled away a deep blush on her face while Harry looked completely dazed. Hermione giggled and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for quite some time now.” She gathered up her books and cloak before turning back to Harry and saying, “We’d better get back to the castle: everybody else is going to be waking up soon.” She then took off toward the castle leaving a dazed Harry behind. As soon as Hermione had entered the castle, Harry fainted.

Angnathron was just waking out of the castle when he spotted Hermione running toward him. “Ah, Miss Granger! A good morning to...” Hermione dashed passed the dwarf without even acknowledging him. Angnathron stroked his beard and wondered aloud, “Now when did Hermione Granger ever blush that red?”

* * *

In Barad-dur, the Death Eaters had gathered, all with their families present: hundreds upon hundreds of Dark Wizards and Witches all crowded into the throne room of the Dark Tower. And seated on the throne, in front of a blood red tapestry depicting the Dark Mark and behind that the Eye of Sauron, sat the Dark Lord Voldemort-Sauron.

“All of our Death Eaters have done remarkably well,” said the Dark Lord. “We must admit it mustn’t have been easy to smuggle the younger ones out of Hogwarts right under Albus Dumbledore’s nose but you’ve managed.” He stood up and walked toward his followers. “In the end only one of you could be chosen and it was a most harrowing choice to make. But ultimately, we concluded that the only choices could’ve been Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy.” The two Death Eaters looked prideful while a general feeling of jealousy grew amongst the others.

Voldemort-Sauron turned to Bellatrix and spoke solely in Voldemort’s voice, “I have decided to exempt Bella from this honor in place of another. Would that suit you my dear?” He caressed the raven haired woman’s cheek.

“I have greatly awaited for this honor my Lord,” said Bellatrix. She then whispered seductively, “I shall wait for you in your chambers later tonight.”

The Dark Lord laughed and turned to the rest of the Death Eaters. “Lucius, come forth,” said Voldemort’s voice.

Lucius Malfoy stepped forth and bowed down in front of the Dark Lord, followed by his wife Narcissa and son Draco. “I have been greatly honored in your eyes master,” Lucius said.

“Indeed,” said the Dark Lord, still in Voldemort’s voice. “Lucius Malfoy, you have been exemplary in your efforts to further our causes. You adhered to our ways even in the midst of Dumbledore’s muggle loving blasphemies. And you have served well as my Lieutenant. It is therefore logical that the gift of being the greatest of my servants should fall to you.” Lucius smirked and was about to stand up when Voldemort said, “But, as I am still angered by your abandonment of me while I was exiled for 13 years, I have decided to give the gift to your son Draco instead.”

Lucius completely spluttered. “I... uh... of course! Draco! Step up there!” Though he appeared cool, Draco’s eyes shown with malice of delight as he stepped up toward Voldemort-Sauron.

Voldemort-Sauron stretched his left hand toward Draco to reveal a single ring in his palm. He now said in Sauron’s voice, “This ring is the most powerful of nine others: a Ring of Power. It will grant you immortality, invisibility, and other such wonderful gifts. Take it. Receive it from Annatar: Lord of Gifts.”

Gleefully, Draco took the ring from the Dark Lord without question. “I accept gladly my Lord,” he said.

The Dark Lord nodded. “Behold!” he proclaimed in both voices, “Draco Malfoy, the Witch-King of Slytherin!”

To be continued...

A/N Ah! Another chapter down, who knows how many more to go. Well there you have it, I’ve lain down the first seeds of H/H in this fic as well as ‘introduced’ you all to the new Nazgul hopeful. How many of you all figured out it was him? Anyway, in the next chapter, there’s going to be a sequence borrowed from the manga The Flame of Recca. I wonder how many will recognize it.

7. Doldas Girith

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N A bit of a tough one actually but this title is Sindarin for “darkness shudders”. The idea is that something is happening among those of dark nature and the times are being set in motion. Well that’s the idea anyway. Don’t know if it’ll be any good.

Chapter 7: Doldas Girith

Anybody who knew anything about the Gryffindors knew that Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were the local gossips of the group. Sure they were brave like all Gryffindors but they were also rather flirty and somewhat superficial. Thus, it was no wonder that Hermione shuddered a little bit when the “gossip twins” as Lavender and Parvati were known as cornered her at the Gryffindor Table during breakfast.

“OK, talk!” said Parvati.

“Talk about what?” asked Hermione as she picked up an eclair to eat.

“We know Harry came back earlier this morning,” said Lavender. “And we also know that you had gone out this morning to see him.”

“So talk now Hermione,” demanded Parvati. “Where has Harry been these past few days and what has he been doing?”

Hermione spluttered. “W-well what do you want to know?” she asked. “He just came back and I...” Suddenly a single thought started running through Hermione’s head nonstop: ‘I kissed Harry! I kissed Harry! I kissed Harry! I kissed Harry...’

The memory of feeling Harry’s sweet lips upon her own suddenly brought Hermione’s face to a bright red color and she even felt like steam was issuing from her face. At least it certainly felt that way when Parvati cried, “Oh my God! She’s getting hard-boiled!”

“Dump cold water on her! Dump cold water on her!” screamed Lavender.

‘Oh my God!’ thought Hermione, her face still bright red. ‘I really kissed Harry! Why did I have to do that? Oh, I hope I didn’t shock him too much. What if he never wants to speak to me again? What if he just wants to remain friends? I guess that’s going to be better than not speaking to me again but I really want to be more than friends with him. What am I saying, I can’t spring this on him at this time! But I already did spring this on him. I’m the one who kissed him. Oh, what am I going to do? What am I going to do?’

Fortunately, Luna Lovegood sauntered near the Gryffindor Table before Lavender could dump cold water all over Hermione.

“Hello girls did you hear?” she said in her usual dreamy voice. “Harry’s been attacked by Nargles.”

“Nargles?” said Lavender and Parvati at once. “What brought you to that conclusion?” asked Parvati.

Luna looked thoughtful as she started recalling. “Well, I was walking by the Gryffindor Common Room when...

* * *

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Ginny as she made her way through the crowd in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“No idea,” said Ron. “Apparently, Angnathron found him outside in this state and brought him back here. He’s been like this ever since, just staring into space.”

The ‘he’ Ron was referring to was of course Harry whom was seated on a sofa in front of the fireplace simply starring at nothing, his eyes glassy and his body making no motion whatsoever save breathing.

“He’s been like this for hours,” said Ron. “A guy leaves for a couple of days only to return practically as a vegetable. Can’t get any info out of him in this state.”

“I hope he snaps out of it soon,” said Ginny. “There’s no reserve seeker for the Quidditch match coming up.”

“I may have to use drastic measures,” said Ron. Before Ginny could stop him, Rom hit the back of Harry’s head sending him crashing to the floor.

“Hey!” exclaimed Harry, leaping to his feet. “Why did you do that for?”

Ron let a jubilant cry of “It worked!”

Confused, Harry said, “What work...” before a single thought shot through his head. ‘Hermione kissed me! Hermione kissed me! Hermione kissed me...’ He once again sank down onto the sofa the glassy eyed daze look returning to his face.

“Its hopeless,” said Ron and Ginny.

* * *

... and that’s pretty much the gist of it,” finished Luna.

‘Oh no,’ thought Hermione, her face brightening red again. ‘I really gave him a bad shock.’

“Suspicious,” whispered Lavender.

“Very suspicious,” concurred Parvati.

“Something happened between those two,” said Lavender. “And I can’t wait to find out the details.”

“Wait til I tell Padma,” said Parvati.

“Oh by the way Hermione,” said Luna. “I’ve got a message from Professor Angnathron. He wants you to meet with him by the lake with Hagrid. Ronald and Harry as well.”

* * *

Hermione made her way over to the section of the lake not too far from Hagrid’s hut. As she was looking for Angnathron however she was startled when she came across Ron who was dragging a still dazed Harry.

“Hermione,” said Ron. That instantly snapped Harry out of his daze.

“Hermione?” asked Harry.

Hermione turned bright red and said, “Um... Hi.”

“Hi,” said Harry, also turning red. An awkward silence descended upon them as Harry and Hermione tried to look at anything but each other. This started to irrate Ron.

“All right! What in Merlin’s name is up with you two?” he snapped.

Harry and Hermione immediately turned their focus to Ron. Harry gulped and started saying, “Well you see... we... uh...” as Hermione continued fidgeting. It wasn’t easy to explain anything, especially with Ron glaring at them, clearly suspicious. Fortunately, the tense moment was broken by the sound of a rock skidding along the lake’s surface.

The three looked toward the lake to see the Hogwarts Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Instructor, Rubeus Hagrid throwing stones across the lake, all the while muttering.

“Hagrid?” asked Harry as the three stepped up closer to the 12 foot tall half-giant.

Hagrid didn’t seem to have noticed his young friends as he continued muttering, “Prejudice... tha’ what it is... prejudice. They don’ care abou’ any crime! Jus’ wan’ ta lock up any ole giant. The Ministry and there ways. Couldn’ help ‘im. Jus’ couldn’ help ‘im.” Hagrid tossed another stone over the lake. It skipped away quite a distance before the tentacle of the giant squid came out of the surface of the lake and caught the skipping stone.

“He’s been like that for hours now.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned around to see Angnathron sitting on top of a boulder smoking his pipe. Right next to Angnathron was the hippogriff, Buckbeak whom had been returned to Hagrid’s custody after Sirius Black’s death: he was pawing on the ground looking for food. “Ever since the poor laddie heard the news. Heart broken, the poor soul,” Angnathron said. “I’ve been trying to convince him to join me for an ale at the Hogs Head but he hasn’t given much heed to me.”

“What happened?” asked Hermione.

Hagrid answered with a wail: “The Ministry took Grawp to Azkaban Prison!”

“They can take giants to Azkaban?” exclaimed Ron. Hermione gave him an icy glare.

“Azkaban is designed for all manner of living beings,” said Angnathron. “There are cells in Azkaban for centaurs, House Elves, goblins, vampires, and giants, though mostly only the human cells get used.”

“But why did the Ministry take Grawp to Azkaban?” asked Harry.

“The Ministry is growing nervous in light of the recent developments of the war,” said Angnathron. “They may not know the exact details of Voldemort’s union with Sauron but they’re definitely noticing that things are changing for the worse. So they decided they didn’t want any giants wandering around the Hogwarts Grounds, let alone any giants in the British isles period.”

“Grawp’s harmless! I haf ta tell ‘em tha’” wailed Hagrid. Angnathron walked to him and handed Hagrid a napkin which Hagrid took and blew his nose on.

“What the bloody hell is he talking about? You-know-who and this sour-what union?” asked a confused Ron.

Harry ignored Ron and said, “Exactly what are these ‘changes’ that the Ministry is noticing?”

“Its mostly in the Dark Creatures,” said Angnathron. “In particular, Europe is now devoid of the majority of its troll population: they all seem to be heading east to the Forbidden Zone.”

“Trolls?” said Hermione. “You mean Voldemort’s summoning trolls to his aid.”

“Not just trolls lassie,” said Angnathron. “The vampires appear to be heading east as well though most of their population lived toward the east anyway. The centaurs are quite nervous but the goblins, they seem to especially know what’s happening and our outright terrified. I’ve never seen goblins terrified before. The forests have become completely empty of acromantula, the giant spiders.”

“Well good riddance to that,” said Ron.

“I would not be to ready to dismiss the disappearance of the acromantula,” said a new voice. Those present turned around to see Rauthoron emerge from the forest. “The movement of the spiders has always been something to keep in mind. Griffins are particular mindful of spider movement since it sometimes hints the presence of our mortal enemy, the basilisk.”

“Whoa!” said Ron, completely stunned by the griffin. Hermione was also speechless as she grabbed Harry’s arm.

“Blimey!” exclaimed Hagrid, his grief over Grawp’s apprehension momentarily forgotten. “A griffin! Good ‘eavens ‘es a beaut!”

If griffins could blush, Rauthoron would’ve. “Why thank you, I suppose.”

“‘es so large! And so magnificen’! I’ve never seen a griffin before but I summat wished I had one,” said Hagrid as he circled Rauthoron, examining every inch of him.

“Griffins are not owned by wizards,” said Rauthoron. His attention was then turned to the hippogriff, Buckbeak who meandered over to Rauthoron looking him straight in the eye. For a few seconds, Buckbeak kept eye contact with the griffin whom was over twice his size. Then, to Harry and Hermione’s surprise, Buckbeak bowed down before Rauthoron.

“There is no need to humble yourself cousin,” said Rauthoron. “For as far as I am concerned, a part griffin is a griffin: I do not adhere to any purity of blood nonsense. We griffins may be an enemy of horses and they our food, but I must admit I personally am a hopeless romantic at heart.”

“So do you actually think this is all Voldemort’s work?” asked Harry.

“He is gathering an army most likely,” said Rauthoron. “He will strike soon. Very soon. I guarantee it.”

* * *

“Ah, Hogwarts is always the best around spring isn’t it?” said Nymphadora Tonks. Her hair was a shortish blonde color that day. “Always makes me feel like I’m turning into a pudding of nostalgia.”

“Pudding? I’ve never heard it described as that,” said one of her two companions Remus John Lupin. “I’d say the castle is more like a sweet piece of chocolate.” He waved to a few students greeting him as they ran passed them in the hallways.

Their third companion, Alastar “Mad-Eye” Moody starred at the two of them with his magical eye and snapped, “You two aren’t being vigilant enough! In case you’ve forgotten, we’re here to add to the security of the castle, not go gallivanting around reveling in nostalgia!”

“Oh lighten up Mad-Eye,” said Tonks as she started walking down a flight of stairs. “Even Aurors have the right to sit down and.... YAAAAH!!!”

“AAAAAH!!!” Tonks was suddenly pushed over by a certain force and crashed into another hapless student, the two of them tumbling down the stairs and falling to the floor with a thud. The unmistakable laugh of a poltergeist echoed around as Peeves sped away.

“Looks like Peeves is still enjoying his time here,” said Lupin as he walked to the bottom of the stairs and helped both Tonks and the student up. “You OK, Nymphadora?”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora!” snapped Tonks.

Lupin ignored her as he turned his attention to the hapless student that had been bowled over along with Tonks. “Neville! How have you been?”

Over the years, Neville Longbottom had grown into a handsome, powerful, confident young man, though he remained as clumsy as ever and was still a tad forgetful. “Er, quite alright Professor Lupin,” he said as he rubbed his aching rear end.

“I’m not your professor anymore. Just call me Remus,” said Lupin. “So, where were you headed before you unfortunately ran into Peeves and this,” he pointed at Tonks who stuck her tongue out at him, “raving nutter?”

“Actually I was about to go visit my parents in the hospital wing,” said Neville.

“Frank and Alice?” said Moody. “I thought they were at St. Mungo’s Hospital.” Very few people knew that former Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom had been tortured into madness by a group of Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange, searching for the exiled Voldemort.

“They were sir,” said Neville, “But Professor Dumbledore, I think he’s worried something is going to happen so he arranged for them to be moved to the castle. Gran was against the idea but Professor Dumbledore managed to convince her.”

“Ah, always ready to help, Dumbledore,” said Moody. “Well what are you waiting for boy? Take us to the Hospital Wing. I’d like to see your parents again.”

To be continued...

A/N This is really a filler chapter, sorry about that. But there are some important stuff in this chapter that builds up to the major plot that happens soon. Unfortunately, there is still just ONE more introductory chapter of this fic before the main plot finally starts. Plus, I’ve been wanting to write a Quidditch Match for a while, coming next chapter. I also wonder how many people recognized the small sequence I borrowed from Flame of Recca.

8. I Ninque Istar

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, here's the usual title explanation. This time its written in Quenya. `I' is Quenya for `the'. `Ninque' is Quenya for `white'. And `Istar', the word means `scholar', people should be more familiar with it as the singular form of the word `Istari', the wizards of Middle-Earth. Hence, the title of this chapter becomes `the white wizard'.

Chapter 8: I Ninque Istar

No matter what the situation, no matter what crisis was going on there is always time for Quidditch: that was the general attitude of the Wizarding World during the Second War and Hogwarts was no exception. All of the House Games were still played fanatically much to Hermione's displeasure though the schedules were adjusted somewhat. Once again, Gryffindor was a contender for the Quidditch Cup and as it was Harry and Ron's last year in the team, they were adamantly against missing any of the matches, though Ron often wondered how his sister got selected for the position of Quidditch Captain ahead of them.

Today was Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, the last match of the season. Whoever won this match would win the Quidditch Cup and most assuredly the House Cup. It was a bright and sunny day, perfect for a game and the stands were packed, cheers emanating from every level. Over the din of the cheers was the voice of Colin Creevy, commentating on the game.

“And the Quaffle is caught by Gryffindor Captain Ginevra Weasley as she dives down under that bludger. Weasley passes to Stryker who dodges Ravenclaw chaser McCain and passes back to Weasely. She shoots! She SCORES!”

The crowds went wild as Ginny soared around the stands, blowing kisses to random people.

“10 - 0 Gryffindor leads,” shouted Colin. “And the first goal was scored by none other than the lovely Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley who despite my persistence still won't go out on a date with me. Why Ginny? Why?” No one was surprised when the next time Ginny threw the Quaffle, instead of going through the Ravenclaw hoops it smacked Colin Creevy in the face.

“Ow... Ravenclaw's Boot passes Quaffle to McCain who dodges bludger sent by Gryffindor beater Kirke. McCain passes to Boot who passes back to McCain. McCain shoots! No... YES! Gryffindor keeper Ronald Weasley successfully blocks McCain's shot!”

“A perfect save no less,” said Ron with a self-satisfied smirk as the crowds started singing the Gryffindor version of “Weasley is our King”.

“When you're done admiring yourself, maybe you could put your attention back on the game,” snapped Ginny as she flew by, taking up the Quaffle again.

“Gryffindor's Ginevra Weasley flies toward Ravenclaw stands. I have lent my camera to my brother Denis; I hope he gets some good pictures of her... No Ginny, I didn't mean it like that. Ginny no! Don't throw the Quaffle at me... OW!”

Hermione really wasn't paying much attention to the game: her focus was on Harry as usual. Things between them were still very awkward and she was starting to regret ever kissing Harry. Harry for his part didn't appear to be too focused on the game either as he simply drifted around on his Firebolt high up above the other players.

`There must be a lot on his mind' thought Hermione. `With Voldemort and Sauron's pact, his right to the throne of Gondor-Arnor, and Grawp in Azkaban.' She sighed sadly as she thought, `And I just had to add more to his mind with that kiss.'

That was indeed what Harry was thinking about while he flew around above the other players. His mind was of course on Voldemort, the War, and Anduril (which was hidden at the bottom of his trunk at present time) but most of his thoughts were still on that kiss he and Hermione had. At least, that was the case until a familiar golden ball with wings fluttered right past him.

“What?” exclaimed Harry. Going right into Seeker mode, Harry dashed after the Golden Snitch.

“Potter has seen the snitch! Potter has seen the snitch!” screamed Colin Creevy. Colin might as well have been shouting in Chinese though as Harry centered his entire focus on catching the elusive golden ball. So focused on it in fact was Harry that he failed to noticed the bludger that was moving in on him fast from behind.

It was Hermione screaming “Harry!” that Harry somehow heard over the roar of the crowd that alerted him to the presence of the bludger. By then it was too late however, as the bludger smashed into the front side of Harry's Firebolt, completely splintering it into two. For a moment Harry didn't even realize what had happened as his body reflexively went into his diving stunt mode. He simply shot his hand out and grabbed the snitch that had been hovering nearby. Only after he had grabbed the snitch did he realize that he was at least 70 feet in the air, his broomstick had been smashed, and he was now plummeting toward the ground at an alarmingly rapid pace. The one thought that crossed his mind summed his situation well: `Oh crap!'

Harry thought he heard Hermione screaming his name over the roar of the wind in his ears. But there really wasn't much anybody could do now. Dumbledore wasn't attending that day and while the thought there maybe there were other wizards capable of saving his life did cross his mind, he could imagine that the impact on the ground would still be very painful.

It was then that Harry saw it, toward the sun, high up on the ramparts of the castle. `What?' he thought, `What is that?' Due to the glare of the sun, he couldn't make out any exact details but what he thought he saw was an old man, dressed in shimmering white robes and carrying a staff. He had long white hair and a white beard. For a moment Harry thought it was Dumbledore he was seeing but he almost instantly realized that whoever this old man was, it was most certainly not Dumbledore.

As Harry observed the white wizard, he heard a single voice in his head, “Rancina!”

Almost by instinct Harry yelled, “Rancina!” Harry's own wand suddenly appeared before him, floating in mid air when it burst forth in a flash of colors. Harry felt rather than saw the wand transfigure itself into something that fitted itself right over his clothing. Before he could see what had happened however, he crashed into the ground.

A calm silence descended over the Quidditch pitch as Harry's collision with the ground left a small crater in the middle of said pitch. However, what was really shocking was when Harry simply climbed out of the crater more or less unhurt though somewhat stunned.

“I'm OK! I'm OK!” he yelled to the astonished crowd before he finally took a close look at himself and gasped.

Harry was now wearing a shining armor. It was primarily chain mail based though there were a series of plates that covered certain parts of the body. The main defense was clearly magic however as it had been the armor that had defended him from the impact of the crash on the ground. He wore a grayish cloak hanging from his backside below his shoulder plates and the golden snitch was still fluttering in his now gauntleted hand. A pair of metallic boots had replaced his sneakers and his glasses appeared to have disappeared though his vision had improved vastly while he was in his armor. The one thing Harry noticed over everything however was the image of a white tree surrounded by seven stars displayed on his breastplate: a sign he instantly recognized as the symbol of Gondor-Arnor.

“Blimey” he said, just as the crowd went wild and started gathering around him. When Harry looked up at the ramparts of the castle again, the white wizard was gone.

* * *

“What the bloody hell was all that?” yelled Ron Weasley. He, Harry, and Hermione were seated in the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry's armor had reverted back into his wand with a simple “Finite Incantatem” and his Quidditch Robes and Armor were back. They had just managed to calm a near hysterical Hermione down and were now facing Ron's questioning glare.

Harry glanced around nervously, starring at everywhere but Ron. “Well... its quite a story actually,” he said. “Quite unbelievable actually.”

“Well, spill,” demanded Ron.

Taking a deep breath, Harry started telling Ron everything. He told him about being called to Dumbledore's office that day, the second part of the Prophecy and being taken to Minas Tirith. He told him about Voldemort's union with Sauron, about the fact that he was the Heir of Elessar, his claiming Anduril, and thus the rightful king of the Wizarding World. When Ron heard that, he sunk to the sofa. “Blimey,” he said. “Everything just happens to you doesn't it?” Unfortunately, Harry couldn't help but notice the slight tone of bitterness in Ron's voice.

“Ron, I didn't ask for this,” Harry said. “I can't help who I am.”

“Yes, yes I know,” said Ron. “Oh well. The King. Guess I could get used to that. I mean its not like you and Hermione are dating behind my back.” He started chuckling but immediately stopped when he noticed the looks of guilt on his best friends' faces. “Wait a minute, you two really aren't dating are you?”

“No!” said Hermione. “We haven't been dating behind your back Ron.”

“We'd never do that to you,” said Harry.

Ron looked satisfied; until Hermione said, “We kissed.”

“You WHAT?” shouted Ron, leaping to his feet.

“Just once!” said Harry. “Immediately after I returned from Minas Tirith.”

Ron was now absolutely livid. After spluttering a few times he finally managed to say, “Then tell me that the kiss meant nothing.” When Harry and Hermione said nothing, merely blushing red, Ron spluttered a few more times before turning on his heel and storming out of the Common Room. The Fat Lady was heard from the other side complaining for being slammed closed.

* * *

For the next two days, the whole school was a buzz with what had happened with Harry at the Quidditch Match. Harry's Firebolt thankfully wasn't permanently damaged though it would have to spend several weeks in repair, but that news was the last thing on Harry's mind. People were cornering him in the hallways asking him about his armor and what it meant. It didn't take to long for the news that Harry was the heir to an ancient throne of the Wizarding World to come out with mixed results. Some at the school absolutely loathed at the idea having to bow before Harry Potter some day while others thought it was absolutely cool. There were even those who were suddenly desperately seeking to catch Harry's attention in the hopes of someday holding a special post in the new kingdom Harry was bound to establish. And there certainly was a new furor amongst the female population in the hopes of someday becoming the queen of the Wizarding World. For Harry however, what hurt the most was that he and Ron weren't on speaking terms again: it was just like before the First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament in their fourth year.

Any news of Harry's kingship however was quickly washed under the rug however on the third day when the morning owls brought in the Daily Prophet. The headlines immediately caught the attention of all students, faculty, and staff: DURMSTRANG INSTITUE ATTACKED!

To be continued...

A/N Sorry this chapter took so long to come out but it's been blasted difficult trying to get on a computer with a proper word processor. I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner but I am not making any promises. Hope you all enjoy these chapters because the main plot is about to start.

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9. En Torogwain Firionin

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Title explanation. This title is a bit of a stretch really since I couldn’t find the right words. “Torogwain” is “troll-like” or essentially “foolish”. “Firion” is the common Sindarin for mortal “Man” (as opposed to “Adan” which refers to the Edain). So the title is supposed to be “Of Foolish Men”. Hope that’s what it came out as.

Chapter 9: En Torogwain Firionin

Durmstrang Institue Attacked!

A Daily Prophet Special edition report by Susan Brome

Last night at 11:30PM London Time, Durmstrang Institue was attacked and destroyed by an army of creatures led by Death Eaters. It appears that the Death Eaters have made another alliance with creatures never seen before but bear a suspicious resemblance to goblins.

According to stories from the few survivors, this army of thousands came out of no where in the dead of the night from the East and obliterated the defenses of the school in a matter of seconds. Many of those at Durmstrang, primarily students, fought valiantly but they were overwhelmed and in the end. The casualty report lists at least 700 dead with a margin of error up to 25, the vast majority of these unfortunately being students. Many who attempted to escape were devastated by a troupe of Dementors, whom according to rumors were led by four dark robed figures riding flying beasts of terrible contenance and decay. In the end, there were only 150 survivors all among those whom had managed to escape and nearly every one of them with critical injuries.

At this time, this reporter would like to point out that Hogwarts Headmaster and Head of the Wizengamot Albus Dumbledore had been urging various European Ministries of Magic to increase security at the Magical Schools, Durmstrang Institue being one of them. His advice was unheeded by the European Ministers of Magic and this is the cost. Perhaps it is time for a change in the governments of the Wizarding World.

In related news, World Famous Quidditch Player Viktor Krum has turned down a 5 million galleon contract to join the resistance against the Dark Side, hoping to avenge his alma mater. 3 muggle towns near Durmstrang were also obliterated, raising the casualty report to a total of 2000. Of course, around 1300 hundred of these casualties are muggles. Obliviators have been working nonstop to explain away these deaths as they recreate the memories of the muggle witnesses.

That morning at Hogwarts, the attack on Durmstrang was the sole topic of conversation. There had of course been Many Death Eater attacks over the past two years but never on this large a scale. And this was the first time a magical institution of such magnitude had ever been completely obliterated.

“So much death; so much destruction,” said a teary eyed Hermione as she read over the Daily Prophet. “And now they’re trying to raise suspicion against the goblins! Yes, modern goblins and Orcs share a common ancestry but they’re nothing like each other! This is just more injustice!”

“What more would you expect from the Wizarding World?” said Harry from across the table. He looked down the Gryffindor table and noticed that Ron, on the far side from Harry and Hermione had been starring at them. As soon as Ron realized that Harry had noticed him, he looked away and started gobbling down on some muffins. Harry sighed sadly and turned his attention back to Hermione.

“Will you look at this?” exclaimed Luna Lovegood as she suddenly flopped down on the chair next to Ron, reading not the Daily Prophet but rather the Quibbler.

“What?” asked a perplexed Ron.

“Daddy wrote a retraction in the paper today,” said Luna.

Ron if anything looked even more confused: “A retraction to what?”

“To an article he had placed in the Quibbler about two years ago,” said Luna, “the one about the ‘Heliopaths’.”

“Er, I’m drawing a blank here,” said Ron.

“Don’t you remember?” asked Luna. “There was an article in the paper about Heliopaths: great, giant sized spirits of fire. We thought that Cornelius Fudge had an army of them hidden somewhere.”

Ron thought for a moment. “Now that I think about it you might’ve mentioned something like that.”

“Well Daddy’s printed a retraction because we’ve found some new evidence that shows that Fudge isn’t the one who has a hidden army of Heliopaths,” said Luna. “You-know-who is the one who controls them.”

Across from Ron and Luna, Ginny suddenly spoke up: “And that means?”

“Big trouble,” said Luna very seriously. “Heliopaths are vicious, powerful monsters that gallop along the ground burning everything in their path. Just one of them can wipe an entire city off the map. And You-know-who has an army of them.”

“You actually seem to be very concerned about this Luna,” said Ginny.

“Of course I am,” said Luna. “We should all be concerned.”

Suddenly, a voice called out from behind proclaiming pompously, “Helio-what? What is this nonsense I am hearing? Has Hogwarts really drifted down so low?”

All of the Gryffindors looked behind to see several people they would rather not see. The first of these was British Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, trying to look important in his pompous clothing and manner but really looking ridiculous. Next to him was his Senior Undersecretary Delores Umbridge, affectionately remembered amongst the Hogwarts students as “that shrimpy toad-thing”. On the other side of Fudge was none other than Percy Weasley, trying to look important while at the same time desperately trying to avoid Harry’s and Ron’s eyes: he was still treated with a certain amount of shame amongst the Weasleys for not initially rallying behind the fight against Voldemort two years ago but rather foolishly siding with Fudge’s attempts to discredit Harry and Dumbledore. Behind them were two Aurors. One was the grey haired Auror known as Dawlish. The other one was the most welcome sight of them all: Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, secretly a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Hmph the Quibbler! The paper is nothing but rubbish! It should’ve folded up years ago,” exclaimed Fudge.

“Such is the quality of this beastly school. Still allowing students to read such nonsense,” said Umbridge.

Luna looked absolutely scandalized. Before she could say anything however, Ron suddenly leaped to his feet and yelled, “Hey! What makes you so important that you can make such obstrucious claims?!”

Percy suddenly came forward and snapped, “Ron, calm down before you embarrass yourself!”

“Embarrass myself?” said Ron incredulously. “Don’t you mean embarrass you, Percy?”

“Well said, big brother!” said Ginny, lifting her glass.

Percy looked flabbergasted. Before he could say anything however, Professor McGonagall came up to them saying, “Why, Minister Fudge. And Delores,” her voice positively dripped with malice as she said Umbridge’s name. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“We’ve come to see Dumbledore,” said Fudge. “Take us to him right now.”

“Very well, follow me please.” As soon as McGonagall led the Ministry officials out of the Great Hall, all of the students started chattering amongst themselves.

Harry and Hermione turned to each other looking somewhat stunned. “Obstrucious?” they both said.

* * *

“Too many have died last night,” said Remus Lupin, as he paced around Dumbledore’s office, “far too many.”

“They wouldn’t have died if they had listened to Dumbledore!” exclaimed Mad-Eye Moody. “Those Ministries just aren’t being vigilant enough!”

“It’s always about ‘Constant Vigilance’ with you, isn’t it Mad-Eye?” said Tonks. Even she however was looking rather somber.

From behind his desk, Dumbledore sighed, looking weary. “I just hope that the defenses at Beauxbatons are raised now,” he said. “That school will probably be the next major target.”

“We could send several people from the Order to help out,” said Lupin.

“And lower the defenses at Hogwarts?” snapped Severus Snape. “This is no time to be thinking about the welfare of others: if they refuse to follow good advice, let them burn for their mistake! Dumbledore, we have to look to our own defenses!”

“Severus, I do agree with you in that we must keep Hogwarts’s safety a priority,” said Dumbledore. “But I do also believe that a few members of the Order should head to Beauxbatons and help out there. It is the least we can...” He was interrupted when the door to his office suddenly burst open and Cornelius Fudge entered, followed by his employees and a rather livid McGonagall. Fawkes was startled and flew from his perch, landing on the back of Dumbledore’s chair. Fudge glared at Tonks (for apparently being at Hogwarts despite Auror orders) before turning to Dumbledore and slamming a copy of the Daily Prophet on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he demanded.

“Tell you what sooner?” asked Dumbledore.

“Don’t play dumb with me Dumbledore!” snapped Fudge. “Why didn’t you tell me that You-know-who’s headquarters was in the Forbidden Zone?! That’s where the attack on Durmstrang originated from! And that’s where the Death Eaters and their goblin like allies disappeared into after the attack!”

“And whatever would you want that information for, Cornelius?” asked Dumbledore, though his voice took on a tone of warning.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Fudge. “I plan on taking every capable Auror, Hit Wizard, and able bodied wizard, create a coalition with the other European Ministries, and attack the Forbidden Zone crushing You-know-who once and for all!”

“Have you gone mad?” yelled Moody. “You have no idea what kind of horrors you’re dealing with! What you’re planning is suicide!”

“Not to mention an unnecessary loss to our already depleted manpower,” said Snape.

“If their headquarters are breached, they can be taken down!” snapped Fudge. “During the last war, the difficulty arose from the fact that we had no idea where You-know-who was basing his attacks from. Now, we do!”

