A/N: 'Allo. Nothing serious.

Military Decorum, or Lack Thereof

As he was being led through the wood by the ridiculously cheerful blonde manchild Harry couldn't help but notice that he was pulling off acrobatics that were simply not possible.

So running up a tree might not be completely out of the realms of possibility but walking along twigs without falling just… Was.

This guy could balance on a branch so thin that an anorexic squirrel would break it and fall off.

Harry was starting to come to the conclusion that the Prancy McGiggles might not be human. This conclusion was further reinforced when Harry surreptitiously attempted to pull off the stupid fake ears with a stealthy application of magic.

Blondie's girly squeal at having his ears near ripped off was almost completely ignored by Harry as he realised that they were real.

This bloke had actual real pointy ears. He'd heard of some weirdos who went in for that kind of body modification but this was real dedication to his craft.

Unless he really was somewhere utterly removed from Earth and this guy really did have pointy ears. Naturally.

Actually, now that he thought about it that seemed the more likely option. Harry had heard of Occam's Razor before and considered it completely useless in wizarding life. He had instead formulated Harry's Combine Harvester which stated 'If Harry Potter is in any way involved in an event then assume the most bizarre and convoluted set of circumstances is in fact the closest to the truth'.

Well, shit. Some kind of alternate reality it was then.

The nearly earless wonder came over to Harry and started speaking quickly in what Harry assumed was annoyance. He'd probably guessed the source of the ear-pulling event.

Harry ignored him. It wasn't as if the wrath of some guy armed with medieval weaponry was going to be anything more than a vague amusement.

The guy then sighed as if in resignation and smiled at him indulgently before turning back and leading off again.

If someone had done that to Harry they would be hanging upside down by now. By their ears. Which would be attached firmly to their feet. If they were lucky. This guy just smiled?

Perhaps being a kid for a while wasn't so bad. No one was imminently trying to kill him and he seemed to be allowed to abuse anyone around him to his heart's content. They didn't even need to be criminals.

Finally he was led to another group of the House-Elf-eared pretty boys. He should really come up with a better designation.

Dracos. That sounded right.

He looked around the camp and saw about ten Dracos now peering at him in obvious interest. Some of them were women. Hot women.

Not Dracos. Definitely not Dracos. It was a bit boring but perhaps 'Elves' would do as a name for now.

Blondie was saying something to the other 'Elves' and Harry didn't know what it was but he got the general idea. The presence of the words 'Blondie's a moron' in the discussion suggested he was explaining Harry's presence.

He soon found himself surrounded by the 'Elves' most of whom were fussing and cooing at him as if he was some kind of pigeon. Ordinarily this would have pissed him right off. In this particular situation there were some mitigating circumstances.

He was being hugged by possibly the most impressive babe since that time he'd 'succumbed' to Gabrielle's charms on her eighteenth birthday.

Not one to allow such an opportunity to go to waste he immediately grasped at her funbags and gave them a very pleasant squeeze.

She pushed back off him her eyes wide with shock and he stared back innocently. Judging by the reaction that look must have been pretty devastating in its effectiveness as she near enough melted into a puddle of warm goo and the other 'Elves' upped their fussing even more.

One of the 'Elves' pulled down his hood. Possibly to ruffle his hair in congratulations and suddenly silence descended.

Then the unintelligible gabbling returned with a fury and he felt hands reach for his ears.

In a moment of terrible clarity Harry realised just what had happened. He was a Drac. Uh. 'Elf'. And he was a child 'Elf'.

He grabbed a fistful of his hair and held it in front of his face, breathing a sigh of relief when he discovered he wasn't blonde.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Blondie was the odd one out. Most of the others had hair ranging from dark reddish brown to almost Weasley red. His own remained black and for that the world should be grateful. If anything had pissed with his hair he would tear down the very foundations of the world in his vengeance. He had grown a little attached to it over the years. Plus the ladies found it irresistible.

Almost immediately the 'Elves' started speaking to him again, this time in a different language. Probably. Still completely unintelligible but in a different way. This one sounded like it had been made by a gay welsh guy specifically for the purpose of writing flowery poetry.

