Harry Potter and the Elder Race

Sibyll Tres_looney

At some point in the time of the unknowable past, amidst the chaos of the birthing of a million suns, a tiny rip of imbalance, an imperfection - dark and menacing - came into being. In the beginning, it was just a minutiae - negligible in the greater scheme of things - as the universe struggled to bring light and order and, ultimately, life into existence. And so this thing, which was nothing more than a tiny pinprick of darkness, rode the great emptiness of space and time, brooding its irrelevancy, its inconsequentiality, until time itself and the destruction and ruin of dying worlds, fed its festering being 'til it grew, slowly, and became... aware.

For thousands of millennia it prowled the vast emptiness of the universe, desiring purpose for its being in destruction. And so it sought that which allowed it scope, glorying in the obliteration of worlds it came upon, 'til it reached a flourishing world out upon the edges of a galaxy, accompanying the rain of deadly meteorites that annihilated the mightiest living creatures of that time (which one day future sentient beings would call the Dinosaurs), a destruction that allowed the emergence of a new type of beings – the Mammals.

For hundreds upon hundred-thousands of years it witnessed the flourishing of life, and having without substance itself, begrudged the life that seemed to swarm all around it, moving through it but itself never becoming a part of such living vibrancy. But it bided its time and waited till it could wreak the most havoc and destruction.

Millennia of time later, a race of beings arrived upon the earth. They were the eldest, the firstborn of all humanoid races, the first in the entire universe. Through the refinement of time and generations they had attained the height of evolution, closest to the One, the Creator. Thus were they called the Elder or the Eternal race, though later, humans of this planet would call them the Elven, 'the White Ones' in the Olden Tongue. To them was given the task of looking after this paradise, this oasis of life in the vast emptiness of space, endowed as they were with the gift of nurturing and protecting life, of ensuring that life - so rare and precious in this alone universe - abideths. They had travelled across vast distances of space and time to be the guardians of this planet, and its most precious inhabitant - man.


30 October 1979

Modern Era, Time of Man

Kingdom of the Elder Race

The Emerald Glade, somewhere in the Scottish Highlands

If heaven could be found anywhere here on earth, it would be here, in this hidden valley called Imraudden in the Ancient Tongue, where no frost or bitter wind or overcast sky could mar the beauty nestled in its protected glade. At the center of the glade stood a mighty structure, its very walls seemed to glow from a light within, very like the High Elves who lived in this forest. The walls and towers of the structure had rounded edges, but topped with serrated spires and pinnacles, giving off the impression not unlike that of a sheathed sword.

On the balcony on the second floor of the main palace, stood the Elf King, Lord Eldridge - tall, white-haired, and fair of faces as was usual of his kind, though unusual was the expression of fear that drew his face into sharp, angular panes.

"You called, my Lord?" a soft, lilting voice called from behind him as the Elf-Queen approached.

The High King did not look back but continued to stare far off in the distance. The Queen patiently waited as she stood slightly behind him, her ethereally beautiful face equally marred with fear and worry. At length, the Elf King spoke, his voice gravely low.

"You do feel it, don't you, Bereth-nin? The darkness… the malaise…."

The queen bent her head down and laid a gentle hand on her protuberant belly, emergent with life. "Yes. We both feel it," she said quietly.

"The evil has grown. It was the same Dark Shadow that destroyed our people in the Black Forest *half an age ago. Without our people's protection, the lands abroad were consumed by the blackest of all evil. Entire generations of peoples and races were lost to the last war in the Mortal World. It was only by our protection that the Shadow was not able to lay its evil upon these lands and this country had not been overrun. Otherwise, the Magicless folks of this land and from across the seas would not have the fasthold it needed from which to launch a counteroffense against the invaders and we would be living in a vastly different world, a direr place. And now, the same shadow is felt abroad once again. The same Evil Malaise." The Elf-King turned his face towards the queen. "Do you not feel it? It is growing stronger." He drew a deep breath and turned his gaze back towards the horizon, where the sun was sinking behind a deeply darkening sky. "Already our half-kinds, the witching folk, as well as the mundane people, are starting to suffer from its malevolent influence."

"Then we must make preparations to fight it, hîr nín." The Queen fingered the necklace on her chest. "We must be ready to try and stay this evil, to intervene once again if we have to, and to save as many lives of Mortal men as we could."

The King took a deep breath and turned back to the queen. He dropped his gaze down to her chest, where a Star-glass containing The Star of Eärendil lay nestled. It was a miniature version of the one the Lady Galadriel had given the half-ling who saved Middle-earth in the ancient days. A great sadness overcame his face. "We are, my Queen. There is only one way to fight this evil, and that is by The Star of Eärendil, the light of our people. Because the Shadow has no physical form, it cannot be killed by sword or by any other physical means. But it cannot abide light or absolute good either. We expect it to attack soon, for we are the only thing that stands in its way between its complete domination of this world and the survival of Mortal men. Therefore, you must leave these shores at once. You must leave for the safety of the Eternal Forest in Nóregr up north. It is no longer safe here for you and our child…our son."

