Disclaimer: I own the plot, though I apologize if it's been done before. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling; Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Title: Elda Kundu, Kurutar – There And Back Again: A Wizard's Tale
Author: Jess S
Summary: During the summer after fourth year, Harry makes an innocent wish that takes him to a different world. He needs to find a way home, but first he has to decide where his home really is... (LOTR/HP)
Recap of the story, thus far (setting): In the Harry Potter universe, Voldemort has been resurrect, Cedric Diggory is dead as Pettigrew's hands, Minster Fudge is being cravenly foolish, Dumbledore has called "the old crowd" together, and Harry is stuck at his relatives' house for the summer. Up through Bk4. On Arda, Bilbo Baggins great-great-grand-parents haven't been born yet FAR pre-Hobbit, King Isildur has been dead for some time and the One Ring has been all but forgotten by the mortal world.
Dedication: To all everyone on the TandBA mailing list that waited so long for this, and offered to help with only a little opposition.
AN: Hi everyone! This is the beginning of the revised version of my Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings Crossover; "There and Back Again," which is also posted on . If you have not read what's posted under that name yet, I'd rather you didn't, but if you really want to squander your time go ahead.
Prologue Completed: 4/1/2008
Elda Kundu, Kurutar
There And Back Again: Part I – A Wizard's Tale
Part 1 – On Middle Earth
A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings Crossover
Prologue: Blow Out the Candles
By Jess S
Privet Drive, Surrey – July 30, 1995
If you traveled to Privet Drive, located in Surrey, London, you would probably find the place rather dull. Actually, you would probably find it exceptionally dull, because there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it. In fact, it is probably the most normal street you will ever find.
And to all outward appearances, the fourth house on the street is no exception. This was the residence of the Dursley family; a family so obsessively normal that they are almost abnormal. Mr. Vernon Dursley is a large man with nearly no neck, who wears his most boring ties to work at the Grunnings firm in London, which makes drills. There he would sit at his desk with his back to the window and consider it a good day if he yelled at one or more of his co-workers. Mrs. Petunia Dursley is a tall, nosey housewife with a long, crane-like neck. She keeps her house immaculately clean, cooks superb meals and dotes on her son; unconditionally believing that he's as perfect as can be. Their spoiled and offensively overweight son, Dudley Dursley attends the same private school that his father attended in his youth. There he is just as much a bully as he was when he was in primary school.
But, despite the almost abnormal normality of it all, number four Privet Drive was an exception to normalcy's rule on the street. For inside this two-story house with it's perfectly coordinated gardens and it's frightfully dull shutters lived four individuals. The three Dursley, who were perfectly happy within its walls... and their nephew, Harry Potter, who had never been the least bit happy there.
Granted, Harry's life was somewhat more pleasant there now, as he now had the smallest bedroom to himself instead of the cupboard under the stairs, where he had slept every night for the first eleven years of his life. Another plus was that Harry was now allowed to keep his school stuff and belongings, and do his homework, in his room so long as he never spoke of it or anything like it outside that room while in the Dursley's residence.
Now most would find that idea rather strange.
One, it meant that Harry wanted to do his homework, and two; it meant that his relatives didn't want him to. Undoubtedly the polar opposite of the situation most children, and teenagers in particular, find at home.
But Harry was not a normal teenager, as you might be able to tell from walking into his room. For his bedroom, with all of his belongings inside, didn't fit in with the rest of the house anymore than Harry himself fit in with the Dursleys.
There were an extraordinary number of unusual things in his room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of the bed, with a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, assorted spell books and similar items inside. Rolls of parchment took up a large part of his desk, and a large, empty cage took up the rest.
Seem odd yet?
Well, there is actually a very simple, yet very complicated explanation for all of this.
Harry Potter is a wizard. An under-age wizard, which was part of the reason he had to stay with his relatives every summer when he wasn't attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The second part of the explanation is that not only is Harry a wizard, but he is also not a normal wizard. He is the Boy-Who-Lived. He had been responsible for the Dark Lord Voldemort's first downfall, and is one of the few that presently believed that that same lord had returned. He could not really believe otherwise; because he had seen it.
As Harry was considered by many to be Voldemort's 'greatest enemy,' his blood had been needed as an essential element for the magical ceremony cast only a few short weeks before. The purpose for the ceremony, as Harry had found out, was to create a new body for the Dark Lord's demonic spirit, the only thing that had survived his first meeting with the Potter's child.
Harry had only just managed to escape death at the newly resurrected Dark Lord's wand that day. However, the one who had accompanied him, the other Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory, had not been so lucky.