“You have no clue whatsoever about the Forbidden Zone!” exclaimed Lupin. “Voldemort is now basing himself out of an ancient fortress tower...”

“You will not speak out of turn, werewolf!” snapped Umbridge.

“Hey, that was uncalled for!” yelled Tonks.

“As are you for yelling at the Senior Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, Auror Tonks,” said Umbridge. “As of now, you are no longer an Auror!”

Tonks was stunned and looked ready to cry. She however, managed to instead grit her teeth and glare at Umbridge.

“If I remember correctly, the appointment and sacking of Aurors should be solely the responsibility of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” said Dumbledore rather coolly. “For that matter, what is Madame Amelia Bones’s position on this attack of you are planning?”

Umbridge suddenly made a sickeningly suspicious grin. “Unfortunately, Madame Bones has suddenly taken ill and was taken to St. Mungos yesterday.”

This news was met with general gasps around the office. Snape however, remained calm as he caught Umbridge’s eye: clearly to those who knew of Snape’s abilities, he was using Legilimens on her. “It seems rather strange,” said Snape, “that Madame Bones became ill sometime after drinking some tea you offered her, Delores.”

Umbridge immediately paled. Fudge however suddenly yelled, “I will not have any wild accusations flying around! Nor any wild claims!”

“And just may those ‘wild claims’ be?” said Dumbledore.

“Did you think I would be deaf Dumbledore?” sneered Fudge. “Did you? I’ve heard of the most recent rumors surrounding Harry Potter! They always seem to pop up don’t they? King? A king in this day and age? I’ll tell you now I will not bow before that insolent brat!”

“Most interesting isn’t it?” said Dumbledore. “Not too long ago, ‘that insolent brat’ as you called him was being praised for being a voice proclaiming Voldemort’s return amongst a disbelieving crowd. Yet before that, he was being labeled a glory hog for doing the exact same thing: proclaiming Voldemort’s return amongst a disbelieving crowd. Before even that, he was being praised for being a champion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and yet not too long before then he was being criticized for being chosen a Tri-wizard champion. Before that, he was being given special privileges since it was believed that a madman was after his life, and yet the previous year, he was feared for being suspected the Heir of Slytherin. And of course he was hailed as the Boy-Who-Lived before that.”

“What is your point, Dumbledore?” snapped Fudge, though he seemed to be somewhat flustered.

Dumbledore stood up, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Cornelius, this attack you are trying to pull is merely an attempt to boost your faltering public image! You plan such a desperate attack because you accurately predict that the Wizarding populace, whom are rather disgruntled with the Ministries of Magic, would flock to see Harry Potter crowned as King!”

“Shut up!” screamed Fudge. “I am Minister of Magic! What I say is final! I am personally leading the attack and you cannot stop me!” With that, Fudge stormed out of the office followed by his employees.

Kingsley Shacklebolt lingered behind for a moment, his eyes meeting with the various members of the Order in the room. With a sad smile he said, “Good Bye” and left the room.

After a few minutes of somber silence, Dumbledore snapped to attention. “We cannot stop them. But at the least there are some things we can do. Alastar, gather as many Order members as we can spare and take them to Beauxbatons. But try to be discreet.”

“I’m on it,” said Moody. “Lupin, Tonks, you two are with me!”

“Minerva,” continued Dumbledore, “head to St. Mungos with Poppy and organize Amelia Bones’s transfer to Hogwarts’s Hospital Wing. It may not be wise to trust anyone in the hospital now. Severus...”

“I will gather as many anti-toxins as I can find,” said Snape. “There should be something in my stores that can counteract whatever it was Madame Bones ingested.”

“Bless you Severus,” said Dumbledore. “Let’s just hope that the fates are on our side with this one.”

* * *

Several days later, Harry Potter had a dream: dream like he had seen far too many times previously. In his dream, Harry saw the throne room of Barad-Dur, high up at the top of the tower. He saw the mutilated corpses of many wizards, among them Dawlish, littered all over the floor. And he saw a terrified looking Cornelius Fudge, Delores Umbridge, and a somber looking Kingsley Shacklebolt being forced to kneel by many Death Eaters before the dark throne of Voldemort-Sauron.

To be continued...

A/N Sorry this one came out so late but like I said before, it’s very, very difficult to access a computer with word processor here. Hope this one was worth the wait. The chapters should really start getting more and more exciting so just wait for the next one.

10. Olor

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N This title “Olor” is strictly Elvish. In other words, it’s the exact same word used in both Sindarin and Quenya meaning “dream”. How I wish all of my titles were this easy.

Chapter 10: Olor

Over the years, Harry had had many dreams concerning Voldemort. He had learned that most of these dreams indeed had something to do with the Dark Lord. Thus, there was no question in the back of Harry’s unconscious mind that what he was seeing was indeed happening at that very moment.

Harry saw Fudge, Umbridge, and Kingsley being restrained by Death Eaters and forced on their knees, surrounded by the bodies of their comrades. Fudge and Umbridge’s faces were twisted into pure terror while Kingsley held an expression of grim determination. Surrounding them were scores of Orcs, all cackling menacingly and seated on his throne was the armored form of Voldemort-Sauron reading... the Quibbler?

“Most entertaining,” said the Dark Lord in Voldemort’s voice. “I have been keeping in mind to keep an eye out on this publication ever since it had printed Harry Potter’s story. I must say I didn’t expect to be entertained this much.” His scarlet eyes looked up to gleam toward Fudge and he said in both voices, “But we may now put that aside for some more immediate forms of entertainment for now.”

“W-what do you plan to do with us?” squeaked Fudge, his voice barely audible. Voldemort was still recognizable by his eyes but so changed in form was he in his monstrous armor that Fudge couldn’t even think of being frightened anymore.

“We haven’t decided yet,” said Voldemort-Sauron, leaning back on his throne. “But no matter, we have plenty of time to decide what to do.”

It was that moment when Kingsley suddenly blasted away the Death Eaters holding him to the ground. He quickly leapt up to his feet his wand ready. The Orcs started attacking the tall Auror but Kingsley fought each of them off one by one with continuous bursts of magic. Fudge and Umbridge however were in far too much shock to notice what was going on around them.

“Oh look,” said Bellatrix Lestrange from her position near the throne, “the little Auror wants to play. Let me take care of him.” The Dark Lord however raised his hand stopping Bellatrix.

“Impressive,” said Voldemort-Sauron as Kinglsey beat off another Orc. “But we wish to have another do the job in this situation Bella. Khamul, please take care of our guest.”

From out of the shadows behind the right side of the Dark Lord’s throne, the Nazgul known as Khamul emerged forth. Kinglsey’s face momentarily flickered with fear as the Ring-Wraith descended upon him. Khamul lunged at Kingsley, drawing a dagger forth. Kingsley beat off the dagger with a spell and some tricky footwork. Khamul lunged again and Kingsley once more beat him off.

“Khamul is the mightiest of the Ulairi following the Witch-King whom has yet to be reborn,” said Voldemort-Sauron. “He cannot be defeated that easily.”

“Expelliarmus!” shouted Kingsley. The dagger flew out of Khamul’s hand. Kingsley suddenly grinned as if he had a sudden chance at victory. Standing proudly, Kingsley flung his arms forward and shouted “Expecto Patronum!” The silver cloud of light burst forth from his wand and surrounded the startled Khamul.

On his throne, Voldemort-Sauron started clapping a slow clap. “Well done Mr. Shacklebolt. You have proven yourself to be a truly skilled wizard. Your power, your reflexes, your determination, your bravery: all worth being commended. However, you have made one fatal mistake,” he said, “Ring-Wraiths, though they look a lot like them, are not Dementors.”

From within the silvery patronus form, the Nazgul’s gauntleted hand burst forth, grabbing Kingsley’s throat. The silver cloud quickly faded as Khamul held the chocking Kingsley aloft.

“Little man, little man, did you really think the Nazgul could be defeated so easily?” hissed the voice of Khamul from beyond the Ring-Wraith’s hood. “You will die now.”

“Don’t kill him Khamul,” said Voldemort-Sauron. “We are leaving that to another. Just hold him in place for now.” Khamul said nothing but merely continued to hold the struggling Kingsley up aloft.

The Dark Lord reclined back in his throne and pulled out the Quibbler once more. “This article here is most interesting,” he said, reading through the magazine. “It claims that we have under our command several... what is this, ‘heliopaths’? This is a most interesting claim.”

“What is it to you?” shouted Fudge, suddenly finding a second wind. “The Quibbler is nothing but rubbish!”

“Our dear Cornelius, please do not be so quick to dismiss the Quibbler,” said the Dark Lord. “For you see, this particular article is true: we do have an army of Heliopaths under our command. Though, they prefer to be referred by their ancient name.”

As if in answer to Voldemort-Sauron, the throne room suddenly shook with a rumble. The Orcs started muttering amongst themselves, clearly fearful of something and the Death Eaters all looked nervous. Even Khamul seemed to be a little uneasy though his grip on Kingsley’s throat didn’t let up.

From behind the left side of the throne, a monstrous figure emerged. It was at least 20 feet tall though it fit into the throne room easily. It was hard to truly visualize the creature though it took on the appearance of having truly fiery eyes and great wings. It was surrounded by shadow, yet flames emerged forth from it, bathing the room in an eerie mix of shadowy darkness and sinister light: shadow and flame.

“I am Gothmog II,” said the creature in a terrifying, deep and husky voice, “We are the Balrogs. We come to serve the Dark Lord!”

“We had been under the impression that Durin’s Bane had been the last of the Balrogs,” said Voldemort-Sauron. “Imagine our pleasurable surprise to learn that there were still a few who survived the First Age in a deep slumber far within the ground! Gothmog II, who takes his name after the original Captain of the Balrogs, was the first to answer our summons but in total five came. Five! We have now five Balrogs, eight Nazgul, hundreds of Death Eaters, Dementors, and trolls, thousands upon thousands of Orcs, and slews of many other Dark Creatures at our command. There has not been a force for Darkness like this since the First Age; that is the army that first the Wizarding world and later the Muggle world will be facing! Can you just imagine?”

Fudge and Umbridge were now in too much of a state of shock to really observe anything. With a hand gesture from the Dark Lord, Gothmog II suddenly brought forth a devastating whip of flame and used it to whip Kingsley Shacklebolt out of Khamul’s grip. The battered, broken body of the senior Auror was thrown into the ceiling whereupon it fell to the ground with a sickening thud; thus perished Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Well Cornelius,” said Voldemort-Sauron standing up. “Before you die we want you to know that we will be taking control of the various Ministries of Magic around Europe. Since all of the Ministers and top aides have been killed here today, I doubt there will be much opposition. We have already occupied Azkaban two days ago, though I doubt you actually knew that, believing you still controlled the fortress. But Azkaban holds a special purpose for us. Indeed, the real struggle will be at the two remaining Magical Schools, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. Let us show you something.”

The Dark Lord beckoned two of the Death Eaters, McNair and Dolohov to bring something before him. The two Death Eaters brought in a bronze chalice: it had no adornments or decorations or jewels. It was simply a bronze chalice, nothing more. “This chalice is one of three,” said the Dark Lord in Sauron’s voice. “It was constructed by the direction of I Anatar, by the Noldor Elves of Eregion during the Second Age along with the Rings of Power. The three chalices seem to have nothing for them, no markings to distinguish them, yet they hold an incredible power within them that the Elves and Numenoreans discovered only after the Fourth Age had begun.” The Dark Lord started speaking in both voices again, “To prevent their power from coming into use, the three chalices were separated and passed along by various Numenoreans until all three of them came into the possession of the Founders of Hogwarts.”

From across the Throne Room, Peter “Wormtail” Pettigrew suddenly started. “My Lord: those chalices! It can’t be!” he exclaimed, his face deathly pale.

“You know of them, Peter?” said Voldemort-Sauron, clearly amazed. His voice had a hint of warning in them as he said, “It would suit you well not to speak out of turn Wormtail!” Wormtail said nothing though he remained pale and nervous.

“What these two chalices can do is of no concern right now,” said the Dark Lord. “This particular chalice was hidden within the confines of Durmstrang Castle in a most secure spot though not too difficult to locate by our trusted Nazgul. The other two are naturally located somewhere within the castles of Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. And we wish to claim them for ourselves! And now that we have shown you a glimpse of our plan, it is time to die.”

Voldemort-Sauron stood up and made his way over toward the cowering figures of Fudge and Umbridge. He signaled the Death Eaters restraining them to let them go. Fudge and Umbridge were dropped to the ground at Voldemort-Sauron’s feet.

“It is a strange experience to share two minds in one body,” said Voldemort-Sauron. “Both Voldemort and Sauron wish to dispose of these pathetic cowards, yet both have their own way of going about it. Which one do we choose? There are two to kill so we would think that we could use both methods. So the real question is which one shall we dispose of first and what method shall we use?” After a moment of silence, the Dark Lord said, “It is decided. We shall dispose of Cornelius Fudge first, using the Sauron way.”

Before Fudge could react, the Dark Lord had grabbed his face in the palm of his right hand and lifted him up aloft. Fudge started screaming in agony as steam started issuing from Fudge’s face where Voldemort-Sauron was grabbing him. Within seconds, the smell and sound of burning flesh drifted around the room as Fudge’s body became more and more charred, his screams growing more agonizing. Finally, all that was left of Cornelius Fudge were his clothes and a pile of ashes that blew away in the wind.

“Cornelius Fudge did not necessarily deserve the honor of being killed the same way Erenion Gil-Galad was,” said Voldemort-Sauron. “We simply decided to grant him an honor. And now, for the other one...”

Umbridge suddenly received a second wind. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she bolted as fast as her stumpy legs could carry her toward the doors of the chamber. She started banging on them, screaming incoherently.

“In the end we were rather hesitant about touching that thing which is why we used the Sauron method on Fudge,” said the Dark Lord, “These two are not worth it for us to kill ourselves, but we are providing a service.” The Death Eaters started mumbling amongst themselves wondering what this “service” was. Voldemort-Sauron simply continued, “Normally we would have a lowly Death Eater complete this job but just this once, we shall do it ourselves, the Voldemort way.”

Voldemort-Sauron held his left hand out in front of himself. A bright, green fireball started forming at the Dark Lord’s finger tips. At first the size of a golf ball, the green fireball quickly grew to the size of a beach ball, roaring with ferocity and spinning vertically.

“Avada Kedavra!” The green fireball suddenly burst forth into the familiar green light of the killing curse, only a killing curse far more ferocious and powerful than any had seen before. Not only did it kill Umbridge upon contact but it also blasted away half of her body, leaving behind a smoldering crater in the floor.

“Feed that thing to the Orcs,” said Voldemort-Sauron gesturing to what remained of Dolores Umbridge, “and leave us alone.” Several Death Eaters dragged out Umbridge’s remains and all the others present in the room either disappeared into the shadows or left the chambers. Voldemort-Sauron sat on his throne, sitting slightly hunched over his elbows on the arms of the throne and his held together, the fingers interlaced before his face.

“Surprised that I was able to break through your Occlumency skills, Potter?” he suddenly said in Voldemort’s voice. “It shouldn’t have been that surprising given that my powers have multiplied with my alliance with Sauron; I can break into your feeble mind anytime we wish.” The Dark Lord sat up straight on his throne, his scarlet eyes shining with malice and though it was hidden by his helmet, he was clearly smirking. Voldemort’s voice continued, “What you have seen today is a service Potter: a service into what I have planned for the very near future as well as a small demonstration of my own power. Why do I give you glimpse at my plans? Because this time there is no way that either you or Dumbledore can stop me. Go ask Dumbledore yourself, he won’t even know what the true purposes of the chalices are. I assure you that everything you have just seen right now is everything that has actually taken place.” Voldemort stood up, his posture barely containing his evil mirth. “Unlike the image of your tortured godfather I sent two years ago.” With that, the Dark Lord started laughing.

* * *

Harry bolted awake, screaming and clutching at his scar in pain. “No!” he yelled, as he tumbled out of bed.

“Harry, what?” exclaimed Ron. He jumped out of his bed and rushed to Harry’s side, their argument temporarily forgotten. “Harry mate, are you OK?”

“What’s going on?” exclaimed Neville, also waking up. “Harry?” He rushed over to Ron whom was busy trying to calm a near hysterical Harry down. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” said a near panicked Ron.

A few seconds later, just as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were climbing out of bed, the door of the dorm burst open and Hermione followed by Ginny and a sleepy looking Lavender and Parvati entered the room. “Harry, are you OK? Was it Voldemort?” asked Hermione, quickly sitting down next to Harry and ignoring the shudder of the others in the room. She drew Harry into a gentle hug, which finally started calming Harry whom was desperately trying to hold back tears.

“What are you girls doing here? This is the boys’ dorm!” exclaimed Seamus.

“Oh please, like you haven’t had me up in this room before,” said Lavender. Seamus couldn’t help but grin.

“Woohoo, way to go man!” said Dean, clapping Seamus on the back. Ginny and Neville just rolled their eyes.

“Anyway, to answer your question,” said Parvati, “Hermione suddenly woke up saying that Harry needed her and bolted out of the door. We thought there was something more, let’s say scandalous about to go on with these two and we took it on ourselves as school gossips to find out what was going on. That is until Ginny came by saying she heard Harry screaming.”

“And I only heard Harry because I was out getting some hot chocolate,” said Ginny. “Amazing how Hermione was able to just know that Harry needed her.”

Hermione meanwhile had managed to calm Harry down sufficiently by just rubbing his back and whispering soothing words into his ear, occasionally placing a kiss in his hair.

“Hermione?” Harry managed to whisper.

“It’s OK, Harry. I’m here for you. I’m not letting you go,” whispered Hermione.

Harry nodded, his grip on Hermione growing tighter. Finally, he managed to choke out, “Take me to Dumbledore.”

To be continued...

A/N That was perhaps the most visually gory thing I’ve ever written in my entire writing career. Hopefully that will be the goriest chapter of all by given that there will be major battles coming up, there might be just as descriptive scenes. Poor Harry for having to witness all that.

11. Prestol Siniath

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N I had a very tough time figuring out the title for this chapter. Its “Disturbing news”: “prestol” is Sindarin for “disturbing” and “siniath” is Sindarin for “news”.

Chapter 11: Prestol Siniath

A few minutes later found Harry and Hermione seated before Dumbledore in his office. Several members of the Order of the Phoenix were hovering around including, Hagrid, Angnathron, McGonagall, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Snape. Fawkes was perched on the arm of Harry’s chair, humming softly at him. Hermione was holding Harry’s hand as Harry took a few sips of hot chocolate, trying to calm himself after explaining to all those present what he had just seen. Ron was hovering by the doorway, clearly torn between being concerned for Harry or remaining angry toward him.

Dumbledore sighed wearily, his age truly showing on his face. “This is most alarming,” he said. “For more than just the chalices; Voldemort’s increased powers seem to be able to surpass your abilities at Occlumency. I might be able to train you harder at shielding your mind but who knows how much more protection we can provide it?”

“I’ll just try to see every image he sends me with a grain of suspicion, Headmaster,” said Harry. “But Professor Dumbledore, do you suppose that the images he sent me were false?”

“No, I am entirely certain that the images you saw tonight were true,” said Dumbledore.

“Damn Fudge throwing away all of those men!” said Moody. “We could’ve used their help but he just rushes into suicide!”

“Aye, the foolishness of seeking glory and an escape from desperation can make even the most rational of men do crazy things,” said Angnatharon. “Not that Fudge was ever rational.”

“We will have to place that in the past,” said Dumbledore. “It appears that I was correct in assuming that Voldemort-Sauron was seeking to claim the three chalices hidden within each of the three schools.”

“Dumbledore, just what are those chalices?” asked Lupin.

Dumbledore sighed and said the words no one had ever expected would come from his mouth: “I don’t know.”

A silence of disbelief permeated through the room for a moment. Finally, Snape forgot about dignity for a moment and incredulously asked, “You don’t know?”

“I don’t,” said Dumbledore as he stood up and started pacing around the room. “There are some things that I do know surrounding the chalices but no one, save Voldemort-Sauron knows what the true purposes of those chalices are.”

“Wormtail appeared to know,” said Harry.

For a moment, Dumbledore actually looked perplexed and disappointed in himself at the fact that Peter Pettigrew knew something he didn’t but it was gone in a flash. “He most likely came up on the information some time ago,” said Dumbledore. “I suppose his animagus abilities were useful for that.”

“What is it that you know surrounding the chalices Professor?” asked Hermione.

“The oldest recordings of them in history goes back to the founding of Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore, “Of course, if what Voldemort-Sauron says is true, they would in reality be far, far older.” Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked out the window to the night sky. “1000 years ago, Godric Gryffindor managed to gather all three chalices and hid them within Hogwarts. He thought they were safe there until Salazar Slytherin attempted to claim them, shortly before he left the school. Fortunately, they never fell into Slytherin’s hands but Gryffindor decided that it was too risky to have all three chalices together and asked the other two founders to safeguard two of them away from Hogwarts. Helga Hufflepuff hid her chalice within the castle that would eventually become Beauxbatons and Rowena Ravenclaw entrusted the care of her chalice to the family that would soon found Durmstrang. Gryffindor meanwhile hid his chalice somewhere within this school where it remains to this day.”

“So Gryffindor knew the true purpose of the chalices?” asked Hermione.

“Perhaps, but as he never actually recorded the purposes of the chalices, we don’t know for certain whether he actually knew them or not,” said Dumbledore. “What Gryffindor knew for certain was that the chalices contained within them a power of great evil. He deemed that they must never fall into the hands of the dark side.”

“But You-know-who’s already claimed one of them,” said Ron from the back of the room.

“That is true Mr. Weasley,” said McGonagall. “However, the chalices really are nothing more than worthless pieces of antiques unless all three of them are together. So long as the other two can be protected, things should be OK for now.”

“Why were the magical schools chosen as the locations to hide the chalices if they were that important Professor?” asked Hermione. “I can understand Hogwarts since it’s said to be the safest place to hide things but why the other two schools? Wouldn’t places such as Gringotts or European Ministries be safer?”

“My dear Miss Granger, have you never realized the specific reasons why the magical schools were built where they stand today?” said Dumbledore. “The locations of the schools were chosen very specifically because they all stand where great cities of the ancient world once stood.”

“Oh,” said Hermione. “I suppose the various founders wished to incorporate the various magicks that must’ve still been powerful in those areas.”

“You are indeed correct,” said Dumbledore. “Durmstrang is located where the sister city of Minas Tirith or Minas Anor once stood: Minas Ithil. It rivaled Minas Tirith in glory at its height but was eventually captured by the Nazgul and renamed Minas Morgul. That influence still exists, which is why Durmstrang has consistently been associated with the Dark Arts.

“Beauxbatons on the other hand is located within what once used to be the fortress of Isengard where the tower of Orthranc stood. Though not as bad as Durmstrang, there has been some problems with the history of Beauxbatons as well since Isengard was for a while also in the hands of the Dark Side; in that case the White Wizard Saruman.”

“And Hogwarts?” asked Harry.

“Hogwarts is another story all together,” said Dumbledore. “The four founders were indeed highly blessed to be able to select this very location for their school. It is one of the reasons why Hogwarts has been hailed as the greatest of the schools. You see, while the other two schools stand where once great Numenorean cities stood, Hogwarts’s location is of Eldar origin.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Professor, is it from here that the Elves went into the West?”

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore, “This very land we are upon was once the Gray Havens of Lindon, the last stop of the Eldar upon Middle-Earth before they set sail for Valinor and the Undying Lands. This land had never fallen into the powers of the Dark Side and the protection of the Elves still blankets over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, to this very day.”

A silence descended over the room for a few moments. That silence was broken however when none other than the part-veela Fleur Delacour burst into the room looking some what disheveled, desperate, and near tears. “Professor Dumbledore, I am in need of your ‘elp,” she cried, her French accent slightly faded.

Everybody present was somewhat alarmed by Fleur’s sudden appearance. “Mademoiselle Delacour, whatever is the problem?” asked Dumbledore.

“It eez my school! Beauxbatons! My school needz ‘elp!” wailed Fleur, “My school! My sister! Gabrielle!” Fleur was on the verge of hyperventilating when none other than Bill Weasley showed up: his huffing indicating that he had run after Fleur.

“Fleur, calm down,” he said, as he gently rubbed Fleur’s back. Fleur considerably calmed down.

“Bill! What are you doing here?” exclaimed Ron.

“I’m here to support a friend,” said Bill. “Professor Dumbledore, about two hours ago Fleur received an owl from her sister, Gabrielle containing most alarming news. There is an army marching upon Beauxbatons: an army consisting of goblin like creatures.”

“Olympe! Is she alrigh’?” exclaimed Hagrid.

“Madame Maxim eez not at ze school right now,” managed Fleur, “She eez attending a meeting in Paris. But zere are so many students at Beauxbatons. And my sister...”

Dumbledore caught Moody’s eye and nodded. Moody stood up and yelled, “Lupin! Tonks! Angnathron! You’re all with me! Hagrid, you stay here for now.” He turned to Bill and Fleur and said, “Weasley perhaps you should come as well. Mademoiselle Delacour, if you would like to accompany us.” Fleur managed to nod.

“I want to go to,” shouted Harry, standing up.

“No!” yelled Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Hermione all at once.

“Harry, you are not ready to leave on your own, especially now. Voldemort-Sauron has not quite learned that you are the Heir of Elessar yet but once he does, he will hunt you down even more fiercely.”

“I can’t just stand by idly!” exclaimed Harry.

“Don’t be outrageous, you’ll just end up getting yourself and others killed!” snapped Snape.

“And we all know how much you’d love that,” Harry snapped back.

“Potter!” admonished McGonagall.

“Harry please,” said Hermione, her hand on Harry’s arm and her eyes starting to get tearful. “What if this is another trap? Please just think this through rationally.”

Harry still felt indignant at being forced to stay behind but he knew full well that he couldn’t afford to go against Hermione’s logic any longer. “Fine,” he snapped at Snape. He then turned to Hermione and sighed resigning, “OK, I’ll stay.” Hermione smiled and gave him a hug.

“Very well then, everyone be on your guard,” said Moody as he tossed various items, all clearly portkeys to Angnathron, Lupin, Tonks, Bill, and Fleur. “I’ve set the portkeys to activate in thirty seconds, take no chances!”

“Good luck everyone,” said Dumbledore. “And remember Alastar, ‘Constant Vigilance’.”

“When have I ever forgotten that, Dumbledore,” said Moody, grinning cheekily back at his old friend. The next second, the members of the Order of the Phoenix were gone.

“What do we do now?” asked Harry.

“The only thing we can do,” said Dumbledore. “Wait for the outcome and go on with our lives in the mean time.”

“Precisely,” said McGonagall, “So hurry on back to bed all of you or you will be late for class tomorrow morning.”

* * *

“France. Don’t you just love the French countryside? The beauty? The smell of French vines in the air?” said Tonks as the Order of the Phoenix made its way down south a cobblestone road not too far from Calais. In the distance down the road stood Beauxbatons, more like a marble palace than a castle, though it had steeple towers higher than those of Hogwarts.

“We aren’t here to oogle the countryside, we’re here to fight!” growled Moody.

“Oh, lighten up Mad-Eye,” said Tonks.

“I’m actually rather amazed that you’re able to even joyfully gaze at the landscape like this,” said Lupin, “given that we’re probably going to be in a battle soon.”

“Well the way I see it, you can either becoming a terrified, nervous wreck or try to stay optimistic,” said Tonks. “I opt for the latter.”

“No matter what eez ze situation, zis place makes me feel relieved,” said Fleur. “How eez eet the English say? Home is where ze heart is?”

“Exactly,” said Tonks. “Lets all just relax for the next few hours before all the serious stuff happens.”

Unfortunately, this was not to be so for no sooner had Tonks said those words, a large exploding sound rocked the land and a large fireball burst forth from the tallest tower showering debris all over the surrounding land.

“Look out!” yelled Bill as he pulled Fleur out of the way of some falling debris.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Tonks.

“Ze castle!” exclaimed Fleur. “Gabrielle!”

“What are you all waiting for?” shouted Moody. “Move! We have to get to the castle as fast as we can!”

To be continued...

A/N Ugh, I am so sorry that this chapter took so long to write. I had meant to write it sooner but unfortunately I got stuck with a case of writer’s block these past two weeks. It’s a little short but I’m sure this will be good enough. Next chapter should come out sooner. In the meantime, I’m just going to some up my reaction to the election in one phrase: WOOHOO!

12. Dagormin e Haered-dor

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, easy enough title, thank God. It’s in Sindarin: “Dagor” is “battle”, “min” is “in”, “Haered” is “remote” or “distant”, and “dor” is “land”. So the title is “Battle in a distant land”.

Chapter 12: Dagormin e Haered-dor

The smell of smoke and the screams of children filtered through the air. The staff and the older students fought valiantly but the explosions kept coming, little by little reducing the castle into a heap of rubble. And those creatures, vile creatures of charred black skin, wielding such sinister bladed weapons and issuing malicious cackles. Orcs they were called, but no one really cared about what they were called, only how to fight them. Those who could fight continued to blast away the Orcs with strong bursts of magic. Yet no matter how many Orcs fell, more kept pouring into the castle through the openings, never ending like a plague of locusts ready to devour everything in their path.

One of the Orcs made it passed the magical barricade. Snarling, it leapt upon a terrified 11 year old girl. Screaming, the girl ducked down waiting for the painful fangs of death: only they never came.

“Hiya!” cried Angnathron as he smashed the Orc away with his war hammer. “Run Lassie!” The girl immediately stood up and ran toward the relative safety of the Beauxbatons staff. “Ah, my hammer desires more Orc blood to be spilled!” roared the Dwarf. His bashed the head of another nearby Orc.

A third Orc leapt up upon Angnathron only to be blasted away courtesy of a curse fired by Nymphadora Tonks. “Watch it Angy! I got your back!” she said cheekily.

“‘Angy’? That’s a new one,” said Angnathron. He crushed his hammer upon the chest of another Orc.

“Don’t you like it?” asked Tonks as she blasted another Orc.

“I’m not one for nicknames, Nymphadora.”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora! It’s Tonks!”

“Like I said Lass, I’m not one for nicknames.”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s my family name that I prefer over my...”

Tonks was interrupted when another figure, this time not an orc but rather a pale humanoid baring large canines, swooped toward her. Luckily, Remus Lupin showed up right behind her and stabbed his wand into the creature’s heart, whereupon the creature dissolved into dust with an unearthly scream.

“Vampire,” said Lupin. “Careful Nymphadora, Moody would say you aren’t being vigilant enough.”

“Don’t call me Nymphadora!”

The Order of the Phoenix managed to erect a magical shield over the nearby opening which managed to stop Orcs from pouring into the castle for the time being. They quickly set about evacuating the students as quickly and efficiently as they could.

“Hurry up!” demanded Moody as he ushered the students to pick up small pieces of rubble. “The spell is Portus. Make sure you think of Hogwarts as you’re using the spell or who knows where you’ll end up”

Fleur Delacour suddenly entered the chamber crying, “Gabrielle! Where eez my sister? I can’t find ‘er!”

We’ve already looked in her dormitories and common room,” said Bill Weasley, coming behind her along with a few younger students. “We managed to find a few younger students who got left behind but no sign of Gabrielle.”

“Continue your search,” barked Moody. “He turned to Lupin, Tonks, and Angnathron and said, “You three, head to the main entrance and hold off the enemy there!”

“We’re on it!” said Lupin. The three of them started making there way to the main hallway of the castle. They passed by many fires and rubble, often hearing the screeches of ungodly creatures issuing from the outside.

“You think we have a chance, Laddie?” asked Angnathron. “I may have no clue how many of the enemy is out there, but its clear that we’re vastly outnumbered.”

“We have to at least try,” said Remus. “There’s no way I can say for sure that... AAAAAH!” Remus Lupin suddenly fell to the floor and started convulsing. The other two stopped dead in their tracks.

“Remus, what’s wrong?” asked Tonks, as she kneeled down beside him.

Lupin appeared to have a hard time speaking as each breath he released came with a struggle. “The... wolf. The wolf... it’s trying to come... out!” he managed between gnashed teeth.

“How is that possible?!” exclaimed Tonks. “It’s only the half moon! The werewolf side of you isn’t due for weeks!”

Angnathron’s face twisted into a look of dread. “Voldemort-Sauron! He’s here!”

“What? How do you know?” asked Tonks.

“According to the old writings, Sauron was once the lord of werewolves at the tower of Tol Eresa,” exclaimed the Dwarf. “Back in those days, werewolves were evil maia who could transform into wolf form at will. Modern werewolves were born when seeking to escape the wrath of the Valar following the final battle of Beleriand the ancient werewolves possessed certain humans which eventually became modern lycanthropic werewolves. But ancient or modern, all werewolves still answer to Sauron.”

“Oh my God,” said Tonks. “Remus, you have to fight it! Fight it!”

Lupin continued struggling as if he were in a fit. “I will not... will not... not lose to the monster! I... will not be... come the monster!” With a great heave of strength, he pulled himself to his feet though he was clearly still struggling. “Let’s go!” he hissed through gnashed teeth.

Tonks still had her reservation but she followed Lupin and Angnathron to the nearby main entrance only to find that something was trying to beat their way through it: something massive.

“Whatever comes through the door, stand your ground,” shouted Angnathron, brandishing his weapons. Lupin was starting wheeze though he looked ready for a fight.