The queen held her husband's gaze for a few seconds, and then looked down once again at her tumescent belly, caressing it.

"Yes. Our child is a male. I know it in my heart," she said, smiling sadly as a single tear rolled down her face. Then she looked back up to her husband. "But will it be safe for us to leave now? Is it not too late? I have heard the news that, even as we now speak, the Black Shadow has now infected the Mortal World. I look to the lands of the Mortals, and their skies are tainted with blood."

"Yes. The Dark Shadow has indeed spawned evil in the Mortal Lands. The more reason you must leave at once." The Elven King held his wife's hands in his. "You have to leave my queen," he said pleadingly. "You carry in you the future of our kind, the grace of our kind. Do you not remember the prophecy made about the next royal child to be born in my house? The One with the power to vanquish the Dark ShadowAnd he shall have power greater than any Elven-born.And I have Seen him, our son," the Elf-King said quietly, fixing his gaze just above the Queen's head as if seeing something far off in the distance.

"You have?" the Queen's face brightened with pleasure. She herself had not the gift of Sight. That her husband had seen the face of their unborn had brought happiness in her heart even in these darkening times. "I wish I could see him as well," she said, her voice wistful.

But the Elf-King merely looked back at her with sadness in his eyes. He had Seen the child. But he looked nothing like him or his wife. The child looked Mortal with black hair sticking up the back and slightly ruined eyes, but there, very clearly reflected in the child's eyes, were the very green of Imraudden, his rightful birthplace. Thus, he knew in his heart that the child was Elven, his son, the future prince. Therefore, it could only mean one thing. The child would leave these lands. How or why, he did not know. Then he looked away out into the clouds, as if trying to decipher meanings in its shapeless forms. "He would have great power," he murmured, "greater than any Elven-born on this planet." He shook his head, smiling ruefully, "Even now, I feel it. It would be something to behold the moment he comes by his full power at the right time."

The Queen touched him on his arm. "Don't worry, hîr nín," the Queen said soothingly. "I Dor will look after us. This Evil, too, shall pass."

The King turned back to her.

"But you must leave, my Queen. You know that don't you?"

"Yes. But will you not come with me? Where you are will be safest for me and our child."

"Yes, that's true. But I must stay here with our people. For when the Shadow attacks, as I expect it will, I am the only one strong enough to wield the power of the Star of Eärendil. But I promise you, Bereth-nin, after all this is over, I shall be reunited with you soon as ever I can."

Tears started to flow in earnest now down the fair Queen's face. She wrapped both her arms around her belly, wanting to protect the child.

"I fear it, my Lord," she said, her voice shaking.

"I know. But we have withstood its evil once before. I have no doubt that we will prevail once again."

The Elf-King and the Queen stared at each other's eyes. No more words were needed. No words that they could say to alleviate the pain of parting, or allay the fear of a future that might never come, for themselves and for the world beyond. The Queen stepped nearer towards the King, letting the King enfold her in his arms. And over beyond the horizon, the sun sank steadily deeper and deeper into the maw of endless black space.

Early the next morning, the Elven hosts departed for Norway – Nóregr in the Ancient Tongue - where the fjords had hidden the Eternal Forest, home of their Northern kindred, for thousands of years from Mortal eyes. The white coach edged with golden filigrees and carrying the pregnant Queen was pulled by five flying white horses, the Annwynian horses shining with a light of their own very like their Elven masters. The Elven train left with many a host of Elven warriors to accompany the Queen, rushing to meet almost headlong the wakening sun, with its fiery fingers already spreading across the eastern skies. Though it was not given to the Elder race to fight in times of war, the memory of conflicts long past of their ancestors during their Mortal years in the early days of their people were buried deep in their memories, memories that their highly advanced brains could recall at once, summoning their muscles into instantaneous action were it needed.

With unmitigated speed, the Elven hosts flew across the sky. It was as they were crossing the North sea that the Head Elf halted, sensing the fell change in the atmosphere, letting the others fly ahead of him. One of the Elven Queen's Royal Guards, noticing, flew ahead to ride abreast of him.

"Mansa? Trastad?" he said to the Head Elf. "Man pulich cened?"

The Head Elf motioned towards the Southern skies, over Scotland. Even the flying horses underneath them were clearly spooked, rearing up their heads, their necks and muscles stiffening, something that did not always happen with Elven horses.

"Tiro! Nad no ennas! Nad anglennol!" he said.

Over the Scottish lands they had just left, a pall of black shadow was slowly spreading across the morning skies, creeping yet inescapable. In a few minutes, the dark Shadow would reach them, and they would be completely overcome. Unbeknownst to the Elven hosts, Imraudden had been attacked a few moments after they had left the protected glade but the power of the Eärendil Star was too strong for it. Thwarted, the Dark Shadow hurried after the Queen's Party, drawn by the power of the unborn prince, cloaked as it were inside his placental cocoon.