At the moment, Harry was staring at the clock on his nightstand, which currently read 11:45 PM. This was, in a way, a tradition for Harry; for it was presently the thirtieth of July, and his birthday was fifteen minutes away.
This tradition had really been rather pointless in his youth, as the Dursleys would never make it an enjoyable experience. If he was lucky they would not remember, and he would not have to listen to them talk on and on about how grateful he should be to them, while they handed him more hand-me-downs.
But when he'd started attending Hogwarts that had changed. Now, his friends always made it somewhat enjoyable, because they always made sure he heard from them, and they always sent him emotive gifts...
Harry suddenly looked away from the clock, and out the window, to see what appeared to be a veritable flock of owls soaring towards his window. Needless to say, he was startled, but nonetheless opened the window all the way and jumped back as they flew in.
The first few, among whom he could see his own snowy white owl, Hedwig, flew in and perched themselves atop Hedwig's cage, on his desk. Harry quickly dashed over to the desk and scooped the many rolls of parchment off, and pulled out the chair, so some could land there. He dumped the parchment in his trunk, to find two owls perched on the rim, and the other's had landed on his bed, most of them on the rails. One perched on the windowsill. A moment later utter silence reigned throughout the smallest bedroom at number four Privet Drive.
Harry stared at his late night visitors. He recognized a few of them. His own owl, Hedwig, was perched atop her cage beside Errol, the Weasley family's major owl, Hermes, Ron's older brother (one of them); Percy's, and Pig, who was the only owl who hadn't landed, and was instead flying around his room, up by the ceiling, excitedly. Another owl looked like one of the Hogwarts' messengers, and another looked like a Ministry owl... but the... seven others he didn't know.
Shaking his head, he went and relieved Hedwig of her relatively heavy burden. A letter and a package. Opening it, he smiled, and began reading.
Happy Birthday! How has your summer been so far? I do hope your relatives aren't treating you poorly. I've been exchanging letters with Victor for most of the summer, and I've been following the Daily Prophet – to keep myself up-to-date in the Wizarding world (and make sure that 'Beetle' keeps her word). Would you like me to send you a subscription?
How has your scar been lately? Are you sleeping well? If you aren't, you should probably write the Headmaster, and ask him for some dreamless sleeping potions and what-not. I'm sorry if I sound like a worry-wart, it's just that there's only a month left till school starts, and, as much as you don't like staying with your relatives, you should try to enjoy the holiday – and I doubt that's really possible if you can't get a decent night's sleep.
I do hope you like your present.
I made one for Ron too. I know both of you are always saying that I put far too much stress on learning, scholarship and what-not, but this should be exceedingly useful... as long as it continues to serve its functions.
On the whole, this is the Hogwarts library. Through the combination of a number of perfunctory replication and reproduction charms and the careful construction of Monsieur Édouard Mots's theories of the practical application of refined magical publishing -- which I don't doubt you care not a wit about -- I copied and combined every book in the school's library into one, single book. I even included the Restricted Section!
But don't tell anyone, okay? -- Ron in particular! And I'd rather you didn't bother Madam Pince, so if there's anything wrong with yours, owl me.
Ron suggested that we meet up in Diagon Alley again, the third weekend of the month. Can you make it? Will your aunt and uncle let you come? I really hope you can. If not, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express on September first!
Harry glanced at the magical tome and shook his head. As peculiar as he found it, he could only imagine what Ron's reaction probably was. Still she was right; it could be very useful. Although how she had managed to convince Madame Pince to allow it was beyond him.
He smiled, shaking his head before turning to catch Pig and alleviate him of Ron's package, then he relieved the other owls he recognized as part of the Weasley family -- Errol & Hermes -- of their burdens. Afterwards, he unfolded the letter Pig had been carrying, and began reading;
How's your summer been? The Dursleys' haven't been too rotten have they? Mum and Dad said you I could invite you to the Burrow for the last two weeks of the month, that way we can go to Diagon Alley together. If you want, I could try to convince them to let you come earlier. Shouldn't be all that hard. No offense, but they really don't like your relatives! Anyway, don't let them get you down!
Did Hermione really send you that big book for your birthday? It's awful strange (don't tell her I said that!) I can't get mine to work.
Anyway, I hope you like your presents; everyone wanted to send you one. I hope you don't mind, but I think my family's decided to adopt you. (Dad says we should try to make up for some of the stuff you'd get from everyone who's tried to send the 'Boy Who Lived' presents over the years, but couldn't get through your wards.)