Only a second later, the doors blasted apart and three armored trolls equipped with large metallic maces charged into the castle with a roar. Unfazed, the fearless Dwarf let out a war cry and leapt toward the lead troll, only to end up being knocked aside into the back wall. Angnathron fell to the ground groaning in pain, his arm clearly broken. The lead troll came forth and swung his mace down toward the fallen Dwarf with a grunt; only it never landed.

Remus Lupin had suddenly stepped in front of Anganthron and caught the mace with his bare hands, utilizing inhuman strength. “Lupin?” questioned Angnathron. Letting out a roar that was more wolf-like than man like, Lupin threw the mace aside, leapt at the lead troll slashing at its face with his nails which were seemingly more like claws now. The wounded troll screamed before it toppled over due to loss of balance in its weight. Using more beast-like agility, Lupin leapt at the other two trolls, shoving them back to the wall. The strength of the werewolf was so great that the trolls crashed into the walls reducing it to rubble before falling to the ground.

Lupin landed on his feet, his face covered with sweat, his back hunched over, and his breath wheezing through his teeth. “I... I... I am... master of the beast! I... will not be... enslaved by the... beast!” he said with a canine growl.

“Right you are Laddie! Master the thing!” shouted Angnathron as he pulled himself up. He turned to Tonks and said, “What do you say lass? There’s nothing to worry about ole’ Lupin.”

Tonks however did not answer. Her face was deathly pale and she appeared to be in a state of shock. She hadn’t been paying too much attention to the trolls as her eyes were completely glued to the view outside through the broken doors: an ocean of char black heading back over the horizon clearly thousands upon thousands of orcs marching toward the castle. “Oh my God!” she whispered.

* * *

As the Order was busy evacuating the students, Mad-Eye Moody’s magical eyes was constantly revolving, searching through the rubble and walls for any students that had fallen behind. He seemed to have noticed something as he called, “Weasley, up on the tower!”

“Mad-Eye? What do you see?” asked Bill.

“It appears to be our young Miss Delacour.”

Hearing that Fleur burst into tears, “Iz she... iz she dead?” she whispered.

“No,” said Moody, “but she will be unless you get up that tower and get her out of that debris.”

“Let’s go,” shouted Bill. He and Fleur dashed up the nearby spiral stairs, running as fast they could manage. They finally made it to the top of the tower which overlooked much of the castle. Finding a large pile of debris, Bill cleared it with a tricky spell to find the unconscious, critically injured, yet still alive form of Gabrielle Delacour.

“Gabrielle! Oh Gabrielle! She iz alive!” exclaimed Fleur as she cradled her sister, tears streaming down her face.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Mobilicorpus!” Bill gently levitated Gabrielle and they turned around. It was only then that they saw the sea of thousands upon thousands of orcs covering the entire eastern side of the Beauxbatons ground: an army far larger than any wizard during that life time had ever seen. Bill was so shocked that he nearly let Gabrielle fall and Fleur already pale face was stark white.

“Sacre Bleu,” she whispered.

As if the site of the army wasn’t bad enough an ear piercing screech was heard from the sky. Terrified, Bill and Fleur looked up to see for shapes descending toward the castle: four black, winged, dragon like beasts though they were far fouler than the noble dragons. The breath of these fell creatures appeared to decay everything in its path and their visage seemed to suggest that they were of a race older than the ancient days. And riding those Fell Beasts were beings of greater dread: four men hidden under midnight black robes and hoods carrying great weapons. It was these humanoid entities that had issued the screeches as they swooped down toward the castle accompanied by a troupe of Dementors.

So terrified were Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour that neither could later recall how they made it down from the tower.

* * *

“Mad-Eye!” shouted Tonks as she made her way back. Falling behind her were an injured Angnathron and a still convulsing Lupin. “Mad-Eye! We have to get out of here now!”

Moody looked toward them relieved to see them back. Bill and Fleur also noticed them but they still appeared to be in a far too large state of shock to say anything.

“Thank God you’ve made it back,” said Moody. “I was worried you may have suffered from shock like these two. They’ll be OK once we make it back to Hogwarts.”

“How about the students and faculty?” asked Angnathron.

“I’ve managed to get all the survivors back to Hogwarts,” said Moody. “Now it’s our turn, let’s head ou...” It was then that Moody seemed to have noticed something through his magical eye as his face started to pale.

“What is it Mad-Eye?” asked Tonks.

“Nothing, nothing important. Just...” Moody suddenly whipped out his wand and with a blast, threw all the others into a nearby closet. Before any of them could recover, the closet closed shut and locked.

“Mad-Eye? What are you doing?” shouted Tonks as she started banging on the door of the closet.

“If all of us stay and fight all of us will be killed,” said Moody from the other side of the closet door. “However, if one of us stays behind as a decoy, the others can escape!”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Tonks. It was just then that she started feelinga tugging sensation around her navel.

“He’s turned the closet into a portkey!” exclaimed Angnathron.

“Mad-Eye no!” screamed Tonks. “ALASTAR!”

Just as the closet disappeared, monstrous, fiery form of Gothmog II burst into the room. The Balrog looked down at Moody and growled, “Ah, a fresh victim.”

* * *

Only a mere thirty minutes later, the Dark Lord Voldemort-Sauron walked through the remains of Beauxbatons castle surrounded by his Death Eaters, observing the damage firsthand. He stopped by the mangled body of Alastar “Mad-Eye” Moody and said, “I see Gothmog’s been doing his job quite well.” He kicked the corpse aside.

A Nazgul entered the room carrying a silver chalice. He walked over to his master and offered it to him. Voldemort-Sauron gladly took it.

“Two in our possession,” said the Dark Lord with a laugh, “Only one left to go!”

To be continued...

A/N Darn it! The great two headed monster rears its head again: the combination of lack of free time and serious writer’s block! Blast! Sorry for the delay. I should be over my case of writer’s block by now so hopefully the next chapter should come soon.

13. Kuduk

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heir of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N First of all, an apology to my readers: I made a mistake in the previous chapter. When I wrote that Sauron was the ‘Lord of werewolves at Tol Eresa’, what that’s supposed to say is ‘Tol Sirion’ or 'Tol-in-Gaurhoth': isle of werewolves. I apologize as I have no idea how to fix it. Anyway, the language of this chapter title is in Westron or ‘the Common tongue of the West’ as it’s called in LotR. Rather difficult to find words in Westron as it was the language that Tolkien almost exclusively presented to his readers as English (the language the Red Book of Westmarch was written in). But he did invent some words for the language: the title of this chapter is simply ‘The Hobbit’.

Chapter 13: Kuduk

The events of the devastating battle in France were still not known yet early the following morning at Hogwarts. The day started out normally enough with those trying to sleep in or attempting to cram in unfinished homework that had been neglected the previous night. Students took their showers, met up with friends in their respective common rooms, and headed to breakfast down in the Great Hall. Immediately after breakfast came the first class of the day, which for the Seventh Year Gryffindors was Advanced Care of Magical Creatures.

Technically, the instructor of the class was Rubeus Hagrid. However, for the past few weeks he had generally been gushing more over the subject of the class rather than the actual class: griffins. Or to be specific, one particular griffin by the name of Rauthoron: who had essentially taken over instructing the class.

“Ain’ he a beaut?” said Hagrid gushing over the griffin. “’e’s got tha’ shiny coat ‘n feathers. And those claws; those claws are what make ‘im so gorgeous.”

“Hagrid, if you will please,” said Rauthoron. “Now, any questions students?”

Lavender Brown raised her hand and asked, “Is it true that griffin younglings are hatched from golden eggs?”

“The eggs are colored gold but they are not real gold,” said Rauthoron as he beat the ground a little with his talons. “Griffins usually lay about two eggs at a time though my mate has recently lain three eggs. That was about 200 years ago: all three are full grown, young griffins now.”

Neville raised his hand and asked, “Is it true that you eat almost anything?”

“Griffins are notorious for our carnivorous appetites I admit,” said Rauthoron. “But we are capable of restraining ourselves. After all, I doubt there would be anybody too pleased if I ate every single thestral on the Hogwarts grounds: we griffins enjoy horse by nature.”

“If its thestrals, then that might be worth considering,” muttered Harry. This was not lost on Hermione who decided to steer the conversation away.

“How fast can you fly?” asked Hermione.

Rauthoron spread his wings and said, “I’ve never actually timed myself. But I believe the estimated speed was around Mach 0.5 as muggles like to explain it, if we really push it.”

“Oh,” said Hermione. She beamed at the other students only to realize that all of them had confused expressions. “That’s about 380 miles per hour,” explained Hermione. She received more blank stares. Hermione sighed and said, “Half the speed of sound.” There was a general “Oooooh,” around her though a few still looked confused.

“How cool are you?” exclaimed Dean Thomas.

“That would be an objective question, Mr. Thomas,” said Rauthoron, “But perhaps the answer to that may be ‘more cool than you will ever be’.” Many of the students laughed, as Dean looked flustered. Rauthoron appeared a little confused as he said, “Did I say something wrong?”

Hermione sighed as the students started gushing at Rauthoron along with Hagrid. She was anxiously waiting for news to come from the battle at Beauxbatons but had heard nothing yet. She could tell that Harry was concerned as well by the expression in his eyes. As for Ron, well she couldn’t read him that day which was a first for her. Ron wasn’t sitting apart from them but he wasn’t necessarily sitting with them either. Just close enough so that no one would necessarily suspect that there was something wrong with the Golden Trio, yet still farther than how they usually sat. Hermione sighed and looked over toward the Forbidden Forest.

And noticed a shadow standing amongst the trees.

Hermione blinked. She nudged Harry and whispered, “Harry look, toward the forest.”

“What?” Harry asked, looking toward where Hermione was pointing. By the time he looked however, the shadow was gone.

“Er, never mind,” said Hermione. “I just...” that was when she saw the shadow again. “Harry! Look!”

“Huh?” By the time Harry looked up, the shadow had once again disappeared.

Hermione started feeling somewhat flustered. “Well... uh... “It was just then that she noticed the shadow for a third time. This time, without pointing it out to Harry, she sprang up and ran into the forest where she had seen the shadow.

“Hermione?” exclaimed Harry. He too sprung up and followed after her. While the rest of the class was gushing overt the griffin, Ron was the only one who noticed their absence. However, he stayed rooted in his spot though he constantly glanced toward the forest, clearly concerned about them.

Hermione hadn’t gone too far into the forest, only into the outer rim of trees. Harry quickly caught up with her. “Hermione, what are you doing?” he asked. “The forest is dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous around the outer rim,” said Hermione. “The thing is I saw...” Hermione bit her lip before she whispered into Harry’s ear, “Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?”

Harry’s face clouded with confusion but he said, “Huh? Well, OK. But it’s locked up in my trunk.”

“Accio Harry’s Invisibility Cloak!” said Hermione. Merely seconds later, the silvery cloak zoomed from the castle, into the forest, and right into Hermione’s hand.

“Well, there’s always that method,” said Harry as Hermione disappeared under the cloak.

For a moment, Harry heard nothing, merely the trees swaying in the wind. Suddenly however, he heard a cry of “Hey!” He turned around to see an invisible force (clearly Hermione under the cloak) pull out a squirming creature from the bushes. At first Harry thought the creature was a gnome but a quick observation completely told him that his analysis was wrong. Unlike the gray skinned Garden Gnomes, this creature looked like a miniature human. He was just over two feet tall, had slightly pointy ears, a full head of brown, curly hair, and was wearing outdated muggle clothing. What caught Harry’s attention however were the highly enlarged feet: barefoot with brown fur growing from them. Harry hadn’t ever seen anybody’s feet that large in proportion to the rest of the body, not even on his cousin Dudley.

“Geroff me! Geroff me! I was going to eventually show myself before you anyway,” said the creature as Hermione whipped off the cloak.

“You’re a Hobbit!” she explained.

“Well of course I’m a hobbit!” exclaimed the creature. “Halfling some call us! What haven’t ever seen a Halfling before? Well now you have! Tom Brookmiller is the name so there! You happy?”

“I... I didn’t even know hobbits were still around,” said Hermione.

“Well, of course we’re still around,” said the hobbit. “We just don’t like being seen by the Big Folk that much. But its been rather hard to hide, especially after the Big Folk built all those school things where our ancient homeland, the Shire used to be. What’s it called?”

“Oxford,” said Hermione.

“Right, well this Oxford is rightfully the Shire,” said Tom Brookmiller. “Many of us Hobbits simply moved further underground so it wasn’t much of a big deal. If the Big Folk will just mind their business, no trouble will come up, but nooooooooo... This old man dressed all in white carrying a staff and with a beard just had to come knocking on my door...”

“What did you say?” exclaimed Harry.

“An old man dressed in white carrying a staff with a beard came knocking on my door,” repeated Tom. “He told me to get up and pull out the old family heirloom. I didn’t even know we had a family heirloom until he told me about.”

Harry caught Hermione’s eye and it was clear they were thinking the same thing, ‘That’s the old man I saw at the Quidditch Match: who taught me the Armor spell.’ “Family Heirloom?” asked Harry.

“It was locked up in a trunk in the cellar,” said Tom. “The old man told me to come over here to this castle and give it to a bushy, brown haired young woman, wearing black robes and a gold and red neck tie, who had a habit of raising her hand a lot. I believe that’s you,” he said pointing at Hermione.

“Nice description,” said Hermione dryly as Harry snorted.

“Well, I found you,” said Tom, “So I’m giving it to you. Don’t even know why my family kept this thing for so long, I would’ve gotten rid of it ages ago if I known we were keeping something suspicious like this thing. Donated it to a museum or something.” The hobbit pulled something about a foot long and bundled up in white linen out of his bag and handed it to Hermione. The first thing Hermione noticed about the bundle was how light the bundle was, only marginally heavier than her wand. However, she received quite a shock when she removed the linen to reveal...

“A dagger?” exclaimed Hermione and Harry at once. It was indeed a rather large dagger, though for a hobbit it would’ve been more like a short sword. It was made of a silvery metal that glowed in the light and its general shape appeared to be inspired by a leaf. What really caught their attention however were the runes carved on the blade; Hermione realized that the runes were in fact the Elvish language of Sindarin. Realizing that she was holding the blade out in the open, Hermione hurriedly found the scabbard within the linen and sheathed the large dagger. “Why... why give this to me?”

“How should I know, the old man just said to give it to a girl matching your description,” said Tom. “He said it was called ‘Sting’.”

“Sting?” exclaimed Harry and Hermione at once. “The spider slayer?” asked Hermione. “The sword of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins? And of Samwise Gamgee?”

“Those names sound familiar. They’re hobbits, aren’t they?” said Tom. “But I’ve never been one for history. I’m sure there’re several more hobbits down at the Shire or Oxford as you Big Folk call it, who may know of the history of the halfling folk from old days but not me. No, all I need to be content with my life is to smoke my share of pipe-weed and have breakfast, brunch, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper each day. So, I’ve done my part now. We hobbits don’t like getting involved too much into the affairs of wizards anyway; there’s absolutely nothing magical about us at all. So without further ado, good day!”

“Huh? Oh, uh thank you Tom,” said Hermione. By the time she had said this however, Tom Brookmiller had already disappeared into the shadows. Hermione turned to Harry and asked, “Harry, what should I do with it?”

“Er, uh keep it I guess,” said Harry. “It was given to you for a reason and given the current circumstances, you might need it.”

“Yes, I know,” said Hermione. “It’s just that... well OK.” Hermione tucked the dagger into her cloak and secured it in place with a quick spell. “I just hope I’ll be able to use it properly.”

“Don’t worry, just remember what Professor Angnathron’s been teaching us about combat,” said Harry. “I know you’ll be OK.”

“OK,” said Hermione. She smiled at Harry and said, “Thank you for all the encouragement.”

“I’m the one who always needs encouragement from you,” said Harry with a grin, though butterflies were starting squirm in his stomach.

“Just seeing your smile is enough encouragement for me,” said Hermione, butterflies also fluttering within her. She reached up and cupped Harry’s cheek, which was positively burning now.

“Er, we should probably get back before Hagrid starts sending out search parties,” said Harry.

“Huh? Oh right,” said Hermione, snapping back to attention, her face also burning. Nothing saying much more, the two made their way back to the Hogwarts grounds. When they got back however they found the grounds in utter chaos.

The Hogwarts grounds were covered with hundreds of children, most of whom were wearing robes that Harry and Hermione recognized as the Beauxbatons uniforms. Many of the children were crying as Hogwarts faculty and staff attended to them, helping them out as much as they could.

Harry and Hermione quickly noticed a tearful Ginny making their way toward them. “Ginny, what’s going on?” asked Hermione.

“Oh Hermione, Harry its horrible!” sniffed Ginny. “Beauxbatons has been destroyed! Bill and the other Order members barely made it back alive, and oh Hermione, Mad-Eye Moody is dead!”

* * *

Late that night, Ron Weasley snuck out of Gryffindor Tower and was wandering around the halls under the pretext of prefect duties. In truth the Head Boy and Head Girl, Harry and Hermione had ordered prefects to help keep curfew within the dorms hoping to prevent a panic following the news of the outcome of the battle at Beauxbatons and surplus of refugees on the Hogwarts Grounds, and to make sure none of the students snuck out, but Ron needed some time alone to think.

‘Harry is the rightful king of the Wizarding World and he and Hermione are on the verge of dating, if not already,’ he thought, ‘And Ronald Weasley is the immature prat who can’t see past his jealousy! Why am I like this? Why? I should be happy for Harry and Hermione. In fact I am, but I still can’t get over it! Harry and Hermione have each other good for them! But it inevitably leaves poor Ronald Bilius Weasley alone!’ Ron sat down on some steps and sighed, placing his face in his hands. ‘Why can’t I just let this go? Maybe all I need is just a little more focus in my life. Perhaps what I really need is an identity for myself separate from Harry and Hermione...’

“Hello, Ron, enforcing your prefect duties?” Ron looked up to see the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick float by.

“Hey Nick,” said Ron, slightly unenthusiastically.

“Ron, if you don’t mind,” said Nick, “I saw that Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood heading toward the Great Hall. Would you mind checking up on her?”

“Luna?” asked Ron. ‘What crazy scheme is Loony up to know?’ “OK, Nick, I’ll go check it out.”

Ron left the ghost behind and hurried down to the Great Hall. Sure enough, Ron instantly recognized the long, dirty blonde hair flowing down the backside of the girl heading toward the main entrance. Hearing footsteps, Luna looked up and smiled when she saw Ron. “Hello Ronald.”

“Luna, what are you doing out of your dorm after curfew?” asked Ron. “What hair brained scheme are you going through now?”

“Its not hair brained,” said Luna. “I’m just leaving the school to go look for Metimaloche.”

To be continued...

A/N Ugh, another delay. This time it wasn’t caused by writer’s block though. If you’ve been following my LJ you should know that several weeks ago, my left middle finger was crushed in a door and it was too painful to type for a while. Then, around the time I started writing again I lost my floppy disk and had to start the chapter again from scratch. Too many troubles like this sure can be problematic. Anyway, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you.

14. Athradoithil

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N The title of this chapter is a little bit forced I admit. Its in Sindarin: ‘athrado’ means ‘traverse’ while ‘ithil’ is of course ‘moon’. Putting those two together it literally comes out as ‘traverse the moon’. However, the correct title of this chapter is ‘Loony Adventure’.

Chapter 14: Athradoithil

“Metimaloche? Who or what is ‘Metimaloche’?” demanded Ron.

“He and his kind are the only one’s strong enough to fight Heliopaths,” said Luna as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? Heliopaths?”

“I told you about the Heliopaths not too long ago Ronald. They’re great spirits of flame and You-know-who has an army of them at his command. If we have to fight You-know-who’s Heliopaths, we need Metimaloche’s help to do so.”

“And I bet you know exactly where this ‘Metimaloche’ lives, I gather,” said Ron sarcastically.

“No, I don’t,” said Luna. Ron looked triumphant until she said, “But Rauthoron does.”

“You and the Griffin are in on this together?”

“We’re not ‘in’ or ‘on’ anything,” said Luna. “Rauthoron doesn’t even know that I’m looking for Metimaloche. All I said is that he knows where Metimaloche is.”

Before Ron could reply, he suddenly realized that he had followed Luna passed the Great Hall and was now standing in front of the castle’s main entrance. Luna opened the doors to reveal Rauthoron standing there in front of them as if he had been waiting for Luna to arrive.

Luna beamed and said, “Hello, I’ve been hoping to see you.”

“Indeed I had sensed that there was one looking for me,” said the griffin. “Tell me, what it is you request of me?”

“I want to find Metimaloche,” said Luna brightly.

There was absolutely no way Ron could miss the frown on Rauthoron’s eagle face. “You seek to head out on a suicide mission,” said the griffin. “Why seek out danger?”

“Because only Metimaloche’s kind can fight Heliopaths,” said Luna.

“Not necessarily,” answered Rauthoron. “Metimaloche’s kind are merely the only ones who can match the power of the fire demons, but the fire demons have been beaten by Elves and Maia in the past. And humans and my ancestors have defeated Metimaloche’s kind in the past meaning any of us can theoretically defeat the fire demons. Of course, the fact that humans and my ancestors have defeated Metimaloche’s kind in the past may make him hesitant of helping you. What can you offer to him that will convince his kind to fight with us?”

“Well I sort of had a theory,” said Luna.

“All you ever have are theories,” snapped Ron; he was feeling rather frustrated at being unable to participate in the conversation.

Luna ignored Ron’s snappy remark and continued, “We all know that You-know-who has been collecting the three chalices hidden within the three schools. Not too many people know this but daddy once told me that the one thing Metimaloche feared above everything else was for the three chalices to come together.”

Rauthoron literally perked up. “That just might have some merit,” he said. “Metimaloche fears the gathering of the chalices. If we can explain what is happening...” Rauthoron suddenly spread his wings and flapped them twice. “Climb on my back young maiden. I shall take you to Metimaloche.”

“Really?” exclaimed Luna excitedly. “All I was hoping for at the most was that you simply tell me where he was.”

“I could do that but that would be truly be sending you to your death,” said Rauthoron. “Metimaloche would slay you on the spot for even coming near him but if I were to accompany you, he would be more hesitant to engage a griffin. You could explain your case to him then. So climb on.”

Luna squealed in delight and bounded up to the griffin and hoisting herself up onto his back between his wings. She turned to a thoroughly perplexed looking Ron.

“Good bye Ronald. It means so much for me that you are seeing me off,” she said.

Ron suddenly snapped to attention. “Huh? What? You’re leaving now?”

“Well yes,” said Luna. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To wish me good bye?”

“Good bye? GOOD BYE? I’M NOT SAYING GOOD BYE! I’M COMING WITH YOU!” yelled Ron.

Luna’s large eyes grew even larger. “Ronald?”

“I have no idea what this ‘Metimaloche’ person is or what in the bloody hell you and the griffin have been chatting about all this time,” exclaimed Ron. “But one thing I can tell is that you’re heading toward danger and there is no bloody way that I am bringing shame to the name Weasley or Gryffindor house by letting a girl go into peril alone while I stand by like a coward. So budge over and make some space for me!” Ron hoisted himself up onto Rauthoron’s back and found himself nestled right behind Luna.

Luna’s face was positively beaming as she twisted around and gave the embarrassed Ron a large hug. “My king,” she whispered.

“King?” said Ron, rather perplexed. “Er, Luna don’t take this the wrong way but don’t girls usually say ‘my hero’ or ‘my knight in shining armor’? Besides, ‘king’ would be a title more fitting for Harry.”

“Harry is King and hero to the wizarding world and hero and knight in shining armor to Hermione,” said Luna. “You however are my king, Ronald.” And before Ron could comment, Luna closed her eyes and started humming “Weasley is our King” dreamily.

‘I am never going to understand this girl,’ thought Ron. ‘Mind you, I don’t understand anything about girls to begin with, especially Hermione and Ginny, but I don’t understand this girl on a whole new level.’

“Hang on,” shouted Rauthoron. With a sudden jolt, Rauthoron burst forward running at a high speed toward the lake. Around the time he hit the sand of the lake’s beach, he spread his wings forth and started flapping them, lifting up into the air. Ron felt like his stomach had been left behind on the ground: this was nothing like flying on a broom. Eventually, Hogwarts looked like nothing more than the size of a dollhouse as the griffin glided toward the East in the pale moonlight. “Brace yourselves young ones,” shouted Rauthoron. “We’re on a several day journey and it’s going to become bumpy much of the way. I suggest you take turns sleeping to make sure you don’t fall off and I’ll probably have to hunt food in the mornings. Be prepared for anything.”

Ron gulped, the only thought running through his mind was, ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’

* * *

“Have you seen Ron?” Harry asked Hermione as they met up in the hallways of Hogwarts the following morning.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “No, but he and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms remember?”

“I guess,” said Harry. “Its just that I usually wake up before he does but the way his bed was, I don’t think he even slept in it last night.”

Hermione frowned. “It doesn’t sound like him to miss out on any sleep.”

“I just hope he hasn’t done anything rash or reckless,” said Harry with a worried sigh.

Hermione couldn’t help but grin. “He’s not you Harry.”

“Oh haha, very funny,” said Harry dryly. Hermione chuckled. It was just then that the two realized that they were now walking past the entrance of the Hospital Wing. And when the two glanced inside, they were surprised to see...

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” exclaimed Harry and Hermione at once.

Molly Weasley looked up: she had apparently been crying. “Oh Harry! Hermione!” she exclaimed. Before either could react, Molly had pulled the two into a fierce hug and started sobbing over them. Not knowing what to do, Harry glanced at Hermione over Molly’s shoulder. Hermione shrugged helplessly back at him. “Oh thank goodness you two are all right.”

“Mrs. Weasley, what is the matter?” asked Hermione. Molly however simply hung onto them harder.

“Harry, Hermione it’s good to know at least you two are all right,” said Arthur Weasley standing up. “Why after what we heard.”

“It’s not as if they had gotten involved in the battle,” said the voice of Bill Weasley. It was only then that Harry noticed that he was the one who occupied the bed Arthur and Molly had been by. “So they should be completely fine so long as they stay within Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Arthur. “But the same can’t be said about Ron.”

Harry suddenly started. “What about Ron?” he asked.

“Goodness, you didn’t know?” asked Arthur.

“Oh Ron,” sobbed Molly. “First Percy ends up missing. Then Bill gets injured. And now, this happens to Ron!”

“Mrs. Weasley please,” said Hermione sounding desperate, “What happened to Ron?” Molly finally calmed down enough to let Harry and Hermione go and sit back down by Bill’s side.

“He’s run off,” said a voice from behind. Harry and Hermione turned around to see Albus Dumbledore enter the Hospital Wing with Nearly-Headless Nick floating in behind him.

“Run off? What do you mean he’s run off?” exclaimed Harry.

“What I mean is Mr. Ronald Weasley left the walls of Hogwarts last night,” said Dumbledore.

“Oh no,” said Hermione, dismally. “The thought of Harry and I together must’ve finally become too much for him.”

“No, I do not believe so,” said Nick. “He left with the Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood and the griffin Rauthoron.”

“Luna?” said Hermione, the tone of her voice now sounding perplexed, “Why would Ron run off with Luna?”

“Why Hermione, we would’ve thought that you of all people could figure that out instantly.” Harry and Hermione looked toward the other side of the Hospital Wing to notice that the one whom had just spoke was none other than Fred Weasley. Next to him, nodding in agreement was his twin brother George while Ginny stood on the other side of George looking somewhat annoyed. “I mean of course, why else would a man and a woman run off together?”

“Mind you it is rather surprising that Ron actually got a clue,” said George. “He is after

all, little Ronniekins. But I guess even he has wizened up.”

“How very true,” said Fred. “Given it is a time of war after all. Perhaps we should follow his example.”

“Angelina and Alicia are coming over to visit next week, shall we suggest it to them?” asked George.

Fred nodded. “A wise suggestion indeed.”

“Uh, excuse me,” said Harry, “But what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Isn’t it obvious Harry?” said Fred, “Ron and Luna have eloped.”

“WHAT?” Harry and Hermione shouted at the same time.

“Our little brother has finally grown up,” said George, pretending to wipe a tear.

“How could I have not seen this coming?” wailed Molly. “I thought I raised my children properly! Did I neglect Ron too much for him to be so rash?” Arthur tried his best to comfort his wife while Bill looked both exasperated and amused by the twins.

Harry and Hermione meanwhile were still gaping. “Luna?” said Hermione. “Ron and Luna? Elope? Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood?”

“Hmph, I had a feeling Luna had some designs for Ron,” said Ginny a little sulkily. “I just wish she had clued me in more on what she was doing,” she grumbled.

Hermione still seemed to be mimicking a goldfish while Harry was a loss of words. “But Ron... Luna... Ron and Luna...” said Hermione.

“Yes, yes Ron and Luna,” said Fred. “A little surprising we admit.”

“But then again not so much,” said George. “Luna Lovegood had grown into a fine young woman.”

“Strange yes, but a very fine young woman,” agreed Fred while nodding. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Now, now it is not wise to jump too such irrational conclusions,” said Dumbledore, the twinkle back in his eye. “Why Mr. Weasley and Miss Lovegood have left, I do not know. But with Rauthoron with them I can conclude that they shouldn’t be in any immediate danger. I can assure you that he will not let any harm come to either of them.” Dumbledore’s face suddenly became grimmer. “For now, I believe that the concern should be with Hogwarts. With Beauxbatons gone, there is only one more chalice left and it is hidden within these walls. The battle is coming and I would dare not let this castle be caught unprepared.”

To be continued...

A/N This will probably the last chapter I can write up in a while as I am going out to sea tomorrow. That’s right, out to sea! Wish me luck and a safe journey and pray that I don’t get too much seasickness.

15. Nazgul Hul

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N This chapter title is a combination of Black Speech and Sindarin. “Nazgul” everybody should know is Black Speech for “Ring Wraith”. “Hul” is Sindarin for “War Cry”. So the chapter of this title is “Ring Wraith War Cry”. But I personally prefer “Cry of the Ring Wraiths”.

Chapter 15: Nazgul Hul

Remus Lupin groaned as another spasm rocked his body. He tried to move from his resting place only to grunt in pain as the beast within him struggled to come forth.

“Hey, you OK?” asked Nymphadora Tonks from the bed next to him. She herself was still badly shaken from her experience during the battle as partially evidenced by the fact her hair was for once her natural red color (at least Remus thought it was her natural color).

“The wolf, he just won’t settle,” said Remus. “He’s not as strong as he was back in France but he’s usually only active like this on the day of the full moon. And I know for a fact that tonight is not a full moon.” He groaned as one more spasm rocked his body.

“Oh dear, we can’t have you suffering like this now can we?” said Madame Pomfrey as she bustled over toward them. She waved her wand over Remus like a muggle security mettle detector used in airports. “Well, there’s no danger of the wolf being unleashed. At least not at this time,” she said, “but we must find a way to get those spasms under control.”

“Leave that to me,” said a voice from the entrance of the Hospital Wing. Lupin looked up and was mildly surprised to see Severus Snape enter the room carrying a flask of bubbling potion. He placed the flask Lupin’s bedside table and said, “Wolfsbane potion. Drink up.”

Despite the pain he was in, Remus managed to smirk. “Well now Severus, what strange world is this that I have wandered into where you’ll actually do me a favor?”

“It’s not a favor to you,” replied Snape with a sneer, “I merely would hate to see one of our combatants taken out by the beast within him rather than the beast that’s fighting him.”

“Nice to know that you care about my well being so much, Snape,” said Lupin as he struggled to sit up. Once in a seated position, he took the flask and drank the whole potion. As he had suspected, the potion tasted especially horrible, and no wonder given whom had brewed it, but it worked wonders. Though he could still sense the wolf attempting to come forth, Lupin no longer felt a ripping sensation of pain from his lycanthropic transformation. “Thank you,” Lupin said.

Snape stuck his nose up and said, “If you’re feeling better perhaps you could tell me where Potter and Granger have scurried off to.”

“It’s Saturday,” said Tonks. “Where they go on Saturday is no one’s business.”

“It is when all the students are supposed to be on the Hogwarts grounds,” snapped Snape. “Apparently, no one has seen any sign of them since this morning. McGonagall is having the entire faculty keep an eye and an ear out for them. Those brats, wasting the faculty’s resources like this!”

“Harry and Hermione are missing?” exclaimed Lupin and Tonks.

“You heard me the first time,” snapped Snape. “First Weasley runs off yesterday with Lovegood and now Potter and Granger have run off. The track record of Hogwarts’s ability to keep its student population’s hormones in check is an embarrassment!”

* * *

“Explain to me why we’re here again?” asked Hermione.

“Because there’s a possibility that someone out here might’ve seen Ron and Luna,” said Harry. The two were currently walking down the main street of Hogsmeade village. Much of the village was still alive with much activity though that atmosphere was rather subdued. The news of the attacks had definitely caused quite a stir among the villagers but as there hadn’t been any major attacks on the British Isles yet, life still had a semblance of normalcy for most people.

“I know that. But Harry, we’re not supposed to leave the Hogwarts grounds,” said Hermione. “I’m worried about Ron and Luna as well, but there’s really nothing we can do. And with Rauthoron with them, I don’t think they should be in too much danger.”