The Head Elf and the Queen's Guard exchanged fearful glances. Then the Royal Guard pulled hard at the rein of his steed, yanking him to hurry meet the Queen's retinue, screaming Drego! Drego!, fear rending his voice hoarse.

The Head Elf himself hollered "Ribo! Fly! Fly!" towards the Elven hosts with undisguised fear, not for himself, no, nor his brethren, but for the Queen and the unborn prince. He waited until the Queen's main party reached him and he too joined the retinue, positioning himself closer to the Queen's carriage, determined to protect her with the last breath of his life.

Inside the carriage, the Queen need not be told of what had happened for she and her unborn child had felt, too, the approaching Evil. The Queen bent her head low, hugging her swollen belly tightly, terror beating at her heart. Though she carried with her the Star of Eärendil, the gathered light was in even smaller amount than the Star-light the Lady Galadriel gave the half-ling Frodo - it would be no match against the approaching Shadow. And even if she had the means to wield its power, to do so would surely kill her and her unborn child. There was no hope for her and her Elven companions. But perhaps she could still save her child. There was only one way.

She bent her head down, and whispered to the child inside.

Farewell, my child,

By the grace of God that was given me

I send you to the Mortal world

I send you with all the power

and grace of our people

Be their light and their armour

And their sword in times of need

Carry with you the light of Eärendil

The Star of our People

Carry with you the grace of God

the King's, thy Father's, love

and for always, mine, forever - my love

Go to the Mortal World, my Son

Go to the World

She then began a song of prayer, a song of her people, calling on and drawing to its full strength the magic of the Star of Eärendil.

Uich gwennen na'wanath ah na dhín.
uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen.
naid bain gwannathar,
cuil ban firitha.
Boe naer gwannathach

{You are not bound to loss and silence.
For you are not bound to the circles of this world.
All things must pass away,
All life is doomed to fade…
Sorrowing you must go, (and yet you are not without hope.)}

She then turned her face upwards to heaven, and claimed the grace of her faith, uttering a prayer she believed with all her heart would be granted by the One God, the Creator.

Ae Adar nín, nallon sí na i veth,

Sí di-nguruthos

Lasto beth lammen!

Anno dulu enni, le iallon!

Lle naa erulye, i Dor na er

Beriad i chên nîn

Aníron i e broniatha

Anno vellas lín enin faer hen

Anno hon e guil

Caro den i innas lin

{Our Father, I cry here at the end

Here in the shadow of death

Listen to the word of my tongue

Help me! I beg of you!

You are God, the Lord alone

Protect my child

I wish that he endures

May you give your strength to this spirit

Give him the gift of life

Make it thy will}

She then turned her face back towards her belly, the Eärendil Star now glowing, though its light was still concentrated inside its glass container. She again whispered to her child, uttering a final farewell, her words hurrying one after the other as she felt the Dark Shadow gaining distance over them, the fearful shouts of her people crashing in her ears like the cawing cries of carrion birds, the terror in their voices reverberating a pummeling beat in her very heart. In a few minutes the Dark Shadow would be completely upon them, and as she said her goodbye to her unborn child, she began to bind its soul with the power of the light of Eärendil, using her very life as the seed of the magic spell.

Ion nín, cuio vae

Na i ahië ya meril cenë Ambaressë.

No i Dor na le

Ú-firo i laiss e-guil lîn

Guren nallatha nalú achenin le

Harthon cened le vi Menel

Istathan nîf-lin cened

Le melithon anuir

Annin cuil nín lé!

Bado na Fireb amar!

{My son, live well

Be the change you wish to see in the world

May the Lord be with you

May the leaves of your life not die

My heart shall weep until I see thee again

I hope to see you in heaven

There, I will know your face

I will love you forever

I give my life to thee!

Go to the Mortal world!}

And the Star of Eärendil began to steadily glow with unadulterated white light, drawing unbound power from the unborn prince, from the Queen's self-sacrifice, and the absolute grace of the One God. Steady on and on the light grew, until the light became so bright it lit the world for miles around, a million times brighter than the light of the galaxy's biggest star. And, in a flash, as the soul of the Queen's unborn son fused with the light of Eärendil, the resulting light swallowed the Evil Malaise, annihilating it once and for all.

A thousand miles away, in a village in Southwestern England, a black-haired, young man with hair sticking up the back and his equally young, red-headed wife welcomed the new day by reaffirming with their bodies the love they both shared in their hearts and in their minds. And, at the peak of their passion, their love was unified, cohering into a new life. There in that moment a child was formed, theirs in the flesh, but one with a unique soul - the Lost Son of the Elder Race.



*half an age – half a century

Bereth-ninmy Queen

hîr nín– my Lord

I DorThe Lord

Mansa? Trastad?What is it? Is there trouble?

Man pulich cened?What can you see?

Tiro! Nad no ennas! Nad anglennol! – Look! Something's out there! Something's coming!