Honestly, I think they just all feel guilty for different reasons. I mean, Dad took us to the World Cup and the Death Eaters attacked there. Bill was supposed to be there with us, but got called to work, like, right before you showed up. Charlie helped bring the Hungarian Horntail to Hogwarts for the Tournament. Percy's been a prat the last few months, but it WAS his boss that... you know. Fred and George...I don't know, did they prank you, or something? And I think Ginny might still have a crush on you, plus the whole Chamber of Secrets thing.
Anyway, Gin made us all color the ribbons differently, so that you know who they're from without having to worry about tags (they're usually a waste of time (the tags) – because they fall off during delivery 80 of the time!)
- White – Mum & Dad
- Red – Fred & George (be careful when you open that one, they actually found someone to back Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, so they've made a bunch of new stuff for it, and I'm not sure how safe it all is.)
- Gold – Me
- Orange – Percy
- Pink – Ginny
With, actually I don't know what owl's they're using;
- Dark Green – Charlie
- Light Green – Bill
There are notes with the packages too, but I didn't want you to be too shocked by whatever Fred & George sent you some of the presents they've given me for my birthday...
Well, anyway, hope to hear from you soon!
Harry shook his head, and, chuckling, turned to the first package. He smiled and picked up the box with a white ribbon. Upon opening it, he found a package of fudge, and another package, which held a chocolate-frosted cake with the words 'Happy Birthday Harry!' decorating the top. When he opened the cake box, fifteen candles appeared on the cake and lit themselves, and he could hear the Weasley's singing, with the volume obviously turned down – she'd probably figured that it'd be rather late when he got this, and didn't want him to get in trouble with the Dursleys.
"Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday deeaar Harrry...
Happy Birthday to you!"
He smiled, touched more deeply by what was probably a combination of rather simple charms than most would willingly admit. Seeing that the candles didn't melt, so they wouldn't harm the cake, he placed it on his bedside table.
Still smiling, he picked up another present; this one was a small box with a pink ribbon, 'Ginny,' Harry recalled. Carefully undoing the delicate ribbon, he peeled the parchment back to unveil a small wooden box, which was actually very charming in its own right, due to the impressive skill demonstrated in the carving of the woodwork. When he picked the box up a key appeared in the keyhole along the side, so he turned it and then opened the lid. Inside was a small crystal ball. Curious, he carefully removed the ball from its cushioned container and was somewhat surprised when a translucent version of the youngest Weasley's head materialized within the globe.
"Hi Harry!" the hazel-eyed redhead smiled, "This is an Alitum Globe. It's like a penseive, except easier to travel with. Ron mentioned that you might be having trouble sleeping because of nightmares, and I thought this might help. I have one. It helped me a lot after the Chamber..." the young witch blushed that had started at the tips of her ears began to expand downward and into her freely freckled cheeks, "I hope you like it! To use it, all that you have to do is get into a comfortable position, hold it in front of you with both hands. Take deep breaths, and just... think. I know it sounds foolish, but it really does work! To look back at what went into the globe you just hold it in front of your face, in the palm of one hand, and say, 'Reminiscori', then it will show you everything from the most recent one, backward until you tell it to stop. To stop it, you just say, 'Cease'... Actually, to start it, the first time, you just say 'Reminiscori' but you should add a password, so you say 'Reminiscori' – whatever your password is. That way, no one can look at it without your permission... To change the password, you just say; 'Abeo password – what your current password is,' then you say 'password – what the new password is." she smiled, "I hope you like it, bye! And Happy Birthday!"
Then the sphere was clear once again.
Harry stared at it for a few minutes, rather awed, before smiling. It was a very thoughtful gift. And it had to work fairly well, considering how quickly Ginny had seemed to recover from the Chamber of Secrets. Still smiling, he carefully placed it back in its box, locking it, and placing the key in the compartment that had appeared along the side.
He then turned and picked up another present. It was Percy's present – orange ribbon – and it looked and felt like a book. Unwrapping it, he found that it was just that, times two. But it wasn't as dull as he'd originally expected, because one was a book on Pre-Auror training, 'Constant Vigilance! by Alastor Moody.'
Because of Crouch Jr., Harry had never really met the man who was supposed to teach DADA last school year, but judging from the act Crouch held as an imposter to look unsuspicious, Mad-Eye Moody would have probably been a pretty good teacher. Who knows? Maybe they'd have the actual Moody for DADA in fifth year. But it'd probably be pretty interesting to see the man's opinions of his former job. Another book seemed to be an Apparition-prep book.