Harry felt the side of his bag, making sure that his Invisibility Cloak was still there. “I know, I know,” he said, “But I can’t just stand still and not do anything! I hate not having any information, and if there’s any available here in the village, I want to hear no matter how insignificant.”

“Harry, I know you’re frustrated,” said Hermione as he she took Harry’s hand. “But sometimes there’s really nothing more you can do other than sit back and wait patiently for whatever happens next.”

“I know, you’re right,” said Harry with a sigh. “Just a few questions to some villagers, then we’ll go back,” he looked a Hermione and grinned a little, “and maybe a drink at the Three Broomsticks wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Hermione smiled back and said, “No it wouldn’t. I’d like to have something at the Three Broomsticks.”

“What’s this? Hermione Jane Granger, Head Girl is actually suggesting we break the rules?”

“Oh shut it you!” Harry and Hermione laughed as they continued to make their way down the street, their hands still held together.

Unfortunately, the villagers hadn’t seen any other Hogwarts students let alone a griffn so Harry and Hermione, feeling disappointed, decided to grab a drink before heading back to the castle. At the Three Broomsticks, Madame Rosmerta didn’t ask any questions about what two Hogwarts students were doing out of the school: she merely served them their butterbeers. As Harry and Hermione sipped at their drinks, they were for a brief moment able to live in the illusion that all was perfect with the world, that there was no immediate threat of war hanging over their heads. Harry turned to Hermione and smiled. “Don’t you just wish we can have a peaceful moment like this, every day?” he asked.

Hermione looked toward Harry, her eyes hopeful. “Someday Harry,” she said, “someday there will be a time when we can sit back with a butterbeer and the only thing that will worry us will be whether we’re working at the right jobs or where our love lives are going.”

“Not bloody likely,” said Harry looking back toward his drink. “Even if the threat of Voldemort gone, I’m never going to get a moments peace; this bloody scar is a symbol of that.”

“Harry,” said Hermione, making him place her focus back on her. “Someday, you will have the simple life you deserve so much. Even if the Wizarding World denies it to you, I will make sure myself that that’s what you will have. Whether it’s in the White Tower of Minas Tirith or in some desolate cottage in the woods I will make sure that you can finally relax.”

As Harry stared into Hermione’s eyes, he suddenly had the overwhelming desire to kiss her. Hermione certainly seemed to be ready to receive one as se tilted her head upward. Harry started leaning toward her, their eyes closing as ther lips just brushed each others...

“Good Lord! Harry! Hermione! What are you two doing here?” Harry and Hermione sprang apart blushing furiously as the boisterous voice of Fred Weasley greeted them. “Hello, what’s this; Harry Potter and Hermione Granger actually sneaking out of school for an illicit meeting?”

“Well, well, we must’ve been more of an influence on dear, proper Hermione than we’ve realized,” said George Weasley from behind his twin.

“That’s not what we were doing!” exclaimed a red faced Hermione. “We were asking villagers if they had seen any sign of Ron!”

“What are you two still doing here?” asked Harry.

“Business has been a little slow in Diagon Alley with the war and all,” said Fred. “But we’ve still made enough to expand Weasley Wizard Wheezes.”

“We were actually just purchasing a new store location,” said George. “That was our original intent at coming here in the first place: we only just found out about Ron running off when we had arrived here.”

“Aren’t you even remotely worried about your Ron?” asked Hermione.

Fred’s face turned uncharacteristically serious. “Of course we are,” he said. “And believe it or not we’re worried about Percy as well. Have you heard that You-know-who’s forces have taken over Azkaban?”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s the first I heard of that.”

“It’s all the talk in London, even though the Daily Prophet’s a little hush-hush about it,” said George. “Rumor is that that’s where the Death Eaters are taking all their prisoners now. Kind of ironic how the fortress’s former inmates are now its jailers.”

Hermione apparently appeared to have some kind of a thought as her eyebrows furrowed. “It is rather interesting,” she said, her face suddenly taking on a calculating look. “Azkaban, Azkaban... do they say how many people are being kept prisoner there?”

George looked perplexed by this question but never the less answered, “Well the rumors place it around 100 but I personally think there’s a lot more. Why ask?”

“Just thinking of something,” said Hermione. Harry’s face crinkled in worry: Hermione was now wearing an expression similar to one when she was concocting a wild plan, similar to SPEW.

Harry was about to ask what she was thinking up when there was suddenly a scream from outside. “What?” he and the Weasley’s exclaimed, standing up. They burst out of the pub to see the streets of Hogsmeade in utter chaos: woman and children screaming in pure terror, men cowering in fear, and animals running for their dear lives. The sky even seemed to have darkened considerably as if it were late evening despite the fact that it was still before noon. “What is going on?” exclaimed Fred.

Then, Harry heard it: a high pitched screech that pierced the sky. So loud and hurtful to the ears, the very sound of the screech set a pulse of terror through the very fiber of the wizards’ souls. Though it was the first time Harry had ever heard the sound, he instantly recognized it with a feeling which he likened to a knife being pierced into the heart.

“NAZGUL!” he yelled.

Indeed, four monstrous forms fell upon Hogsmeade from the sky: great fell beasts with breaths of poison and wings of sinister nature. And upon the backs of those fell beasts rode four black robed figures emitting the screeches that so terrified the citizens of Hogsmeade: Ring-Wraiths. Within seconds, the fell beasts were on the ground attacking the people and the buildings of the village. The Ring-Wraiths dismounted their airborne ‘steeds’ and started wandering around the village as if searching for something. One of the Ring-Wraiths approached a young crying girl, around four years old, whom had apparently been separated from her parents in the confusion. The Wraith drew his sword and lifted over its head, ready to strike the girl...

Without hesitation, Harry rocketed forward shouting “Racina!” His wand suddenly sprang out and transfigured into the gleaming armor that had saved Harry back during the Quidditch match, completely encasing Harry in its protection. A second later, Anduril flashed forth, summoned along with the armor as Harry tackled the Wraith.

The Ring-Wraith actually appeared to be surprised as it stumbled back. Harry turned to the girl and shouted, “Run!” The girl, whom had stopped crying, nodded quickly before running away toward where the Hogsmeade citizens had run off. The Weasley twins had meanwhile starting assisting the villagers in their escape. They glanced back at Harry, concerned about him but Harry told them with a mere look that he could handle the situation.

The Ring-Wraith quickly regained its balance, its attention now focused on Harry. With a screech, the Wraith slashed at Harry. Harry successfully managed to parry the blow. He dodged another slash before spinning around and slashing at the Wraith. The Wraith simply dodged the slash and blocked another one of Harry’s slashes. Undaunted, Harry continued to close in, the Ring-Wraith barely managing to parry every one of Harry’s blows.

Harry had managed to back the Wraith he was fighting into a corner near the post office when two more of the Ring Wraith suddenly attacked from behind him. Harry barely had enough time to whirl around and block the sword slash of one of the Ring-Wraiths. Before the other one could take advantage of the situation, Harry yelled, “Incendio!” The Wraith burst into flames and started fleeing, screeching. Harry turned the spell onto the other Wraith as well whom promptly fled as well.

That just left the original Wraith Harry was fighting. The Wraith slashed at Harry once more but Harry successfully parried the blow. With a powerful strike, Harry thrust Anduril into the Wraith. For a moment, Harry thought he had actually managed to strike one of the Nazgul down until he realized that the Wraith had actually managed to catch Anduril’s blade in its hand: the Ring-Wraith actually appeared to be smug.

Harry however merely smirked and shouted, “Incendio!” The Wraith burst into flames and ran away screeching.

Harry only realized then that he was now surrounded by the cheering crowds of the village. He looked toward, trying to catch his breath and smiled shyly when he suddenly realized something: “Where’s the fourth Nazgul?” He looked around and his expression suddenly turned into a look of worry and perhaps terror. “For that matter, where’s Hermione?” he asked. He scanned the crowds but couldn’t see any sign of her anywhere.

Starting to panic, Harry looked around desperately, hoping to catch a sign of Hermione. It was only when he heard the fading cry of the Ring-Wraiths when Harry looked up into the sky to see the four Ring-Wraiths flying away from the village. What absolutely terrified him beyond all reason was that one of the Ring-Wraiths appeared to have captured a hostage: an apparently brown haired girl wearing Hogwarts Robes. Harry’s face contorted into a silent scream of terror but all his dry throat managed was a raspy “NO!”

* * *

Far away in Barad-dur, the Dark Lord Voldemort-Sauron stirred. “Strange,” said the two voices. “There is one who has actually managed to fight off the Nazgul we sent to search for the Heir. Who is it that defies us so?” The Dark Lord became silent, sitting on his throne as if he were mediating when he suddenly shuddered. “Anduril? The sword reforged?” exclaimed the voice of Sauron. Then, as if filled with maniacal glee, the two voices started laughing, the sinister echoes of the laugh ringing throughout the fortress tower. “Harry Potter, Heir of Elessar!” the Dark Lord proclaimed.

To be continued...

A/N I’m sorry I took my time on this chapter. I meant to have out earlier but ended up getting caught up in other stuff. I apologize for that. Anyway, on Thursday the ship is shipping out and we’re going to be underway all the way until the end of March. I have no idea how often I’ll be able to update during that time as I will have my laptop with me, I will be able to write more chapters. So hang on tight.

16. Mithrandir

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Anybody who’s a ‘Lord of the Rings’ buff should know the meaning of this chapter title. It is Sindarin for “Gray Pilgrim”.

Chapter 16: Mithradir

When Hermione came too, the first thing she felt was the headache building up within the back of her head. She also noticed that there was now a rather nasty bruise above her left temple. As she became more aware of her surroundings she noticed that she was lying on a stone floor within a dark, stone chamber, the only light coming from a single, small window that was barred across. There were droplets of water dripping nearby, the sound of dripping echoing eerily through the darkness. And she certainly wasn’t imagining the smell of damp mold from the walls. Also nearby was a large, heavy, iron plated wood door. Clearly, she was in a dungeon cell of some sort.

Hermione groggily sat up, groaning as the pain in her head intensified. “Owe,” she mumbled as she held a hand up to her bruised temple, “Where am I?”

“In Azkaban, little mudblood,” said a voice that was too familiar for comfort along with the creak of a door opening. Startled, Hermione instantly looked up to see a dark robed, hooded man enter the cell. Underneath tat robe, Hermione could see bits of chain mail. He also wore gauntlets and metal boots. Hermione however, instantly recognized the platinum blonde hair, the cold gray eyes, and the irritatingly annoying smirk.

“Draco Malfoy!” snapped Hermione. “I should’ve recognized your foul stench the instant I was placed here.”

“Still high and mighty, aren’t you Granger?” replied Draco. “I don’t think you fully understand the situation you’re in. A young girl, a mudblood to boot, is imprisoned in the most dread inspiring prison in the world, with Wizarding kind’s gift to women in the same cell willing to grant the pathetic mudblood girl the opportunity to experience his manhood.” Malfoy’s smirk turned into a leer as he finished with, “Whether she wants it or not I might add?”

Malfoy was startled however when instead of cowering in fear and crying as he had expected her to do, Hermione burst out laughing. “‘Wizarding kind’s gift to women’?” she exclaimed with a guffaw, “Why Draco, you must truly be delusional if that’s what you think you are. Or maybe you really haven’t had much experience with women after all.”

Malfoy was clearly infuriated but managed to keep his anger bottled. “Delusional? Look who’s speaking Granger. Need I be the one to remind you that you were the one to walk out in front of one of the Nazgul unarmed? Why, you practically let them capture you. It was a pity you didn’t have your wand; I would’ve loved to have broken it myself. It might have even given me the excuse to strip search you,” he said with a leer, “But alas, before I can do anything, the Dark Lord has expressed wishes to see you.”

For the first time since Draco had entered the cell, Hermione truly felt frightened. “V-Voldemort-Sauron is here?”

“Oh no, he’s still within his tower,” said Draco, “But surely you must realize that I can use various communication spells.” Saying that, Malfoy stood up straight, clapped his hand twice, and mumbled some words Hermione couldn’t understand. A dark flame started materializing in the air above Malfoy. It soon widened into a ring of flame and within that ring a ripple of magic spread like the surface of a mirror. Looking into the vision in the mirror, Hermione backed up to the far wall and barely managed to hold back a scream of terror.

The vision that appeared on the mirror like surface was not a reflection but the armored face and blood red eyes of Voldemort-Sauron himself. Hermione barely managed to contain the panic and terror that were threatening to overwhelm her. ‘Those eyes!’ she thought, ‘Those are the eyes that have haunted Harry for so long? Oh Harry.’

“So you are Hermione Granger. I have had an interest in meeting you for quite some time,” said the voice of Voldemort. “Harry Potter’s girlfriend; most interesting this fact is.” Hermione was startled when the Dark Lord’s voice changed into a voice far deeper, the voice of Sauron, “And yet, I have a strange feeling that I have met this girl before or at least someone with the same image: one that boils me with much hatred.” The dark Lord was lost in thought for a moment before his eyes suddenly widened in epiphany and he exclaimed, “Luthien?”

“What?” said Hermione, instantly remembering that day Harry had called her “Tinuviel”.

“The image of Luthien has returned to Middle-Earth,” said the voice of Sauron. “Highly faded yet still potent it is. And once again, the image has claimed the heart of King of Men: the Heir of Elessar.” With this the two voices of the Dark Lord suddenly burst into laughter and said, “We find this most amusing. The image of Luthien, the child of Elf and Maia, once the most beautiful creature ever to walk this world has degenerated into a simple, plain looking mudblood: how pathetic is that?” The humor died on the Dark Lord’s voices as he said, “We would’ve wished that the image of Luthien be worth a consort to Melkor himself but that is not worth the dignity of a mudblood. Perhaps Draco, you and your Inquisitional Squad may wish to have your ways with her?”

“It would be my pleasure my Lord,” said Draco as the Dark Lord’s face disappeared. He started making his way toward Hermione, his leering smirk growing wider. “Now to have you for myself. You should be honored Granger, I am actually willing to grant you with my manliness.”

Though she was terrified of the Dark Lord, there was absolutely no way Hermione could ever be scared of Draco Malfoy. She actually laughed and said, “Manliness? Why Draco, I didn’t even realize there was enough manliness about you to even realize that I was a girl.”

Draco’a eyes suddenly dangerously. “You will learn your place mudblood!” he yelled, slapping Hermione with his gauntleted hand. Hermione stumbled to the ground, another nasty bruise forming on her cheek, tears starting to form in her eyes.

For a second, Draco thought his point had come through. He was startled however when Hermione suddenly sprang to her feet with a cry of rage and slapped Malfoy back as hard as she could, her nails managing to scratch his cheek. Draco staggered back, his eyes actually flickering with fear. “Fine!” he snapped, “I will leave you alone for now. Soon enough, Azkaban and the Dementors who now once again guard it will have broken you anyway. I will have you after you are broken!” With that, Draco spun around and slammed the door closed behind him.

Left alone in the cell, Hermione sat down and started breathing heavily, willing her body to calm down. It was only after she had calmed down that Hermione allowed herself to smirk.

* * *

Harry barely remembered making it back to Hogwarts that evening. He couldn’t recall a single memory of what the teachers had said to him upon his return other than a faint image of Snape screaming at him, but that wasn’t anything new. He couldn’t recall anything about the students’ reactions to Hermione’s capture. The only thing he knew was how desolate and empty he felt at not having Hermione next to him. How powerless he felt when he couldn’t save her. So he just sat there, late into the night in front of the fireplace, starring at the Marauder’s Map placed on his lap as if he were willing Hermione’s name to appear on it.

For how long Harry sat there, he had no idea but late at night, when all the other students had long gone to bed, Harry suddenly snapped to attention when a new dot appeared on the map. Hoping for a brief moment that Hermione had returned somehow, Harry glanced at the dot and was startled to find that it wasn’t labeled with a name, as if the map couldn’t decide what name to give the figure that was now approaching toward Harry from behind...

“What the?” Realizing that whatever this strange creature was, it was now behind him, Harry spun around swinging forth Anduril. The blade was blocked by a wooden staff with a ringing metallic sound.

The staff was carried by an old man dressed in white robes and cloak. He had pure white hair, a long white beard, bushy eyebrows, and a rather large nose. For a split second, Harry thought it was Dumbledore standing behind him but quickly discarded the thought for the old man was most certainly not Dumbledore.

“A well placed shot that was, young Heir of Elessar,” said the old man. “You have acquired many skills from your ancestors. As well as a few of your very own I can see.”

Harry didn’t put down his sword though his face was now quite puzzled. “Who are you?” he asked.

The old man looked thoughtful and said, “I have many names Harry Potter; yes I know your name as well. My true name, the name I was known as in my youth in the West is Olorin. In the South, they called me Incanus. To the East I never ventured. The Elves and Numenoreans knew me as Mithrandir. And in the North, I was known as...”

“Gandalf!” exclaimed Harry. “You’re Gandalf the Gray!”

The old man smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “I am Gandalf the White.”

“And...” Harry put down his sword and stood up, “... you taught me the armor spell: the one that saved me during the Quidditch match.”

“It was not much of my doing,” said Gandalf. “Your wands that you use are a marvelous construct. It appears to be a stick of wood containing an effect from a creature of power. Yet what channels your own power through the effect from the creature into the wood is the single sliver of the Dwarvish mettle, Mythril that connects the effect to the wood. I just merely showed you how to reshape that Mythril at your will.”

“Why didn’t your name appear on the map?” asked Harry.

“Though I cannot be certain, it is probably because I am not a man,” said Gandalf.

“Then, you really are an angel?”

“Angel. Yes, I believe that is the term used now. The term I am more familiar with is ‘Maiar’.”

“You’re speaking English.”

“It is not too difficult for my kind to pick up languages of Middle-Earth, whether old or new.”

Harry still had a lot of questions on his mind but he decided to forgo them for the one that was most pressing on his mind: “Why are you here?”

“There are many possible answers to that question. But I believe you already know the primary answer to that,” said Gandalf.

Harry nodded. “Voldemort-Sauron.”

“Yes,” said Gandalf. “Due to the foolishness of a fallen man, the ancient enemy has returned. With Sauron back, it has once more fallen on my shoulders to return to Middle-Earth and guide the Dunedain King much as I had guided Aragorn all those years ago.”

“How can Voldemort-Sauron be defeated?” asked Harry. “I’ve seen his power, it’s unbelievable! And now...”

“You fear the safety of Luthien’s image,” said Gandalf. At Harry’s questioning look Gandalf said, “Yes, I am talking about Hermione Granger. So alike to previous Elf maidens who bore the name ‘Tinuviel’ she is yet so different. But I do wonder though, how is it that she could be captured so perfectly? Too perfectly it seems. How is it that even the Nazgul could route out this one girl out of all the crowds in the village?”

Harry was decidedly confused. “Wait a minute, are you suggesting that Hermione allowed herself to be captured? Why would she do that?”

“I neither suggested it nor denied it,” said Gandalf. “Only she would know the exact truth of that. And as for Voldemort-Sauron, it is not for you to know the truth about him just yet. Very, very soon but not just yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gandalf looked over Harry with a stern look in his eye. “Three years ago, young Harry Potter you were faced with a choice, a choice that would have dire consequences during the following years. Now, within the next hour, you will be faced with that very same choice again. The choices of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins made about Gollum’s fate had far lasting consequences on the world. You now face the same dilemma, Harry Potter. Let us hope that once again, you make the correct choice.” With that, Gandalf suddenly disappeared.

“What the heck was all that?” Harry exclaimed to no one in particular. “A choice I made three years ago? Why, the only choice of consequence I made back then was...” Harry started as a new name suddenly emerged on the Marauder’s Map. A slow, burning anger started building up within him as he grabbed Anduril, and sprang out of Gryffindor Tower racing toward the location where he saw that name: PETER PETTIGREW.

* * *

Through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts, the rat formerly known as Scabbers scurried through. He was searching for someone and was desperate to find him. Yet, everywhere he scurried, he could not shake off the fear that someone was following him. Someone was seeking him out.

Feeling paranoid, the rat sped around the corner only to run into Mrs. Norris, the caretaker Argus Filch’s cat. Squeaking in terror, the rat raced away as the skinny cat chased after him. The rat was faster than the cat but he was forced to stop dead when he ran into none other than Argus Filch himself.

“What is it my sweet? Are students out of bed?” said the caretaker. He looked down and noticed the terrified rat. “Bah! Just a filthy rodent! This creature is of no notice, come Mrs. Norris.”

The rat actually allowed himself to release a breath of relief as the mangy cat reluctantly followed her caretaker. However, the relief was short lived when the rat realized that another, worse cat was now standing menacingly behind him: Crookshanks, the orange part kneazle that had menaced him so much, three years ago. Slowly and fearfully, the rat attempted to edge away from Crookshanks whom was eyeing him menacingly. He however was forced to stop that another animal was now standing on the other side of him: the white owl Hedwig. As the cat and the owl menacingly closed in on the rat, the terrified rat had no choice but to revert back to his human form.

Seconds later, Peter “Wormtail” Pettigrew stood in the place of the rat. “Shoo! Shoo! I don’t fear you animals now!” he said toward the owl and the cat.

“Perhaps not,” said another far too familiar voice. “But then, maybe you should fear me!” Before Wormtail could react, Harry Potter had grabbed Wormtail’s robes from behind and was holding the cold, hard steel of Anduril at Wormtail’s throat. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now!” hissed Harry.

Wormtail gulped, sweat beads forming on his forehead. “You-you have to listen to what I say H-Harry.”

“Why should I?” demanded Harry, the blade pressed closer to Wormtail’s throat.

“B-because, I know the true power of the chalices,” whimpered Wormtail. “I know what the Dark Lord’s true goal is.”

“And why would you share this information with me?” demanded Harry.

“Because the Dark Lord, he does not seek to conquer,” cried Wormtail. “He seeks to destroy! He seeks to summon Morgoth back to the world!”

To be continued...

A/N I wrote this entire chapter while out at sea, which will probably be where I write most of my chapters from now on. Unfortunately, it won’t be uploaded until we arrive in Hong Kong. Tell me what you think my readers. If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them so long as it doesn’t spoil anything.

17. Gwain Siniath

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, Sindarin title. It just means “new news”: as in new information revealed. Simple as that.

Chapter 17: Gwain Siniath

“What do you mean by ‘summon Morgoth back’?” demanded Harry.

“It means precisely what I said!” said Wormtail, desperately. “He seeks to bring the original lord of darkness back to the spheres of the world.”

For a while Harry said nothing before he finally released Anduril’s cold blade from Wormtail’s throat. Wormtail fell to his knees gasping and panting.

“Talk,” said Harry. He had of course heard of Sauron’s predecessor, the Valar Melkor who became the original Dark Lord Morgoth. Whom had destroyed the Trees of Light in Valinor and stolen the Simarils, the three greatest jewels of the Elves. But he still felt rather skeptical.

“Some time ago,” said Wormtail, “I found an old book in a derelict hobbit home. It was written in the Elvish lettering which I think was called ‘Tengwar’ or something like that. I used a translation spell on it and discovered that it was a detailed explanation of the three chalices that are hidden within the schools. It explains how the Elves upon discovering that it was Sauron whom had deceived them into creating the Rings of Power, had also tricked them into creating the chalices that would release Morgoth from his imprisonment within the void.”

Harry still had a hard time accepting this. “We both know just how power hungry Voldemort is,” he said. “Summoniong a partner in Sauron is one thing. Summoning a master in Morgoth... I just don’t see him doing that.”

“Well I don’t know!” wailed Wormtail. “How would I know what He who must not be named is thinking? Maybe Sauron’s the one in primary control of their minds or something like that!”

“Perhaps he has a point,” said a voice from behind. Harry turned around and was surprised to see Gandalf standing there.

“I thought you had left,” said Harry.

“A wizard comes and goes as he pleases. You should know this young Heir of Elessar,” said Gandalf. “It has long been Sauron’s desire to bring Morgoth back. The implementing of the search for the chalices may suggest that Sauron holds primary dominance in the Dark Lord’s mind. However, there’s another slim possibility.”

“What?” asked Harry.

“Was not the one thing that this Voldemort desired more than anything immortality? It is possible that Voldemort agrees to summon Morgoth in exchange for immortality like that of the Nazgul, without the side affect of becoming a slave to Sauron and his Rings of Power. At most, their union is most likely a temporary thing, only until Morgoth returns whereupon he could grant them two separate, immortal bodies.”

“And Voldemort can wait patiently for an eternity to seize power for his own,” concluded Harry. “Sounds kind of far-fetched, though.”

“Which is why it is a ‘slim’ possibility,” said Gandalf.

“So what do I do now?” asked Harry. “I have to rescue Hermione, but I don’t know where to begin.”

“I would suggest that think through carefully. You cannot just walk into Azkaban. The fortress prison has a barricade now which will not allow a Numenorean to brake out of it, or even into it,” said Gandalf.

Harry was puzzled. “And why is that?”

“Because of its location; modern wizards can sometimes be rather foolish in where they decide to build their structures. Most likely, they built Azkaban there because they must’ve of found a few preexisting dungeons that had survived the ages.”

“What?”

“I am sure you’re aware that region known as the North Sea was once that lands of Beleriand. The island where Azkaban is was once the mountain peaks of Thangoroduin and below that, the armory fortress of Angband.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Harry. “How the heck am I supposed to enter there?”

“There is one possibility,” said Gandalf. “Shortly before he died, Aragorn entrusted a certain item of his to the Dwarves for safekeeping. Though they never settled Khazud-Dum again, the Dwarves still maintained a treasury somewhere within its deep. Though most of the caverns of Moria no longer exist, I do believe the section where there once was the treasury still lies somewhere below the Swiss Alps; all that is left of the Misty Mountains.”

“Great!” said Harry while throwing up his hands, “Now I have to trek through Moria. Most likely I’ll just end up getting lost and starving to death.”

Wormatil made a sound. “Actually...”

“Actually what?” said Harry, turning on him.

“Actually, I know the way through the caverns below the Alps,” said Wormtail. “I hid out there after you spared my life in the Shrieking Shack. I can guide you.”

“What? Why would you do this?”

“Because I-I have a debt to repay,” said Wormtail, “and I cannot allow to have Morgoth summoned back.”

“Fine,” snapped Harry. “But try to double-cross the way you double-crossed my parents and Sirius and I will kill you on the spot no questions asked. Do I make myself clear?” Wormatil nodded timidly.

“Well, perhaps I must be going now,” said Gandlaf. “There are other matters I must attend to.”

Harry turned to Gandalf and said, “Before you go, you were hinting that Voldemort-Sauron had a certain weakness. Will you not tell me this or at least clue me in? Please?”

“Oh, it is rather simple actually,” said Gandalf. “Though Voldemort and Sauron have two separate minds but share a single body: Voldemort’s body. Sure it may be mny times more powerful than before but it is still Voldemort so in the end, the Dark Lord will still have all of Voldemort’s weaknesses.”

With that, Gandalf was gone with a flurry of his robes. Harry frowned and said, “That’s still not much comfort. Voldemort was ridiculously powerful enough as it was before hand.”

* * *

“Moria? Why would you want go there?” asked Angnathron. He was still bedridden in the hospital wing.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised that a Dwarf would refer to Moria as ‘there’,” he said.

“Aye, there’s been nary a Dwarf that’s entered Khuzud-dum in millennia,” said Angnathron, “which is why I’m curious as to why you have this sudden desire to enter what’s left of the mines.”

“I have my reasons,” said Harry. “All I really need to know is the specific location to the entrance of the mines. I’m sure the Dwarfs at least kept tabs on that.”

“We did,” said Angnathron. “Still, I cannot see sufficient reason to send one of my students gallivanting around in the caves below the Alps, even if he is the Boy-who-lived or the Heir of Elessar.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t give you too much information,” said Harry. “All I’m asking is that you trust me, just this once if no other time.” Harry finished off his request with a simple grin.

Angnathron sighed and grabbed a quill and some parchment. “I’m probably going to regret this,” he said as he started scribbling on the parchment.

Harry examined the parchment and found that Angnathron had written a set of coordinates in the latitude-longitude form. He didn’t necessarily know how to read them but he decided that wasn’t something a little research couldn’t help. And there was always the four pointer spell to help him. “Thank you, Professor,” he said before leaving the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Later on that night, Harry strode across the Quidditch Pitch. In all the flurry that had happened, Harry had totally forgotten about one key factor: he had no mode of transportation. His Firebolt was still being repaired and he couldn’t make a portkey without alerting the authorities in the school that he was sneaking out. Being 17, he was licensed to apparate but Swiss Alps were quite a distance away and Harry dd’t yet have the experience to apparate that far; he’d most likely end up splinched. And besides, he couldn’t apparate on Hogwarts grounds as Hermione liked to constantly remind him.

Harry was still pacing when he heard a rustle in the nearby bushes. Whipping out his wand, Harry yelled, “Lumos!” to see what was going on. When at first he didn’t see anything, he called out, “Who’s there?”

Slowly, the majestic form of a large eagle with the horse’s hindquarters emerged from the bushes, tall and proud before the young Heir of Elessar. The hippogriff was starring at Harry as if he were complementing something.

“Buckbeak? What are you… oh yeah.” Harry, remembering his manners, made a deep bow before Buckbeak. Buckbeak bowed down as well, then to Harry’s surprise, crouched all the way to the ground and continued starring at Harry.

“Wait a minute, you’re suggesting that I ride you to Moria?” asked a perplexed Harry. If Hippogriffs could speak, Harry was certain Buckbeak would’ve said yes given the way he was looking at him. Harry would’ve preferred riding a broom but given that he had no other means of transportation, he decided that the Hippogriff was the way to go.

“OK, said Harry as he hesitantly climbed onto the Hippogriff’s back. “Oh yeah, I nearly forgot about this. Hold on a second.”

Harry tied a small bag to Buckbeak’s harness. Within that bag, shrunken in form was a dirty, terrified rat with a silver hand. “I’m warning you Pettigrew,” said Harry as he tied the bag to Buckbeak’s harness, “Any funny business and you’ll be history before you even realizes what’s hit you. You are my guide through Moria, but remember that I don’t necessarily need you. Your guidance will simply make it easier.” The terrified rat appeared to nod its head.

Harry turned to Buckbeak and said, “If there’s any funny business with the rat, eat him.” Buckbeak looked hopeful while the rat positively squeaked in terror.

With a kick to the sides, Buckbeak stood up proud and tall with Harry on his back. Harry looked behind to see Crookshanks and Hedwig in a nearby tree looking toward him. “I’ll be back in no time,” said Harry with a smile. “Just hand in there till I get back.” Then, with a mighty flap of his wings, Buckbeak took off into the air with the Heir of Elessar and one treacherous rat with him.

To be continued...

A/N OK, short chapter. Bit of a filler chapter. Sorry it took so long but its own right difficult to find the time to type when they got you working (for three months as of March 8th) down in the food galleys of the ship. Thankfully, we’re in port for a month now so I have a lot of free time to write up the next few chapters.

18. Ai Khazud-dum

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N The title of this chapter is in Khuzdul or Dwarvish. It more or less means “Within the Dwarf Mansions”. At least that’s what it’s supposed to mean. “Ai” actually means “upon” but I’m using it as “within” in this situation. Or of course, you could say that the title of this chapter is “Upon the Dwarf Mansions”. Doesn’t really matter much.

Chapter 18: Ai Khazud-dum

Ron bent down and scooped out some water from the stream which he drank heartily. He, Luna, and Rauthoron were resting near a mountain side meadow somewhere in Central Western Germany. They had been flying for days now and Ron quite frankly was in the mood for a break.

“Just how much further out are we heading anyway?” asked Ron.

“I think we’re about half way there,” said Luna. “But don’t fret, there’s plenty to do on the way. This is Snorkack country around here, we might actually see one.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” said Ron dryly.

Luna starred at Ron. “Ronald, being skeptical is probably a good thing, but in the end it’s pointless if you can’t believe. Not everything can be seen or proven; you just have to have faith.”

Ron sighed. “OK, OK, I’m sorry. I’ll remember to keep that in mind.”

“There’s always something one needs to keep in mind Ronald,” said Luna. “Just don’t go keeping too much in your mind that you forget some things.”

“I didn’t follow all that,” said Ron, “but at least, I’ll keep in mind that I’m protecting you through this whole trip.”

Luna laughed, her cheeks a little colored. “Oh Ronald, you’re just awful.”

Ron frowned. “Awful?” he asked, perplexed. “How the heck am I awful?”

“I meant you’re only awful in the ways of subtly,” said Luna. “Not to worry, if you want to learn how to chat a girl more properly, just listen to the voices.”

Ron was about to question her further when he was stopped by the sudden shaking of the ground along with a deep rumbling sound. “What’s that? An Earthquake?” he asked.

“No, not an Earthquake,” said Rauthoron, standing up. “He looked out over the cliff. Ron and Luna also looked out, but Ron leapt back as quickly as he could when he saw what was making the commotion.

“Spiders!” exclaimed Ron, looking deathly pale. Indeed, hundreds upon hundreds of giant spiders, Acromantula were speeding off toward the West in the valley far below them. The clatter of their pincers made Ron want to completely throw up.

“Do you think they’re heading out to join You-know-who’s army?” asked Luna.