He rolled his eyes at them. If he was in an alternative reality where there were completely different races then it was obvious none of the language he or they knew would share any roots.

Of course they probably didn't realise he was from another world. Probably didn't get the Sci-fi channel in Medieval fairyland.

Not that there was any way to communicate this to them. He decided that the most effective way was to simply spend the week or two to gather a basic understanding of the language then find out just what kind of shit he'd stepped into.

The thought that he might not have stepped into shit never even entered his head. He was Harry Potter, every step was into shit. Long years of experience left him well prepared for it.

Basically the best plan was to get them to hurry up and take him to their town or tree-city or mushroom castle where he could get to work on information gathering. Unfortunately they were hell-bent on babying him. He heartily discouraged them when they got too handsy by silently sending stinging hexes at them. Well, at the guys anyway. He had no problems being felt up by the hot Weasley-Veela cross. Her designation for the time being would be Weasla. Even better, she seemed to have taken a shine to him. Result.

He took advantage of the situation to cop a few more feels. It was only fair. And they seemed to be taking their sweet time about getting a move on. Was this supposed to be some kind of military patrol? If it was they were truly abysmal. He could have killed them a hundred times over by now, he could have had allies waiting in ambush. Completely oblivious. Idiots.

Had it not been for Weasla's ever enjoyable company he would have been contemplating just abandoning them when they finally decided to return, probably, to their home.

It was a long walk and made all the longer by the fact that all of the 'Elves' acted like Blondie. Constantly prancing and laughing and singing. Their seemingly perpetual good cheer was enough to make Harry feel a little ill.

He'd always been suspicious of cheerful people. Cheerful people obviously had something planned.

Strangely the 'Elves' didn't live in a giant Mushroom or in an arboreal city. They lived in a cave. That was utterly disappointing. That said there was actually some magic to be seen here. The doors through which they passed opened and closed using magic and he noticed that when they closed they also locked fast.

That was a slight concern, but nothing too major. The doors might be charmed but he could easily blast a hole in the cave wall. Not that he'd ever need to. He could just Apparate back out into the woods if need be.

He was steered through the twisting maze of walkways and caverns, taking care to commit the entire layout to memory. You never know when you need to know the best place to set an ambush. Eventually they came to a throne room.

It was definitely a throne room. It had a throne in it. A big one. Sitting slouched in the rustic looking throne seemingly made of a living tree was yet another 'Elf'.

He looked the almost exactly the same as Blondie. And minus the hair they both looked very similar to all the other male 'Elves'. It was like they were a clone race or something. He was also running out of designations for them all, they had no defining features of note. It was getting frustrating. How could he keep track of the battlefield without tags for the other combatants?

Harry decided the bloke on the throne would be Luscious. He had the look of Lucius Malfoy about him, only even more so. It was curiously fitting.

Blondie strode to the man who glanced down at Harry condescendingly. Most people back home had learned that Harry didn't deal well with condescension. He made an actual physical effort to restrain himself. Physical violence rarely went down well in first contact scenarios.

Blondie spoke to the boss 'Elf' and once again Harry heard him explain that he was a moron in a very reasonable tone of voice then Lucy's eyes widened in shock much as they other 'Elves' had. His features immediately softened and he beckoned gently for Harry to come forward.

Harry rolled his eyes at that reaction again. Perhaps if he ever got back home he should consider doing his law enforcement job in the guise of a small child. People apparently loved that shit.

Nevertheless he walked forward, thoroughly tired of the coddling by now. It had been at least an hour since he'd had an opportunity to feel up the red headed babe. That was entirely too long to go without something to cheer him up.

"I'm guessing you don't understand me either, right?" he said flatly, once again reminded just how absurdly pretty his voice now was. His reward was a very slight furrowing of the brows. "Thought so," he muttered.

Lucy spoke again to Blondie briefly, then to Weasla and finally said something to Harry. Then it was clear that the meeting was over and he was dismissed.

Blondie tapped him on the shoulder, never knowing how close he came to losing an arm, and led him off.

He just needed to make it a couple of weeks. Then he could explain that they were all acting like idiots and had no idea how to conduct a military operation. Then he could go on his way and try to find a way home.

He wasn't sure they'd survive that long.