Setting the book aside – it didn't have a card, just a bookmark that said 'Happy Birthday' –, next to Hermione's tome, he picked up another gift.
This one had a rather odd shape, that and the red ribbon left no doubt in Harry's mind that this was the twin's gift. He got up and walked to the middle of the room, sitting down on the floor and setting the gift on the floor before cautiously undoing the ribbon and pulling back the parchment wrapping. Inside he found a collection of boxes that were all labeled as; 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes!'.
Going through them, Harry grinned. The twins seemed to have sent him a bit of everything. Fake wands, trick sweets: you name it, they had it! Shaking his head, he picked up the note that was on top of them.
The Founders, Inventors and Managers of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, would hereby like to wish our 'anonymous patron' a wicked birthday!
Feel free to use these to ensure that it is!
Sincerely Fred & George Weasley
PS - Don't worry, we haven't forgotten our promise! We'll buy ickle Ronniekins a new robe when we go to Diagon Alley at the end of the summer!
Harry chuckled, before turning to another owl. This one was... a rather strange one. The present it was carrying was from one of the Weasley's; a small box with a light green ribbon – which meant that it was from Bill. He quickly unwrapped the small package, to reveal what appeared to be a miniature trunk, with a glowing red button on top.
He offered a water dish to the obviously worn out owl; who hooted gratefully, before turning back to the tiny trunk.
Harry looked at it for a moment, and then – ignoring the little voice in the back of his head – he pushed the little red button.
The button went dark, then the whole trunk began to glow, rising into the air, and a moment later a gleaming, standard-sized trunk was on the floor in front of him.
The Boy-Who-Lived blinked, before opening the missive that appeared on top of the trunk.
I thought this might come in handy. It's a Gringotts' trunk – bottomless and weightless! It can carry/hold just about anything, and you can make it shrink/expand to any size, from any size you want. It's weightless no matter what you put in it, and you'll never have trouble finding stuff inside it! It also has the standard features;
- Watertight/proof & it will float
- Fireproof (If you were trapped in a burning house you could shut yourself inside it and come out perfectly fine! There's a key to the latch on the inside, so you wouldn't be stuck there. And as it's designed for the safe storage of plants, pets, etc. it provides oxygen if it detects life inside...)
- There's a 'notice-me-not' feature you can activate too. Basically it just means that people would see it, but they wouldn't pay it any mind. So if someone broke into your house to steal stuff (Muggle or Wizard) they wouldn't even think to look in the trunk or take it! Only people who are looking for it specifically might notice it.
- You can tell it to change the crests whenever you want to. So if you want it to look like a Hogwarts trunk now, you just put your wand in the key hole, picture the Hogwarts' crest in your mind, and it will change from the Gringotts crests to that... If you want to change it afterwards, you can. You probably should change it from the Gringotts' crest. The Goblin's are very suspicious creatures by nature, so it's just easier to try avoiding conflict. You can come up with a personalized crest too. You can make one yourself, or let it think of one, just put your want and the keyhole, and think of... either what you want the crest to be, or you.
Hope it helps. Happy Birthday!
PS: There's a chain mechanism inside it too, for when you want to shrink it down to locket size. It'll come out so you can wear it.
Harry stared at the trunk, more than a little awed. Now that would definitely come in handy! He shook his head, thought about it for a minute, and then started moving his other belongings from his Hogwarts trunk and around his room, into his new trunk.
A few minutes later, everything was inside that trunk, with the exception of the parcels each owl still carried, and the birthday cake, which was now on top of his closed school trunk.
He then turned to another peculiar owl. It was a large owl, around fifteen inches (38.1cm), with a wingspan of about forty inches (101.6cm). Its feathers were a deep shade of brown with darker markings all over its body, and it had dark brown tufts near the center of its forehead and a light brown facial disk. It blinked at him with large yellow eyes as he offered the water dish to it (Bill's owl had already left), before hooting in thanks and bending over to drink.
He then opened the package it carried, which was also from one of the Weasleys, it had a dark green ribbon – so it was from Charlie. He pulled the note out, and read.
How are you? Doing well I hope. It's been a bit dull down here, I think the Dragons are hibernating or something – the hot weather sometimes knocks them out for awhile. Anyway, Happy Birthday! I thought these might come in handy, and they're pretty cool too!
PS: There's a personalization charm on them, so they'll reshape themselves and grow or shrink to fit you as soon as you touch them. Plus, they're spelled to grow with you – and they can endure almost anything!