“Some of them maybe, but I don’t think so for most of them,” said Rauthoron. “Giant Spiders haven’t gone docile like the way wolves have but they certainly wouldn’t join up with Sauron, at least not since the days of Shelob and Ungoliant. Of course, unlike wolves which have completely lost their hostility toward humans, Acromantula can still be dangerous. But these Acromantula look more like they’re running away from something.”

“Running away? What could possibly scare a giant spider?” shouted Ron.

“Maybe it was a blinger,” said Luna. “Daddy says they’re quite scary looking.”

“No, it’s something else,” said Rauthoron. “Both of you stay here and don’t look out toward the valley. It’s actually recommended that you two close your eyes until I tell you to open them.”

“What? What is it?” asked Ron.

“Breakfast,” said Rauthoron. He spread his wings and took flight. Not knowing else to do, Ron huddled with Luna and closed her eyes. Of course, the sounds of a tremendous struggle and several unearthly screams made him wonder what the heck was going on. Finally, he heard a tremendous thud and Rauthoron’s voice saying, “OK, you can open them now.”

Ron opened his eyes and nearly fainted when he saw the dead, green, giant serpent nearly as large as a cedar tree lying at Rauthoron’s feet. “I-is that...”

“A Basilisk,” said Rauthoron. He looked considerably scraped up but otherwise looked rather pleased with himself. “The mortal enemy of spiders. Of course, we griffins are the mortal enemies of basilisks.”

“This one must’ve been what was actually heading out to join You-know-who,” observed Luna. “The spiders simply crossed its passed.”

“Indeed,” said the griffin. “And now, if you two would excuse me, I am rather hungry.” Ron felt like he was going to be sick.

* * *

Not necessarily too far from where Ron, Luna, and Rauthoron were, a plumpish, ragged man was searching around the snow somewhere on the high mountains of the Swiss Alps. Behind him stood the famed Boy-who-lived, his wand ready in his right hand, his sword holstered on his back, and his black cloak whipping around in the wind, and a Hippogriff standing right behind him. The plumpish man shivered, not because of the biting cold of the snow and wind but because the gaze of Boy-who-lived glaring at his back, ready to curse him if he made even a small move the wrong way.

“Well Wormtail, where is it?” snarled Harry.

“I-it is right here,” stuttered Wormtail. He brushed some snow off a large boulder. Placing his silvery left hand on the boulder, Wormtail pushed the boulder aside to reveal a large gaping hole in the ground: an entrance to some caves.

Harry flicked his wand and snarled, “You first.” Frightened, Wormtail dropped into the hole without question. “Stay here, Buckbeak,” said Harry as he dropped into the hole after Wormtail.

Other than the small amount of light at the gaping hole, it was pitch black inside the cavern. Harry said, “Lumos!” lighting up his wand to reveal a vast cavern stretching out in directions all over and around. “It doesn’t even look like a mine anymore,” said Harry.

“All that’s left of the Dwarf Halls,” said Wormtail. “These caves cover about 15 square miles, less than 1% of what used to be Moria. Thankfully, the item you are looking for lies somewhere within this small percentage.”

“You’ve done some studying,” said Harry, raising his eyebrow. “Show me.”

Gulping, Wormtail started leading Harry through the twisted passageways under the mountains. Through dark caverns, past high ledges over deep ravines, up hills, and down through the tunnels, the two went deeper and deeper into the caves. As they neared another ravine, Harry was surprised to see a little light coming from the bottom of it. He beckoned Wormtail over and the two looked over the ledge to see the source of the light. As soon as he comprehended what he was seeing, Wormtail shrieked and leaped away in terror.

“Orcs!” he exclaimed. “Orcs! Multitudes of Orcs dancing around a bonfire! There were no Orcs the last time I was here!”

“Well there are Orcs here now,” snapped Harry. “And don’t make too many noises, you’ll attract their attention. Just lead me on.”

Wormtail nodded mutely and continued to lead Harry on. Eventually, they entered a wide chamber that still bore the geometric markings and pillars o Dwarvish architecture. In the center of the chamber was a single chest of Numenorean design, bathed in light that came from a shaft over the elevated spot the chest was.

“So, is that what we’ve been looking for?” asked Harry. Wormtail nodded mutely. Harry strode over to the chest and found that it was locked. That problem was solved however with a quick “Alohomora” and the chest swung open with a creak.

After the dust had settled, Harry found two objects within the chest. The first was certainly the item he needed to get into Azkaban: it was a small phial that contained a bright light. Something about the light within the phial hinted to Harry that it was of Elvish origin. However, it was the other object that had really caught Harry’s attention.

“The Ring of Barahir?” he exclaimed. Sure enough, it was a ring made up of two silver serpents each devouring the tail of the other around a single emerald. The Ring of Barahir, a sign of the king of Gondor and Arnor along with the sword Anduril. Harry picked up the ring and examined it for a moment before slipping it on his finger. It felt right at home there: another sign that he was indeed the Heir of Elessar and rightful king of Gondor-Arnor.

Harry would’ve examined the ring and phial a bit more had Wormtail suddenly not shrieked, “They’re coming!” Sure enough, the cackle of Orcs was now getting louder, indicating that they were nearby.

“We need to get out of here,” said Harry, putting the phial away. No sooner had he stepped down from near the chest did Harry start hear the whishing of arrows flying toward him.

“Harry!” To Harry’s shocking surprise, Wormtail sprang in front of Harry and was pierced by several arrows that were meant for the Boy-who-lived. He crumpled to the ground.

“Pettigrew!” shouted Harry though he knew it was already too late: Peter Pettigrew was already dead. Had Harry any time to think, he would’ve wondered how ironic it was that Peter Pettigrew, the man whom had betrayed his parents to their deaths had died saving his life, his debt repaid in full. However, he had no time for that as he was now surrounded by a small battalion of at least a hundred Orcs, all of them cackling and menacing their weapons at Harry in a highly threatening manner.

Harry was completely not intimidated. Pointing his wand at the Orcs immediately in front of him, he thought of the fact that he was going to see Hermione soon and shouted “Expecto Patronum!”

While the Patronus did not have any actual effect on the Orcs, they were still creatures born of darkness and were harmed by the even the smallest bit of light. As it was the Orcs cowered away before the silver stag of light as it led Harry straight through the small army of Orcs unharmed. A few Orcs were full hardy enough to blindly try to attack Harry and the Patronus but those were soon dispatched with a few slashes of Anduril.

Within no time, Harry had made it out of the caverns of Moria and back onto the snow covered peaks of the Alps. He quickly found his Hippogriff and climbed onto its back. “All right Buckbeak, head for Azkaban!” he shouted. Buckbeak squawked and took off into the air.

* * *

In the dark reaches of Azkaban fortress, Draco Malfoy’s two henchmen Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were walking up the winding staircase of the tower that held a most important prisoner. It was their job to feed her: Draco did not want her to starve before she was taken before the Dark Lord afterall.

Crabbe and Goyle unlocked the cell door and stepped inside. They were disappointed to find that the ‘Mudblood’ Granger was asleep, lying on her side on the hard stone floor, her back toward them; Draco had told them should Granger be any trouble, they could ‘entertain’ her any way they wished.

Shrugging, Goyle walked over to Hermione’s form so as to shake her awake while Crabbe looked for some place to place the food. As he placed some food he thought that perhaps Granger may decide to put up a fight after being woken up afterall, and then...

WHAM!

Crabbe spun around, surprised by the sudden noise only to find Goyle sprawled on the ground unconscious and Hermione leaping to her feet. In her left hand was a loose brick she had used to smash Goyle’s head and pointing at Crabbe in her right hand was... a wand?

“Hey Vincent,” said Hermione with a smirk, “Say ‘cheese’!” The last thing Crabbe heard before unconsciousness consumed him was Hermione shouting, “Stupefy!”

To be continued...

A/N Ack! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I meant for chapter to come out way sooner but I developed one of the worst cases of writer’s block ever and it simply wouldn’t come out. As it is, I’m not entirely satisfied with it I was hoping to do more detail on Moria) but I’m going back out to sea on Tuesday and I decided I should really finish this before that. So here it is. In other news, I am also currently working on a mega long one-shot based on the combined plots of ‘Shrek’ and ‘Shrek 2’. It’s over 20 pages along and not even half way done so I have no idea when that one’s going to come out. But keep an eye out for it as well as more chapters of this fic.

19. Edraith en Gador

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Sindarin title. ‘Edraith’ means escape. ‘Gador’ means prison. Hence, the title of this chapter is ‘Escape from prison’. Kinda straight forward, isn’t it?

Chapter 19: Edraith en Gador

Hermione dragged Crabbe and Goyle’s unconscious forms into her cell, tied them up with some cords just to be safe, gagged them, and promptly locked them up in her former cell.

‘Piece of cake if I say so myself,’ she thought. ‘I suppose I was lucky Malfoy didn’t have my hair examined when they brought me here. Otherwise, they might’ve discovered my shrunken wand attached right behind my right ear.’ She gave her wand a quick twirl. ‘As well as some other equipment I’ll be in need of.’

After a quick look around the area to make sure there was no one else in sight, Hermione reached behind her right ear and pulled out what looked like a tiny, miniature silver napkin. Rubbing the napkin with her fingers, there was a poof and the napkin was replaced with a full, silvery, invisibility cloak. ‘I wonder if Harry’s even realized he’s missing his invisibility cloak,’ she wondered as she slipped the cloak on, disappearing from view, ‘probably not. I should apologize to him later for borrowing it without permission.’

As Hermione made her way down the tower as silently as she could, she reflected over her plan. When Fred and George had mentioned there being prisoners in Azkaban back in Hogsmeade, she had started thinking about the possibility of breaking all those prisoners out of Azkaban if there ever was an opportunity presented to her. She hadn’t counted on the opportunity to present itself so fast however when the Nazgul had showed up in the village. Though she had wished to share her plan with Harry, the Nazgul attack was simply too much of a golden opportunity to miss out on and she had uncharacteristically acted on impulse and allowed herself to be captured. ‘Harry must really have been an influence on me,’ she thought dryly.

The invisibility cloak did wonders hiding the light from her wand in her left hand as well as the glimmering dagger that was Sting in her right hand. She quickly made her way down the tower into the main section of the dungeons. The sight that greeted her reminded her of her trip to San Francisco with her parents when she was 7 years old and they had seen Alcatraz prison. Hundreds of cells all lined up in rows along three stories facing each other. Only it was a lot more damp, dark, and gloomy than the infamous American jail. Hermione had once seen a map of Azkaban in the Hogwarts library and was rather confident she had remembered enough details of it to make her way around. Of course, she simply had to hope the corridors didn’t move around like they did at Hogwarts.

More pressing to Hermione were the Dementors that were gliding along the ledges in front of the cells. She was still quite a distance from them but already she could feel their depressing effects on her. As if that weren’t bad enough, Sting’s glowing indicated another threat in addition to the Dementors: Orcs. Hermione could possibly conjure a patronus to ward off the Dementors but Orcs would be another matter all together. Of course, they couldn’t see her and some wand work could even prevent them from smelling her but it still meant she would have to dispatch Orcs with Sting, something she was not looking forward to do.

Luckily, there were only three Orcs around, all on the bottom floor while the Dementors floated around the higher levels. Making her way to the bottom floor, Hermione carefully made her way behind the first Orc. Then, at the right moment, slit the Orc’s throat with Sting, a silencing charm blocking out the bloodcurdling scream. Hermione felt like throwing up as she hid the Orc’s mutilated corpse but managed to hold herself together. She repeated the procedure twice more, getting rid of the Orcs without the Dementors even realizing what was going on.

Hermione took a few moments to compose herself as well as fight down the bile that was rising in her throat. ‘Get yourself together, Hermione Jane Granger,’ she thought as she panted for a moment. ‘You still have the more important task at hand.’

Trying to think up a happy thought, Hermione said, “Expecto Patronum.” A mere wisp of slivery haze materialized at the tip of her wand before fading away. She thought about Harry and seeing him again and said a bit more forcefully, “Expecto Paronum!”

This time, the silvery form of an otter clearly materialized from her wand. Though it was rather blurred and not quite corporeal, the otter was still enough to drive away the few Dementors that were present as it ran around the various levels.

Hermione felt like jumping for joy. ‘I can’t wait to tell Harry that I was able to conjure a patronus powerful enough to drive away Dementors!’ she thought. Of course now was not the time to speculate such things: the Dementors would be back soon in greater numbers looking for whomever it was whom had released the patronus on them. She had a mission at hand.

Hermione made her way to the first cell and peered inside. What she saw made her heart break. Inside was a small boy, dirty, ragged, thin, and frightened beyond his wits by the Dementors, no more than 7 years old. Getting curious Hermione looked into another cell to find that its occupant was an even younger girl. More quick looks confirmed her suspicion: just about all of the prisoners held by the Dark Powers were young children.

Anger boiled in the bottom of Hermione’s gut. She knew perfectly well why only children were kept prisoner; adults, even muggles, were more likely to revolt. Children would be easier to control as slaves, and easier to brainwash. Most likely these were mostly muggle children who had been residing in the various villages near Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and most likely occasionally a muggleborn, whom had probably seen their parents murdered before their eyes when their villages were attacked. There were then carted off to Azkaban into the care of the Dementors to have their wills broken, their lives over before they had truly even begun. ‘Well not if I have any say in this!’ thought Hermione.

Hermione entered the first cell, opening the door with the always useful “Alohomora.” The little boy, realizing that someone had entered the cell scampered away in fear but stopped when he realized that it was a young woman who entered: not one of those mean men in masks and robes, not one of those hooded ghost thingies, and certainly not those smelly, ugly, black monsters.

The boy slowly crawled over to Hermione and timidly asked in a small voice, “Mama?”

Hermione kneeled down to the boy’s level, trying in vain to hold back her tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she affectionately caressed the boy’s face. “I’m not your mother. I am so helpless to the ways in which you really need help. But the least I can do is get you out of here.” She tapped her wand on a brick and whispered, “Portus!” She placed the portkey in the boy’s hand he was instantly whisked away.

These repeated several more times as Hermione managed to create enough portkeys for the few children whom had survived to be removed from the fortress dungeon. What was truly difficult for Hermione to accept was that while there had initially been at least a hundred held prisoners only about 22 of them were still alive when Hermione found them.

Finally, all of the still living children were gone and Hermione was about to create a portkey for herself for escape when she suddenly discovered another occupied cell. Looking into it, Hermione was surprised to find that its occupant was none other than...

“Percy?”

Percy Weasely was barely recognizable under his haggard appearance. His red hair was long, dirty, and matted. His robes were in complete tatters. He was missing his glasses and eyes held a glazed look. He was sitting in the middle of his cell, not really comprehending anything but simply muttering over and over, “Too much power... too much ambition... never any good... should’ve known... should’ve known...”

“Percy Weasley, get yourself together,” said Hermione as she entered the cell. “It’s me, Hermione.”

“Hermione... knew a Hermione... was right... she was always right... they were always right... always right... was wrong... I was wrong... was wrong...” muttered Percy, not actually comprehending that Hermione was now in front of him.

“I need to get you out of here,” said Hermione. She created another portkey. “Madame Pomfrey can take better care of you than I ever could.” She shoved the portkey into Percy’s hand. Without a second glance, Percy was whisked away like the children.

Unfortunately, there was someone in the cell neighboring Percy’s cell that did recognize Hermione’s voice. With a deep rumbling sound the voice cried out, “HERMY!”

Hermione did a double take, her face turning deathly pale. “Grawp?” she whispered. Suddenly a giant sized hand crashed through the wall, throwing rubble everywhere as it made a grab for Hermione. Not being able to help herself, Hermione screamed.

* * *

“There it is!” exclaimed Harry as Buckbeak swooped down from above the clouds. They were closing in on the massive fortress situated on an island in the middle of the sea. It was a dark fortress of black stone, with high rising turrets and towers over the main dungeons. Its architecture reminded Harry somewhat of a skull, only one of ancient ages. “Azkaban,” muttered Harry. “How I wish I would never have to see it.”

Buckbeak flew in closer only to be suddenly blown away by an invisible force. Harry had to grip hard to stay seated on Buckbeak. “What?” he exclaimed. “That must be the ward that prevents Numenoreans such as myself from breaking in,” he said to himself. ‘Well, in that case...”

Harry pulled out the phial he had found in Moria. He looked out to the stars and quickly saw the planet Venus. At least, the world of science and to a lesser extent, the magical side of astronomy told him it was the planet Venus; a different part of him told him it was something else. It told him that it was the light of the Silmaril Beren had cut from Morgoth’s crown. The Silmaril held aloft the ship Vingilot of Earendil the Mariner as he trekked through the Heavens.

“Aiya Earendil elenion ancalima” he cried out: “Hail Earendil, brightest of stars.”

As if in answer, a single shaft of light shone down from the star right into the phial. The phial grew as bright as the sun and for a moment Harry was blinded by the light’s intensity. He felt rather than saw the field around Azkaban disappear with the light and was satisfied. His eyes were just about readjusting when he was startled by an explosion coming from the dungeon.

“Good Lord!” he whispered.

* * *

Hermione screamed as she ran as far as she could, virtually all of her rational thinking leaving her as she tried to avoid the giant hands closing in on her. Grawp had broken out of his cell and was crashing through the corridors, throwing rubble and debris everywhere in his path. He must’ve knocked over several lamps for a fire seemed to be spreading from behind the giant.

‘Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!’ thought Hermione as she raced ahead of the giant. The commotion had alerted the remaining Orcs but they were being flung aside as Grawp continued his pursuit after Hermione.

“HERMY! HERMY! HEMY!” he shouted.

Eventually, Hermione made her way up one of the towers and was surprised to find herself outside on a balcony. All around her, Azkaban fortress was starting to blaze in flames. There, she tried to calm down. ‘Think rationally, think rationally,’ Hermione thought to herself. ‘Just some rational thinking should get you out of this predicament.’ She unfortunately didn’t have much time to calm down as Grawp burst through the floor of the tower.

“Hermy!” he shouted. Hermione was suddenly aware that Grawp’s exposed head and right arm were covered in blood and bruises.

“Grawp?” she said.

Hermione suddenly gasped when she heard a familiar voice yell over the roar of the flames: “Hermione!”

“Harry?” exclaimed Hermione. “Harry! I’m over here!”

“Hermione!” shouted Harry as he swooped down toward the tower. “Buckbeak, get in closer!” Buckbeak tried to come in closer as Harry reached out to Hermione. “Hermione, grab my hand,” he said with an encouraging smile.

Hermione tried to reach out toward Harry. However, at that moment another explosion rocked the dungeon, blowing Buckbeak away.

“Harry!” screamed Hermione, completely terrified.

Buckbeak had meanwhile been knocked unconscious by the unconscious by the explosion and was going down in a freefall. “Buckbeak! Wake up!” yelled Harry. The ground was getting closer and closer.

“Buckbeak!” yelled Harry, right into the Hippogriff’s ear. Hat did the trick as Buckbeak instantly woke and zoomed out of his dive just before they hit the ground.

Hermione’s brief moment of relaxation came to an end when she realized that Grawp’s giant hands were suddenly around her. She screamed as the fingers held her securely but was surprised when Grawp placed his physical body over hers, protecting her from falling debris.

“Grawp?” she whispered.

The giant smiled at her and to her complete surprise, lifted her up gently and placed her on the wall of the balcony where she could reach Harry easier.

“Grawp...” she whispered again. Suddenly, the giant’s face twisted into agony as the floor underneath him gave way. “No!” screamed Hermione, safe on her wall as Grawp crashed downwards carrying rubble with him to his undeniable doom.

It was that moment that Buckbeak swooped back to what was left of the tower. “Hermione!” yelled Harry.

“Harry!” said Hermione. Taking her timing, she promptly jumped off the tower and straight into Harry’s waiting arms as Buckbeak swooped right underneath her. The hippogriff rose into the moonlit night, carrying his two passengers as behind them, the dreaded fortress prison of Azkaban burned.

To be continued...

A/N Ah, I rushed to get this chapter out given that I’m about to head to sea for 6 weeks without a port visit. Kinda depressing now that I think about it. Oh well, hopefully it will give me the time to write up more chapters. Then again, I am rather busy. Oh well, enjoy this one. Oh, and for records sake, the Elvish Harry spoke is taken directly from LotR, the words Frodo used to light up the phial of Galadriel.

20. Suzat

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N I sure love it when these titles fall right into place. That way, I don’t have to look them up and possibly butcher up the translation or the grammar as I’m sure I’ve down with some of the previous chapters. Anyway, the title of this chapter is in Westron, the Common Tongue of Middle-Earth. It translates, “The Shire”.

Chapter 20: Suzat

Later on, Hemione couldn’t recall much of what had happened afterward. She had the vague recollection of falling asleep in Harry’s arms as Buckbeak flew silently on through the night. Harry too appeared to be rather worn out and didn’t say much; they were both simply too exhausted to really do anything. During the night, Hermione felt as if Buckbeak had landed somewhere and she was sure she could hear a somewhat familiar voice complaining about something but by that time, slumber had already laid a claim on her.

Hermione awoke with the feeling of the sun on her face and something soft all over her skin. Feeling a gentle nudging, she opened her eyes to see Harry’s brilliant green orbs starring at her.

“Hermione, thank God you’re awake,” said Harry, a smile adorning his face.

“Harry, you’re here,” said Hermione, smiling as well. She was about to lean over and give Harry a hug when she suddenly realized something: she was completely naked under the sheets. And apparently, so was Harry. Furthermore, they were in the same bed.

Hermione let out a shriek ad pulled the sheets higher up. “H-Harry, where are my clothes?” she asked, blushing bright red.

Harry’s cheeks colored scarlet as well. “Er, I don’t know,” he said, “I woke up to find ourselves in this state. Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything... inappropriate.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” said Hermione, “But where are we? What happened after we escaped Azkaban? And where are our clothes?”

“Um, I don’t know,” said Harry still blushing. “They were already gone when I woke up.”

“I had my wife wash them,” said a familiar voice from their right. Harry and Hermione looked over to see Tom Brookmiller the hobbit sitting in a rocking chair smoking a pipe. “Those garments were filthy, I wasn’t about to lend you two borrow my bed wearing cast offs like those.”

“Tom?” asked Harry.

“That’s right, its me,” said Tom. “The hobbit who gave you two that sword and it looked like you put it to some use; had to clean that nasty, smelly black stuff off of it. What was that anyhow?”

“Er, Orc blood,” said Hermione.

Tom had a serious coughing fit. “I HAD TO WASH ORC BLOOD?” he exclaimed.

“Now, now Tom,” said a female hobbit whom suddenly entered from the room next to theirs. To Harry and Hermione’s relief, she was carrying a bundle that was clearly their clothes. “There’s no need to shout at our guests. And besides, if you cleaned it properly there should be no reason to fret so much.”

“Fine, fine,” grumbled Tom. “This is my wife, Violet.”

“A pleasure to meet the both of you,” said Violet Brookmiller. “Now, now get dressed both of you. I’ve cooked up one of my specials in the kitchen.” The hobbits left the room leaving Harry and Hermione to themselves.

“Um, I guess we should put our clothes on,” said Harry feeling awkward.

“Good idea,” Hermione answered, a little awkwardly as well. The two climbed out of bed and got dressed facing away from each other.

“You know, that was rather rash of you: letting yourself be captured so you could rescue the prisoners in Azkaban. Whatever possessed you to do something as crazy as that?” said Harry, sternly.

“I wanted to help out in some way,” said Hermione, a little defensively. “Besides, who are you to lecture me about doing things rashly? You’re the one who always jumps into action without thinking things through!”

“Do you know bloody worried I was about you?” shouted Harry, turning around to face Hermione. “Do you have any clue how devastated I was when I thought you were captured?”

“Well perhaps I thought you deserved to be worried about me for once rather than the other way around!” shouted Hermione, also turning to see Harry. “Maybe I thought you needed to know what it felt like to be in my shoes!”

“This isn’t about me! Don’t turn this into something about me!”

“It’s always about you Harry! Maybe this time you’ll get a clue for once!”

“Oh I got a clue all right! Except the only clue I got was that the woman I love was in the clutches of my mortal enemy and I was helpless to do anything about it!”

Hermione stopped and starred at Harry. “You love me?” she whispered.

Realizing what he had just said, Harry slapped his hand over his face. “Bloody hell,” he groaned. “Hermione, I didn’t want to tell you like this but...” Harry couldn’t say anything more s Hermione’s lips were suddenly on his.

“I love you too, Harry,” whispered Hermione in between kisses. “And I’m so sorry for causing you so much worry.”

“I’m sorry as well,” whispered Harry. He would’ve said more except Hermione’s lips were on his again.

The two were showing signs of wanting to take the kiss further when the hobbits entered the room again. “OK, OK break it up! There will be no copulating in my hole,” said Tom. Harry and Hermione sprang apart, blushing scarlet.

“Come on you two,” said Violet. “We’re going to take you through the Shire. There’s someone here who wants to see you two.”

* * *

The first thing the Harry and Hermione realized while walking through the Shire was that the Hobbits lived underground, literally. The entire town was within a large cavern the ceiling close to 50 feet above them. That ceiling had many well placed windows within them that illuminated the entire town brightly as so that during the day, it was every bit as bright within the caverns as it was outside. The large cavern stretched like this for at least two miles, the entire town arranged along streets with mounds of hobbit holes everywhere. Most of the Hobbit holes had gardens of vegetables and flowers around them, and there were occasionally some open grassy areas with trees and the occasional small woods. Several streams were in the cave, running through water mills and covered with bridges where the path led. The young Hobbit children, usually under a foot tall were very curious about the ‘Big Folk’ that were visiting the Shire and often came up to see Harry and Hermione. The grown up Hobbits however tended to either shake their heads at them or just ignore them all together.

“Why do you live completely underground?” asked Harry.

Tom answered, “When the Big Folk moved into that place they call Oxford centuries ago, many of the Hobbits decided they didn’t want anything to do with them so they built these underground ‘colonies’ all over this region. There about 20 of them all. Built them all ourselves we did.”

“Yourselves?” asked Hermione. “Didn’t the Ministry of Magic?”

“The Ministry only deals with magical creatures,” said Violet, “There’s nothing magical at all about the hobbit folk.”

“That’s injustice!” said Hermione, indignantly.

“Who cares!” said Tom. “We don’t want anything to do with wizards anyway. We’ve been fine on our own all this time. Anyway, we’re here.”

They entered what appeared to be a makeshift stables of sorts. In reality it was a storehouse but its floor was now covered with straw and a temporary wooden fence had been put up around it. In it stood Buckbeak looking rather content. And with Buckbeak was none other than...

“Gandalf!” exclaimed Harry.

“Oh my,” said Hermione, “Gandalf the White.”

“Yes, indeed that t was I have been called upon Middle-Earth,” said Gandalf, his white robes swishing as he turned to face the two teenagers. “Welcome to the Shire Heir of Elessar and Image of Luthien.”

“I-I’ve been called that before,” said Hermione a little apprehensively. “But I’ having a hard time believing it.”

“There are many things that would surprise you yet young maiden,” said Gandalf. He walked over to them and studied Hermione’s face carefully. “It is true that Luthien and Arwen were she-Elfs of incredible but what truly made them beautiful were the hearts that beat within them. It was because of the beauty of their hearts that they were able to love Beren and Aragorn so unconditionally to the point where they willfully gave up their immortality to be with them. You my child are mortal. Though you slightly resemble them you are not them and will be spared of the tragedy that fell to those named ‘Tuniviel’. However, it is your heart and the unconditional love it holds for the Heir of Elessar that has truly made you their image.” Hermione blushed as did Harry.

“The time is at hand young Harry Potter,” said Gandalf turning to Harry. “The Army of Darkness marches upon these shores. Hogwarts shall be attacked in less than a day.”

Harry and Hermione paled. “Is there any way to save the castle?” asked Harry.

“That is an answer I cannot answer for certain,” said Gandalf. “Voldemort-Sauron’s army is vast and powerful but it is not invincible. Rejoice for there is hope yet, the plight of the Dunedain has not been forgotten: help shall come from the West. But even with that help I believe that the armies of darkness can only truly be defeated when the Icicle and the Flame are reunited.”

As Harry pondered over this riddle Gandalf turned to Hermione. “The Valar have granted you a great honor Hermione Granger,” he said. “You have been granted three wishes. However, these wishes cannot be made consciously. Saying you wish for something will not grant you your wish; they must be made subconsciously, in your heart. It is most likely you won’t even realize you have made your wish until after it has been granted.”

“Three wishes...” said Hermione.

“It is best if you not think about too deeply,” said Gandalf. He then led Buckbeak out toward them. “Now hurry. Be swift. Hogwarts is in dire need of your help.”

* * *

The Magical Centers of Britain had already fallen into the hands of the Dark Powers. The Ministry had long been under Death Eater Control ever since the Fudge’s fall and the annihilation of most of their forces. Diagon Alley was soon subjected to their rule as well as residents barricaded themselves within their homes, hoping for a dim hope that was fading each day. Orcs patrolled the streets of the Alley regularly and Dementors often clustered together near the dividing street between Diagon and Knockturn Alley.

Up to the North, the town of Hogsmeade was being evacuated, all of its residents relocating onto the Hogwarts grounds where it was safer. Yet, everyday more and more orcs were being magically transported to the outer regions of Scotland, led by Death Eaters waiting patiently for the wright time. Scouts from the castle reported vast numbers: so many that magic couldn’t conceal them properly.

The side of light wasn’t without its allies. Fearing the Orcs, the Goblins had broken their neutrality and sent scores of their forces to Hogwarts. Dwarves to, mustered by their friend Angnathron had bolstered the ranks of the school. Even the centaurs, many of them slaughtered by the hands of the orcs, sought sanctuary within the castle grounds, preparing for their own part in the upcoming war.

Upper class Students were being taught more and more combat spells and taught how to fight unarmed. Younger students too were instructed to fight should the going truly turn desperate. The House Elves were given explicit instructions to unleash the full assault of their magic upon the orcs at the right times. It was perhaps the greatest form of irony that it took a crisis of this level to truly unite (if only temporarily) the sentient beings of the Magical World.

Yet, it would not be enough. It all began one evening while the sun was setting as Albus Dumbledore walked out onto the balcony of his tower, his phoenix Fawkes upon his shoulder. And he saw it: thousands and thousands of Orcs surrounding the castle, their ranks further bolstered by trolls, vampires, and Dementors. Leading them were the Death Eaters, as if they had already claimed victory in the war.

“So Fawkes, it has come to this,” said Dumbledore, gravely. The Battle for Hogwarts had begun!

To be continued...

A/N Too much has been happening recently and I’m feeling rather overwhelmed and stressed out. For now let’s leave at the fact that I’m in Sydeney, Australia and the next chapter shouldn’t take too long to come up. Thanks for reading.

21. Dagor en Cadhor

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Sindarin title. ‘Dagor’ is of course Sindarin for ‘battle’. ‘Cadhor’ is ‘castle’. The title of this chapter is ‘Battle for the castle’.

Chapter 21: Dagor en Cadhor

The first attack came as soon as the sun had completely set. The Orcs had the trolls load the catapults which they fired upon the castle during the first few minutes of twilight.

Of course, Hogwarts was the most well protected building in all of Magical Britain and no catapult attack was certainly going to penetrate those defenses. The boulders all harmlessly bounced off a vast magical shield, an enlarged version of the Shield Charm, the surrounded all the grounds, some of the boulders even crushing the Orcs in the process. Arrows to were released but those were also deflected right back.

“Pathetic. Catapults aren’t going to take the castle down,” sneered Bellatrix Lestrange whom was leading the attack. “Death Eaters, use your magic to the maximum. If we concentrate enough in certain spots we might be able to punch through enough holes to get the troops inside.”

And so the Death Eaters concentrated their magic on attempting to carve holes into the shield. Meanwhile, goblins and centaurs had lined up just within the shield around the perimeter of the grounds. The shield allowed projectiles out though didn’t let any in so goblin and centaur archers were taking the opportunity to shoot down as many Orcs as they could. Unfortunately, the numbers of Orcs were so vast that no matter how many the goblins and centaurs shot down, there still overwhelmingly so many more.

A few crafty goblins wizened up and targeted the Death Eaters instead of the Orcs as they were the more immediate threat, taking down the shield. Though a few Death Eaters fell, most of them were far too well protected by the rolls whom could shrug off the arrows like nothing. To further complicate matters, the Nazgul were circling around the grounds upon their Fell Beasts surrounded by Dementors. Though they could not penetrate the shield they could sap the morale from the side of the light sending a feeling of depression and dread amongst them.

Finally, some of the Death Eaters managed to blast holes into the shield big enough to allow small troops of Orcs inside. Orcs started swarming through these holes quickly overwhelming the goblins and centaurs who defended those areas and making their way toward the castle.

Those Orcs that managed to hack their way through the goblins and centaurs faced the next line of defense on the Hogwarts grounds: Dwarves. About 400 of Angnathron’s kin, led by the DADA professor himself were in charge of the defense of the main Hogwarts grounds from the Quidditch Pitch to the Forbidden Forrest. “Up my brother Dwarrows! Up Dwarves! For the Orcs are upon us once again. Brothers, unleash the fury of Durin’s folk!” shouted Angnathron, waving a large war hammer and battle axe. Cries of the Dwarvish Warcry, “Khazâd ai-mênu!” (The Dwarves are upon you) sounded as the Dwarves unleashed their hammers and axes upon the Orcs. Within minutes, black Orc blood was spilled upon the Quidditch Pitch where the Dwarves were mainly concentrated. Yet, the Dwarves were too few and the Orcs too many; a sizable portion of the Orcs made it passed the Dwarves and were making their way to the castle. The Whomping Willow also got into the act, crushing many Orcs that tried to brave the wild tree. However, as the willow was stationed in a single spot, the Orcs quickly wizened up and made their way around the tree.

