Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter or The Hobbit. This will be the movie version as it has been several years since I read the book.
Used Elvish name generators for Harry's names.

Chapter 1

"A relic of Mordor." Galadriel stated in shock as they all stared at the revealed blade.

"A Morgul blade." Elrond withdrew his hand.

"Made for the Witch King of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell the men of the north took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it in the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried him, within a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

"This is not possible. A powerful spell lies upon those tombs, they cannot be opened."

"What proof do we have that this weapon came from Angmar's grave?" Saruman interrupted.

"I have none."

"Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen, a dagger from a bygone age has been found and a human sorcerer who dares to call himself the Necromancer has taken up residence in a ruined fortress. It is not so very much after all. The question of this dwarvish company troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced Gandalf, I do not feel I condone such a quest. If…"

"Burying your head in the sand Saruman?" The Council looked up, staring into the shadows to see who had spoken. A youngish man stepped forward and stared at them all with piercing emerald eyes. Black hair curled about his shoulders as he moved towards them, deep red robe swishing around black booted feet. He carried no staff but only an idiot would not recognise him for what he was, one of the Istari.

"Uirebon." Elrond stated his elvish name in shock and the youngest looking wizard smiled at him.

"Greeting Lord Elrond and to you Lady Galadriel." He bowed slightly to them before looking at his fellow wizards.

"What brings you away from your duty Harissairon?" Saruman demanded and emerald eyes focused on him. The Istari who had once been the mortal wizard Harry Potter stared at his so-called leader.

Hari leant against the wall with his arms crossed. "Your blindness Saruman. While you have enjoyed your peace I have kept close watch over the Rhun and many other things. I know that two of our number have lost their way in those lands and that even you have visited several times Saruman. I know that their armies are building slowly but surely into numbers that will soon be a threat to the other free lands. I also know that in the High Fells there are empty tombs…nine to be exact." He stated coldly.

Gandalf closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was worse than he could have ever imagined. "No human Necromancer could command the nine."

"Only Sauron." Hari agreed.

"And where is your proof?" Saruman demanded.

"My word is not good enough for you? One has to wonder why you are trying so hard to deny this." Hari shook his head. "The Dragon is still alive, I have seen it too. Gandalf is right that he must be destroyed before he can join forces with the Enemy." He had never liked Saruman but he was beginning to actively dislike him now.

"Or perhaps you simply wish to see enemies where there are none." Saruman dismissed him and turned back to the others. Hari glared but then glanced at Gandalf who raised an eyebrow and he nodded, fading back into the shadows. If a group of dwarves were brave enough to face the dragon then he would offer aide, after all it was on his way home.

Hari walked towards the Misty Mountains, staff now in hand as a walking stick. The hood of his cloak kept the misting rain from soaking his hair and turning it into a birds nest like when he was a teenager. Walking across the world made him miss cars and brooms sometimes but after thousands of years he was used to walking or riding everywhere. Despite being several hours behind the dwarves he wasn't rushing, he would know if they ran into danger. For now he was content to be alone and enjoy the weather, even with the rain it was nicer than what he was used to these days. Three days later he began the treacherous climb into the mountains and wondered at the dwarves sanity, they just had to take the most dangerous path through the mountains. The path was steep and slippery thanks to the perpetual rain and the narrowness didn't help either. There was nowhere to really camp for the night and while he could go for weeks with very little sleep he doubted the company could. Of course the next night things just had to get worse with a massive thunderstorm. He grumbled under his breath and pulled his cloak tighter as he walked, the wind trying to dislodge his hood from his head and him from the path. It made walking almost impossible and he knew he had to find or make some sort of shelter. Of course it was then that he sensed the danger the company was in and sighed but kept pushing on, his magic spreading around him protectively.

Not too long later he found himself in a dry cave…..an empty dry cave. He knew they had been here mere minutes before. He tapped his staff against the stone and heard the odd echo. It appeared they had fallen into a goblin trap, one he had no desire to trigger himself so he set off to find another entry. Thankfully it didn't take long to find another path into the mountain and he moved inside silently and all but invisible. When he found the company he grimaced as he caught the end of the goblin King's song. He moved along in the shadows, getting into place and ready to intervene once the chance presented itself. He tensed when the torture of the youngest dwarf was called for, spotting the two young Princes easily as the dark haired one pressed closer to the blonde. Hari's grip tightened on his staff, magic swirling dangerously around him even as he spotted two older dwarves shifting to hide another younger one. He listened as Thorin Oakenshield confronted the goblins until a fight broke out. As the dwarven king went down Harissairon smashed the butt of his staff into the stone, releasing his magic in a gold wave that sent the goblins flying. "Fight! Stand and fight dwarves of Erebor!" He yelled even as he moved into the light. The goblins cowered away from him, able to feel the lethal intent behind his power and had any looked at his right hand they would have seen an ornate gold ring set with a stone. A ball of light formed at the top of his staff as he motioned for the dwarves to move quickly. Thankfully they didn't stop to ask questions as the group fled down the paths, fighting goblins as they went. Hari led them through the dark towards the safety of daylight and suddenly they were out in the light and stumbling down the mountainside until they came to a stop in a clearing.

"Who are you?" Thorin demanded.

"Harissairon. Gandalf asked me to ensure you made it across the mountains."

"You're the red wizard!" The dark haired prince announced and Hari nodded.

"That is what they call me." He agreed as he counted the group. "But where is your fourteenth member?"

"Bilbo!" Bofur cried in alarm and they began arguing over when he had last been seen. Hari was rather surprised when a hobbit emerged from the trees, he looked rather dirty and scraped but otherwise uninjured.

"Now that you are all here we should move on. I would prefer to be off the mountain before the sun sets and the goblins can pursue us." While tired and sore the group knew he was right so they got up and began moving downhill through the trees. Savage howls in the distance made them move even faster until they came to the edge of a cliff. "Into the trees!" Hari yelled, grabbing Ori and boosting him up into the low branches. Knowing it was the only option the others began scrambling upwards. Hari moved and grabbed the hobbit, carrying him into the braches even as small hands clung fearfully to him. "Alright there?" He asked as he set the hobbit onto a branch, receiving a shaky nod in response. Seconds' later massive wargs slammed into the trees, trying to reach the group.

Hari glared down at the monstrous creatures and unleashed his magic again, that golden light flowing over the wargs and they howled before collapsing, dead or almost dead if they were farther out. There was a reason he guarded the borders between the various kingdoms and Rhun, there was a greater need for tight border control since those people tended to side with Mordor and he was the best of the Istari to meet violence. After all they may call him the sixth but he was not truly one of them, no matter how much Saruman liked to try and control him. As proved when he had been forced to deal with the two blue wizards, the Istari could be killed, he could not. He was as different to them as elves were to men but he liked being seen as one of them, of belonging. He was closest to Gandalf and his friend, his brother, had asked him to protect this small company so he would protect them with all of his power. Gasps of shock at the display of his power made him glance at them, seeing wariness and even fear in some eyes but not from the younger ones or even the hobbit huddled beside him. Instead they seemed grateful for his actions. A roar of rage made them all look to see more wargs, these had orcs riding them, and at their front a large white warg with a massive pale orc on its back.

"Azog." Thorin whispered in shock. "It cannot be."


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