Harry blinked and then began unrolling the paper package.
Inside was a pair of dragon-hide boots, gloves and what looked like a wand holster. He picked the boots, which looked rather large, up, and almost dropped them when they began to shrink. A moment later they looked like they'd fit him perfectly. When he picked up the gloves and the wand holster, they did the same thing.
Harry shook his head. He had to hand it to the Weasley's they sure knew what could come in handy! These weren't cheep, but Charlie probably had the advantage of working with Dragons too.
He shook his head, carefully placing the items in his new trunk. Then, he decided to try personalizing the trunk, like Bill had said. He pulled out his wand and put it in the keyhole, and closed his eyes, trying to think of what he pictured himself to be like.
He didn't see it, but after a moment the trunk began to glow again, and the medal crests began to change. Finally, they turned into a golden lion, with a silver snake wrapped loosely around its neck, behind his initials; H.P., which were embossed atop them in a white-gold, and a deeper, golden lightning bolt was behind all of them.
Harry opened his eyes a moment later, and frowned upon seeing the lightning bolt.
It seemed like he could never escape it...
With a sigh, he willed the trunk to shrink, and it turned into a necklace with a miniature-trunk/locket on it, just like Bill said it would, and he snatched it out of midair with little difficulty (thanks to his Seeker reflexes) and put it on. This was helpful for one thing at the moment, at least now he didn't have to worry about the Dursleys taking his stuff away. They hadn't been that bad so far, but they'd threatened to lock it up a few times. He walked back over to his bed again, picking his birthday cake up along the way, and set it on his bedside table.
He glanced at the clock again; 11:55.
In five minutes, he'd be fifteen-years-old.
Before he could think of anything else, he doubled over as waves of raw pain erupted from his scar. He knew what this was, his scar – a remnant from his first encounter with the Dark Lord, on the Halloween night after his first birthday, when he'd survived the Avada Kedavra curse, cast by Voldemort himself – was, as far as he could tell, a permanent connection to the Dark Lord. Whenever Voldemort was; nearby, exceptionally pleased or exceptionally angry, Harry felt it through his scar. But that knowledge didn't help him.
The pain was worse this time. It got worse every time it happened. He hadn't told anyone that. He also had yet to tell anyone that Voldemort himself knew about the link, and had become accustom to 'playing' with him from time to time.
This, undoubtedly, was Voldemort's idea of a birthday present.
He fought it.
He couldn't let him win.
He heard his watch beeping faintly. Midnight.
He was fifteen years old.
He had to make his wish.
On his birthday cake.
He staggered slightly as he pulled himself over toward the head of the bed, until he was sitting right up by his bedside table, looking down at his birthday cake.
He could just barely see it through the pain, a collection of tiny, flickering lights.
"M-Make a wish, H-Harry," he muttered weakly to himself, and he did...
He wished the pain would stop.
He wanted to be some place he could be free of it, and feel truly safe, and loved.
And before he could finish that thought, the pain from his scar intensified, so that he could see or feel nothing else, but as he was dragged into that pain... he just barely managed to heave a great breath in, and blow.
The candles' flames flickered, and went out.
Perhaps it was the wish. The intense emotion behind it may have triggered his own magic as it had not done since the summer before last. Maybe Mrs. Weasley's traditional Wizarding birthday cake had a little more magic in it than she thought. It might have even been the terrible pain Voldemort was sending his way – for he was sending that pain magically and thereby sending Harry magic. Or it may have just been destiny.
Whatever it was, it made the candle's he'd blow out start to glow.
But Harry didn't see the candles glow.
And he didn't feel himself rising off the floor and up into the magic-charged air...
Caras Galadhon, 98 TA
Lady Galadriel sighed as she made her way into the grove where her mirror lay dormant, as it had, in truth, for many, many years. It was truly only force of habit that brought her back every day. Habit, and duty.
Embarenya had changed long in this past century with the Dark Lord's Fall, and it would undoubtedly do so once again. But, for now, both the Mirror and the world it viewed were, for the most part, hibernating.
She moved over to the fountain on the far side of the pool, picking up the silver pitcher and filling it, she then walked back over to her mirror, slowly pouring the crystalline liquid in with an ease and grace bought by centuries of practice. When it was properly filled, she set the pitcher aside, and stood in front of the mirror again.
Galadriel gazed into its silvery depths awaiting any images it might offer. It showed some of the past she knew, and some of a past she did not.
After a short time, she shook her head, and began to draw back from the mirror. Suddenly a new ripple broke its surface. She blinked in surprise, returning her attention back to the mirror, as the image began to clear.