Some of the Orcs were trying a different tactic: create makeshift rafts to ferry them across the lake into the castle. However, the lake was defended by none other than the Giant Squid who sunk many of the rafts and pulled the Orcs to their deaths in the deep. The Merpeople too sprung submerged attacks from the water, sinking the rafts and engaging the Orcs in combat. Unfortunately, the lake was so vast that many rafts made it to the castle with the Squid and Merpeople being unable to intervene.

So although the numbers were few compared to the army of Orcs outside the shield, a few hundred Orcs made it to Hogwarts Castle. The Castle however was a self defending magical fortress. Everywhere the Orcs managed to get into the Magical Halls of learning walls would shut closed crushing Orcs in between them. Or on other occasions, the suits of armor on decoration would come to life themselves and commence in fighting the Orcs. The stairways would move rapidly, leading the Orcs straight into pit-holes that suddenly appeared in the floor. Swords and spears on display would suddenly fly through the air and start hacking and slashing at the Orcs. Tapestries would jump and start strangling wayward Orcs. And of course, there was the last line of defense within the castle itself: the Order of the Phoenix.

Orcs that had made it to the Main Hall were treated by a full barrage of automatic curses and hexes put in place courtesy of Nymphadora Tonks. “those won’t hold them there for too long,” observed Tonks as the various curses blasted Orc after Orc back. She looked toward her partner and noticed that he looked to be in pain. “Remus? Are you OK?” she asked, concerned.

“The wolf,” Lupin managed to grit out. “The wolf is trying to... take hold again. I don’t... know... TONKS LOOK OUT!”

Two of the Orcs had managed to get past Tonks’s defenses and were now upon her. With beast like agility, Lupin leapt forth with a roar, shoved Tonks out of the way and ripped the Orcs to shred.

“Remus!” shouted Tonks as Lupin collapsed to the floor, wheezing. She tried to comfort him as best as she could as the defenses continued to keep Orcs at bay.

“I don’t know how long those defenses are going to hold,” said Tonks, desperately.

Lupin managed a grin. “Well... if this is going to be the end... I wouldn’t know anyone else I would like to spend my last moments with.” Tonks smiled back at him. Meanwhile, the defenses were starting to waver as Orcs continued charging at them.

Down in the dungeons, Severus Snape looked up as Orcs came streaming into his classroom. He snarled and said, “There is no way I am going to allow myself be killed in my own dungeons!” With a flick of his wand, hundreds of vials of potions of various colors flew through the air smashing into the Orcs they charged into the room. Though Orcs were known for their high tolerance of pain, they started screaming as the toxic potions started eating away at their flesh, eventually leaving nothing more than a rotting hunk of flesh. More and more Orcs charged in and Snape let loose more and more of his toxic potions upon them.

The House Elves too were fighting against the Orcs, zooming back and forth through the castle using their powerful magics to keep the Orcs at bay. Fearlessly they tackled the superior number of enemies though many of them fell in the process. The casualties amongst the House Elves were high yet they continued fighting valiantly and heroicly, protecting the residents of the castle.

Amidst all this, upper class students were helping evacuate lower class students toward the interiors of the castle where it was still relatively safe. “Don’t panic. Don’t panic,” said Ginny as she led a small group of frightened first years through the corridors. “Everything will be OK,” she said though she sincerely doubted her own words.

“Ginny! Look out!” shouted the voice of Neville Longbottom from a bit of a distance behind her. Ginny looked up to see that two Orcs were charging them from the front.

“RUN!” shouted Ginny. The first years took of running in the direction away from Orcs. Ginny herself however ended up tripping on a piece of rug and falling to the floor, the Orcs right at her heels.

“GINNY!” shouted Neville. “Don’t touch her!” Desperately, Neville leaped forward. In a flash, something very long was suddenly in his hands and with it, Neville hacked at the Orcs. The Orcs hadn’t even realized what had slashed them as they collapsed dead. Ginny however had a few questions to ask.

“Neville, where did you get that spear?” she asked.

Catching his breath Neville exclaimed, “Spear?” It was only then that Neville had realized that he had just killed two Orcs with a nine foot long spear that was now in his hands. “I-I didn’t even realize I had a spear,” he stammered.

“Neville, I’m very thankful that you just saved my life but how did a spear suddenly just appear in your hands?” said Ginny as she stood up.

“I-I don’t know,” said Neville. He studied the spear in his hands more closely. It was a highly decorated spear of gold and silver arranged in patterns of leaves. The blade of the spear was curved rather like a glave and was built of an incredible sheen metal that glimmered like the stars in the pale moonlight. Neville gently ran his hand over the spear. “Aiglos,” he said a faraway look in his eyes.

“What? I just missed that,” said Ginny.

Snapping back to reality, Neville said, “Huh? Did I just say something?”

“You just said something weird,” said Ginny.

“I can’t remember what I said,” replied Neville. “Look, lets deal with this later, we’ve got to get the first years to safety.”

“Right you are,” said Ginny.

* * *

“Faster Buckbeak! Faster!” cried Harry desperately. Buckbeak was giving his all as they flew North through the air. He was highly exhausted however and his flight was rather rocky as it was. From behind Harry, Hermione looked toward the East and saw that the first signs of dawn were approaching.

“There’s no way we can make it to Hogwarts before the sun rises,” said Hermione.

“We have to get to the castle as fast as we can!” said Harry. “I don’t dare think about what would happen if we were late.”

“So do I,” said Hermione. However, in truth she was still apprehensive. As much help they could provide to Hogwarts with Anduril and Sting, they were still merely two extra bodies against an army of thousands. The situation was bleak and Hermione knew this too well. She also knew that was also on Harry’s mind though he said nothing.

Muggle military forces would be useless: their weapons would all be neutralized by the magic of the Death Eaters leaving the soldiers nothing more then helpless prey to the merciless Orcs. It was best that they remain apart from the Magical World, just so they could remain blissfully unaware and alive a day longer.

Sighing wearily, Hermione placed her forehead on Harry’s back and closed her eyes. ‘I just wish we had more help,’ she thought.

* * *

The night had passed and all though Orcs were streaming through the many holes now punctured through the shield, the bulk of the army remained unable to attack Hogwarts because of the shield. It was nearly dawn as the Death Eaters continued their barrage on the shield.

“More power! More power!” shouted Bellatrix. “The shield is nearly down. Push a little more and the castle will be ours!”

Finally, with a flicker and a zapping sound, the shield, the primary defense of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry disappeared.

“Yes! Yes! YES!” cackled Bellatrix deliriously. “Hogwarts is ours! Move into the castle. Take the Mudbloods prisoners: we will be needing slaves after all. Destroy everything else.”

Another Death Eater, Jugson came up to her and said, “It’s nice that you called in another army to help us wiping down the last bastion of resistance.”

Bellatrix frowned. “Another Army? What other army? There’s no other army here other than the one I’m commanding.”

“Oh really?” said Jugson. “Then what are those foot soldiers coming out of the forest to the West?”

“What?” exclaimed Bellatrix, looking toward the West.

Sure enough, coming out of the forest from the West, illuminated by the rising sun in the East was an army of foot soldiers emerging, every bit as large as their army. They wore golden armor, in various designs of nature. They carried with them graceful looking swords, spears, bows and arrows. And most significant of all, they looked nearly identical to humans except for the lightness of their steps and the shining of their eyes like the stars.

Bellatrix was filled with a sickening feeling of dread for deep within her gut she knew what that idiot Jugson didn’t. This army was not here to join them. Nor was this army comprised of humans. Bellatrix knew precisely what they were though she had always dismissed their existence as ancient legend, until now.

Elves.

To be continued...

A/N I’ll be honest here. I found “Half Blood Prince” to be a colossal disappointment. Furthermore, I was so depressed by it that for a brief while, I seriously considered abandoning this fic, losing the motivation to write. However, I have since thought things through and ultimately come to one final decision. It doesn’t matter how canon is going to turn out for I will continue writing the way I wish to write. And never forget: I am, was, and always shall be a Harry/Hermione shipper.

22. Eldar Rinno na Edorath

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N The Sindarin title of this chapter is absolutely straightforward. It’s “The Elves return to Middle-Earth”. Easy isn’t it?

Chapter 22: Eldar Rinno na Edorath

Within the halls of Hogwarts, the Orcs suddenly stopped attacking. Looking around bewildered, they suddenly took off out of the castle as if called by something.

“What? What is going on?” asked Remus.

“I-I don’t know,” said Tonks. “They just... left.” And a good thing it was for the last of their defenses had just collapsed.

“Professor Lupin! Tonks!” The pair looked up to see Ginny Weasley running toward them. Behind her was Neville carrying what looked like a large spear. “What happened? Why did the Orcs just leave?”

“We have no idea,” said Tonks.

It was then that they heard an excited chatter from nearby. House Elves suddenly appeared, excitedly chanting together, “They’re back! They’re back! They’re back! They’re back!”

Dobby arrived on the scene and made his way toward them. “We has been saved!” he exclaimed. “Orcses have been called outside to fight those who have returned!”

“Who? Who’s returned?” asked Neville.

“The Eldar sir!” said Dobby excitedly. “The Eldar have returned to Middle-Earth!”

* * *

Outside, on the vast grounds surrounding the castle of Hogwarts, the Army of Elves was marching up to the opposing army of Orcs. Most of them were an infantry on foot but there was also a cavalry of Elves riding ahead of them on the most beautiful, silver horses one could ever see. At the head of the Army was the Elvish Commander, riding a pure white horse, wearing golden armor, his black hair swaying in the wind. His eyes shone with a passion of fire for he was of the Noldor Elves, like his kin whom had come to fight with him.

Trotting his horse around, the Elvish Commander surveyed the Orcish Army ahead of him. Noting the Death Eaters, the Trolls, even the Nazgul and Dementors flying through the air. He turned his horse around to the Elves and shouted in his native Elvish Tongue:

“Eldar! Noldor! My brothers! Look before us, the army of Sauron marches upon the grounds of Middle-Earth once more. Vanquished we thought our ancient enemy was yet he has returned to threaten our brothers in arms, the Numenoreans once more. But now, we stand on this soil: Middle-Earth, the home of our parents and grandparents. There were many who said we should ignore the return of Sauron. That he was no longer our concern; that the old alliances are dead. And yet, many have heard the call of I Gilrandir, to save our old friends and to fight our ancient enemy. We have given up our lives of eternal bliss and happiness in Valinor. Yet, should the choice be made available to me once more, I would make the same one! Would any of you?”

“We would choose to save Middle-Earth again!” declared the Elves in a single voice.

“Death to Orcs!” shouted Gilrandir.

The Elves shouted, “Gurth 'ni yrch!” Death to Orcs.

“Death to Orcs!”

“Gurth 'ni yrch!”

“Noldor!” shouted Gilrandir, drawing forth his sword. “Charge!”

With a mighty cry, the Elvish infantry and cavalry began a charge toward the opposing Orcs. Most of the Death Eaters were unfazed by this. “The fools,” said Jugson. “Kill them! Avada Kedavra!” The bright green lights of a hundred killing curses flashed toward the Elves. Yet, the Elves shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“What? Impossible! The Killing Curse is supposed to be unbeatable!” said Jugson. “Avada Kedavra!” Jugson’s killing curse hit Gilrandir full on yet the Elvish Commander merely shrugged it off.

“Jugson you brainless moron!” shouted Bellatrix. “Elves are immortal: they’re immune to the Killing curse! Archers, shoot them down.”

Orcish archers lined up and drew their arrows. Before they could fire however, Elvish archers stationed right behind the charging infantry fired their arrows, taking down the Orcish archers with precise Elvish accuracy.

The Army of Darkness was now left defenseless before the oncoming Elves. Panic set in as the Death Eaters and the Orcs now fled before their oncoming adversaries. “Cowards!” shouted Bellatrix. “You dare run from the face of battle!” Screaming loudly, Bellatrix charged at Gilrandir, only to have Gilrandir’s sword slash into her midsection, making her the first, but by no means the last to fall on the battlefield.

And thus, the Elves were upon the Dark Army. Elvish swords and spears slashed down Orc, troll, and Death Eater, many of them not even being able to counteract the superior combat ability of the Elves. Elvish Archers meanwhile started firing at the vampires and Dementors that flew around in the air. Vampires fell like rain and the Dementors too were routed for their soul sucking abilities didn’t work on the Elves.

“I don’t believe it,” said Ginny, looking over the ramparts of the castle toward the battle below. With her were Neville, Tonks, and a still weary Lupin. “They really did come.”

“It is a miracle indeed.” The group turned around to find that Dumbledore had come up behind them, Fawkes perched on his shoulder. “Or perhaps,” said Dumbledore stroking his beard, “It is somebody’s wish coming true.”

“A wish coming true? What are you talking about?” asked Lupin.

“Now that, is the big question, isn’t it?” said Dumbledore with a wink.

Down on the Quidditch Pitch, the Dwarves had been relieved of most of their battles. “Bah, Elves. Who needs them?” grumbled Angnathron. The sentiment was shared amongst his kin, yet it was somehow obvious that in truth the Dwarves were grateful for the Elves’ help. The goblins and the centaurs regarded the Elves with suspicion, yet they too were motivated once more to fight and contributed their part to the slaughter of the Dark Army.

“Wipe them out! Don’t let them escape!” shouted Gilrandir in Elvish. The Elves continued slashing down the Orcs but as there were so many of them, they couldn’t keep up with the fleeing Orcs and Death Eaters. Even so, the castle was soon cleared of the Dark Army and a jubilant cheer arose from the Dwarves, goblins, centaurs, and humans within the castle and grounds.

“Hogwarts is saved!” declared Lupin. He quickly changed his mind however when he noticed that the Elves were reforming ranks, as if anticipating another attack. Indeed he and the others soon saw what the Elves with their sharper eyes could see before them coming from the direction that the Orcs had fled to: the next wave of the attack comprised of giants.

12 giants, each at least 22 feet tall were lumbering toward Hogwarts. They wore no armor save the occasional few whom had helmets, but they all carried clubs as thick as cedar trees (which was likely what they were).

“This can’t be good,” said Neville. Before anybody could stop him, Neville took off through the castle.

“Neville? Where are you going?” shouted Ginny.

“Perhaps Fawkes, we must lend a hand as well,” said Dumbledore to his phoenix.

Though the giants were intimidating, the Elves were not frightened by them. Bravely leaping forth, the Elves menaced the giants like annoying fleas, leaping back and forth, hacking at their skin, shooting at their eyes. Yet, the giants’ large size meant that the Elves could do very little actual damage to them and some of the Elves ended up being crushed by the clubs wielded by enraged giants.

“Aim for their eyes!” ordered Gilrandir. “At the very least, blind them!” He would’ve directed another attack on the giants had not one of the Nazgul flew down right on him. Gilrandir’s horse was killed instantly as the Elvish Commander was flung into the air but he had also managed fatally stab the Nazgul’s Fell Beast which collapsed dead next to the horse. The Fell Beast’s rider, none other than the Nazgul leader Khumul stood up with a sword in his hand as Gilrandir landed on his feet and left hand, his sword ready in his right.

“You should’ve stayed in Valinor, Eldar,” hissed Khumul. “Then perhaps your immortal life wouldn’t have to be cut short.”

“At the least I can call my immortal life natural, Ring-Wraith,” said Gilrandir. “Isn’t it about time that your unnatural life came to its end?”

Unleashing the Nazgul scream, Khumul slashed at Gilrandir. Gilrandir easily parried the attack and in return slashed at Khumul with a whirling attack. Khumul dodged the first two slashes and deflected the third. He made a long swipe at the Gilrandir but the Elf dodged it. Gilrandir leapt forth and slashed downward toward the Ring-Wraith. Khumul caught the blade with his own and held it there, the two combatants pushing on their blades with all their strength. Gilrandir quickly broke the contest and started slashing at Khumul at high speeds. Khumul however easily parried and deflected all of the attacks.

It was at that moment when Buckbeak the hippogriff arrived on the scene. From his back, Harry surveyed the scene that was before him ad to say he was surprised was an understatement.

“What in God’s name is going on?” he exclaimed. “Are those Elves? Eldar? Not that I’m complaining but since when did the Elves return?”

“Oh my,” said Hermione from behind him. “I think my first wish just came true.”

“What?”

“While we were flying back, I didn’t actually wish for it. But I thought that I wish help would come to Hogwarts. That’s what Gandalf must’ve meant when he said that I wouldn’t be aware of making the wish until after it came true.”

“Well wish or no wish, I’ll accept any help we can get,” said Harry. “And I’m going to do everything I can to help out as well!” Before Hermione could stop him, Harry leapt off of Buckbeak and drew forth Anduril. He performed the spell that transformed his wand into armor and slashed at one of the giants as he landed on the ground. So powerful was the slashing of Harry’s sword that the giant screamed in pain and toppled over.

“Put me down Buckbeak,” commanded Hermione. Buckbeak squawked and landed nearby Harry whom was now hacking and slashing at the Orcs surrounding him. Hermione drew out Sting and started stabbing some of the Orcs surrounding Harry.

“What are you doing?” hollered Harry as he beheaded one of the Orcs. “Get to the castle! It’s safer there!”

“I’m not leaving you out here alone!” retorted Hermione as she stabbed another Orc. “This is my fight as well! We’re in this together, remember?”

Harry was about to retort when he felt a presence behind him. He spun around swinging his sword only to have it hit a large spear.

“Neville?” exclaimed Harry when he saw who was holding he spear.

“Harry? Hermione?” said Neville. “What are you two...” It was then that Harry’s sword and Neville’s spear radiated a blinding light. With the sound of a vast explosion, the light burst forth from the two weapons and bathed the entire Hogwarts Grounds. Screams of torturous pain sounded throughout the grounds but were soon consumed by silence. When the light had subsided, all that remained of the Orcs, trolls, and vampires were charred corpses, the surviving Death Eaters and giants were out cold, and the Dementors and Nazgul had fled. The unharmed Elves, looked around confused.

Neville sank to the ground. “W-what in the world just happened?” he stuttered.

“Good Lord,” muttered Harry, looking rather pale. “Neville, where did you get that spear?”

“This spear?” said Neville. “Er, it just materialized in my hands. What about it?”

“Um Neville,” said Harry. “I think that spear is Aiglos the ‘Icicle’, the spear of Erenion Gilgalad, last High King of the Elves on Middle-Earth.”

“What?” exclaimed Neville.

“Oh my,” said Hermione. “Aiglos, the ‘Icicle’. Anduril, the ‘Flame of the West’. I think that’s the answer to Gandalf’s riddle: ‘I believe that the armies of darkness can only truly be defeated when the Icicle and the Flame are reunited.’”

“Indeed.” The three looked up to see Dumbledore approach them, Fawkes perched on his shoulder. “It looks as if the reunion of two very old friends has saved us all.”

To be continued...

A/N OK, I know H/H shippers were disappointed by HBP not to mention feeling insulted by the interviews tat followed but this JKR bashing is starting to get ridiculous. We wouldn’t be any kind of shippers if it wasn’t for her. Instead of just languishing in bitterness and anger why not try something positive like writing to JKR and making a case for H/Hr (remaining as polite, cordial, and intelligent as ever) like I am. I other areas, I’m so sorry for the delay of this chapter. I recently finally started writing my original novel and I had so much fun writing it that I let this fanfiction slide. Not to worry, I won’t forget about this fic.

23. Le hannon a tholel

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Here we go: Sindarin title. It means “Thank you for coming”. Guess I couldn’t bother much with too complex titles.

Chapter 23: Le hannon a tholel

A mere few hours later the Battle-field was already being cleared up. The bodies of the creatures of darkness were being destroyed whether by fire or magic or any other means available. The bodies of the warriors of the light side were being collected and identified, and prepared for burial.

“Somehow the tragic cycle never ends,” muttered Dumbledore as he looked over the corpses of those from the light, many of whom he had known personally. How many times had he buried those comrades in arms far younger than he was while he himself continued to live on and on?

“There wasn’t anything we could do,” said McGonagall from his side. “It is a miracle in itself that Hogwarts is standing.”

“And for that, we’ll have to thank the help that came,” said Lupin from Dumbledore’s other side. “Who would’ve expected that they would come, after all this time?”

As Lupin said this, the Elvish Commander Gilrandir approached, his arms in he Elvish custom of greeting. “Suilaid, Gîl síla na lû govaded,” he said.

Dumbledore, McGongall, and Lupin shared blank looks with each other. “If you would pardon me,” said Dumbledore as he pulled out his wand, “Translation spells are a little tricky.” He waved his wand around and within a few seconds the translation appeared in their minds:

“Greetings, a star shines on the time of our meeting.”

“This could take some time,” said Lupin.

“Not to worry,” said Dumbledore. “The spell will take full effect soon enough and we will all be able to communicate fully without qualms.”

None of this was understood by the Elvish Commander. “Heniach nin?” he asked, “Pedich Edhellen?” The spell translated this as: “Do you understand me? Do you speak Elvish?”

Before anybody could respond another voice spoke from not too far away saying clearly, “Pelin pedi i lam edhellen.” “I can speak the Elvish Language.”

The group looked up and noticed that it was none other than Harry Potter whom had uttered those words, trailed by Hermione Granger right behind him. Harry bowed before the Elvish Commander in a gesture of pure respect which impressed the Elf greatly. “I believe the translation spell is in effect now,” said Harry.

“Indeed it appears to be so for I can clearly understand you,” said the Elvish Commander, seemingly speaking English. “Greetings, I am Gilrandir of the Noldor, and I speak for the lady Galadriel. But it was by my own will as it was of my troops that we return to Middle-Earth the land of our parents so that we shall face Sauron in battle once again.”

“The land of your parents?” asked Neville whom had joined them. “Parents? Not ancestors?”

“Yes, our parents,” said Gilrandir. He turned to Harry and said, “You are the Heir of Elessar. It is an honor to meet the culmination of the blood of the Dunedain.” He turned to Hermione and said, “But perhaps what is most surprising is to see the Image of Luthien here as well. May the tragedy of Tinuviel be a thing of the past.”

Hermione blushed red and curtsied. “I thank you for the undeserving praise,” she said politely.

Gilrandir next turned to Neville and his eyes immediately darted to the spear he was holding in his hand. “But what is this? Pray tell us where did you get that spear?”

Neville started. “What this thing?” he asked, clutching the spear. “Er, I’m not really sure. It sort of just materialized in my hands.”

“Most interesting,” replied Gilrandir. “Most unexpected; but who am I to decide whomever Aiglos decides to be its bearer?”

“What? Aiglos?” asked Neville.

“Indeed young man,” said the Elf. “You clutch within your hands the lance of Erenion Gil-Galad, final Noldor High King upon Middle-Earth; whom fell before Sauron alongside Elendil wielder of Narsil, or Anduril now, before Isildur took the shards of his fathers sword and cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand.”

Neville paled as he starred at the spear apprehensively. Hermione meanwhile appeared to have an epiphany.

“Oh! That’s what Gandalf meant by ‘icicle’ and ‘flame’,” she exclaimed. “When Anduril, the ‘Flame of the West’ and Aiglos, the ‘Snow Point’ were reunited, the resuling magical reaction was enough to defeat all Dark Powers in the near vicinity.”

“Pardom me?” asked Gilrandir. “Mithrandir has returned to Middle-Earth as well?”

“Er, yes,” said Harry. “We just met him in the Shire. And I ran into him before that in Hogwarts.”

“Do you know him?” asked Hermione. “I would assume you do since you both lived in the Undying Lands together.”

“I do. But I have no idea of his plans,” said Gilrandir. “The ways of the Istari are a mystery to all.”

“If you would permit my changing of the subject,” said Remus, “But it sure was a good thing that the Elves arrived here on time. We owe you our lives.”

Gilrandir turned to the werewolf and said, “It was a mere coincidence.”

“Say what?” asked Tonks.

“The lake near here was where our ships landed,” explained Gilrandir. “It was by sheer luck that we happened to land at the very place the Orcs were attacking.”

“Ah, the reason for that would be Hogwarts’s location,” said Dumbledore. “Afterall, these grounds were in the ancient days the Gray Havens of the Elvish Lands of Lindon. The harbor that once existed here was the last stop of the Elves before they left Middle-Earth.”

“And logically, the first stop of the Elves who return,” concluded Gilrandir. “Indeed, the Valar appear to have a hand in everything. Elbereth be blessed.”

“It’s because of my wish,” said Hermione, quietly so that only Harry could here what she had said.

“Whatever the case we offer our service gladly to man,” said Gilrandir. “Our hatred for Sauron has never abetted and we Noldor still feel the responsibility of the creation of the Rings of Power. We shall help you.”

“Hmph there you go setting yourselves up as the saviors,” snarled a voice from nearby. The group looked to see that it was Angnathron whom had spoken flanked by several other Dwarves. “Big deal; coming into save the lands you’d abandoned long ago. What right do you have for showing up now after so long?”

“I see the demeanors of the Dwarves have hardly changed over the millennia,” said Gilrandir coolly.

“Ha, there’s nothing wrong with our demeanors, laddie,” snapped Angnathron.

“Perhaps your sense of gratitude then,” said Gilrandir. “You owe us your lives, Dwarf.”

“We owe you nothing!” snapped Angnathron.

Gilrandir was about to reply when Albus Dumbledore suddenly spoke up. “There is little point in going over the ancient quarrels between the Dwarves and the Elves. We are all on the same side as the dark powers and it is imperative that we work together.”

“Fine,” said Angnathron, turning away. Gilrandir said nothing but nodded.

“Now then, now that that is over,” said Dumbledore, “It is time to tend to the wounded and...” He was interrupted when Hagrid suddenly came bounding toward them.

“Professor! Professor!” he exclaimed. “‘ere’s trouble down in th’ castle!” he exclaimed, rather out of breath.

Dumbledore looked apprehensive. “What sort of trouble may that be, Hagrid?” he asked.

“Yes sir, Professor,” said Hagrid. “I was jus’ down in th’ dungeons. I know me post wasn’ down ‘ere but some of ‘em Orcs got into th’ castle and I wen’ ta take care of ‘em. “Anyway, I found Professor Snape, dead.”

A tense silence descended over the group. “Severus? Dead?” asked Dumbledore as if he couldn’t believe it.

Hagrid nodded glumly. “And tha’s not all,” he said. “Th’ last chalice was hidden in th’ dungeons. Professor Snape was protecting it when he were killed. It’s gone now.”

Harry and Hermione paled visibly at that news. “Oh no,” muttered Harry.

* * *

The surviving Death Eaters, lead Orcs, and Nazgul were gathered within the throne room of Barad-dur looking apprehensive. Voldemort-Sauron was lounging on his throne tapping on the edge of the seat handle.

“So Hogwarts still stands,” he said. “Bella was killed, and as if that weren’t enough the accursed Elves have returned to Middle-Earth. How things could go so sour so suddenly.”

Murmurs of fear spread throughout the dark hosts. Lucius Malfoy mustered up what little courage he had and said, “master, we are deeply regret...”

“SILENCE!” yelled the Dark Lord, the voices booming throughout the chamber. The Dark forces cowered, fearing their masters wrath.

“Forgive us. Forgive us Master,” many of them groveled.

Voldemort-Sauron looked rather amused by this. “Forgive you?” he asked. “Why, what is there to forgive? Things are very much in our favor? You should especially be proud Lucius.”

“What?” Lucius couldn’t help exclaiming.

The Dark Lord clapped twice and said, “You may show yourself, Draco. Show to the crowd what a job well done you did.”

Draco Malfoy suddenly appeared as he removed his ring from his finger. “I thank you, Master,” he said with a smirk.

“We believe the ring was most useful,” said Voldemort-Sauron.

“It was Master. Almost no one noticed me slipping into the castle,” said Draco. “Unfortunately Severus Snape had noticed something was afoot and I was forced to deal with him, such a pity. But now,” Draco kneeled before the Dark Lord and pulled out a chalice of pure gold, “I present to you the final chalice.”

The laughter of the Dark Lord continued to ring long through the night afterward.

To be continued...

A/N Sorry about the delay in this chapter but I was seriously, seriously busy not to mention I had a bad case of writer’s block: on a filler chapter no less. Originally, Snape was supposed to survive this story but after HBP I sort of lost the motivation to write about him. I know he’s an important character and all but I just didn’t want snarky good!guy Snape anymore. Besides, I wanted to kill off somebody else but couldn’t think of anyone. Anyway, I get most of my Elvish from this website: http://home.netcom.com/~heensle/lang/elvish/elvish.html. However, for the Elvish on this particular chapter, I got them from the following website: http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/phrases.html.

24. Metimaloche

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Spectacular. The title of this chapter is in Quenya. ‘Metima’ is Quenya for ‘ultimate’. ‘Loche’ is Quenya for ‘dragon’. So the title of this chapter comes out to be ‘Ultimate Dragon’. Hmm, I think I spoiled my readers a bit too much there.

Chapter 24: Metimaloche

Ron didn’t know how long they had been flying for. It had been several days: that much he could tell but he had lost track of just how many days some time ago. For that matter, he had no idea where they were flying either. All he knew was that he was hungry, tired, hungry, irritated, hungry, disoriented, hungry, and on the verge of blowing up, not to mention hungry.

“We’ve arrived,” yelled Luna over the wind.

“It’s about damn time!” shouted Ron.

“Hang on,” said Rauthoron, “I am diving in for the landing. Things could get rather bumpy.”

“Just what do you mean by, ‘bumpy’?” asked Ron. He quickly found out when Rauthoron rocked his way into a sudden dive. Luna’s grip around Ron’s waist grew tighter as she shrieked. Her shriek however was not out of terror but out of excitement.

“Isn’t this fun?” she yelled, her voice alight with laughter.

Ron felt like his stomach was trying to leap out of his throat. “If you say it is!” he managed to yell out between the clattering of his teeth.

Despite his sudden dive, Rauthoron touched down on the ground rather smoothly. Beating his wings a few times more, the griffin tucked them in and started scourging around the ground with his beak. Ron slid off the griffin’s back on got on his hands and knees on the ground, trying to stop himself from hyperventilating.

“It wasn’t that bad, Ronald,” said Luna as she sat down next to him. “I’m sure you’ve down similar stuff with Quidditch.”

“It probably wouldn’t be that bad if I weren’t on an empty stomach,” muttered Ron.

“Well, I do have some sandwiches,” said Luna. “I suppose we could have some lunch now.”

Ron’s mood brightened considerably. “Luna, did I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” he said.

Luna giggled and said, “No, but you can tell me so any time you want.”

“Deal,” said Ron as he started feasting on some of the sandwiches. “So where are we anyway?” he asked after wolfing down a few sandwiches.

“We’re in the lands of Metimaloche,” said Luna as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh that’s a lot of help. Are you ever going to tell me who this ‘Metimaloche’ is?” asked Ron, sarcastically.

“Metimaloche is Metimaloche. You know that,” said Luna.

“No, I don’t know that,” snapped Ron. “Good Lord Luna, you can be so infuriating! Why, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were...” He was cut short when he heard a rustling in the nearby hedges. “Step back,” he said. He pulled out his wand and stood protectively in front of Luna. Ron however received the surprise of his life when a familiar looking red haired man with burns all over his face and arms stepped out from the bushes.

“Ron, that you?” asked the red haired man, a perplexed look on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Charlie?” exclaimed Ron, recognizing his brother. “Wait a minute, you mean we’re in Romania?”

“You mean you’ve come to Romania without realizing where you’ve been heading to? What have they been feeding you over at Hogwarts?” asked Charlie. He looked toward Luna and asked, “Who’s she?”

“Huh? Oh, Luna Lovegood,” said Ron.

Charlie nodded a knowing look on his face. “You know, Fred and George have been owling me,” he said.

Ron frowned at that. “What exactly have Fred and George been owling you about?” he asked. By then however, Charlie was busy greeting Luna.

“Charlie Weasley. It’s a pleasure meeting you,” he said.

“Luna Lovegood,” answered Luna. “We’re here to meet Metimaloche.”

Charlie’s expression immediately turned alarmed. “You’re kidding right?” he asked. When he realized that Luna was serious he exclaimed, “Are you mad? That’s practically suicide: like walking into the jaws of death!”

Ron was surprised that Charlie seemed to know what Luna was talking about, not to mention feeling out of the loop.

“No it won’t be. Rauthoron will be with us,” said Luna. It was only then that Charlie noticed the large griffin that was accompanying them and took a step back, his jaw dropping.

“Whoa,” he said, as Rauthoron bowed. “OK, I suppose it won’t be suicide. But it’s still highly dangerous.”

“But we have to! Only Metimaloche can fight the Heliopaths,” cried Luna.

“OK, you completely lost me right there,” said Charlie. “What in Heaven’s name is a Heliopath?”

“A Heliopath is a Heliopath,” said Luna, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Charlie looked toward Ron who said, “Don’t ask me. You can never get anything out of this girl until you see whatever she says for yourself.”