A moment later a happy, young, human family appeared in the silver cast. A young woman with brilliant red locks and green-eyes, and a young, raven-haired man with a peculiar contraption on his face, playing with a beautiful baby. The child had the father's hair and the mother's eyes. They sat in an elegantly furnished room, laughing and smiling.
The Lady of Lothlórien smiled softly as she watched what appeared to be a typical evening for the young family. However, that smile, was quickly replaced by a frown.
The Mirror usually allowed her to view the setting before the actual event that was important, at least when it was as clear as this. The images were rarely clear, but anything as clear as this, was very important. And this wonderful scene of a perfect, happy family, was the perfect setting for a tragedy...
The royal elleth was drawn out of her thoughts as both of the child's parents in the vision looked up, apparently having heard something, and the man rose to his feet, the woman quickly following, holding her child protectively.
The man moved out of sight, and a moment later a look of alarm crossed the woman's face as she spun around, and the vision switched to show the young man in front of her, turning as she closed the door. Then the vision switched back to the woman as she held her child tightly, as a burst of green light slammed the door open.
That light, Galadriel sensed, had been a malevolent curse, which was only confirmed by the grief and terror in the young woman's eyes as she, after placing her child on the floor, partially hidden, turned toward the door as a new man, a dark man, entered.
This man was indeed very dark, and very evil. Evil enough that the Lady of Lórien momentarily wondered if this was a vision of some time past, and this a family that Sauron had handled personally.
But no, it couldn't be. As evil as the man was, he didn't seem as wicked as she remembered, and knew, the Dark Lord of Mordor to be.
Furthermore, the home these people lived in looked nothing like any home she'd seen in the world of Men.
'So it must be a vision of the future... or another world.' She thought, fighting to remain emotionally detached from the first compelling vision she'd received in decades.
As strange as it may sound, Galadriel had occasionally been offered glimpses of other worlds, but they had never been as clear, or terrible, as this.
All this flew through the immortal's mind as the woman pleaded with the dark man, clearly begging him to not harm her son.
The dark man listened to the woman for a moment, evidently finding her pleas quite amusing, but when she turned toward a nearby table – to grab a slender, willow stick, Galadriel noted – he raised a long yew stick he'd been carrying. The dark man then annunciated two words with practiced precision; and the appearance of a cruel smile was the only feature on his face that wasn't shadowed by his hood.
A burst of green light, identical to the one that had blasted the door down and undoubtedly claimed the life of the young man who'd been guarding it, erupted from the end of the stick. Only this time it charged at the young woman, surrounding her and charging through her while spinning her around, to reveal a look of complete agony on her lovely face. A moment later, the green light faded, and the young woman fell, dead.
Galadriel's eyes widened as the man then turned to the infant who'd just witnessed his – she wasn't sure how she knew, but she knew it was a boy – mother's death.
Somewhere timeless, between Earth and Arda
A thick, while fog surrounded Harry, momentarily blinding and deafening him completely. So completely that the sudden emergence of the familiar voice of his Divination's Professor in her creepy trance-state seemed to echo throughout his very soul as he heard the words that he somehow knew were tied directly to him:
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… (OP37)
Even after her voice had vanished, and Harry was once again surrounded by that now familiar, thick, white fog, her words echoed through his head. Before he could spare it much thought, the voices of his long-dead parents pierced the fogs, echoing through his head from the very depths of his soul just as they did when Dementors drew too close.
His father's voice, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll hold him off!"
The sounds of someone stumbling from a room – a door bursting open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter – His mother's voice... "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything–""Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!"
"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside, now!"
"Not Harry! Please. Have mercy. Have mercy! Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead–"
His mother's scream of agony.
Caras Galadhon, 98 TA
Lord Celeborn was smiling as he welcomed the young Lord of Imladris into his Realm. It had not been long, to an Elf's mind, since he had last seen the Peredhil in person, but the younger Eldar had changed much since his days as a Herald of Gil-Galad. Now the Bearer of Vilya, the greatest of the three Elven Rings of Power, and the Lord of Imladris, he had become an elf to be reckoned with, to be sure. "You are, of course, most welcome here, Heru Elrond," he offered before nodding gently towards the glade he knew his lady to be hidden within, gazing into her mirror. "Heri nin was pleased to hear of your decision to visit us, and will be all the more glad to hear of your arrival." (Lord … My Lady)
"Hannon le, Heru Celeborn, Haldir," Elrond nodded, smiling at the elder Elda that had freely offered him helpful counsel so many times in the trying times since Gil-Galad's death, and the dark decades that preceded that lamentable loss. "Tell me, how is–" he stopped abruptly as a sudden scream of pain and anguish came from not far ahead of them. (Thank you, Lord)
The scream was followed shortly thereafter by an eruption of eerie green light that felt incredibly evil to the three staggered Elda. This of course woke all of the nearby populace, but the three who'd first heard it paid them no heed as they hurried toward the scream's origin.
The trio were more than a little surprised when they came to the grove where the Mirror of Galadriel resided, to see the Lady of Lothlórien herself kneeling by her mirror, her expression one of sheer torture, that deep green light rising from her Mirror.
"Melda nin?" Celeborn called, as he hurried down the steps, followed closely by his arms commander, their guest, and a mere moment later by his anxious daughter, who'd felt her mother's pained telepathic outcry at the same time as the evil magic burst from the Mirror. (My love?)
Slowly the green light faded and the mirror's surface smoothed over, completely blank. Just as serene and perfect as it had always seemed in dormancy.
"What is wrong? Melda nin?!" Celeborn continued, catching his wife as she fell away from the Mirror's pedestal.
"Ammë?" Celebrían asked, coming up on her father's side to take her mother's hand. "Ammë, are you well?" (Mother?)
The Lady's deep gasps were all that broke the utter silence that held the clearing for the next several minutes. The normally so untouchable immortal was clearly quite disheveled, with sweat coating her brow, which was tense and creased with pain and worry. Her skin was pale, far more so than usual. And her eyes, cerulean orbs normally filled with incredible compassion, understanding and wisdom, were now teeming with pain, worry and confusion...
The Lady of Lothlórien struggled for a moment, before managing to force her eyes open.
"Galadriel?" Celeborn repeated, "Melda nin? Are you all right?"
"Laa, melda nin," she shook her head, closing her eyes a moment. That had been awful! And he was only a child! 'Seldo!' She fought back the tears that rose to her eyes at the thought. Her own daughter and only child was now a full grown elf maiden, but that did not make her grief at seeing a youngling harmed any less. (A child!)
The Elves' longevity did not come without a price. And that price was in the precious few children born to them. While the birth of a child was an almost common occurrence to the other races of Middle Earth, the Elves rarely enjoyed the blessing. Each century a small number of much-loved youths were born to the immortals, and as such, the Elves were very, very protective of their offspring. And growing increasingly more so, as the numbers of youths born in recent centuries had continued to dwindle. Children meant more to them then any other race could possibly understand.
All Elves shared a bond with nature. An empathy with it that bordered on telepathy and some, Galadriel among them, even managed to achieve that ability as well. But all Elves had that ability within their families, making them able to communicate without words or any external signals. It was this gift that often made other races think the Elves uncaring toward one another. Yet, that couldn't be farther from the truth. And it was a gift that the Elves treasured almost as much as they treasured their children. For it gave them the ability to understand and protect their kin on a level that other races couldn't begin to comprehend.
But on the rare occurrence that an Elf was killed, their family and friends felt that death on that same level. Which then became a level of torment no other race could understand, nor should they want to.
Galadriel was drawn out of her thoughts by a faint tugging at the back of her mind, which had gone numb after witnessing that atrocious vision and experiencing the child's torment. It took her a moment to recognize it, and it gave her quite a start when she did. She knew what it was. She knew everything that came to pass into and within her wood.
There was someone new in Lothlórien. Someone who she didn't recognize, but felt she should, for they felt fairly familiar...
From that, the sorceress started once again.
For there was only one person that this could be.
Caras Galadhon, 98 TA
"Galadriel?" Celeborn asked again, shaking her slightly, then stepping back quickly as she leapt to her feet. "Melda nin? What is wrong?"
The Lady of Lothlórien didn't appear to notice his question, nor did she acknowledge their presence as she hurried from the grove with astonishing speed, her long, abundant white skirts flying around and behind her.
This unexpected and unexplained action made Celeborn, Celebrían, Elrond and Haldir trade puzzled looks, before hurrying after her.
Borders of Caras Galadon, Harry's P.O.V., 98 TA
After what seemed to the young wizard an eternity of pain, Harry was finally released.
Harry didn't have any strength whatsoever. He couldn't stand any more then he could open his eyes. Consequently, he fell to the ground, completely unconscious.
His brain, exhausted and distressed, didn't even register that it wasn't his bedroom floor that he fell to, but the riverbed of a stream, not far from the moss-covered ground of the very old, magical heart of the forest it flowed within.