Charlie sighed and said, “Fine. But if you’re going to go see the big guy, I’m coming with you.”

* * *

Charlie apparently knew the specific location where they were heading. Less than an hour later he had led the others to a remote mountainside. There, on top of a tall cliff and a small plateau where the group was standing was the mouth of the largest cave Ron had ever seen. It was at least 25 feet tall and some 40 feet wide. The inside of the cave was so dark that Ron couldn’t see what was inside but the breeze coming from the cave’s mouth was surprisingly warm, almost hot and Ron could swear he could hear something that sounded like deep breathing.

Ron was starting to feel rather apprehensive but he mustered up his courage and asked, “OK, what happens next?”

“We just have to summon Metimaloche,” said Luna.

“Summon?” said Ron, “You mean like with some kind of spell?”

“Something like that; observe,” said Charlie. He took a deep breath and shouted, “HEY YOU BIG, OVERSIZED BLOKE! GET YOUR FAT ARSE OUT HERE NOW!”

Ron distinctly heard a deep rumbling and what sounded like a growl when a deep, booming voice sounded from the depths of the cave, “Who dare disturbs my slumber? Who dare disturbs Metimaloche?”

“We do!” said Luna rather brightly.

A deep roar sounded from the depths of the cave and when the great creature emerged from the cave, Ron received one of the largest shocks of his life.

Metimaloche was a dragon. Ron had in fact been suspecting that they were actually heading out to see a dragon ever since they had run into Charlie (his brother was a dragon-tamer after all) but this dragon was far larger and fiercer looking than any he had ever seen. It was identical to a Hungarian Horntail, from the black scales and even the spiky tail end. Its sheer size however was closer to that of an Ukranian Ironbelly, possibly even larger. He was clearly the exception to the general rule of female dragons being larger than male ones for he was obviously male. And besides, Ron had never met nor even heard of a dragon that could talk.

“Metimaloche, he’s one of the few dragons of the ancient kind left that can speak human languages. He’s considers himself the chieftain of all lesser dragons,” exclaimed Chralie, looking rather unfazed. Ron could only nod weakly.

“Foolish humans; to dare to disturb my rest would mean to receive your deaths. Those who disturb Metimaloche shall be killed!”

Without thinking, Ron dove forward and knocked Luna to the ground, shielding her protectively as Metimaloche lunged toward them. In an instant, Rauthoron leapt in between the dragon and the humans and crouched in a threatening posture.

“I wouldn’t be so rash, Metimaloche,” squawked the griffin.

“Rauthoron,” Metimaloche snarled. He immediately stopped in his tracks for even a dragon would be hesitant about fighting an enraged griffin. Nevertheless, the dragon eyed the griffin and said, “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here with descendants of the Edain, ‘old friend’.”

“Indeed, Metimaloche,” said Rauthoron. “I suggest that you let go of your old prejudices and listen to what these descendants of the Edain have to say, ‘old friend’.”

“I have every reason to kill them on the spot,” snarled the dragon, smoke billowing from his nostrils.

“Now, now Metimaloche,” said Charlie, as if this were merely an everyday routine with his job (which it probably was), “You know the rules. You and the other dragons don’t kill any humans and in return your kind gets to have free rein all over the reservation. Don’t go backing out of the agreement now.” He turned to Ron and said, “Oh, and Ron I know you’ve got all those hormones and everything but out here in the middle of a dragon reservation isn’t the proper place to show those public displays of affection, little brother.”

Ron blushed bright red as he realized that he was still lying on top of Luna. He quickly scrambled off of her and stood up. Luna giggled as she brushed herself off and stood up.

“Why Ronald, if you wanted to be on top all you have to do is ask,” she said.

“On... o-on top?” exclaimed Ron, his face every bit as red as his hair. Luna giggled again leaving Ron speechless. He decided to turn his attention back to the dragon.

“Fine, state your business,” snarled Metimaloche.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of what’s been going on right now,” said Luna. “Therefore, we want you and the dragons to fight for us.”

Metimaloche reared his head back and unleashed a series of earth shaking bellows: clearly a dragon’s version of deep laughter. “You must be joking!” he said, “Dragons fighting alongside their ancient enemies against their ancient allies? I have never heard of anything so ridiculous.”

“I’m completely serious,” said Luna. Ron didn’t think the word ‘serious’ could ever be associated with Luna but decided to keep that to himself.

“And why should the dragons ally themselves with the descendants of the Edain?” snarled Metimaloche. “Dragons and humans have been enemies for millennia. The great dragons of the ancient days: Glaurang, Ancalagon, Scatha, Smaug, all of them were slain by Edain. The only reason why the ‘truce’ with wizardingkind exists today is because far too many dragons have lost the strength and intelligence of our ancestors. So explain to me why any of us should lend our assistance?”

“Because none of us want Melkor back,” squawked Rauthoron.

That gave the dragon a pause. “Melkor?” he said. “Melkor was exiled into the void long, long ago.”

“Which is where he should remain,” said Rauthoron. “Unfortunately, Sauron has taken it up upon himself to find the three chalices that will open the portal to the void and bring Morgoth back into the folds of the world. Is that really what the dragons want?”

Metimaloche was quiet for a moment before asking, “And what if it were?”

“I sincerely doubt that,” said Rauthoron. “Dragons in general may have lost the strength and intelligence their ancestors had but in return they’ve gained something never attained by those ancestors: freedom.” Metimaloche said nothing as Rauthoron continued to speak. “Dragons may have been the most powerful servants of the Dark Side back during those ancient days. And I’m sure that if Morgoth returns, that old power will be restored to you completely. But that does not change the fact that dragons will be slaves once more. Glorified slaves yes, but still slaves. Is that what you want?”

“Melkor will give dragons back the power they once had and deserved,” said Metimaloche, though without much conviction.

“In that case you stand upon a crossroad now,” said Rauthoron. “Will you choose power? Or will you choose freedom? The choice is in your claws ‘old friend’. So tell me, who do you fight for? What do you choose?”

To be continued...

A/N Well, I did it! I sent JKR a letter presenting my case about H/Hr. Pray for that letter will you? Anyway, next chapter will be the last filler chapter of this whole fic ever. After that one, its all climax chapters till the very end. The countdown to the end begins my readers so enjoy this while you can.

25. Medui idh

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N OK, final filler chapter. And since it is the last one, I gave it the Sindarin title ‘final rest’. After this one, it’s the chapters you’ve all been waiting for: the climax!

Chapter 25: Medui idh

“What is the meaning of this?” yelled Gilrandir. He had entered the kitchens of Hogwarts and was quite frankly not pleased but what he was seeing. “What are all of you doing?”

The House Elves all starred at each other looking confused and slightly fearful. “We is House Elves, sir,” said one of them, timidly. “We is doing our jobs, sir.”

“Jobs? You call this a job?” demanded Gilrandir. “This is slave work! You’re Elves! You deserve better treatment than this!” The Elf Captain went further on a long tirade about the glories of Elves past and present, constantly making not so subtle points about modern House Elves.

The House Elves starred amongst each other not knowing what to say or how to react. They could dismiss eccentric House Elves looking for a new way of life and an obsession for socks. They could also dismiss crazy muggle-born witches hell bent on bringing them into SPEW, even if it was a given that she would be their queen someday. They however could not dismiss one of their admired Eldar whom they had looked up to for millennia.

“Um... sir...” Gilrandir stopped his tirade when he was addressed by a young student whom had entered the kitchens. “Er, sir... they are ready to begin in the Great Hall... sir.”

“Of course; I apologize, young one. Hanon Le,” said the Elf Captain. He turned to the House Elves before him and said, “Remember well what I spoke of,” before leaving the kitchens.”

* * *

“I don’t know if I can do this,” said Harry. “I can’t believe I was crazy enough to volunteer to do this.” He along with many others was in the Expanded Hospital Wing, treating the wounded.

“You can do this, Harry,” said Hermione. She gently took his hand and led him to one of the beds with a wounded Dwarf on it. “I believe in you Harry. And remember, the hands of a king are the hands of a healer.”

Harry took a deep breath and sat down on the chair beside the bed. “OK, I’ll try,” he said. “Just have to wait up on Neville now.”

“I found some! I found some!” Neville Longbottom ran into the room (earning a disapproving glare from Madame Pomfrey) carrying several sweet smelling leaves in his hands. “I knew Professor Sprout had these stored up in her greenhouses somewhere. Here you go, Kingsfoil.”

“Thank God there was still some around,” said Harry as he took the leaves from Neville. “Athelas. Now all I need to do is ground up the leaves to get their medicinal properties out.” He pulled out a cauldron and a grinder.

Hermione chuckled and said, “You know your potions scores aren’t that good; do you want me to make the Athelas extract for you?”

“I can do potions just fine so long as Snape isn’t looking over my shoulder,” declared Harry. He then thought for a minute and said, “But maybe, could you coach me through the steps?”

Hermione smiled and said, “Of course I can.”

Within minutes, Harry had ground up the Kingsfoil and mixed them up into an aroma inducing potion. The sweet smell of Athelas flitted around the room which alone was enough to calm down the nerves of many of the people. Harry flitted around the room carrying the potion, its sweet smells filling the nostrils of those in need of it as the Healers tended to the physical injuries of the patients.

Finally, Harry came upon a section of the enlarged Hospital Ward that was separated from the rest of the room by a series of curtains. Curiosity getting the best of him Harry peaked behind the curtains and was surprised by what he saw: the catatonic forms of Percy Weasley and Frank and Alice Longbottom. “What in...” exclaimed Harry before remembering that the Longbottoms had been brought to Hogwarts for their safety while Percy was one of the Azkaban prisoners Hermione had broken out and sent to Hogwarts.

Something was prickling in the back of Harry’s mind: something in his very blood was telling him to do something. Hermione, noticing something was up with Harry asked him, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Harry. “It’s just... something’s telling me... something right...” He suddenly had a look of comprehension dawn on his face. “Hold it one moment,” he said. He placed the bowl he was carrying and mixed more ground Athelas into the potion. He then pulled out his wand and started waving it over the potion, all the time chanting something.

“Harry, what are you...” Hermione started when she realized that Harry was chanting in Elvish. Harry finally uttered a final incantation that caused the potion to glow bright red before flaring in a blast of white light with a small explosion.

Hermione seemed to realize what Harry had done. “Harry, you didn’t just...”

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Harry. He took the potion and made his way over to where Percy was.

Percy didn’t appear to be aware that Harry was even there. He simply continued muttering “I was wrong... I was wrong... I was wrong... I was wrong...” over and over again: much like he had at Azkaban.

“Percy,” said Harry, trying to get Percy’s attention. When Percy continued muttering, Harry said more forcefully, “Percy.”

Percy’s face suddenly scrunched up in horror and he started screaming at the top of his lungs, “I WAS WRONG! I WAS WRONG! I WAS WRONG!”

“This is ridiculous,” muttered Harry. Then, before anyone could stop him, Harry hit Percy hard on the head, knocking him out cold.

“Harry!” admonished Hermione.

“I had to get him calmed down somehow,” said Harry.

“We could’ve used a calming draught.”

“Would’ve taken too long.” Harry brought the Athelas potion over to Percy’s face, making sure Percy breathed in the fumes of the potion. He then opened Percy’s mouth and poured some of the potion in so that Percy could swallow some. “There, that should snap him to his senses if all works well,” said Harry. “Too bad I can’t brew something that could cure that big head of his.”

Despite herself, Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Harry next made it over to the next two beds where a catatonic Frank and Alice Longbottom were reclining, starring ahead unaware of anything around them. Harry and Hermione couldn’t help the sad looks on their faces.

“Do you... do you really think it could work?” asked Hermione, faint traces of hope in her voice.

“I have no idea,” said Harry. “No one’s ever recovered from having their brains fried by the Cruciatus.” He sighed before grinning and saying, “But I guess it’s worth a shot.”

Hermione nodded as Harry brought the Athelas potion over to the two Longbottoms. He let them breath in the fumes of the potions before gently coaxing them into drinking what was left of the brew. As the two finished drinking the Athelas extract, Harry and Hermione stood back with baited breaths.

The change was slow but over time, a new look came over the Longbottoms, a brief look of self awareness before they both drifted off to sleep. Harry and Hermione smiled at each other.

“You know, I don’t know for certain but I think that might’ve been a sign of success,” said Harry. “I don’t know why they fell asleep though.”

“Their minds must be reforming,” said Hermione, sounding hopeful. “At least that’s what I suspect. If everything’s worked how we hoped for, the neurons in their brains should be regenerating right now, restoring their motor functions, access to memories, conscious thought. Most muggle doctors believe Neurons can’t ever be repaired but some more recent research has been suggesting that Neurons can very well regenerate if stimulated enough. And we have advantage of having magic and the regenerative powers of Athelas so quite naturally. Maybe I could right a report on this someday. Oh Harry, this is going to be so exciting.” Noticing that incredulous look on Harry’s face Hermione sheepishly replied, “I’ve read up on human neurology.”

“I’m sure you have,” said Harry sounding amused. “Do you think we should tell Neville?”

“I don’t want to give him false hope,” said Hermione. “Let’s just wait a little more until we’re sure we were successful.”

“Mr. Potter? Harry?” Harry and Hermione looked up to see Professor McGonagall coming their way. “Harry, I’m sorry if I interrupted anything but their ready to begin in the Great Hall.”

Harry shared a look with Hermione and nodded. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “Call me if there’s any change in the Longbottoms’ condition.”

* * *

What was going on in the Great Hall was a meeting between the commanders of the light side over their next plan of action. Several higher ranking members of the Order of the Phoenix were there as well as at least one representative from each race. All present agreed that their next objective was pure and simple: strike at Barad-dur. Unfortunately, there was some disagreement over how to go about the attack.

“It is simply,” said Gilrandir. “The Elves have returned to Middle-Earth specifically for this purpose. We shall lead the direct assault upon the Dark Tower and bring the Dark Lord and his followers to his knees.”

“Ha and take all the glory for the Elves!” yelled Angnathron. “The dwarves have always stood at the frontlines of every battle. It should be the Dwarves standing at the front of this one as well.”

“I would remind you Master Angnathron that the Eldar outnumber the Naugrim by about fifteen to one. Your forces would be crushed far too soon,” said Gilrandir, coolly.

“It would be unwise to underestimate the Khazad, Master Elf,” replied Angnathron, just as coolly.

Dumbledore sighed wearily, looking every bit his age. “I can personally vouch that every one of us are grateful for the presence of the Elves,” said Dumbledore. “You have already done so much for us. However, the forces at the Dark Tower would be far greater than the ones that attacked Hogwarts. The Nazgul would be at their full strength and we haven’t even seen the Balrogs yet. We would be sending the Elves to their deaths.”

“I appreciate your concern Master Dumbledore,” said Gilrandir. “However, I must also point out that the Elves are the only force available that could possibly counter the Dark Forces. This is what we came back to Middle-Earth for: let us do it.”

Harry who had been silent for most of the meeting suddenly spoke up: “How about we blow the Stature of Wizarding Secrecy?” All of the wizards and witches present save Dumbledore starred at Harry as if he had lost his mind but Harry continued, “No matter what sort of controversy surrounds them, Muggles have those Weapons of Mass Destruction. I doubt they’d work on Death Eaters, Nazgul, or Balrogs but they’d surely decimate the Orcs leaving the Dark Side without the bulk of its army.”

“It is a pity this wasn’t mentioned earlier for by now it is truly too late,” said Dumbledore. “Even if the Stature is broken it would take time to convince the muggles of the existence of magic as well as to convince them to fight only the Dark Side. It would take even longer for them to mobilize for war. And if what Pettigrew told you is true, Harry, Voldemort would already be setting out to summon Morgoth: time is a luxury we cannot afford.” Dumbledore sighed once more. “Even if this had been mentioned earlier, I doubt anything would’ve come of it. The Ministry certainly would’ve buried it with much red tape and general muggle-phobia would’ve prevented enough support from generating. Innate wizarding arrogance would continue to insist that muggle weapons were of no use, that magic was far more powerful than technology. Why, I myself hadn’t thought of the muggles till you just mentioned it.”

Harry nodded and said, “I understand sir.”

“Whatever is the case there is no denying that the Elves are the only force standing in the way of the Dark Lord and of Morgoth’s return,” said Gilrandir. “By Elbereth’s name, let us do this Master Dumbledore.”

Dumbeldore finally consented. “Very well,” he said. “The Elves shall be on the front lines of the attack. However, I would advise that every race also have as many of their forces on the front lines as well. The battle will be fierce and desperate. No forces will be left behind to defend anything: one shot, everyone of our forces at the very heart of the Darkness. This will be the last stand.”

“And you can bet that Anduril will be gleaming at the front,” declared Harry.

To be continued...

A/N Sorry for the long delay. I had a major case of writer’s block on this chapter. Plus, I’m concentrating on my original novel which takes priority. Hope everybody had a nice Christmas and New Years. I got Kingdom Hearts II for Christmas (I love being half Japanese). Unfortunately, I haven’t that many opportunities to play it. Oh well, now that the holiday rush is over things should calm down. And starting with the next chapter, the climax begins!

26. Danto en Taurgul

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N This is a Sindarin title. It translates closely to “fall of the Witch-King”. At least, that’s what I’m hoping it’s close to. Actually it’s more like “wraith-king” but same idea.

Chapter 26: Danto en Taurgul

The activities of magical transportation were astonishing. Portkeys, floo, apparation, all sorts of transportation at the disposal of the armies of the light were used and within three days a massive force consisting of wizards and witches, Elves, Dwarves, goblins, centaurs, and other sentient beings were now marching through the land that had once been the Black Sea. Now, it was literally once again a Black Land; a desert of decay where no living thing could survive save the foul filth whom were born from the darkness of these lands. Mordor it was once again, and towering above this land was the raging mountain of fire Oroduin, Mt. Doom. Perhaps it was luck that the land was so barren for the Armies of the light could easily proceed toward their target. Soon, they had surrounded the Dark Tower of Brad-dur: a siege reminiscent of the old days when the Last Alliance of Elves and Men led by Elendil and Gil-galad had laid siege on the tower.

At the head of the siege, Gilrandir observed the Dark Tower with a scrutinizing eye. “It is a blasphemy that the tower yet stands,” he said. “It must be razed.”

“Naturally,” replied Dumbledore from right next to him, “that is what we are here for.” He and the other commanders were taken aback however when the vast, front gates of the tower slowly opened with an earth shaking, grating sound. “Or perhaps,” said Dumbledore, “they wish to conduct a parley first.”

To the surprise of some of the wizards and witches present, the one who stepped forth from the open door was none other than Lucius Malfoy. “Well, well, welcome to our humble abode,” he said, as if vast armies laying siege to their tower was an everyday occurrence.

“There is nothing ‘humble’ about this place I must say,” replied Gilrandir.

“Elves, whom would have ever thought your kind would be here,” sneered Lucius. “I am present to discuss the terms and conditions for your surrender.”

“Surrender? Surely you presume much, Lucius,” said Dumbledore. “I would’ve thought that I taught you better.”

“There is nothing you taught me that was worth retaining you muggle-loving old fool,” snarled Lucius. “You are the ones who presume much? Did you think your puny Army is any match for ours? Just because you have help from a few Elves? We have much more than just Orcs, trolls, and Death Eaters on our side? We have Dementors, vampires, werewolves, and giants amongst our ranks. We have Nazgul and Balrogs leading them. All are standing ready within the foundations of the tower, just itching to let loose their fury. You underestimate the power you face here.”

“We will take our chances,” declared Gilrandir.

“The conditions of surrender are as follows,” said Lucius, ignoring the Elf Commander. “All Elves shall leave these shores immediately never to return. All wizards will declare their loyalty to the Dark Lord and forever serve him. All mudbloods shall be turned over: slavery if you wish to call it. The fate of the other races shall be determined at a later time but let it be known that all will swear fealty to the Dark Lord. Following the surrender, all wizards will assist in the muggle exterminations that will follow...” Lucius was cut short, literally when Gilrandir’s blade swung forth, slicing him in half. The Death Eater fell to the ground, convulsing in his own blood before finally drawing his last breath.

“He was starting to annoy me,” explained Gilrandir, as he swiped the blood off of his sword. Dumbledore merely shook his head and sighed.

“Well, now that negotiations are over,” declared Angnathron, brandishing his battle axe and war hammer, “it’s time to kick some Orcish arse!”

Perhaps the Dwarf had spoken too soon for as soon as the gates to Brad-dur opened legions open legions of Orcs flew out. The Elves were prepared for the onslaught and met the fury of the Orcs with their own strength and might. The air was soon filled with the clangs of metal upon metal and the swooshing of arrows through the air. Elf and Orc fell by each others’ hands and the onslaught continued. Trolls started to make their ways onto the battlefield, their maces attempting to smash their enemies before them. They were met by the sheer strength and power of the Dwarves whom pushed them back and even dragged the trolls to the ground before letting them have it.

Soon, Magical blasts issued forth from within the tower itself. These were stopped by spells conjured by the wizards on the light side, but many times their feeble attempts were not enough to repel the full power of the curses. Undaunted, the wizards shot back many spells of their own, ramming some intense power into the structure and even occasionally taking out a Death Eater leading some Orcish legion.

The battle soon led to a fierce stalemate with neither side giving inch. The Orcs outnumbered all other warriors but it was the Elves whom had the most skill, one Elf killing about 75 Orcs on average within the first two hours of the battle. As the battle dragged on, the bodies were piling, yet there was clearly no end in sight.

Throughout the battle, Hermione was mostly with the wizards toward the back of the Light side forces. She was mostly helping with quick first aid but she often contributed to quick strategic advice she sent with messenger spells to the various commanders.

‘I should be on the front lines,’ she thought as she dressed the wounds of an Elf. ‘I should be up there with Harry! Harry needs me, I have to... wait a minute.’ It was at that moment when Hermione realized Harry wasn’t fighting at the front lines making their way toward the tower, for she had just seen him climbing the slopes of Mt. Doom.

‘Harry?’ she thought. ‘Why is he going up the volcano? He can’t possibly... Oh no!’ Realizing what Harry was up to Hermione abandoned her post and made a desperate dash toward the mountain of fire.

* * *

Harry climbed the slopes of the volcano steadily but surely. “I know... that you’re not in the... tower,” he muttered as he pulled himself over one particularly large boulder. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “I know that you’re here! On the mountain,” he said. “Somewhere...”

Harry took a moment to observe his surroundings. It was here upon these very slopes all those millennia ago that two Halflings struggled upward to destroy a thing of great evil. It upon these very slopes that long before even then, said thing of great evil was forged in deceit. And now, in the present time, Harry was racing up these slopes to once again confront that great evil.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Harry shook his and stood up once more, determined to make his way to the very Cracks of Doom where the Ring was made and later unmade. It would be there where he would finally confront his destiny: where he would face his mortal enemy one last time.

“Very clever, Potter, to realize where the Master really is,” snarled a voice from above. Startled, Harry looked up to see a very familiar and unwelcome figure looking down from the top of another large boulder. He was dressed in a black robe the hood up similar more to the robes of the Nazgul rather than the Death Eaters or Dementors and he was carrying a large, jagged sword.

“Malfoy!” shouted Harry.

“Surprised Potter?” smirked Draco, as he leapt off the boulder. He stood menacingly in Harry’s way as he brandished his sword.

“If you mean that I’m surprised to see that a pathetic wuss like you is my last challenge before facing the big guy himself, yes I’d say I’m surprised,” replied Harry.

“Touchy, aren’t you?” said Malfoy, still smirking. “Draw!”

“What? Can’t beat me at magic so going to try to beat me at swordplay instead?” said Harry as he drew out Anduril. “Sorry to spoil this for you Draco but you’re outclassed both ways.”

“I suppose I should give your head as a gift to Granger,” replied Malfoy. “Just before I have her that is; mudblood or not she’s grown into a fine dish.”

Anger blazed in Harry’s eyes. Before he could say anything back however, Draco struck, his sword slashing toward Harry with ferocious precision. Harry parried every one of the blows as he took some steps back, searching for Draco to make a mistake. Draco soon grew a little too enthusiastic as he struck Harry with a particularly hard blow. The force of the blade as it clashed with Anduril caused Draco to lose his balance. Harry didn’t miss his chance as he grabbed hold of Draco’s sword arm with his free hand. He planted a firm backwards kick on the back of Draco’s leg, effectively bringing him to the ground. Not allowing himself to be overwhelmed, Draco managed to land a kick on Harry’s midsection, causing Harry to let go of him.

Draco rolled away and sprang to his feet. “Curses!” he snarled. He once again attacked with a furious rage. Harry merely either stepped out of the way or parried Draco’s blows. Starting to get frustrated, Draco lunged at his opponent with a thrust only to have Harry calmly twist around him and ram the pommel of his sword painfully into the back of Draco’s head.

Draco fell to his knees and let out a string of vicious swear words as he clutched at the back of his head in pain. “Is that all you’ve got?” asked Harry, coolly. “You’re disappointing me, Draco.”

“#$%@*& YOU, POTTER!” yelled Malfoy. He lunged at Harry again only to have Harry clobber his nose with a good right hook.

“You really are a pathetic whelp, aren’t you?” said Harry. “Well I don’t have all day to play with you, Malfoy.” Harry suddenly went on the offensive slashing Anduril with a grace and mastery truly worthy of the Heir of Elessar. Draco started to panic as he barely managed to bloke most of Harry’s blows. He wasn’t quite good enough as one of Harry’s slashes barely sliced into his chest. Draco screeched in pain but Harry showed no mercy as he landed a kick into Malfoy’s abdomen before spinning around and backhanding him in the cheek with the hand that held his sword. Malfoy flew back and fell to the ground, blood starting flow a little from his chest and face.

“Give it up Malfoy,” snarled Harry, standing over his fallen foe, “I don’t have time for the likes of you.”

Suddenly, Harry was taken aback when Malfoy started laughing. “You think you’ve beaten me, Potter?” he snarled. “Well, you think wrong, not so long as I have this!” Draco opened his right hand to show Harry his ring: The Ring of the Witch-King, greatest of the Nine.

Harry’s eyes widened. “No! You mustn’t...”

“Too late, Potter!” yelled Draco as he slipped the ring onto his finger. In an instant, he completely disappeared.

Harry didn’t have a moment to react as an invisible fist connected into his cheek. He heard the ringing of a blade through the air and barely managed to leap out of the way as an invisible sword sliced at his arm.

“Ha! Who’s the pathetic whelp, now!” taunted Draco’s disembodied voice. Malfoy’s laughter rang throughout the rocks. Harry however merely narrowed his eyes and let his fist fly loose, connecting with what was clearly Draco’s face.

“What? How did you...” came Draco’s voice. He clearly realized that Harry had followed Draco’s voice and promptly shut up.

“Take the ring off, Draco!” yelled Harry. “Trust me, you don’t want to spend eternity as a Nazgul.”

“Don’t assume, Potter!” said Draco’s voice, this time from a safe distance. The ringing of a blade warned Harry and Harry barely managed to parry Draco’s blow. Harry swung Anduril back but his blade only sliced through air.

“I know a lot more than you do,” said Harry. “I know the truth about the Rings of Power! And they’re not the blessing you clearly think they are.”

“The Rings are ultimate power!” snarled Draco. “They will grant me the right to stand at my master’s right hand for all eternity when you’ve become nothing more than a mere speck of annoying memory.”

“Yes, but at what cost?” said Harry. He deflected another invisible blow but his own sword once again met nothing but air.

Draco started laughing again. “Swing all you want Potter. You may be able to block my blows but you’ll never be able to hit me!” Harry slashed toward Draco’s voice again but met nothing. “Miss me!”

Harry’s green eyes narrowed before taking on a relaxed state. “This time, I won’t.”

“Oh really?” said Draco’s voiced again. “Let’s see about that, shall we?”

Confident in his invisibility, Draco struck Harry from behind. Harry merely lifted his left arm upward, expertly blocking Draco’s blade with his sword. Draco rolled his eyes at seeing the pattern repeat itself when he realized that the sword Harry held was not Anduril but rather a smaller, ruby encrusted sword: The Sword of Gryffindor.

Then where was Anduril?

Draco got his answer a split second later when Harry spun around swinging his right arm upward. By blocking with Gryffindor’s sword rather than the Sword Reforged Draco realized a bit too late that Harry had pinpointed precisely where Draco’s hand was and...

Draco fell to his knees hollering in pain, clutching his hand, and very much visible. Fallen on the ground were his sword and the two cloven pieces of the Ring of the Witch-King. Although it was bleeding, his finger was still intact.

“You fool!” screamed Malfoy. “You’ve destroyed my Ring! Do you realize what you’ve done? DO YOU?”

Harry glared at Draco the grips on his swords growing tighter. “Yes, I realize precisely what I’ve done,” he said. He rammed the pommel of Gryffindor’s sword on the backside of Draco’s head. Draco fell to the ground out cold. “I just saved your pathetic little life,” snarled Harry.

With that, Harry continued up the volcano without sparing a glance back to his defeated foe.

To be continued...

A/N No. 1. Firstly, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sorry that this chapter took so long to come out. My life is ridiculously busy but this fic is starting to wind down toward its end. Thanks for bearing with me.

No. 2. I am sick and tired of people asking me “what’s up with the mugles?” or questions like that. To be completely honest, while I was planning the fic I didn’t think at all about how muggles fit into the fic but went on ahead anyway. Then, I was taken aback when readers started asking me about muggle actions and military and such like that. Every time I offered an explanation some other reviewer would ask even more questions wanting to make me pull my hair out. SO ENOUGH ABOUT THE MUGGLES ALREADY!!! (pant, pant, pant). OK, now that that’s off my chest, thank you for reading. More to come.

27. Barad-Taur

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N I just came up with this title on the spot really. No real research. Its Sindarin and it pretty much means “Dark King” or “Dark Lord”, the latter being my intended title. Sorry but it can be a tad frustrating coming up with all these Elvish titles.

Chapter 27: Barad-Taur

It was only a matter of time before Harry made it to the very Cracks of Doom. It was here where Sauron had forged the One Ring all those millennia ago. And it was also here where the One Ring was unmade by the action of the Hobbits. Now, this was where Voldemort-Sauron was conducting the final ritual.

The cavern was a single pathway, over looking a raging sea of lava. Waves of molten rocks crashed upon the very walls of the volcano, and it was all to obvious to Harry that if it weren’t for the cooling charms maintaining his temperature, he could very well die of heat exhaustion. At the very end of the path were the three chalices, all of them hovering in mid air over the lava and glowing a sinister, purplish color. And standing before the chalices, his back to Harry, chanting in what seemed to be the Black Speech of Mordor, was the Dark Lord Voldemort-Sauron.

“Voldemort,” snarled Harry his voice a filled with a streak of righteous anger. Finally, after all this time, he was here. It was time to face his mortal enemy, one last time: and not just him. “Voldemort... Sauron.”

The Dark Lord turned toward Harry, blood scarlet eyes glaring from behind the ebony helmet. “Harry... Potter... Heir of Elessar,” the two voices hissed and rumbled simultaneously.

Suddenly, a ball of green flame formed at the tips of the Dark Lord’s fingertips. Leveling the fireball toward Harry, the Dark Lord yelled, “Avada Kedavra!” sending the flaming green light toward Harry. Harry in return merely reacted, flinging his two swords out in front of himself protectively. The killing curse hit the blades with a shattering sound and after a few moments, a blinding light flashed from Harry’s armor sending the curse hurtling toward the ceiling where it crashed, causing some boulders to fall into the lava.

“Ah yes, your armor was created by the brother wand of our armor’s wand,” said the voice of Voldemort.

“This ends here,” declared Harry. “Your reign ends once and for all, here today, for both of you! I will not allow you to summon Morgoth back into the spheres of the world!”

“Ah, but the ritual is already underway, it cannot be stopped,” gloated the two voices. “However, we perceive that you just may upset the summoning.”

“For too long has the bloodline of the Edain thwarted my goals,” declared the voice of Sauron.

“For too long has the Boy who lived been a thorn in my side,” hissed the voice of Voldemort.

“Therefore,” said the two voices, “We agree with you very much that this war shall end once and for all. Never again shall we be threatened: it shall end with your death. And if we cannot fight each other through magic, then it will be the physical that shall do the killing!”

Voldemort-Sauron raised his arms and started chanting in the Black Speech once more. A purplish vortex formed above his head, drawing a vacuum around the air surrounding the Dark Lord, sparks cracking from the edges of the vortex. Slowly, something started emerging out of the vortex, something large.

It was a mace: a giant mace about as large as a bus. Its grip with spiny and would’ve been harmful to the touch of any mortal. Its staff was long and decorated in sinister designs. The head was carved into a frightening image of a crown, spiky and lethal. The whole mace was ebony black as the night.

To Harry’s surprise, the mace soon started to shrink, slowly but surely. Soon, it had shrunk from its previous bus size to about a meter long, its grip fitting perfectly into the palm of the Dark Lord.

“Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld,” declared Voldemort-Sauron as he examined the mace. “We had been hoping to present it to its rightful owner as soon as he had returned but he will not mind if we use it once for our use if it is to vanquish one last headache.”

Harry gulped as he fought down a wave of sudden terror that threatened to erupt from within himself. He brandished his two swords, ready to meet anything.