After several minutes' of rapid pursuit through the forest, the Lord of the Lothlórien, the Lady Celebrían, the Golden Wood's March Warden, and the Lord of Imladris were growing all the more mystified and worried as they hurried after the Lady of Light.
They weren't far from the inner tree-city's edge now, which was evidently her intent. That in itself was puzzling, for the Lady hardly ever left the inner wood, choosing instead to keep watch over her realm from within the highly protected walls of her royal hall by the means of powerful enchantments.
Despite how unusual her actions and supposed destination were, the Lady had not slowed down at all, and in her almost panicked haste her concerned pursuers were able to keep pace with her but couldn't catch her.
Galadriel was breathing in short gasps, which was also quite uncharacteristic of her, as she reached the inner forest's border, and stopped, her eyes scanning the area. She didn't even notice when the four who'd been trailing her just barely managed to stop themselves in time to prevent a collision. Nor did she hear Haldir direct the guards that were just behind them to secure the area. What she did see was the body of a young boy, in rather unusual clothes, surrounded by several curious items...
She hurried over to them, taking no notice of the four winded elves behind her, or the others that were not far behind.
"Ammë, what are you—" Seeing that her mother was not paying even a semblance of attention to her, Celebrían quickly redirected her inquiry to the other three ranking Elda that had been at her side as she trailed the Lady of Light. "What is she doing?" she asked, still breathing heavily, as they watched her mother step out of the city-forest's gates and hurry over to the nearby riverside. She blinked when she saw the body her mother was going to kneel beside, "What – Who's that?"
Celeborn sighed, shaking his head at his daughter's significant queries, "It looks like we have another guest..." He replied before following his wife, with the others in his wake.
When they reached Galadriel and their 'new guest', they found the Lady of Lothlórien kneeling by his sighed, murmuring words of healing while cradling the young boy's head in her lap.
"E'atan?" Celebrían murmured, surprised. At the other Eldars' nods of agreement, the Elven princess shook her head. "How ever did he get here? And what would a human be doing here? He looks no older than a child!" (A man?)
"He is a child..."
All four nobles jumped in surprise at the Lady's sudden speech.
"You know him, melda nin?" Celeborn asked with a frown.
"I do," Galadriel nodded, "He is a child, but not Atan..."
"Hwæt?" Celebrían blinked, sharing a confused looked with the handsome Elven lord her father had been welcoming to the wood a few long minutes before. "Dan…What else could he be?" (What? But…)
"He is Istari." (a Wizard)
Within Caras Galadon, Healers' Ward
"Dan..." Celebrían shook her head, as she watched her father gently set their newest guest in bed. "Dan, he's just a child! He–" (But,)
"He is not of our world..." Galadriel replied softly, shaking her head to forestall anymore of her confused daughter's questions. "In his world, there are many wizards, and they begin training very young..." She stopped, and turned toward the bed where her husband had placed their young charge only a few spare moments before.
A moment later, the boy moaned, and after several moments of silent struggle with exhaustion, opening his eyes, which were greener than the leaves of the Eryn Lasgalen had been before the tainted Mirkwood came into being.
When those vivid green eyes finally turned towards her, the Lady of Light smiled gently, and greeted him. "Welcome to Lothlórien, Harry Potter."
End of Prologue.
Reminiscori – to call to mind/recollect/remember. (Latin)
Abeo – to change (Latin)
Elda Kundu – Elf Prince
Kurutar – Wizard King
Embarenya – Middle-Earth
Heru - Lord
Heri - Lady
Hannon le - Thank you
Melda nin – Beloved/My love
Laa - No
Dan – but
Elleth - female elf
Seldo - (a) child
Atan - human
Hwæt - what?!
Istari - (a) wizard
AN #2: Just as a little warning; I try when it comes to Elvish, but I am by no means fluent. Most of this I'm using a dictionary for and fudging a little bit (or a lot)... It's here more because I think it's fun to play with and like to fit it in where I can – it's a great way to get around a writers block! – so I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it's staying. I tried to use a little less this time around.
I know I didn't change much in the prologue, but the following chapters should be a very different story. I hope you like the rewrite so far.
So what do you think of the rather drastic revision in time frames? I thought this might work out better and be more interesting in the long run... plus it means the timeline the story follows will be far more accurate.
Hope everyone likes the revised storyline – we all know it took long enough !
Bye for now!
NEXT: Chapter 1: Manar (Elvish – "Fate")