It was the Dark Lord who struck first, moving at lightening fast speed despite his large bulk. The mace swung forth and struck toward where Harry was standing only to crash on the pathway with a thunderous sound. Harry had leapt high into the air to avoid the mace and came landed some distance further behind. He immediately struck back, swinging Anduril and the Sword of Gryffindor around in graceful fashion as he struck at Voldemort-Sauron. The Dark Lord merely sidestepped backward at rapid speed, avoiding every one of the hits. He swung his mace forth again only to have Harry dodge it with another backwards leap, this time throwing in a summersault as well.

Without missing a beat, Harry struck at the Dark Lord again, the two blades twirling in whirlwind motions. Anduril and the Sword of Gryffindor clashed Grond as the weapons of the two combatants met, the sounds of metal hitting metal ringing throughout the chamber.

“Most impressive, Potter,” hissed the voice of Voldemort. “Your skills with the sword are quite astounding. I never realized you possessed such talent.”

“I never realized till quite recently myself,” replied Harry. He spun around, attempting to make his swords connect only to have them deflected by the Dark Lord’s mace. He leapt back, crouched low and launched himself toward his opponent again, their weapons clashing once more.

“You know Potter,” said Voldemort as the two continued their duel. “You are without a doubt perhaps the most powerful wizard upon Middle-Earth now, perhaps even greater than even Dumbledore. How would you think of joining us, and we could all rule the realm together?”

Harry dodged another blow from the mace as he thrust Anduril toward the Dark Lord’s face. “Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?” he snarled, as the Dark Lord brought his face back, missing the sword.

“Gaining new powers can be quite a relish. The potential that you had a change of heart was always there,” said Voldemort. He swung the mace hard and hit Harry in his side. Although his armor kept him from being hurt, it still sent Harry flying in the air toward a far wall.

“NEVER!” yelled Harry as he twisted in the air. He managed to land on the wall on his feet. Then, using the momentum, he rocketed himself straight back at Voldemort-Sauron. Harry landed a powerful flying kick on the Dark Lord’s abdomen, the force of the blow so strong it actually managed to shove the large frame of Voldemort-Sauron back several feet.

“Such a pity,” snarled the two voices. Voldemort-Sauron struck back at Harry, the mace coming toward him in powerful smashing motions. Harry simply continued countering each blow, hoping to find an opening for attack.

Harry found that opening when Voldemort-Sauron raised his mace up high. Harry leapt into the air as Grond came crashing down, leaving a crater in the pathway. Kicking off the walls, Harry flew toward his opponent and at the right moment, slashed at the frame of the Dark Lord. Harry landed opposite his opponent, crouched on the ground, his blades still out from the attack.

Harry was completely startled however when the two voices spoke: “Is that the best you can do? We were hoping for better. You have disappointed us!” Saying that, Voldemort-Sauron swung Grond toward Harry in an upward motion. Caught unprepared, Harry was struck by the full force of the mace and was sent flying into the air.

* * *

Outside, the battle continued to rage on. Orc and troll fell before the mighty blades of the Elves and yet they continued to swarm out, their numbers never ending. In certain sections, they were already starting to overwhelm the Elvish and Dwarvish forces that stood at the front lines. Elvish captains had no choice but to retreat many of their forces towards more secure spots of the line lest they were scattered.

Toward the back, the Order of the Phoenix and the Aurors continued their support. Amongst those fighting was Neville Longbottom, desperately wielding Aiglos as he kept Orc and troll at bay. “Mustn’t give up,” he muttered. He then took a deep breath and yelled, “WE MUSTN’T GIVE UP! WE CAN WIN THIS!” He speared another Orc as if to make his point.

Not to far from Neville, Albus Dumbledore looked over the battlefield. “I would truly wish I could agree with Mr. Longbottom,” he said. It was then that a rumbling, earth shaking growl emerged from the depths of Barad-dur. A chill of fright ran through the Forces of Light. “Unfortunately,” said Dumbledore, “our situation is just about to grow much more desperate.”

“That growl! It can’t be,” exclaimed Gilrandir from the frontlines. “It’s not possible!”

Unfortunately, it was all too real for with a series of mighty roars, a group of fiery Balrogs emerged from the tower led by their leader Gothmog II. The fire demons fell upon the startled Elves, flaying them with their flaming whips. Countless Elves were flung into the air by the Balrogs, unable to properly defend themselves.

“It is all too true, little Eldar,” snarled Gothmog II. “You should’ve never returned to these lands.”

Undaunted, Gilrandir grit his teeth and charged his horse toward Gothmog II. Gothmog II too drew out his flaming sword and the Elf blade and Demon blade clashed with an explosive sound. Inspired by their commander, the Elves once again rallied against the ancient fire demons, fighting back fiercely with all the power of their ancient kind. Not to be outdone by the Elves, the Dwarves too valiantly took up against the Balrogs and the Orcs and Trolls that were still fighting with them. Wizards too shot in their spells, trying their best to aid their allies.

The battle lines had once again seemingly stabilized when a cold scream pierced through the air. The Nazgul had come, flying in upon their fell beats, sending great waves of fear through their enemies. The Ring Wraits flew their beasts through the forces of the Light, disrupting their formations and shattering their morale. Their will broken by the Nazgul, the forces of Light were easy pickings for the Balrogs as their whips broke through the Elvish and Dwarvish line. Soon, chaos was upon them as Elf, Dwarf, and magical human along with their other allies started to panic, their defenses falling apart at the very seams.

“Do not give in! Do not give in!” declared Gilrandir. “Hold your posts! Courage Forces of Light! Do not let the Darkness consume you! You must believe in the Light!” Gilrandir’s cry was interrupted by another high-pitched scream. The Elf Commander looked behind just in time to see Khamul, the leader of the Nazgul fly his Fell Beast straight toward him.

To be continued...

A/N OK, I suppose this chapter was a little short. But I’m getting to wrap this fic up so I can go on to greener pastures (LOL). Anyway, this fic is almost done. Thank you for sticking with it for such a VERY, VERY (year and a half) long time.

28. Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Anyway, here I have a chapter title in the Black Speech. In fact, this one is actually the final line of the ‘One Ring’ verse: “And in the Darkness bind them!”

Chapter 28: Agh burzum-ishi krimpatul

Gilrandir stared at the Fell Beast closing in on him as the world around him fell into slow motion. There was nothing he could do to dodge, nothing he could do to block, nothing he could do to evade. The Immortal Elf from the Undying Lands was now facing certain death upon the mortal lands of Middle-Earth.

And yet, hope there was. Fawkes the Phoenix was flying around over the battlefield, his song bringing hope and life to the Forces of Light and even started filling many of the Death eaters with dread. The Phoenix Song gave hope to the Elves and somehow, Gilrandir knew that his life wasn’t going to end right there.

Indeed it wasn’t for right before the Fell Beast managed to rip Gilrandir to shreds, none other than Rauthoron swooped out of the sky and tackled the Ring Wraith’s creature, claws and beak slashing and shredding.

“The Griffins are here! The Griffins are here!” exclaimed Neville. In the next instant, hundreds of griffins swooped out of the sky and attacked the Nazguls’ Fell Beasts and the Orcish Army. Eagle like squawks sounded through the air as the Griffins let loose their full fury, living up to their reputations for their absolute ferocity. The forces of Light cheered as the Griffins made mincemeat of their enemies.

Even with the Griffins taking on the Nazgul and their Fell Beasts however, the Balrogs were still more than a match for the forces of light. While Khamul was busy fighting off Rauthoron, Gothmog II took command and led a charge straight toward the Elves determined to wipe them out once and for all.

It was then when a flaming ball of fire fell from the sky impacting the mighty Balrog. The flames didn’t actually do any damage for Balrogs were demons of flame themselves. Rather, Gothmog II was completely stunned by the flames for he had instantly recognized the source of them.

“What? Not possible!” he thundered. No sooner had he exclaimed this when the menacing form of Metimaloche slammed straight into Gothmog II with an earsplitting roar. To say that the Elves were completely perplexed by the state of affairs was an understatement.

“A d-dragon?” said Gilrandir. “B-but why? How?”

“Ha ha! I’ll tell you how! Listen to the story!” shouted a voice from behind. Many of the Elves looked behind and noticed a young, tall red-haired wizard standing proudly on top of a small hill, basking in triumph.

“Ron Weasley?” said Neville. “Where’s he been all this time?”

“Needless to say, the dragons are on our side now!” shouted Ron. “But it was a harrowing job just getting them to fight for us, ask any of my companions. But here’s the outcome and believe me, this time we’re gonna win! Look toward the sky!”

Look they did and what everyone saw filled everyone light and dark with both dread and awe. Filling the sky like locusts in the wake of the Griffins were hundreds upon hundreds of dragons, their roars thundering across the clouds. Opaleyes, Ridgebacks, Fireballs, Vipertooths, Welsh Greens, all manners of species of fire-breathers were flying toward the battlefield, ready to do their part of the fighting. And fight they did.

While Metimaloche alone wrestled with Gothmog II, many of the other dragons took on the remaining Balrogs. The dragons were greatly diminished from their ancient ancestors nor could they use their flaming breaths against the fire demons but they still far outnumbered the Balrogs. No matter how hard the Balrogs fought with their powerful weapons and their flaming whips, the dragons ganged up on them at least three to one and the Balrogs were soon overwhelmed. The remaining dragons flew low over the forces of darkness, their flames scorching the Orcs and the trolls as if they were charcoal while the Griffins continued to tear into the Fell Beasts of the Ring Wraiths. The Elves were initially hesitant about the dragons but the Dwarves and Wizards as well as the remainder of their allies soon rallied in the wake of the dragon attack and charged the Orcs head on. Soon, the Elves too were stimulated into action and it wasn’t long before the tide of the battle had completely turned.

“Yes! Yes! Success! Success! We did it!” exclaimed Ron, dancing around in jubilation. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been too joyful for a flaming arrow suddenly whizzed passed him, his robes catching on fire. “YAAAAH!!! PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!” yelled Ron as he rolled around on the ground, trying to put the flames out. Luckily for him Luna was right next to him and she quickly doused the fire out.

“Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you anymore,” said Luna.

“I have no idea who you mean by they but thanks Luna. I owe you one,” said Ron.

“Does it hurt, Ronald?” asked Luna. “Do you want me to kiss it away? They say that three deep kisses summons the cherubs of healing. I think they can help you.”

Ron’s eyes widened before a shy grin crossed his features. “Well I don’t know Looney,” he said. “That theory just might need some testing...” He couldn’t say anything more as one Luna Lovegood’s lips had gotten completely in the way, shoving him to the ground, right there in the middle of the battlefield.

“You traitor!” hissed Gothmog II as he tried to fight off the dragon’s claws: a difficult task as Metimaloche’s hind legs were savagely digging into the demon’s waist and the dragon’s tail was tightly wrapped around the demon as well. “You worthless betrayer! You dragons dare to defy our master! You dragons dare to fight for our enemies!”

“What’s all this our business?” snarled Metimaloche. “The dragons fight for themselves now. We are free and no stubbornly persistent Dark Lords are going to steal our freedom from us!” With a mighty swipe, the dragon bashed the Balrog’s head inward, finishing the fire demon off once and for all.

* * *

Harry crashed into the far wall and fell to the ground with a grunt. He fought a wave of nausea as he managed to pull himself to a sitting position, only to be knocked back into the wall by the Dark Lord’s mace. Harry glared at his mortal nemesis as the mace was held before him.

“Any last words, Potter?” said the two voices.

Harry glared at Voldemrot-Sauron before smirking and said, “Yeah... CATCH!”

Knocking Grond out of the way with Anduril, Harry threw the Sword of Gryffindor at Voldemort-Sauron. The Dark Lord stepped out of the way of the twirling blade. Voldemort-Sauron had just started chuckling when Gryffindor’s sword suddenly let out a dazzling light. The Dark Lord was stunned as the sword seemingly split into seven, shimmering stag patronuses. The Dark Lord was momentarily stunned as the stags surrounded him. With a signal from Harry, the stags charged at the Dark Lord, running straight through his body, the light of the patronues defusing the dark magic of the Dark Lord. As the last patronus charged Voldemort-Sauron the Dark Lord let out a cry of pain. Looking down, he realized that the Sword of Gryffindor was now stuck in his chest.

Not missing a beat, Harry charged forward past Voldemort-Sauron. With lightning fast speed, he slashed through the Dark Lord with Anduril, the blade releasing a spark as it sliced the dark body of the fiend. Turning around, he calmly summoned Gryffindor’s sword into his left hand. “It’s over,” he said, as Voldemort-Sauron crumbled to his knees.

Fallen, dark energy started to slowly spew forth from the body of the Dark Lord. Harry made his way over toward his fallen mortal enemy, not quite feeling as satisfied as he had hoped upon defeating Voldemort. It was then that the Dark Lord spoke in the voice of Sauron alone.

“You... have done well... Heir of Elessar... truly worthy of the legacy... you belong to...”

“This should be the end of everything,” said Harry, “for the both of you. I have been hunted by the Dark Side for so long, for all my life. I now that I have won and fulfilled my destiny I should feel... closure.” Harry grit his teeth and the grip on his swords tightened. “So why don’t I feel anything?” he snarled. “Why don’t I feel the bloody satisfaction I’ve craved for so long? Why don’t I feel the urge to climb to the top of mountain and declare victory to the world? WHY?”

“Why because you haven’t collected the spoils yet of course,” said Sauron, as if it were the most obvious thing. He held out his right hand in it... the One Ring.

Harry goggled at the Ring, unable to believe what he was being offered. “What?”

“Take it. You deserve it,” thundered the voice of Sauron. “There is no greater spoil than this!”

“S... poil...?” said Harry. A voice said in his head, ‘Take it. You deserve it after all you’ve gone through. Imagine the power it could wield.’

But then, another familiar sounding voice said, ‘No don’t! Something isn’t right!’

‘Do not listen to her! This can right everything in you life that has ever gone wrong. This can give you anything your heart desires. This is what you want! This is what you deserve! And here it is being offered to you! TAKE IT!’

‘Don’t do it Harry! Don’t! You’re better than this! You don’t need it! Don’t!’

‘Take it! Its mine! No one else’s! It belongs to me! It is being offered to me! It is mine! My only... MY PRECIOUS!’

Slowly, as if he were hypnotized, Harry reached toward the Ring. “My… precious...”

‘NO HARRY!’

“NO HARRY!!!” The familiar voice, the voice of Hermione thundered not just through his head but within the volcano for real. It was enough to snap Harry to his senses.

“NEVER!” yelled Harry. Twisting around, Harry landed a powerful magic fueled kick against the torso of the Dark Lord. Already weakened from the duel the form of Voldemort-Sauron was flung off the ledge, plummeting into the magma far below along with the One Ring. Thus destroyed was the dreaded Lord of the Rings, Sauron the Maia. Thus perished that seeker of immortality, Tom Marvolo Riddle a.k.a. Lord Voldemort.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Harry turned around and saw that Hermione was indeed there. “Heremione, what are you doing here?” he said.

“I had to be here for you,” said Hermione. “This was... oh Harry.” She rushed forward and enveloped him in a strong hug. They starting raining kisses on each others’ faces before Hermione finally pulled back and asked, “Are you OK? How do you feel?”

Harry stared down toward the magma where the Dark Lord had fallen. “Satisfied,” he said. He sighed and said, “He tried to offer the One Ring to me; didn’t think he was even capable of that.”

“If you had taken it, Sauron would’ve possessed you,” said Hermione. “I don’t know if he had decided to abandon Voldemort or if they were working together with that: whichever way, if you had taken it you would’ve ended up becoming a new Dark Lord.”

“It was because of you I didn’t take it,” said Harry. “I heard your voice in my head. You were telling me not to take it... You! You were the power he knew not! They knew not!”

Before Hermione could say anything Harry’s lips were on hers. The kiss left her completely dazed. Unfortunately, their kissing session was interrupted when the three chalices suddenly flared up and started erupting a black, smoke like film of magical energy. Harry and Hermione jumped and stared at the chalices: they had completely forgotten about them.

“No!” exclaimed Harry. “Morgoth is coming!”

To be continued...

A/N Finally. Only two more chapters of this fic left. This fic sure took me a ridiculously long time to write. I know a lot of my readers probably got sick of waiting for this fic to be updated but its finally coming to its close. TWO MORE LEFT! TWO MORE LEFT! It’s about blasted time I say!

29. Belain na le

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N Whew, the titles of the last two chapters in this fic should be easy enough. This one is in Sindarin. It translates as ‘The Valar be with you’. And if you don’t know who the Valar are go to the local bookstore and pick up ‘The Silmarillion’.

Chapter 29: Belain na le

Out upon the battlefield, the Forces of light were amongst the mists of pure jubilation. The Balrogs had been slaughtered by the dragons and the Nazgul had suddenly faded into the darkness along with what remained of their Fell Beasts. The trolls appeared to snap out of whatever spell they had seemed to be in and were now wandering around confused while the vampires and Dementors fled. The Orcs were being rounded up by the Elves, griffins, and a few of the dragons and all of the Death Eaters were either captured or dead.

The final sign of victory for the light came when Barad-dur collapsed along with its foundations.

The cheers the rang forth from the warriors of Light rocked the very earth they were standing on for the collapsing of the tower meant only one thing: somehow, Voldemort-Sauron had been defeated. After all these long decades, the Wizarding World was finally free of the grip of Tom Marvolo Riddle aka. Lord Voldemort.

“He did it!” explained Ron as he witnessed the colossal collapse of the monstrous tower. “Harry did it! I can’t believe it!” He let out a whoop of joy and leapt in the air, his fist raised in triumph.

“Indeed it appears he has,” said Dumbledore, surprising Ron when he showed up right behind him. “I believe that this signals that Harry has finally fulfilled his destiny.”

“Oh Ronald, do you know what this means?” exclaimed Luna excitedly. “We can hunt nargles freely without fear of carner infestations!”

“Eh?” said Ron.

“Yes, I believe Miss Lovegood has described it most accurately,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. Ron just decided not to make anything of it.

Out on the battlefield, Gilrandir tentatively approached Metimaloche. “It appears we are in debt to the dragons,” he said. “There is truly a first time for everything.”

Metimaloche let out a fiery snort. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “We merely wish to keep our free...” It was that moment when Metimaloche suddenly let out a painful growl and slumped to the ground, his head writhing around in pain. Within seconds, all of the dragons were writhing in pain as if they were having simultaneous seizures. The very air surrounding the forces of light had changed and the Elves were suddenly on full alert.

“This air, this very stench,” muttered Gilrandir. “It cannot be!”

“No, we are free!” groaned Metimaloche. “WE ARE FREE!” The mighty dragon started to convulse.

“W-what is going on?” exclaimed Ron.

Dumbledore looked toward Mt. Doom, a hint of despair showing on his face. “Perhaps, Harry was too late after all,” he said, just as the volcano let out a mighty eruption.

Luna looked toward the spewing lava as if she were in a trance and whispered, “Morgoth.”

* * *

“We have to stop the chalices,” exclaimed Harry. He made a dash for them only to be flung back by an invisible force. “NO!”

“We can’t stop them!” said Hermione, her eyes growing tearful with despair. The chamber started to dim as darkness spread forth from the chalices. Soon the darkness started to assume a colossal humanoid form with two sinister, glowing eyes started to form shining forth within the spreading darkness.

“Morgoth!” said Harry. “DAMN IT!” He fell to his knees and beat the ground with his fist in frustration.

“Oh God, Harry!” groaned Hermione, as she kneeled down next to him, tears starting to stream down her face. The two wrapped their arms around each other as they looked upon the forming mass that was the original Dark Lord with despair and desperation.

‘I wish we can all be saved,’ thought Hermione.

Suddenly a bright light shot out through the sky and landed upon the crater of the volcano, surrounding the form of Morgoth.

* * *

The Forces of Light stared at the writhing dragons with great fear. It was not too long before that those dragons had saved them now. Now, with the prospect of Morgoth appearing, it was most likely that those very dragons that saved them would be once again enslaved and turn on the Forces of Light.

“What can we do?” asked Neville.

Suddenly a voice called out, “Do not despair, there is hope yet!”

Startled, the Forces of Light looked toward the volcano. To their surprise, standing on one of the boulders was none other than Gandalf the White.

“Mithrandir!” exclaimed Gilrandir.

“Look to the sky,” shouted Gandalf, “For the second wish has been made!”

Suddenly a bright light shot out through the sky and landed upon the crater of the volcano.

* * *

“W-what is going on?” asked Harry as he stared at the lights.

Hermione merely said, “Oh my,” as the lights split up into fourteen lights, surrounding the shapeless form of darkness that was Morgoth. And from each of the fourteen voices a voice:

Manwe!

Varda!

Aule!

Yvanna!

Lorien!

Mandos!

Este!

Nessa!

Ulmo!

Nienna!

Vaire!

Vana!

Orome!

Tulkas!

Flying around those fifteen lights was another slightly smaller light though every bit as mighty. And from that smaller light came another voice: “Hail! Hail! Hear the words of Eonwe, herald of the Powers! For the Valar have answered the wish and hope is not lost!”

It was a language long forgotten in the mortal lands and yet everyone there somehow understood that most ancient of languages and the greatest: Valarian.

And then, once again in Valarian, a chanting song arose from the fourteen lights:

“Hail Eru Illuvatar! Brightest for all eternity! Hail thy music, the harmony that lives through Arda! Hail Eru Illuvatar, the One whom sows out the tune of discord! Hail the One, Eru Illuvatar!”

And with that, everywhere in the field of vision with whitted out in a vast light that covered everything in sight, blinding all. All that was visible in the light were the formless eyes of Morgoth which now looked upward with despair.

“Illuvatar! Illuvatar! Why am I imprisoned yet?” The voice of Morgoth was nothing but a whisper.

And in answer, a voice gentle yet strong: “Be gone Melkor. For the Day of Doom is not yet. For Dagor Dagorath is not yet. Until that time, imprisoned shall you be.”

And with that, the light was gone, the chalices were gone and all that was left were Harry and Hermione, both completely stunned, sitting on the ground holding each other what was now a completely dormant volcano.

“Oh... my... God!” said Harry. “I mean literally, oh my God! I think we’ve just seen something no one’s ever seen before. How did that happen?”

“I-I think... that was my second wish,” said Hermione.

* * *

The jubilation and celebrations that followed continued on for close to a month. Finally over was the threat of Voldemort once and for all. The Dark Side had fought bitterly and yet in the end, the Forces of Light had once again been victorious.

The various races all fell back into their old routines. The Dragons returned peacefully to their reservations content with the simple life. The Goblins went back to their banks, enjoying the general return of the status quo. The Dwarves returned to their mines, content upon digging the precious minerals within the Earth. Trolls and other Dark Creatures returned back to the wild in their more natural state, no longer under the evil influence that controlled them so. And as for the Elves...

“You have our eternal gratitude,” said Harry as he shook Gilrandir’s hand. Back at Hogwarts, the Elves were boarding the ships upon the lake that would take them back to the Undying Lands. The mortals whom were saying their goodbyes to the Elves were Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Luna, and Neville. Rauthoron and Angnathron were also present as well.

“The feeling is very much mutual, Heir of Elessar,” replied the Elf commander. “For now, Evil has been vanquished upon Middle-Earth. We are grateful to have been a part of this.” He then looked out toward his ships and said, “But it is now time for us to head home.”

“Yeah, well... I suppose I could wish you well, Master Elf” said Angnathron with a shrug.

Gilrandir grinned and replied, “I suppose I could say the same to you Master Dwarf.” He offered his hand and staring at it for a few seconds, Angnathron shook it.

“I wish you well on your journey,” said Dumbledore. “But I suppose that is a redundant phrase.”

Gilrandir nodded and boarded his ship. He turned around a cried, “Navaer, Ná Elbereth veria le, ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín.” Farewell, May Elbereth protect you, may her stars shine on the path of your life.

To this Harry replied, “No galu govad gen. No in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn.” May blessings go with you. May all stars shine upon your path.

“Farewell,” said another voice from another ship. The company was startled and looked to see none other than Gandalf on the other ship. “It has been a short visit this time but I do believe it was worth it.” He looked toward Hermione and said, “If I recall you still have one wish left, do you not?”

Hermione jumped and said, “Er, yes. I think I do.”

“That wish shall be granted soon,” said Gandalf. “Never forget that even the smallest amount of good can brighten up the darkest of evils.”

With that, the ships pulled out and sailed into the mists covering the lake. Within moments, they were gone, returned to whence they came from.

“Mára mesta,” said Harry, “en Hanon le.” Goodbye, and thank you.

To be concluded...

A/N I suppose the scale got rather grandiose with this chapter. But that’s precisely the way I planned this fic when I started writing it nearly two years ago. Blast! I took WAY too long writing this monstrosity. But it’s finally reaching its end. Now that I think about it, this chapter was really rushed, but in full honesty, I really don’t care. One more chapter and its over!

30. Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters and settings belong to J. K. Rowling. The Lord of the Rings and related mythology belong to the heirs of J. R. R. Tolkien.

A/N For this final chapter, I chose a Sindarin title. The title of the last chapter of this fic translates as follows: I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh. I personally thought it was somehow fitting to the conclusion of this fic.

Chapter 30: Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach

Over the next few months following the fall of the Dark Side, the Wizarding World went through radical changes. In particular the War had left the majority of the European Minitstries of Magic in complete shambles, most of the Ministers and the highest ranking officials either dead or incapacitated. For many of the older, pureblood clans this was a time of chaos. For a younger, more radical breed of wizards and witches however, this was the ultimate opportunity to make a difference in the world they were a part of: all the more so when rumors spread that Harry Potter was the descendant of a royal line. It was only a matter of weeks before people started demanding the return of the King.

Harry for his part just wanted to take his NEWTs and get on with his life. He wasn’t particularly interested in becoming King but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be an opportunity to right many of the injustices in the magical world. After a lengthy discussion with Hermione, Harry decided upon being crowned some time after the completion of the NEWTs.

If Harry was honest with himself, the thought about being King was rather surreal. He didn’t give it much thought but before he realized it, NEWTs had passed and Harry was kneeling atop the highest courts of Minas Tirith as Dumbedore placed a crown on his head.

“Tradition dictates that a Numenorean King chooses a new, ELvish name upon becoming king,” Dumbledore had said.

“Er...” answered Harry in somewhat of a daze, “I-I think I’ll decide on that later.”

In practice, it wasn’t as if Harry was given instant power. The various European Ministries were reestablished and elections were held to determine new Ministries of Magic. The various Ministries essentially remained autonomous in the day to day running of things. The Ministries essentially formed a sort f Parliament under the Royal Court which oversaw the governments rather than outright ruled. Still, the newly established Royal Court was the pinnacle of power and t would be held by the line of Potters.

Progress was slow but things were definitely changing for the Wizarding World. The concept of House Elf liberation was introduced for the first time. Naturally, this was resisted by many of the pureblood clans. The change came rather in the House Elves themselves; whereas previously they could be counted on resisting the idea of liberation, the encounter with the Eldar had left many of the House Elves questioning their status in society for the first time. If House Elves started demanding for their freedom en masse, there would be nothing the pureblood families could do.

The status of werewolves was vastly improved as well. Attitudes toward them couldn’t be changed so easily but it was becoming more and more frowned upon to have them barred from employment opportunities because of their afflictions. Improvements in the wolfsbane potion also helped and having Remus Lupin as a High ranking official in the Royal Court was the icing on the cake.

Of course making vast changes throughout the Wizarding World wasn’t all Harry was doing during his time. He spent most of his days in the quiet of the Tower of Ecthelion at the top of Minas Tirith. The isolation of the Palace felt well needed to him and he was glad to be out of the scrutiny of the wizarding public, especially the press. Besides, he was also planning something far more personal.

The day the announcement was made about the engagement of the young king to muggle-born Hermione Jane Granger was considered a tragic day for the many single (and in some cases not so single) witches whom had an eye on the Royal virtue of the king. It was also a signal to the Wizarding World that the time of exclusive pureblood dominance was at an end: they would now bow before a muggle-born queen.

For Harry and Hermione, all of that was trivial. They would soon be marrying each other and in the end that was all that truly mattered. While the Royal couple was mostly in the tower planning for the upcoming wedding, the running of Minas Tirith was placed under the charge of Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom, the two having been appointed as co-stewards under the king. They were the ones who spent much of their time preparing the Royal Capitol for the arrival of the king and queen as well as overseeing several housing and economical projects as a number of wizards and witches had expressed interest in moving into the no longer abandoned city. Also at Ron’s insistence, a Quidditch Stadium was built right next to the city, serving as a practice ground for the National Teams of England (as that was the King’s home country) and Italy (as that was where Minas Tirith was located), with exhibition matches between the two a common crowd drawer.

On a more personal note Ronald Weasley was still dating Luna Lovegood. Strangely endeared by the quirky blonde, Ron was seriously considering proposing some time soon.

The wedding finally took place on a spring day at the very top level of Minas Tirith. Everything went according to plan. Dumbledore conducted the ceremony as the lovely bride that was Hermione was declared queen of Numenor, sealed with a kiss. This was met with thunderous applause from the guests, including some roars from a few non humanoid ones.

“Well now, what do you think?” declared Rauthoron from his perch atop the mountain overlooking the wedding. “I suppose the declaration of the Queen is a cause for rejoicing amongst all species, isn’t it?”

“Hmph,” declared Metimalohe from next to him. “So long as the dragons are left alone, she’s fine by me.”

Rauthoron smirked and said, “If you say so.”

“Yes Harry! Well to go!” declared Ron as he slapped the groom on the back. “And Hermione you look absolutely stunning.”

Hermione smiled and said, “Thank you Ron,” before kissing him on the cheek.

“Thanks for standing up with us, mate,” said Harry. “That really means a lot.”

“Hey, like I would’ve missed that for the world,” said Ron. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s another absolutely stunning girl I’d like to see.” With that, Ron made a beeline straight for Luna whom was just congratulating Luna.

Remus Lupi and Nymphadora Tonks greeted the Royal couple next. Lupin gave Harry a fatherly hug and said, “James, Lily, and Sirius would be so proud of you.”

“I sure hope so,” said Harry.

“I know it,” said Lupin.

“Oh Hermione,” shouted Tonks (standing out in her short, shocking pink hair) as she enveloped the young queen a tight hug. “That was such a wonderful ceremony.”

“I-I’m glad you enjoyed it,” said Hermione.

“Ejoyed it? It brought all these tears to my eyes!” Tonks literally started balling and had to be quieted by Lupin. Tonks was completely overshadowed by the well wishing of the next guest however.

“Harry ‘n Hermione go’ married!” sobbed Hagrid as he blew in his handkerchief. He proceeded to envelope the newlyweds in a bone-crushing hug. “I can still remember when yeh was jus’ this wee baby, Harry. I carried yeh all the way from yeh parents’ house, and look at yeh now!”

“I suppose it has been a long time,” said Harry.

The guests continued to give their blessings to the newlyweds. Professors such as McGonagall and Angnathron gave them rather professional ‘congraulations’ while the Weasleys were more personal (gestures including Molly giving them both teary hugs and chaste kisses from Ginny and Fleur). Neville also gave the hugs as did many of their classmates from Hogwarts.

Finally, Dumbledore decided that the Royal Couple had enough and said, “Everyone, I kno you wish to provide your blessings but perhaps it is about time with gave the King and Queen some privacy.

As the guests started to file out Dumbledore made his way in front of Harry and Hermione. Saying nothing though his eyes twinkled, Dumbledore simply made a low bow before Harry. Harry smiled and returned the bow, so many words spoken in those simple gestures.

* * *

Later at night, there was a whisper over the wind as three voices sounded through, looking over the highest level of Minas Tirith looking down upon the Royal Capital.

“Can you see them James?” asked a feminine voice.

“Of course I can, Lily” answered a masculine voice. “Our son has finally reclaimed the happiness that was robbed from us.”

“My dream is finally a reality,” said Lily. “Harry has restored hope to mankind.”

“Ha! Told ya there was more going on with those two?” declared another voice. “I’ve been seeing them for quite some time and I just knew it was inevitable between them.”

“Yes Sirius we know,” answered James. “Let’s let the kids alone. Let’s go Lily.”

“OK James; so long as we’re always watching over them.”

“Hey! Hey! Don’t leave Padfoot here behind!”

Under the stars Harry and Hermione continued to sway together, the silent music echoing through their ears. “Do you know something?” Hermione whispered into Harry’s ear. “My third wish has come true.”

“Oh, it has, has it?” said Harry with a smirk. Hermione grinned at him before leaning in for a kiss.

“Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach,” whispered Harry.

I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh.

And with that, the two lovers’ lips met once more, under the twilight of the stars.

The End

A/N That’s it! It’s over! I suppose this epilogue was kinda rushed but quite frankly I don’t care at this point. Two years is WAY to long to be working on a fanfic. But I never abandoned it and here it is complete! Woohoo!

On a bit more technical side, all of the Elvish of this fic came from either one of two sites: http://home.netcom.com/~heensle/lang/elvish/elvish.html and http://www.arwen-undomiel.com/elvish/phrases.html.

While I was considering making this my last fic after HBP came out, the plot bunny continues strike meaning that there will indeed be more stories coming from yours truly. Still, I am taking a break from fic writing for a while as this one completely wore me out. Whichever, way expect to see me in a few months with some Harry Potter fics on the way. And wish me luck on my original novel as well.

E. C. R. Potter